Tempest Rutherford
Tempest's stomach clenched as Lucius hurled more bile at Angus. The situation felt nightmarish, but... familiar. Like a bad dream she'd had many times already. She felt her heart start to beat faster, her blood pounding at her temples. Tempest pressed her fingers to her head to steady herself. She couldn't get caught up in this. She had to think.
Think.
There was a strong danger of imminent bloodshed. She needed to prevent that. Otherwise some of their own could die. Even if they won... there would be death. As much scorn as Tempest felt for these unfeeling, vindictive priests, unnecessary death was never to be welcomed. But what was the alternative?
It was Fira who gave her the idea. Brave words, and true. And it made Tempest realize that a small scrap of truth could work to their advantage.
Angus and Drina will be doing whatever they please...
"We're going to help a sick child," Tempest said. "That's why Angus is leaving. The little girl needs a healer, and the family would like a priest present too. Just in case."
Tempest was deliberately lying by omission, implying a different reason for the priest's presence than the true one - but she didn't care. Father Lucius didn't deserve the consideration of full honesty.
For a moment, Lucius looked torn, his desire to further punish Angus warring with his desire to be seen as a caring and compassionate pastor. Eventually, he said, "This man is no longer a priest. He has been removed from our Order in disgrace. If this child needs a priest, I will go myself to pray over her and bless her."
"Oh, that's so kind of you," Tempest said. "And to volunteer without even asking if her illness is contagious! Very brave."
Lucius blanched. He clearly had not actually considered that. "Oh. Uh. Hm. Maybe someone else could..." He shivered and rubbed his hands against his robes. He absolutely was not risking the possibility of contagious illness for the sake of some little peasant brat. He could send another priest in his stead - but if that person returned bearing the illness, it could infect the entire church. "Hm. On second thought. For such a menial task, I suppose Angus will do."
Tempest nodded. "Then we are in agreement. Let us pass."
Father Lucius shook his head, not quite ready to concede yet. "Not so fast. I said Angus may pass to offer what pathetic ministrations he is capable of to the dying girl as penance for his sins. I did not say the daedra may pass. 'Thus Stendarr looked upon the world of mortals, and he found it afflicted by Abominations. And he made it known unto his priests, resolutes, and templars, that these unnatural profanities are abhorrent in his sight, and are to be exterminated by the Righteous without halt or mercy. For these Abominations are each and every the eternal enemies of the mortals of the Mundus, and shall not be suffered to abide among us...'"
As he intoned the words, he took a step toward Drina. Drina tensed - but she now had several people standing between her and the angry cleric, including Fira and all four Rutherfords.
Tempest met his eyes without flinching. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish here, Father? I don't see any scenario where a fight ends well for you. It's unlikely a victory would be bloodless for your side. And say you kill some of us - how does that look? The Church of Stendarr murdered citizens in the middle of a public thoroughfare to prevent the healing of a sick child! How will that play out in terms of your church's reputation in Leyawiin, I wonder...?"
Father Lucius was staring daggers at them all, but he was finding this point difficult to argue. "This isn't over," he said. "Our Order will purge this dremora from the mortal realm, I swear upon my honor."
However, Tempest noticed that he was not making any move to act on his vow at present, and began feeling some cautious optimism about the situation.
Islands on Another World (GW2)
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
On Artaeum
Elabeth was stable, for now. She was awake. But it was clear she wasn't well. She was still feverish and in pain. It wasn't just the physical, though. She was afraid. Galenwen and Haldir could see it in her eyes, in the tension of her body. They did their best to reassure her, but when she couldn't tell them exactly what she feared, their words of comfort were shots in the dark.
The loving gestures seemed to help more than the words.
When Anakita arrived on Artaeum with the companions she'd traveled with, Elabeth was on Haldir's lap, leaning against his chest as he rocked her and sang to her softly in his native language. The Ranger couldn't understand the words, but it was clearly a lullaby.
Anakita watched them for a moment, then asked him quietly. "The word for father in your language is 'adar,' right?"
"It is," he replied.
The Ranger nodded thoughtfully. "Are you keeping her? Are you her adar now?"
Haldir looked discomfited - an unusual feat, catching an elf off balance, but Anakita was an unintentional expert at keeping people on their toes. "We... have talked about it," he admitted, glancing at Elabeth. "Galenwen and I. We would like to. But it isn't so simple. She may have a family already. We have to figure out if she has loved ones who are looking for her..."
Anakita thought about Nairn's scroll, and shook her head. "She doesn't. She has no one. She's all by herself. So are you keeping her?"
Haldir looked at Elabeth again, but she had her face buried against him and her little hands were clinging tightly to him. Her attachment - both literally and figuratively - was clear. "Yes," he said with greater confidence. "We are."
"Good!" Anakita said, with a sudden smile.
Elabeth was stable, for now. She was awake. But it was clear she wasn't well. She was still feverish and in pain. It wasn't just the physical, though. She was afraid. Galenwen and Haldir could see it in her eyes, in the tension of her body. They did their best to reassure her, but when she couldn't tell them exactly what she feared, their words of comfort were shots in the dark.
The loving gestures seemed to help more than the words.
When Anakita arrived on Artaeum with the companions she'd traveled with, Elabeth was on Haldir's lap, leaning against his chest as he rocked her and sang to her softly in his native language. The Ranger couldn't understand the words, but it was clearly a lullaby.
Anakita watched them for a moment, then asked him quietly. "The word for father in your language is 'adar,' right?"
"It is," he replied.
The Ranger nodded thoughtfully. "Are you keeping her? Are you her adar now?"
Haldir looked discomfited - an unusual feat, catching an elf off balance, but Anakita was an unintentional expert at keeping people on their toes. "We... have talked about it," he admitted, glancing at Elabeth. "Galenwen and I. We would like to. But it isn't so simple. She may have a family already. We have to figure out if she has loved ones who are looking for her..."
Anakita thought about Nairn's scroll, and shook her head. "She doesn't. She has no one. She's all by herself. So are you keeping her?"
Haldir looked at Elabeth again, but she had her face buried against him and her little hands were clinging tightly to him. Her attachment - both literally and figuratively - was clear. "Yes," he said with greater confidence. "We are."
"Good!" Anakita said, with a sudden smile.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Fira-Nar
As much as it would have felt good to to take a swing at a couple of priests, Fira had to admit that Tempest had the better idea. Talking the Father into agreeing with their course of action was impressive to say the least. And it really was looking like it was going to work. She still had her blade at the ready, of course.
"Hey you."
Her eye flicked to the left, taking account of a young priest with an unbecoming sneer on his face. "What."
"Yeah, I thought it was you. Aren't you that new hotshot warrior that's been running around killing daedra left and right?"
Fira's mouth worked silently for a moment. "Um...well...uh. Probably?"
"So what makes this daedra so special?"
"Oh, that's easy. Because she's not trying to kill anyone. What makes you so special, priest? Stendarr come down and bless you especial with an abundance of brains or holiness?"
The young priest took a long moment to take offence. Fira took that same amount of time to realize that she was not as clever as Tempest.
As much as it would have felt good to to take a swing at a couple of priests, Fira had to admit that Tempest had the better idea. Talking the Father into agreeing with their course of action was impressive to say the least. And it really was looking like it was going to work. She still had her blade at the ready, of course.
"Hey you."
Her eye flicked to the left, taking account of a young priest with an unbecoming sneer on his face. "What."
"Yeah, I thought it was you. Aren't you that new hotshot warrior that's been running around killing daedra left and right?"
Fira's mouth worked silently for a moment. "Um...well...uh. Probably?"
"So what makes this daedra so special?"
"Oh, that's easy. Because she's not trying to kill anyone. What makes you so special, priest? Stendarr come down and bless you especial with an abundance of brains or holiness?"
The young priest took a long moment to take offence. Fira took that same amount of time to realize that she was not as clever as Tempest.
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Tempest, Drina, and Angus
The young priest may have been slow on the uptake, but his brighter comrade was quick to step in.
"You dare speak of mighty Stendarr in jest?" he demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer, he drew steel. "You will pay for this disrespect!"
"Brothers, please," Father Lucius interjected placidly, but made no attempt to cajole the priest to actually sheath his weapon. "Remember that Stendarr regards the saint and the heretic alike. He will forgive his wayward daughter for this... disappointing interjection. I think it is clear who is really to blame for all of this."
Tempest attempted to intervene. "Sir, please..."
But Lucius was thoroughly ignoring her. Instead, he gestured toward Drina with his mace. "This creature is responsible! It is she who brought strife and anger into our midst. It was she who led Angus to fall into sin, debauchery, and lechery. The daedra cause discord and suffering to mortals wherever they go. She will pay for the pain she has inflicted. No one else need die today. We will deal with the dremora, and the rest of you are free to go."
"That is absolutely not going to happen," Tempest told him firmly.
"I feel like stabbing something," Cara commented idly under her breath.
Cara didn't have long to wait. Lucius motioned to the others, and the priests charged forward en masse. Individual scuffles started breaking out; the adventuring party was outnumbered, with many of their number having left for Arteum, but also better at watching each others' backs. It was a more even fight than numbers alone would have predicted.
Angus was of little use in combat. Unlike many in a religious order that was so militant, he'd had little interest in the fighting arts, and preferred to focus on training that would help him as a pastor and a scholar. There were very few times when he had regretted it, but this was one.
He watched helplessly as Lucius went after Drina. Lucius was older than Angus, but expertly trained in weaponry and maintained peak physical condition for his age.
Drina froze in the face of his attack. She wasn't afraid of him. She knew she was stronger than the shockingly violent old priest. But still, she hesitated, because this man had mentored Angus. He had been a friend - no, more like family to Angus. How could she strike at someone so dear to someone she loved?
She dodged the first heavy swing of his mace. He aimed the second at her head, and Drina instinctively raised an arm to protect her skull. The mace slammed into her wrist instead, breaking it. She didn't cry out, didn't let it show on her face as the explosion of pain traveled down her nerve endings.
"Stop!" she said. "Please. I don't want to fight you. For Angus's sake, I don't want to hurt you--"
He took another swing at her, this time hitting her so hard in the opposite shoulder that she lost her breath for a moment.
Drina knew it was a matter of life and death. She blasted him with daedric magic, losing control as lightning and electricity struck him over and over as he screamed and convulsed.
Father Lucius fell to the ground, and Drina stared at him in dull horror, forgetting her own injuries.
She had killed him. She had proven all his claims about her were right. Worse, she had surely caused Angus pain by ending the life of someone he had cared for.
Angus would never forgive her for this. Drina had learned long ago not to cry - or perhaps she had never had the ability to shed tears in the first place. She didn't cry now. But the blood rushed in her ears, and she stood frozen and dumbfounded, horrified at what she had done and what she had surely lost in the process.
After seeing Lucius die, the surviving priests quickly scattered, leaving the party alone to face what had happened.
The young priest may have been slow on the uptake, but his brighter comrade was quick to step in.
"You dare speak of mighty Stendarr in jest?" he demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer, he drew steel. "You will pay for this disrespect!"
"Brothers, please," Father Lucius interjected placidly, but made no attempt to cajole the priest to actually sheath his weapon. "Remember that Stendarr regards the saint and the heretic alike. He will forgive his wayward daughter for this... disappointing interjection. I think it is clear who is really to blame for all of this."
Tempest attempted to intervene. "Sir, please..."
But Lucius was thoroughly ignoring her. Instead, he gestured toward Drina with his mace. "This creature is responsible! It is she who brought strife and anger into our midst. It was she who led Angus to fall into sin, debauchery, and lechery. The daedra cause discord and suffering to mortals wherever they go. She will pay for the pain she has inflicted. No one else need die today. We will deal with the dremora, and the rest of you are free to go."
"That is absolutely not going to happen," Tempest told him firmly.
"I feel like stabbing something," Cara commented idly under her breath.
Cara didn't have long to wait. Lucius motioned to the others, and the priests charged forward en masse. Individual scuffles started breaking out; the adventuring party was outnumbered, with many of their number having left for Arteum, but also better at watching each others' backs. It was a more even fight than numbers alone would have predicted.
Angus was of little use in combat. Unlike many in a religious order that was so militant, he'd had little interest in the fighting arts, and preferred to focus on training that would help him as a pastor and a scholar. There were very few times when he had regretted it, but this was one.
He watched helplessly as Lucius went after Drina. Lucius was older than Angus, but expertly trained in weaponry and maintained peak physical condition for his age.
Drina froze in the face of his attack. She wasn't afraid of him. She knew she was stronger than the shockingly violent old priest. But still, she hesitated, because this man had mentored Angus. He had been a friend - no, more like family to Angus. How could she strike at someone so dear to someone she loved?
She dodged the first heavy swing of his mace. He aimed the second at her head, and Drina instinctively raised an arm to protect her skull. The mace slammed into her wrist instead, breaking it. She didn't cry out, didn't let it show on her face as the explosion of pain traveled down her nerve endings.
"Stop!" she said. "Please. I don't want to fight you. For Angus's sake, I don't want to hurt you--"
He took another swing at her, this time hitting her so hard in the opposite shoulder that she lost her breath for a moment.
Drina knew it was a matter of life and death. She blasted him with daedric magic, losing control as lightning and electricity struck him over and over as he screamed and convulsed.
Father Lucius fell to the ground, and Drina stared at him in dull horror, forgetting her own injuries.
She had killed him. She had proven all his claims about her were right. Worse, she had surely caused Angus pain by ending the life of someone he had cared for.
Angus would never forgive her for this. Drina had learned long ago not to cry - or perhaps she had never had the ability to shed tears in the first place. She didn't cry now. But the blood rushed in her ears, and she stood frozen and dumbfounded, horrified at what she had done and what she had surely lost in the process.
After seeing Lucius die, the surviving priests quickly scattered, leaving the party alone to face what had happened.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Fira-Nar
Oh she had definitely gone and stepped in it. Why did she open her big stupid mouth?
The priests rushed forward, and admittedly, she took out her frustration on them. With the others at her back, her enormous sword battered the armour of the men and women before her. Some fell. The details of her surroundings started to fall away as her breathing slowed time.
The daedric lightning behind her caught her attention. If it weren't for the fact that the priests were already watching that particular fight, it might have been her fatal mistake. Lucky her that they decided to flee instead of pursue her.
Panting, a spray of blood prominent on her face, she swung to face...no opponent. Fira blinked in confusion, then wiped at her face. Blinking at the party, she saw Drina standing - barely standing - in a narrow field swept clean of debris by the outfall of her magic. And a dead Father Lucius, an angry scream frozen on his face even in death. Well. Seemed fitting that she should be the one to take him down.
She swung back around to survey they village streets. None stood to oppose them. No one even peeked from a window. It was dangerously quiet. Fira turned her head just enough to make sure her voice would be heard past her shoulder.
"Is everyone well enough to move? We should get going before they re-muster their courage."
Oh she had definitely gone and stepped in it. Why did she open her big stupid mouth?
The priests rushed forward, and admittedly, she took out her frustration on them. With the others at her back, her enormous sword battered the armour of the men and women before her. Some fell. The details of her surroundings started to fall away as her breathing slowed time.
The daedric lightning behind her caught her attention. If it weren't for the fact that the priests were already watching that particular fight, it might have been her fatal mistake. Lucky her that they decided to flee instead of pursue her.
Panting, a spray of blood prominent on her face, she swung to face...no opponent. Fira blinked in confusion, then wiped at her face. Blinking at the party, she saw Drina standing - barely standing - in a narrow field swept clean of debris by the outfall of her magic. And a dead Father Lucius, an angry scream frozen on his face even in death. Well. Seemed fitting that she should be the one to take him down.
She swung back around to survey they village streets. None stood to oppose them. No one even peeked from a window. It was dangerously quiet. Fira turned her head just enough to make sure her voice would be heard past her shoulder.
"Is everyone well enough to move? We should get going before they re-muster their courage."
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Drina and Angus
Drina didn't answer. Didn't move. Her eyes were focused on the middle distance.
Angus went to her, worried. "Drina?"
She turned at the sound of his voice, but didn't move. He gently examined her injuries.
"Drina needs healing," he called out. "Please, Tempest?"
Drina shook her head. "I'm fine," she murmured, but she was wrapping herself around the injured wrist.
Angus watched for a moment. "You're not fine," he said gently. "I can tell you can't move your hand. Just let Tempest heal you a little before we go. You must be in terrible pain."
Drina was used to hiding pain. Hiding all weakness. It made her reflexively nervous to accept help. But they were being so kind. Tempest immediately made her way over and started healing her wrist, and Angus held her gently - careful of her injuries - to comfort her.
"Don't you all hate me?" Drina asked numbly.
"Of course not," Angus assured her. "This wasn't your fault."
"But Father Lucius... he was important to you..."
Angus nodded. "He was," he said honestly. "But so are you. He tried to hurt you. I'm not willing to lose you. I'm just glad you're safe."
Drina glanced around, searching the other faces for recriminations.
Drina didn't answer. Didn't move. Her eyes were focused on the middle distance.
Angus went to her, worried. "Drina?"
She turned at the sound of his voice, but didn't move. He gently examined her injuries.
"Drina needs healing," he called out. "Please, Tempest?"
Drina shook her head. "I'm fine," she murmured, but she was wrapping herself around the injured wrist.
Angus watched for a moment. "You're not fine," he said gently. "I can tell you can't move your hand. Just let Tempest heal you a little before we go. You must be in terrible pain."
Drina was used to hiding pain. Hiding all weakness. It made her reflexively nervous to accept help. But they were being so kind. Tempest immediately made her way over and started healing her wrist, and Angus held her gently - careful of her injuries - to comfort her.
"Don't you all hate me?" Drina asked numbly.
"Of course not," Angus assured her. "This wasn't your fault."
"But Father Lucius... he was important to you..."
Angus nodded. "He was," he said honestly. "But so are you. He tried to hurt you. I'm not willing to lose you. I'm just glad you're safe."
Drina glanced around, searching the other faces for recriminations.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 702
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
A Meeting - The Coast of Glenumbra
The small talk had been made. The estates toured. The meal eaten.
Now the two men sat alone, drinking a last glass of wine by the dying embers of the fire in Duke Myron Esten's study.
"War has been hard on these lands," the visitor mused, staring at the burning logs contemplatively.
The Duke sighed and nodded. "Yes. It has. The Aldmeri Dominion harried up and down the coast for months. Imagine, the audacity - attacking High Rock itself! Thrice-damned elves."
The visitor nodded. "I couldn't agree more. That's why I'm here, in fact. To see if you wanted to do anything about it."
The Duke looked surprised. "Like what? King Emeric has sent compensation for our losses. Compensation, hah. What are a few septims compared to all we've lost? But what are we to do? That was the king's last word."
"But the king isn't here, is he?"
A sardonic smile quirked up the Duke's lips. "No. He's far away. He doesn't see what it's like for us."
"You're exactly right - the king doesn't understand what it's like for the coast of Glenumbra. For any of his people who are being sacked and slaughtered by... I believe you called them the 'thrice-damned' elves? But that's why I'm here. I need your help. I'm putting together an alliance of people like us. People who have been hurt by elvish aggression. People who want to resist elven tyranny. People who want to purge these lands of those pointy-eared bastards for good. Will you help us?"
Duke Esten looked unsure. "Of course I want those things. Don't get me wrong - I want to pay them back in blood for the blood shed here. But it's a matter of politics. Many of the elves who live in my landholdings were born here. If I exile them - or do more than exile them - the people will call me a tyrant."
The visitor shook his head. "They would if you acted alone. But you won't be alone. You'll be allying with a host of other rulers. These are the lands of men. They should belong to men, not mer... don't you think?"
Duke Esten looked into the fire for a moment, took another sip of wine... then raised his glass in a toast. "You have my support," the Duke said. "It shall be done. I swear the elves will be purged from these lands in recompense for their crimes against us."
"You're doing the right thing," the visitor said.
And the visitor knew he himself was doing the right thing, too. Their numbers were growing - but it wasn't enough. They could stay in Summerset hiding away and picking off elves one by one... or they could unite the nations in common cause against them. The solution was politics and alliances, not random and ineffectual acts of individual violence. So far, it was working. His hard work and the miles he had covered were paying off. He had secured the cooperation of many local rulers. Soon, the elves would be unwelcome in these lands. It was only a matter of time until they were driven away - driven into the sea, into their graves, into Oblivion.
The small talk had been made. The estates toured. The meal eaten.
Now the two men sat alone, drinking a last glass of wine by the dying embers of the fire in Duke Myron Esten's study.
"War has been hard on these lands," the visitor mused, staring at the burning logs contemplatively.
The Duke sighed and nodded. "Yes. It has. The Aldmeri Dominion harried up and down the coast for months. Imagine, the audacity - attacking High Rock itself! Thrice-damned elves."
The visitor nodded. "I couldn't agree more. That's why I'm here, in fact. To see if you wanted to do anything about it."
The Duke looked surprised. "Like what? King Emeric has sent compensation for our losses. Compensation, hah. What are a few septims compared to all we've lost? But what are we to do? That was the king's last word."
"But the king isn't here, is he?"
A sardonic smile quirked up the Duke's lips. "No. He's far away. He doesn't see what it's like for us."
"You're exactly right - the king doesn't understand what it's like for the coast of Glenumbra. For any of his people who are being sacked and slaughtered by... I believe you called them the 'thrice-damned' elves? But that's why I'm here. I need your help. I'm putting together an alliance of people like us. People who have been hurt by elvish aggression. People who want to resist elven tyranny. People who want to purge these lands of those pointy-eared bastards for good. Will you help us?"
Duke Esten looked unsure. "Of course I want those things. Don't get me wrong - I want to pay them back in blood for the blood shed here. But it's a matter of politics. Many of the elves who live in my landholdings were born here. If I exile them - or do more than exile them - the people will call me a tyrant."
The visitor shook his head. "They would if you acted alone. But you won't be alone. You'll be allying with a host of other rulers. These are the lands of men. They should belong to men, not mer... don't you think?"
Duke Esten looked into the fire for a moment, took another sip of wine... then raised his glass in a toast. "You have my support," the Duke said. "It shall be done. I swear the elves will be purged from these lands in recompense for their crimes against us."
"You're doing the right thing," the visitor said.
And the visitor knew he himself was doing the right thing, too. Their numbers were growing - but it wasn't enough. They could stay in Summerset hiding away and picking off elves one by one... or they could unite the nations in common cause against them. The solution was politics and alliances, not random and ineffectual acts of individual violence. So far, it was working. His hard work and the miles he had covered were paying off. He had secured the cooperation of many local rulers. Soon, the elves would be unwelcome in these lands. It was only a matter of time until they were driven away - driven into the sea, into their graves, into Oblivion.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
On Artaeum
Nairn was immediately swept away by the beauty and strangeness of the place. Her eyes moved constantly from the pools of water, up to the tower, to the strange light, to the spired stones. She hung back, truly admiring the place, but also to give herself some space. They'd been rather bunched up together at the waystation and she found herself still ill-at-ease. Perhaps once they were introduced as allies here she could get away to try some of the techniques Tempest had taught her, or maybe better yet, find a bed. She was beginning to feel weariness gnawing at her mind. Perhaps she shouldn't have stayed up all night reading every book in the...
Nairn's eyes widened as she took in the great hall and the trove of books, paper and pens. She didn't wait for introductions, but approached the nearest desk, selected a few pages of very nice paper, took up a quill and began writing down what she could remember from the scroll in the church. It bothered her that her memory lacked the usual clarity on the document, particularly toward the end, but she pressed herself to finish the document. She passed the still-wet pages to Anakita, trusting the Ranger would know who would need them most and disappeared into the nearest stack of books.
The fresh knowledge was so full of strangeness. It made her head dizzy. At least, that was what she told herself as she sat with her legs outstretched into an aisle, stack of books on each side of her, her head bobbing to keep her eyes consistently focused on a single line of text.
Nairn was immediately swept away by the beauty and strangeness of the place. Her eyes moved constantly from the pools of water, up to the tower, to the strange light, to the spired stones. She hung back, truly admiring the place, but also to give herself some space. They'd been rather bunched up together at the waystation and she found herself still ill-at-ease. Perhaps once they were introduced as allies here she could get away to try some of the techniques Tempest had taught her, or maybe better yet, find a bed. She was beginning to feel weariness gnawing at her mind. Perhaps she shouldn't have stayed up all night reading every book in the...
Nairn's eyes widened as she took in the great hall and the trove of books, paper and pens. She didn't wait for introductions, but approached the nearest desk, selected a few pages of very nice paper, took up a quill and began writing down what she could remember from the scroll in the church. It bothered her that her memory lacked the usual clarity on the document, particularly toward the end, but she pressed herself to finish the document. She passed the still-wet pages to Anakita, trusting the Ranger would know who would need them most and disappeared into the nearest stack of books.
The fresh knowledge was so full of strangeness. It made her head dizzy. At least, that was what she told herself as she sat with her legs outstretched into an aisle, stack of books on each side of her, her head bobbing to keep her eyes consistently focused on a single line of text.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Fira-Nar
"Had it coming." she'd muttered under her breath. There was more that could have been said about Father Lucius, but she didn't think she should speak most of those out loud in front of everyone. Drina knew what she thought of him and hopefully a glance between them with a firm nod on her behalf would remind her of the things said in the relative privacy of the inn. Clearing her throat and lowering her weapon to a defensive stance, she again cast about, looking for signs of trouble.
"When you're done, healer? My scales are telling me we need to move."
The little entourage made a steady pace to their destination - not wanting to appear like they were running, but also not wanting to waste any time in arriving at their destination. Who knew how long that little girl might have...
"Had it coming." she'd muttered under her breath. There was more that could have been said about Father Lucius, but she didn't think she should speak most of those out loud in front of everyone. Drina knew what she thought of him and hopefully a glance between them with a firm nod on her behalf would remind her of the things said in the relative privacy of the inn. Clearing her throat and lowering her weapon to a defensive stance, she again cast about, looking for signs of trouble.
"When you're done, healer? My scales are telling me we need to move."
The little entourage made a steady pace to their destination - not wanting to appear like they were running, but also not wanting to waste any time in arriving at their destination. Who knew how long that little girl might have...
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 702
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Anakita stared at the pages as Nairn passed them to her. It gave more detailed instructions for how the ritual to be completed... and a summary for what needed to be accomplished to bind the vessel:
The scholar scribes the words of incantation with fire into the book of magic
The priest blesses and buries the book in water and stone
The paladin spills daedric blood in the circle
As the healer sustains the life of the vessel with a fountain of the blood of the vampire
"Well," Anakita said. "That sounds easy enough."
Fire, water, and stone were fairly self-explanatory. Sure, writing in a book using fire was unusual, but that was just iterating on the usual process - wasn't it? They had a cooperative daedra and presumably a cooperative vampire. The "fountain" of blood was a little concerning, but it couldn't be that bad.
"We've totally got this," she added, affirming as much to herself as to Stefan that they were going to save both the world and the little girl. "Let's start finding the stuff for the ritual, so we're ready when the others get here."
***
It wouldn't take long for the others to catch up, once the fight was over.
Drina thanked Tempest for healing her, and reflexively rubbed her arm, surprised that it no longer hurt at all.
Tempest covered the dead priest's face with one of the layers of his robes. "Do we need to bury him or... something?" she asked Angus hesitantly. There clearly wasn't time for funeral rites, but she didn't want to be blatantly disrespectful.
Angus regarded his deceased mentor one last time, then shook his head. "The city guard will be here any minute. They'll take him back to the church, and he'll be buried with all the pomp and circumstance you can imagine. We shouldn't be here when the guards get here."
As they made their way to the wayshrine expeditiously, Angus and Cullen fell into step. "I... suppose I owe everyone an explanation, after what you just heard," Angus said tentatively.
Cullen shook his head. "You don't owe anyone anything."
"I just... what he said about Coldharbour. And Drina..."
"No," Cullen assured him. "We aren't stupid. We understand the difference between torture and love. I certainly know about that, if anyone does. I was tortured by mages, and now I love a mage. Trust me - no explanation is needed."
Angus was taken up short, surprised by the insight and what Cullen had said about his past... but also the understanding.
Cara appeared on the priest's other side, and gave his arm a friendly bump with her shoulder. "You're going to be okay," she said. "I know it sometimes doesn't feel like it. But you are."
"Thank you," Angus said, his mind set at ease and his heart warmed. He was truly blessed to have such kind new friends.
The scholar scribes the words of incantation with fire into the book of magic
The priest blesses and buries the book in water and stone
The paladin spills daedric blood in the circle
As the healer sustains the life of the vessel with a fountain of the blood of the vampire
"Well," Anakita said. "That sounds easy enough."
Fire, water, and stone were fairly self-explanatory. Sure, writing in a book using fire was unusual, but that was just iterating on the usual process - wasn't it? They had a cooperative daedra and presumably a cooperative vampire. The "fountain" of blood was a little concerning, but it couldn't be that bad.
"We've totally got this," she added, affirming as much to herself as to Stefan that they were going to save both the world and the little girl. "Let's start finding the stuff for the ritual, so we're ready when the others get here."
***
It wouldn't take long for the others to catch up, once the fight was over.
Drina thanked Tempest for healing her, and reflexively rubbed her arm, surprised that it no longer hurt at all.
Tempest covered the dead priest's face with one of the layers of his robes. "Do we need to bury him or... something?" she asked Angus hesitantly. There clearly wasn't time for funeral rites, but she didn't want to be blatantly disrespectful.
Angus regarded his deceased mentor one last time, then shook his head. "The city guard will be here any minute. They'll take him back to the church, and he'll be buried with all the pomp and circumstance you can imagine. We shouldn't be here when the guards get here."
As they made their way to the wayshrine expeditiously, Angus and Cullen fell into step. "I... suppose I owe everyone an explanation, after what you just heard," Angus said tentatively.
Cullen shook his head. "You don't owe anyone anything."
"I just... what he said about Coldharbour. And Drina..."
"No," Cullen assured him. "We aren't stupid. We understand the difference between torture and love. I certainly know about that, if anyone does. I was tortured by mages, and now I love a mage. Trust me - no explanation is needed."
Angus was taken up short, surprised by the insight and what Cullen had said about his past... but also the understanding.
Cara appeared on the priest's other side, and gave his arm a friendly bump with her shoulder. "You're going to be okay," she said. "I know it sometimes doesn't feel like it. But you are."
"Thank you," Angus said, his mind set at ease and his heart warmed. He was truly blessed to have such kind new friends.