Post by DM Dan/Bi'rel/Sheila on May 27, 2015 19:15:10 GMT
Added part of the Locket
It was an awful sight through the fog, the destruction of this once beautiful land was evident. The cracks in the land or the creatures made of pure ooze and bile. The ghouls still left alone, with no masters, the deformed and destroyed animals, once beautiful and elegant, now rot with disease and madness. Spirits lost and roam with no caporal form, and forgotten by the ones they once loved. A beautiful manifestation of that which is the Holy of the worlds that created for the blessing of the people of that world. The farms that were destroyed and lives that were obliterated for the madness of one man's glory. These beings of all types fighting against their own, not even recognizing them, just destroying them as they went. In a million lifetimes, the madness that was experienced in the last few days would never have been conceivable.
Stepping through the foggy aftermath of the great battle in the area known now as the Battlelands, a lone figure digs through the rubbage, violently seeking something of worth. As some of the smug fog clears and the wisp of poison and death clear, the figure’s orange hewn shield comes into view, which bore the unmistakable sign of the Circle Shield from one of the few Knights of the Circle, Paladins of the Lost Crusades, sworn enemies of the Abominations known as Undead; instinctively the Mage begins to cast his protective spells, is this a scavenger or one of the Knights. With an almost silent jerk of his arms, the giant Paladin, dirty blue hew from his scale shown in that light, that which is left in the land, comes spinning around into a protective stance and an aura appears upon his brow, Shadow Aura, the mage has seen this symbol before. “Shakrie, hold!” the mage yells, “It is I, Rever, we have fought by each other, spilling more than just blood, stay your axe Paladin!” Within just a few seconds, the Paladin drops his arms, and places the shield and axe back into their spots. With only a word, spoken in a very somber tone, coming from an almost forceful and regretful state, the Paladin replies, “Rever.” Shakrie turns and begins his search again, and the mage, as all mages do in their almost arrogant way, notices that what the Paladin is searching through is the dead bodies on the field. “Lord Shakrie, how may I help you in your….” And before he could finish, Shakrie shot him a glare, that stare beyond stares, the threat of a desperate man, without using a breath, relaying his message of warning “leave me or I will end you.” It was at that point that the Mage knew what was wrong, what was missing, his companions sister, Sharia, leader of the Knights and the only family that Shakrie had left. Placing a hand upon Shakrie’s shoulder, he said in a low voice, “I will help you find her Shakrie, I swear it to you.” Shakrie stood, and with a threatening tone yelled, “Have you not done enough? Is it not enough that you, a man bent on control of the world through manipulation, turned my own against me, and our duty to come fight by YOUR side!” As the big Paladin stepped in closer, the human mage was once again was forced to realize that the whole Dragonborn people were massive, that the smallest of them would still tower over most of the humans of the land, and that he had already let his protective guard down, so he must learn to swallow his pride, and pray that the character of his friend had not changed, and that he would not hurt him. Pray, that the Holy Power has not been overcome with grief and spite. “I who call you friend, “ Shakrie continued, “ would let my only sister turn her back on her DUTY to the Order, and follow a human into a fight that was misplaced and doomed before it started. I tell you here and now, that nothing in the Nine Hells, nor that of the Goddess herself will stop me from killing that which has taken my family away from me, “ and with a deep breath, the Dragonborn got nose to nose with the Mage, lowered his voice to a forceful whisper and finish, “and than, my power seeking friend, you will learn what massive, true power can be.”
As Shakrie walked off the battlefield, toward the scarred lands, the mage contemplated his whole life and what he has become in the last few years. A feeling he had not known before, strong and persuasive came upon him as if it were buried from the world itself and released for the first time into the world, and he knew it was true. He loved Isara, and felt as though that he was now losing the only brother, a word he never used before, to the darkness which the Evil One has brought to the lands. He followed his friend; to watch out for him, not to protect him from enemies, let them be wary of this mighty Paladin, no, to make sure that he did not lose another to the darkness of pain and despair. A Golden glitter came from the direction of Shakrie, and the mage realized he had summoned his Charger, and the irony came to him. As this Warlord of the Holy was being lost to the realm of the Dark, he summoned the one thing that the Paladin had saved from the Dark and purified. Has the time come for the Mage to finally make a stand? Had he come to the end of his using and wandering ways? Had he finally found a home in a family that was not even of this world? “Southwest.”, the Mage whispered to himself, and realized that Shakrie was heading toward Stonetop, the one place the Paladin said, “Made this whole world seem more like home.” Rever began to chant, holding a reagent in his hand, and began to teleport himself to Stonetop, to gain advise from the Shaman there, before Shakrie reached the town. Friendship, such a thing has ended wars, or brought demise, the Mage thought to himself. Why do I let myself do this? With a flash he was gone.
Once gone, a shadow seemed to appear in the woods, along the fog line a tiger appeared, sniffed the ground where the two men had fought and talked, with a shake of the body, Ferelin, a Druid from times before, came to his true Elven form. “If we are split, “ the Druid said to almost to no one, “then all is lost.” A figure appearing out of nowhere, as though the wind itself blew them into existence, a blur appearing to the world, shows itself to the world. “Fere, it has been my experience, that nothing is lost as long as one person has hope.” Smiling at her Druid friend continued on, “It can even take a nomad Rogue, and turn them into the best friend of a tree hugging…well um…tree.” Shrugging as she finished the statement, the druid smiled at her friend, knowing that though she was still rough, she was right. Never, in the history of all of Odura, had a Druid befriended a Rogue as they have. “Come now, “ the druid said morphing into a different feline form, “let us see if the ruffian can keep up!” Than, like a blur the cat took off. “So unfair, even for the standards of a Rogue.” Said the rogue as she summoned her mount. Kicking the heals she yelled, “Here kitty kitty kitty.”
Our time!!!!
Times have truely changed since the time of Isara, but as things are eventually going to change, just as many stay the same. The recent books that I have read, the kempt parchments that are before me, with stories on them such as these, bring me to want to write the stories of my friends down, to share with those to come, to know what aweful and true events came upon Odura, but centered in an unlikely Kingdom called Tirianda. So I say this, I promise you, that in my words I am about to give, though from a thief, I place my honor, which I have learned from blood shed and friendship earned, that I did not turn, dismay, nor added effect or affect to any word written here. I would first like to say a word to all my friends whether they push on, for the true fight, or have been lost to us in times past, though this part is not for you, give me a moment.
Ok, so let us continue. It started many years ago, during the festivities in the small village of Rangio, on the first day of festivities. I had been given a task from my Master, only known as The Master, a regular search and find mission, and like always I was not given much information, just a name, The Locket of the Healing Gods. I went to the Seers, which I always did when I needed to find something lost and given less information if any at all, and they told me all the boring tails of the lore and myths and I did not give my full attention, as I never did, to which I now wish I did. I did listen enough to know that all the signs and stories pointed to this small village, to which the Summer Celebration would be going on.
There are many Myths of Halflings, and most people have not met any. One such Myth is if you see one in your travels on the roads, you will have good luck in those travels, I believe this one is my favorite. There are many more, catching them will make them give you their pot of gold, preposterous, stories from the masses when they do not know anything about a new race or being, or even seeing an old race for the first time. So on this Day of Akhena, the summer celebration, for anyone to see or let alone many travelled people of the lands to see, a Halfling walking into the town would be a very unusual sight, and get many people talking, and to my surprise, it didn’t. Did I mention that I am a Halfling, and normally my people love the quiet and serene visuals of home and in our lands. I was orphaned very young, and I grew up in the city of Toncia which is the major capitol city of my land. I hated traveling, always did, days upon days of walking and riding across this country with just myself to keep me entertained. Now I love this part of my life, the going everywhere to see and experience new things. I am an artist, though not so much in these later years, but also, I digress. Different stories for a different time.
Back to Rangio. The city was vibrant with celebration, drinking and dancing, jousting and boxing, all sorts of games and feats of strength, but more importantly, the last reliable known source, or should I say residence, of the object to which I was sent to retrieve. This would be the day, that not only would I meet the people that I would become so close to, that they would be my family, but the day that I truly learned to what life needs to but give me. As young as I was it was all about work, never given second thought to friends or socializing, chasing girls or anything most people do at my age. I have also dedicated everything to learning the craft of my Master as fast as I could. So upon entering the village, I set out to meet the leader of the village, a High Cleric by the name of Elroy Greenbright, a shorter than average human with brown hair, green eyes, and a very trimmed beard. Little did I know that there were some that were close to whom I would one day see as family. I remember my first conversation with the very matter-of-factly cleric.
I walked up to Elroy and said, “Dear sir, I have business here, and if I could have a moment of your time, I would have appreciation for it.” As Elroy turned around to see me for the first time, I could tell that he had seen my people before, which as I mentioned before was quite unusual, for my people rarely left their dwellings, and it was unheard of to leave ones own shire. Little did I know, that even if he had not seen my ilk before, he was a man who seemed to never be surprised by anything. “Yes my dear halfling,” Elroy responded, “how can I help you this fine day.” Well, I always have a strategy for every movement, no matter how insignificant it seemed even a conversation, and seeing the very mannerisms he used in just a simple turn, the tone of his voice, and the sheer fact of not being surprised toward me, I decided to get straight to the point. “Have you ever heard of the Locket of the Healing Gods, that would be the plural form, just so you are not mislead, I have reason to believe that it was last seen, many years ago in this area, and that is the last time any reliable recording of it was made.” In truth, I never liked being on even ground with anyone, even in a simple conversation, I had hoped my bluntness would take him back, or at least give me some sign of weakness in character, yet I did not see any. Trust me when I say, had he given any signs, I would know them immediately. “Good sir,” Elroy replied, not a twitch of the face or any change in perception upon him, “I have heard of this locket you are in search of but only in passing, may I ask, what does it do, and why would you be seeking it?” Ah, I love a good sparing, especially in the mincing of words. I was never a strong reader, but my mannerisms were truly sharpened for this sparing, I start with a straight frontal attack, and this cleric, with the finesse of a fencer, deflected my question, and did what I tried to protect him from doing, and that is looking to deep into things. “To the question of what it does,” I replied, trying to show nothing and keep my guard, “men in my service do not last long to ask such questions, and to whom it is for, I can say only this, it is a long lost family heirloom to which I have been entrusted to return to the rightful family.” I must say, I was truly impressed with myself, until he pushed on. “Sir, are you asking me to find this for you?” Ah, a practiced tongue. He has set me back, by truly being an artist, with such a question not only did he deflect what he knew I had asked, but now he has put me on the defensive, and changed the topic slightly to his advantage. In another life, he and I would be great friends. I started my attack, “Absolutely not, good sir, and you wound me with such a question. I only seek the object, and you being the one that everyone talks so highly of in wisdom and in justice, nah, truly a leader amongst men should know, that I only seek information. Though, if this item is one in which you have in your possession to give, it would make my search much easier.”
Finally some head way, that slight ting in the corner of his right eye, it gives away to the fact that my attack had landed a blow, Now I have placed him in a situation to which he can straight out insult me, and men of power, those not given it but the ones that do, like this man has done, earned it, would never do to save what power he has. He must now show his true character, does he lie to me, and attempt to deflect my search, does he find out everything he can to help me out, or does he help me and give me the information he knows hoping it will be enough to end this dual of words? “I have heard of this locket you seek, though I have never seen it,” Elroy started, “but this I can say, as I see you are a heart of seeking, as all worthy pilgrims are, I will see what my search can turn up, I will than send for you to tell you what I have found.” At this point, Elroy's eyes turned pure milky white and the green has gone, with a voice that was not his, and still of him I heard, “The trees contain the Gods, or the rocks contain the Gods.” Taken aback, and trust me that is no easy thing, I said, “Excuse me, High Cleric Elroy, what did you say?” The green had returned to his eyes, and with a small shake of the head he said, “I will send for you, good day for now.” I took my cue, bowed low as was custom to do when leaving a holy person and began to walk out from the High Clerics tent. I had no idea what had just happened, but I figured I would find out. It did not matter how I come to have the locket in my possession, all that matters is that I return with it such. I must never fail my master.
As I left the tent I saw another cleric coming to the tent, taller than the High Cleric, blond hair and eyes vibrant of youth. In my business there is nothing that is considered too thorough. “Excuse me good cleric!” I exclaimed running to this man who stopped and to my good fortune, was taken aback by the sight of a man as short as I. I truly love to spare with a man who probably does not look at it like I do. Truth is though, I used to feel guilty about this kind of banter with men of the cloth, but than again, you figure if there truly are Gods, they would not leave them so ill equipped for battle. I continue while I let his mind stew that I am not a child, “By the wear of your robes and symbol, could I be mistaken that you are one of the followers of Akhena?” Finally, and after a long pause, the young cleric shakes his head a bit and seems to come out of his thoughts, he tries to gather some left over dignity, that pride that comes from youth, he begins slowly stating, “I am my good sir, I am amazed that you would recognize the slight differences from the clerics who serve the goddess of Summer. How may I help you today?” He gives away so much with just the setting that he lives within his words, no introduction, seemingly he has never seen or been in for a long time, a major city. Country folks are very used to everybody knowing everyone. It is amazing sometimes who would meet in such towns, especially during celebrations. “My name is Umbra, my good cleric. By what name may I call you?” I do need him to be a slight bit shaper, so I try to ease him back to the present reality of a conversation by being the first to introduce myself. “, my name is Leza. It is good to meet your acquaintance Umbra.” Ok now the wheels are turning, let us see if the squirrel is dead, “Cleric Leza, have you ever heard of the Locket of the Healing Gods?” Never hurts to be forward with people that are off guard, you do not want them to be so sharp they can dance around without answering a question, but you need to get good information from people. “I believe that I have heard it in stories, and mostly, if not always, within the stories of the Cleric Jameson, the founding Cleric of my monastery.” This now peeks my interest, though I did not really pay attention, I do remember a man named Jameson within the last reliable stories of the location of the locket. Though I believe at this point I will keep this too myself. “You do not hail from these great halls? By the way you hold yourself I would have thought you to be one of the High-Clerics Mandangeroy here.” Always give the marks ego a stroke, it keeps them interested my Master always tells me. “Afraid not Umbra, my monastery is founded near the edge of the Walking Woods, right outside of town, but far enough away that the sick and dying do not scare or suffer any confusion amongst the good people of this town.” I will look around a bit, and gather more information, but for now I think I got what I needed from this man, a location to start if all else fails. “Thank you very much for your time good Cleric. I must be off, I have some appointments set up in the market this fine day, and I must not miss or be late for any of them.” That seemed to remind him of why he himself had been called back to the village this day. “I too have an appoint,” he said a little to fast to be anything but haste in his voice, “I too need to make an appointment!” And he was off into the High Clerics tent from which I had just emerged. Before he entered, a female in black approached Leza, but that had nothing to do with him.
So, with the information that I have gathered, I was off to Market, which during this time, is a huge to do, maybe I will get lucky and hear something. I walked the distance to the market, and upon entering the Market, I could not believe that I would see, what my eyes saw, made me feel as all the other races felt when they see a Halfling of my stature walking about, it was a Dwarf, this far from the mountains, during a festival that for all other purposes, envelopes the worship of the Sun and summer days. Through my travels, I have met dwarves, and one thing I know for sure, if there is something shiny and of worth within miles of their position, they usually know something of it. I make my way throughout the heavy crowds of boisterous and joyful people to the shop for which this stunning beauty of a woman was running her establishment. I approach her and exclaim, “My dear dwarf, may the grounds be forever stable under your feet!” In all my travels, this I had learned was the most disarming of all greetings the dwarves people have. To my surprise, this had not disarmed her, but her strength blew through in the very look of suspicion that I had come to see, radiating from this marvelous display of, in my very humble opinion, the majesty that should beam through a true lady of any race. The dwarf turned to me, her fiery red hair burned like an exploding volcano through the air, glistening off the sun of the morning, her green eyes seemed to see through me to the very valleys for which their color was used as she said, “Is it not obvious, halfling,” and with this she almost squinted her eyes at me, and it melted my heart, “I have left my people and their ways, ways and beliefs that I do not share, to come to the surface, dwell amongst it’s people, and dwell, and live amongst them.” I must approach with caution in this conversation, it must not be a dual, it is more inquisitive. “ I meant no disrespect my Lady, I am only a low born, traveling the roads and doing my Masters bidding.” That seemed to take a little discomfort off of her demeanor, so I pressed on. “I only use the phrases I have learned amongst my travels, but you are right, I must learn to not jump to conclusions as most people do with my kind.” She seemed to relax fully at this expression of life, which was true. So I pressed on, “As well in my travels, my Lady, I know full well the almost perfection of Dwarven brew, and by the looks of your shop, a Brewery? If so, would you mind if I sampled a bit?” She smiled a bit and said, “It would be my honor to serve you Mr. Halfling, and enough with the “Mi’ Lady” bit, my name is Krocky, please call me that, and as for the Brew, what would you like?” I did not miss a bit, “How much for a pint of your finest ale.” this brought that beautiful smile that I had come to know and love over the years to come, to that hard and beautifully chiseled face of hers. I continued on, “ Well than my dear Krocky, if we are to be on first name bases, my name is Umbra.” This brought her back again, and again I had forgotten. There is a dislike and mistrust amongst the dwarves people towards the Elves, and being an Orphan, I was named by the Elves, my name means Shadow, named for the smallness of my race. How could I be so foolish. “Umbra, is that an Elvish name?” she asked, driving more of my fears home. “It is, Krocky, named by the caretakers of the Orphanage in the Capital who took me in when I was a but a baby.” This did not seem to change her demeanor and I was fearful of her attitude to me after this, but she disarmed me with her next statement. “That is amazing,” she said with no hint of fallacy in her voice, “I have always wanted to sit and talk with a full Elf, I never understood my peoples issues with such a race.” She poured the Ale into the mug, and gave it to me. “We have not settled on a price yet?” She just said, “for you Umbra, one silver will cover it.” I pulled one silver from one of my many small pouches, and handed it to her, watching to where she would place the coin. She placed it in her right pouch and turned, and I stole it back. No reason to pay for a drink when it could be free. As I touched the glass, my craft instinctually kicked in. I began to appraise this drink, and it was worth far more than the one silver I attempted to pay for it with. It is rare to see a brew that is worth one gold, for now though I think I will keep this to myself.
“Krocky, may I ask you a personal question?” I start my inquiry, no need to beat around the bush here. Eyeing me suspiciously Krocky hesitantly responds to my question, “I believe it would be ok Umbra, depending on the question.” I must now work through my admiration of such a talent in information. “Have you been in the area long?” I ask, as she adjusts her long fiery hair once again, attempting to distract me, which does not work, but I would be a fool not to enjoy this for now. “I have been here for a few cycles now, besides the festival, which is good for business, I like the quiet that this small village brings, and the people are nice.” I love a woman who is smart enough to devise to what I may possibly ask. I must think of my mission, I must not disappoint my master, “Have you heard of the Locket of the Healing Gods?” I press on, trying not to get too formal. “I have, but more information will cost you Umbra.” she continues, “I believe you will have to part with 3 gold for my information.” Ah, a woman after my own heart, bargaining 101, enjoy the ride. I answer Krocky, “With all the research that I have done already, and being able to place it here, within this area, I am not sure 3 gold is feasible, but here is my offer,” now I must not be too hasty, and this straight forward negotiating has to be precise, “I will pay a total of one gold for the information, 5 silver pieces now, and if you accompany me, 5 silver if the information pans out.” Krocky sits back in her chair, in what looks like pondering thought, and I sip my beer and pretend to start to become impatient waiting for an answer. After a short while, Krocky says, “Umbra, my dear halfling, you have a deal.” and as is customary, we shake on this deal, as I place the first of the 5 pieces of silver in her hand, she screams two booths down, “Jamorin, get over here, I need your assistance with something!” Jamorin comes in and he is a tower of a man. Human, tall and lean, obviously a fighter of some kind, and knows how to handle himself. I am unchanged, I have learned awhile ago that cocky fighters are no match for the speed and agility that I can impose, but I still feel this is a shake down. “What Krocky, seriously what? I am trying to sell my furs and meats so that I can have a comfortable living,” and it trails off as he spots me for the first time. “My apologies, but are you a halfling?” he inquires, man I truly hate pausing in any business transaction, but if the information will get me closer to my goal, I have to roll with the punches, again. “I am sorry Jamorin, where are my manners, “ Krocky states, probably feeling the awkwardness in the room. “Umbra, this is my friend, Jamorin, Jamorin, meet my newest customer, Umbra.” Still looking dumbfounded, as most human fighters do, I feel they cannot help it, so I press on, “Jamorin, it is a pleasure to meet you, I believe you have some information that I may be looking for.” Jamorin eases a bit and takes a seat next to me, “What can I do for you, Umbra?” I continue on, explain to him what has transpired so far, he stays and listens intently. He than turned to Krocky and said, “You believe this is the item I saw?” I jump a bit in my chair, “Jamorin where did you find a locket?”, I am up on my feet in an instant and by his side, “Think Jamorin, where did you see this item?” I catch my bearings and I wait, calm my breathing, and still myself. I take my seat again, and Jamorin starts to talk, “Umbra, there is a cave about quarter of a days walk from here, I wandered in,” and he says, “I thought I heard things, people talking, so I left the cave but before I left, I saw a brightness, a single locket shining through the darkness.” Left to his thoughts I waited for a moment, I must see this cave, I must never disappoint my master, never again.
Chapter 2
My friends,
If you are reading this, than you will know, my true thoughts through ever endeavor we had. I was blood thirst for power, and though I can say that this passion is not fully releaved of my actions, I am now understanding of the true nature of power, which is that of friendship, love, and actions toward others. I may never be the all powerful mage I strove for, but I now know that I am stronger now than I have or ever will be. I write these thoughts so I may share them with you one day, and you will know the real turmoil that my soul truly has. As we go to Nightmare Tower, I feel that I have a purpose for good, I have had a dream with Akhena, telling me that Gomo has agreed to let me make a purpose, and that my time is near. Know that whatever it is that I am about to do, I do for you all, but mostly Slater. I have no idea why but both Gomo and Akhena have told me so, and I trust in the gods, especially when they normally don’t agree. If I do not return, know that I love you (OTHER LEZA NAME), and you have shown me that there is good in everything, even if it seems that it is enveloped with evil.
Sincerely,
Kruel
To most, Kruel was just a normal, and a very normal woman. Nothing of her appearance made her stand out and that was exactly the way that she liked it. That look, the one she had, that is the look of annoyance, she was always wondering if, within her brown eyes, through her brown hair and fairly average height, how anyone could come to be taken with her. I remember she always asked why it is so important to have a Doctor around these stupid events, if they die than they die. Now I think it is just that her research was more important, more than anything else in the entire universe to her. Of coarse no one can see her anger, shrouded in the lasting darkness of the robe she wore, all black, no one would be able to see what her non-verbal language was. If anyone was to look closer, they would see the ruins that make her who she was, the power that surges through her doings and her writings, and what they represent. I remember the day she came though I did fall prey to the simple person she was, remember the lady in black that approached (OTHER LEZA), well that was her.
I remember that she told once, before the Nightmare Tower, of the day she arrived at Rangio. She walked as though if she got to the festival sooner, it will be over sooner. “We all must continue doing our pretense, and you, as a doctor need to go to the and fulfill your pretense,” She told me that her master had told her, “continue being your brilliant self, so you can study the Power all other time.” She, a servant of the Unholy and True Chaotic God Gomo, 9th circle of the Provadio dres dek Lestion, wielder of the Unholy Mass, conqueror of souls and dominion over the Undead, pushed into that of a mere mortal woman, how dare they! Did these Masters not see that she had been touched by their God, He who has guided her through the depths of thought and of magical beings, taught her that there is no right and wrong, that justice at it's truest thought is that of Chaos? She once told me she was His chosen, He who sends His workers to commune with her, to guide her through her meditations unto Him, to purge the world of weakness. She, who above any other, given the understanding and ability to accomplish that which He demands. She told me that she could feel the fire burning within her, the power of her seemingly Unholy God coursing through her veins. He who is the God of Death, is the giver of life, and in the darkness is where one can truly see the light. Do not these droves of imbeciles see this? She used to believe it was only blindness outside of the order that brought ignorant thoughts and selfish desires, but she saw that her Masters have not cleansed themselves of this either. One day, she felt she will be called upon by Him, to purge this place and make it Holy unto Him. But this is not that day, He never told her when, but neither does He tell her now. So she had followed obediently, and she came to this town to be a doctor which she loved being, not for this tournament, which she found to be very stupid, a waste of time when people could start learning true power. She had no time for this, but she must, because her master had demanded it. She slowed down and walk with authority into town and toward the High Clerics tent. She had done this many times before, go and present yourself, humbly asking to participate, even though she did not want to be here. They do this stage of blah blah blah, since she was 10, and year after year after that, they called upon her, ask for her by name. The thought made her, made her even telling me this, smile, if they were to know from whence her power came, would they ask whither she was going? Elroy, who she called the old fool, so devoted to his God, could not sense the power that she had wield, if they would let her finish her research, than no one would ever die. She told me also, “Fools, they would probably reject my gift, hiding behind the Gods they follow, never knowing the power of the justful God, Gomo, God of Death.” If she was anything, it was passionete. Lost in her thoughts, she make it across the field without hesitation, that’s when when she saw a very unusual sight, a lesser cleric talking to a Halfling. The only time she had seen a halfling was when she experimented on one for my research, “You little noble creatures were of great use in searching for the truth.” She apologized for that one, which still makes me giggle thinking of it, she was proud of her work, though she later saw the folly of her ways. As she approached, I walked off, toward the market, she said she thought, “I must remember to catch up to him later.”
Unknowingly, she had caught the attention of the lesser cleric that I was talking too, this meant one thing, unnecessary chatter with another person who fancied themselves a scholar but could not see past their own preconceived notions of right and wrong, to see that true power comes from that which they find taboo.
It was an awful sight through the fog, the destruction of this once beautiful land was evident. The cracks in the land or the creatures made of pure ooze and bile. The ghouls still left alone, with no masters, the deformed and destroyed animals, once beautiful and elegant, now rot with disease and madness. Spirits lost and roam with no caporal form, and forgotten by the ones they once loved. A beautiful manifestation of that which is the Holy of the worlds that created for the blessing of the people of that world. The farms that were destroyed and lives that were obliterated for the madness of one man's glory. These beings of all types fighting against their own, not even recognizing them, just destroying them as they went. In a million lifetimes, the madness that was experienced in the last few days would never have been conceivable.
Stepping through the foggy aftermath of the great battle in the area known now as the Battlelands, a lone figure digs through the rubbage, violently seeking something of worth. As some of the smug fog clears and the wisp of poison and death clear, the figure’s orange hewn shield comes into view, which bore the unmistakable sign of the Circle Shield from one of the few Knights of the Circle, Paladins of the Lost Crusades, sworn enemies of the Abominations known as Undead; instinctively the Mage begins to cast his protective spells, is this a scavenger or one of the Knights. With an almost silent jerk of his arms, the giant Paladin, dirty blue hew from his scale shown in that light, that which is left in the land, comes spinning around into a protective stance and an aura appears upon his brow, Shadow Aura, the mage has seen this symbol before. “Shakrie, hold!” the mage yells, “It is I, Rever, we have fought by each other, spilling more than just blood, stay your axe Paladin!” Within just a few seconds, the Paladin drops his arms, and places the shield and axe back into their spots. With only a word, spoken in a very somber tone, coming from an almost forceful and regretful state, the Paladin replies, “Rever.” Shakrie turns and begins his search again, and the mage, as all mages do in their almost arrogant way, notices that what the Paladin is searching through is the dead bodies on the field. “Lord Shakrie, how may I help you in your….” And before he could finish, Shakrie shot him a glare, that stare beyond stares, the threat of a desperate man, without using a breath, relaying his message of warning “leave me or I will end you.” It was at that point that the Mage knew what was wrong, what was missing, his companions sister, Sharia, leader of the Knights and the only family that Shakrie had left. Placing a hand upon Shakrie’s shoulder, he said in a low voice, “I will help you find her Shakrie, I swear it to you.” Shakrie stood, and with a threatening tone yelled, “Have you not done enough? Is it not enough that you, a man bent on control of the world through manipulation, turned my own against me, and our duty to come fight by YOUR side!” As the big Paladin stepped in closer, the human mage was once again was forced to realize that the whole Dragonborn people were massive, that the smallest of them would still tower over most of the humans of the land, and that he had already let his protective guard down, so he must learn to swallow his pride, and pray that the character of his friend had not changed, and that he would not hurt him. Pray, that the Holy Power has not been overcome with grief and spite. “I who call you friend, “ Shakrie continued, “ would let my only sister turn her back on her DUTY to the Order, and follow a human into a fight that was misplaced and doomed before it started. I tell you here and now, that nothing in the Nine Hells, nor that of the Goddess herself will stop me from killing that which has taken my family away from me, “ and with a deep breath, the Dragonborn got nose to nose with the Mage, lowered his voice to a forceful whisper and finish, “and than, my power seeking friend, you will learn what massive, true power can be.”
As Shakrie walked off the battlefield, toward the scarred lands, the mage contemplated his whole life and what he has become in the last few years. A feeling he had not known before, strong and persuasive came upon him as if it were buried from the world itself and released for the first time into the world, and he knew it was true. He loved Isara, and felt as though that he was now losing the only brother, a word he never used before, to the darkness which the Evil One has brought to the lands. He followed his friend; to watch out for him, not to protect him from enemies, let them be wary of this mighty Paladin, no, to make sure that he did not lose another to the darkness of pain and despair. A Golden glitter came from the direction of Shakrie, and the mage realized he had summoned his Charger, and the irony came to him. As this Warlord of the Holy was being lost to the realm of the Dark, he summoned the one thing that the Paladin had saved from the Dark and purified. Has the time come for the Mage to finally make a stand? Had he come to the end of his using and wandering ways? Had he finally found a home in a family that was not even of this world? “Southwest.”, the Mage whispered to himself, and realized that Shakrie was heading toward Stonetop, the one place the Paladin said, “Made this whole world seem more like home.” Rever began to chant, holding a reagent in his hand, and began to teleport himself to Stonetop, to gain advise from the Shaman there, before Shakrie reached the town. Friendship, such a thing has ended wars, or brought demise, the Mage thought to himself. Why do I let myself do this? With a flash he was gone.
Once gone, a shadow seemed to appear in the woods, along the fog line a tiger appeared, sniffed the ground where the two men had fought and talked, with a shake of the body, Ferelin, a Druid from times before, came to his true Elven form. “If we are split, “ the Druid said to almost to no one, “then all is lost.” A figure appearing out of nowhere, as though the wind itself blew them into existence, a blur appearing to the world, shows itself to the world. “Fere, it has been my experience, that nothing is lost as long as one person has hope.” Smiling at her Druid friend continued on, “It can even take a nomad Rogue, and turn them into the best friend of a tree hugging…well um…tree.” Shrugging as she finished the statement, the druid smiled at her friend, knowing that though she was still rough, she was right. Never, in the history of all of Odura, had a Druid befriended a Rogue as they have. “Come now, “ the druid said morphing into a different feline form, “let us see if the ruffian can keep up!” Than, like a blur the cat took off. “So unfair, even for the standards of a Rogue.” Said the rogue as she summoned her mount. Kicking the heals she yelled, “Here kitty kitty kitty.”
Our time!!!!
Times have truely changed since the time of Isara, but as things are eventually going to change, just as many stay the same. The recent books that I have read, the kempt parchments that are before me, with stories on them such as these, bring me to want to write the stories of my friends down, to share with those to come, to know what aweful and true events came upon Odura, but centered in an unlikely Kingdom called Tirianda. So I say this, I promise you, that in my words I am about to give, though from a thief, I place my honor, which I have learned from blood shed and friendship earned, that I did not turn, dismay, nor added effect or affect to any word written here. I would first like to say a word to all my friends whether they push on, for the true fight, or have been lost to us in times past, though this part is not for you, give me a moment.
Ok, so let us continue. It started many years ago, during the festivities in the small village of Rangio, on the first day of festivities. I had been given a task from my Master, only known as The Master, a regular search and find mission, and like always I was not given much information, just a name, The Locket of the Healing Gods. I went to the Seers, which I always did when I needed to find something lost and given less information if any at all, and they told me all the boring tails of the lore and myths and I did not give my full attention, as I never did, to which I now wish I did. I did listen enough to know that all the signs and stories pointed to this small village, to which the Summer Celebration would be going on.
There are many Myths of Halflings, and most people have not met any. One such Myth is if you see one in your travels on the roads, you will have good luck in those travels, I believe this one is my favorite. There are many more, catching them will make them give you their pot of gold, preposterous, stories from the masses when they do not know anything about a new race or being, or even seeing an old race for the first time. So on this Day of Akhena, the summer celebration, for anyone to see or let alone many travelled people of the lands to see, a Halfling walking into the town would be a very unusual sight, and get many people talking, and to my surprise, it didn’t. Did I mention that I am a Halfling, and normally my people love the quiet and serene visuals of home and in our lands. I was orphaned very young, and I grew up in the city of Toncia which is the major capitol city of my land. I hated traveling, always did, days upon days of walking and riding across this country with just myself to keep me entertained. Now I love this part of my life, the going everywhere to see and experience new things. I am an artist, though not so much in these later years, but also, I digress. Different stories for a different time.
Back to Rangio. The city was vibrant with celebration, drinking and dancing, jousting and boxing, all sorts of games and feats of strength, but more importantly, the last reliable known source, or should I say residence, of the object to which I was sent to retrieve. This would be the day, that not only would I meet the people that I would become so close to, that they would be my family, but the day that I truly learned to what life needs to but give me. As young as I was it was all about work, never given second thought to friends or socializing, chasing girls or anything most people do at my age. I have also dedicated everything to learning the craft of my Master as fast as I could. So upon entering the village, I set out to meet the leader of the village, a High Cleric by the name of Elroy Greenbright, a shorter than average human with brown hair, green eyes, and a very trimmed beard. Little did I know that there were some that were close to whom I would one day see as family. I remember my first conversation with the very matter-of-factly cleric.
I walked up to Elroy and said, “Dear sir, I have business here, and if I could have a moment of your time, I would have appreciation for it.” As Elroy turned around to see me for the first time, I could tell that he had seen my people before, which as I mentioned before was quite unusual, for my people rarely left their dwellings, and it was unheard of to leave ones own shire. Little did I know, that even if he had not seen my ilk before, he was a man who seemed to never be surprised by anything. “Yes my dear halfling,” Elroy responded, “how can I help you this fine day.” Well, I always have a strategy for every movement, no matter how insignificant it seemed even a conversation, and seeing the very mannerisms he used in just a simple turn, the tone of his voice, and the sheer fact of not being surprised toward me, I decided to get straight to the point. “Have you ever heard of the Locket of the Healing Gods, that would be the plural form, just so you are not mislead, I have reason to believe that it was last seen, many years ago in this area, and that is the last time any reliable recording of it was made.” In truth, I never liked being on even ground with anyone, even in a simple conversation, I had hoped my bluntness would take him back, or at least give me some sign of weakness in character, yet I did not see any. Trust me when I say, had he given any signs, I would know them immediately. “Good sir,” Elroy replied, not a twitch of the face or any change in perception upon him, “I have heard of this locket you are in search of but only in passing, may I ask, what does it do, and why would you be seeking it?” Ah, I love a good sparing, especially in the mincing of words. I was never a strong reader, but my mannerisms were truly sharpened for this sparing, I start with a straight frontal attack, and this cleric, with the finesse of a fencer, deflected my question, and did what I tried to protect him from doing, and that is looking to deep into things. “To the question of what it does,” I replied, trying to show nothing and keep my guard, “men in my service do not last long to ask such questions, and to whom it is for, I can say only this, it is a long lost family heirloom to which I have been entrusted to return to the rightful family.” I must say, I was truly impressed with myself, until he pushed on. “Sir, are you asking me to find this for you?” Ah, a practiced tongue. He has set me back, by truly being an artist, with such a question not only did he deflect what he knew I had asked, but now he has put me on the defensive, and changed the topic slightly to his advantage. In another life, he and I would be great friends. I started my attack, “Absolutely not, good sir, and you wound me with such a question. I only seek the object, and you being the one that everyone talks so highly of in wisdom and in justice, nah, truly a leader amongst men should know, that I only seek information. Though, if this item is one in which you have in your possession to give, it would make my search much easier.”
Finally some head way, that slight ting in the corner of his right eye, it gives away to the fact that my attack had landed a blow, Now I have placed him in a situation to which he can straight out insult me, and men of power, those not given it but the ones that do, like this man has done, earned it, would never do to save what power he has. He must now show his true character, does he lie to me, and attempt to deflect my search, does he find out everything he can to help me out, or does he help me and give me the information he knows hoping it will be enough to end this dual of words? “I have heard of this locket you seek, though I have never seen it,” Elroy started, “but this I can say, as I see you are a heart of seeking, as all worthy pilgrims are, I will see what my search can turn up, I will than send for you to tell you what I have found.” At this point, Elroy's eyes turned pure milky white and the green has gone, with a voice that was not his, and still of him I heard, “The trees contain the Gods, or the rocks contain the Gods.” Taken aback, and trust me that is no easy thing, I said, “Excuse me, High Cleric Elroy, what did you say?” The green had returned to his eyes, and with a small shake of the head he said, “I will send for you, good day for now.” I took my cue, bowed low as was custom to do when leaving a holy person and began to walk out from the High Clerics tent. I had no idea what had just happened, but I figured I would find out. It did not matter how I come to have the locket in my possession, all that matters is that I return with it such. I must never fail my master.
As I left the tent I saw another cleric coming to the tent, taller than the High Cleric, blond hair and eyes vibrant of youth. In my business there is nothing that is considered too thorough. “Excuse me good cleric!” I exclaimed running to this man who stopped and to my good fortune, was taken aback by the sight of a man as short as I. I truly love to spare with a man who probably does not look at it like I do. Truth is though, I used to feel guilty about this kind of banter with men of the cloth, but than again, you figure if there truly are Gods, they would not leave them so ill equipped for battle. I continue while I let his mind stew that I am not a child, “By the wear of your robes and symbol, could I be mistaken that you are one of the followers of Akhena?” Finally, and after a long pause, the young cleric shakes his head a bit and seems to come out of his thoughts, he tries to gather some left over dignity, that pride that comes from youth, he begins slowly stating, “I am my good sir, I am amazed that you would recognize the slight differences from the clerics who serve the goddess of Summer. How may I help you today?” He gives away so much with just the setting that he lives within his words, no introduction, seemingly he has never seen or been in for a long time, a major city. Country folks are very used to everybody knowing everyone. It is amazing sometimes who would meet in such towns, especially during celebrations. “My name is Umbra, my good cleric. By what name may I call you?” I do need him to be a slight bit shaper, so I try to ease him back to the present reality of a conversation by being the first to introduce myself. “, my name is Leza. It is good to meet your acquaintance Umbra.” Ok now the wheels are turning, let us see if the squirrel is dead, “Cleric Leza, have you ever heard of the Locket of the Healing Gods?” Never hurts to be forward with people that are off guard, you do not want them to be so sharp they can dance around without answering a question, but you need to get good information from people. “I believe that I have heard it in stories, and mostly, if not always, within the stories of the Cleric Jameson, the founding Cleric of my monastery.” This now peeks my interest, though I did not really pay attention, I do remember a man named Jameson within the last reliable stories of the location of the locket. Though I believe at this point I will keep this too myself. “You do not hail from these great halls? By the way you hold yourself I would have thought you to be one of the High-Clerics Mandangeroy here.” Always give the marks ego a stroke, it keeps them interested my Master always tells me. “Afraid not Umbra, my monastery is founded near the edge of the Walking Woods, right outside of town, but far enough away that the sick and dying do not scare or suffer any confusion amongst the good people of this town.” I will look around a bit, and gather more information, but for now I think I got what I needed from this man, a location to start if all else fails. “Thank you very much for your time good Cleric. I must be off, I have some appointments set up in the market this fine day, and I must not miss or be late for any of them.” That seemed to remind him of why he himself had been called back to the village this day. “I too have an appoint,” he said a little to fast to be anything but haste in his voice, “I too need to make an appointment!” And he was off into the High Clerics tent from which I had just emerged. Before he entered, a female in black approached Leza, but that had nothing to do with him.
So, with the information that I have gathered, I was off to Market, which during this time, is a huge to do, maybe I will get lucky and hear something. I walked the distance to the market, and upon entering the Market, I could not believe that I would see, what my eyes saw, made me feel as all the other races felt when they see a Halfling of my stature walking about, it was a Dwarf, this far from the mountains, during a festival that for all other purposes, envelopes the worship of the Sun and summer days. Through my travels, I have met dwarves, and one thing I know for sure, if there is something shiny and of worth within miles of their position, they usually know something of it. I make my way throughout the heavy crowds of boisterous and joyful people to the shop for which this stunning beauty of a woman was running her establishment. I approach her and exclaim, “My dear dwarf, may the grounds be forever stable under your feet!” In all my travels, this I had learned was the most disarming of all greetings the dwarves people have. To my surprise, this had not disarmed her, but her strength blew through in the very look of suspicion that I had come to see, radiating from this marvelous display of, in my very humble opinion, the majesty that should beam through a true lady of any race. The dwarf turned to me, her fiery red hair burned like an exploding volcano through the air, glistening off the sun of the morning, her green eyes seemed to see through me to the very valleys for which their color was used as she said, “Is it not obvious, halfling,” and with this she almost squinted her eyes at me, and it melted my heart, “I have left my people and their ways, ways and beliefs that I do not share, to come to the surface, dwell amongst it’s people, and dwell, and live amongst them.” I must approach with caution in this conversation, it must not be a dual, it is more inquisitive. “ I meant no disrespect my Lady, I am only a low born, traveling the roads and doing my Masters bidding.” That seemed to take a little discomfort off of her demeanor, so I pressed on. “I only use the phrases I have learned amongst my travels, but you are right, I must learn to not jump to conclusions as most people do with my kind.” She seemed to relax fully at this expression of life, which was true. So I pressed on, “As well in my travels, my Lady, I know full well the almost perfection of Dwarven brew, and by the looks of your shop, a Brewery? If so, would you mind if I sampled a bit?” She smiled a bit and said, “It would be my honor to serve you Mr. Halfling, and enough with the “Mi’ Lady” bit, my name is Krocky, please call me that, and as for the Brew, what would you like?” I did not miss a bit, “How much for a pint of your finest ale.” this brought that beautiful smile that I had come to know and love over the years to come, to that hard and beautifully chiseled face of hers. I continued on, “ Well than my dear Krocky, if we are to be on first name bases, my name is Umbra.” This brought her back again, and again I had forgotten. There is a dislike and mistrust amongst the dwarves people towards the Elves, and being an Orphan, I was named by the Elves, my name means Shadow, named for the smallness of my race. How could I be so foolish. “Umbra, is that an Elvish name?” she asked, driving more of my fears home. “It is, Krocky, named by the caretakers of the Orphanage in the Capital who took me in when I was a but a baby.” This did not seem to change her demeanor and I was fearful of her attitude to me after this, but she disarmed me with her next statement. “That is amazing,” she said with no hint of fallacy in her voice, “I have always wanted to sit and talk with a full Elf, I never understood my peoples issues with such a race.” She poured the Ale into the mug, and gave it to me. “We have not settled on a price yet?” She just said, “for you Umbra, one silver will cover it.” I pulled one silver from one of my many small pouches, and handed it to her, watching to where she would place the coin. She placed it in her right pouch and turned, and I stole it back. No reason to pay for a drink when it could be free. As I touched the glass, my craft instinctually kicked in. I began to appraise this drink, and it was worth far more than the one silver I attempted to pay for it with. It is rare to see a brew that is worth one gold, for now though I think I will keep this to myself.
“Krocky, may I ask you a personal question?” I start my inquiry, no need to beat around the bush here. Eyeing me suspiciously Krocky hesitantly responds to my question, “I believe it would be ok Umbra, depending on the question.” I must now work through my admiration of such a talent in information. “Have you been in the area long?” I ask, as she adjusts her long fiery hair once again, attempting to distract me, which does not work, but I would be a fool not to enjoy this for now. “I have been here for a few cycles now, besides the festival, which is good for business, I like the quiet that this small village brings, and the people are nice.” I love a woman who is smart enough to devise to what I may possibly ask. I must think of my mission, I must not disappoint my master, “Have you heard of the Locket of the Healing Gods?” I press on, trying not to get too formal. “I have, but more information will cost you Umbra.” she continues, “I believe you will have to part with 3 gold for my information.” Ah, a woman after my own heart, bargaining 101, enjoy the ride. I answer Krocky, “With all the research that I have done already, and being able to place it here, within this area, I am not sure 3 gold is feasible, but here is my offer,” now I must not be too hasty, and this straight forward negotiating has to be precise, “I will pay a total of one gold for the information, 5 silver pieces now, and if you accompany me, 5 silver if the information pans out.” Krocky sits back in her chair, in what looks like pondering thought, and I sip my beer and pretend to start to become impatient waiting for an answer. After a short while, Krocky says, “Umbra, my dear halfling, you have a deal.” and as is customary, we shake on this deal, as I place the first of the 5 pieces of silver in her hand, she screams two booths down, “Jamorin, get over here, I need your assistance with something!” Jamorin comes in and he is a tower of a man. Human, tall and lean, obviously a fighter of some kind, and knows how to handle himself. I am unchanged, I have learned awhile ago that cocky fighters are no match for the speed and agility that I can impose, but I still feel this is a shake down. “What Krocky, seriously what? I am trying to sell my furs and meats so that I can have a comfortable living,” and it trails off as he spots me for the first time. “My apologies, but are you a halfling?” he inquires, man I truly hate pausing in any business transaction, but if the information will get me closer to my goal, I have to roll with the punches, again. “I am sorry Jamorin, where are my manners, “ Krocky states, probably feeling the awkwardness in the room. “Umbra, this is my friend, Jamorin, Jamorin, meet my newest customer, Umbra.” Still looking dumbfounded, as most human fighters do, I feel they cannot help it, so I press on, “Jamorin, it is a pleasure to meet you, I believe you have some information that I may be looking for.” Jamorin eases a bit and takes a seat next to me, “What can I do for you, Umbra?” I continue on, explain to him what has transpired so far, he stays and listens intently. He than turned to Krocky and said, “You believe this is the item I saw?” I jump a bit in my chair, “Jamorin where did you find a locket?”, I am up on my feet in an instant and by his side, “Think Jamorin, where did you see this item?” I catch my bearings and I wait, calm my breathing, and still myself. I take my seat again, and Jamorin starts to talk, “Umbra, there is a cave about quarter of a days walk from here, I wandered in,” and he says, “I thought I heard things, people talking, so I left the cave but before I left, I saw a brightness, a single locket shining through the darkness.” Left to his thoughts I waited for a moment, I must see this cave, I must never disappoint my master, never again.
Chapter 2
My friends,
If you are reading this, than you will know, my true thoughts through ever endeavor we had. I was blood thirst for power, and though I can say that this passion is not fully releaved of my actions, I am now understanding of the true nature of power, which is that of friendship, love, and actions toward others. I may never be the all powerful mage I strove for, but I now know that I am stronger now than I have or ever will be. I write these thoughts so I may share them with you one day, and you will know the real turmoil that my soul truly has. As we go to Nightmare Tower, I feel that I have a purpose for good, I have had a dream with Akhena, telling me that Gomo has agreed to let me make a purpose, and that my time is near. Know that whatever it is that I am about to do, I do for you all, but mostly Slater. I have no idea why but both Gomo and Akhena have told me so, and I trust in the gods, especially when they normally don’t agree. If I do not return, know that I love you (OTHER LEZA NAME), and you have shown me that there is good in everything, even if it seems that it is enveloped with evil.
Sincerely,
Kruel
To most, Kruel was just a normal, and a very normal woman. Nothing of her appearance made her stand out and that was exactly the way that she liked it. That look, the one she had, that is the look of annoyance, she was always wondering if, within her brown eyes, through her brown hair and fairly average height, how anyone could come to be taken with her. I remember she always asked why it is so important to have a Doctor around these stupid events, if they die than they die. Now I think it is just that her research was more important, more than anything else in the entire universe to her. Of coarse no one can see her anger, shrouded in the lasting darkness of the robe she wore, all black, no one would be able to see what her non-verbal language was. If anyone was to look closer, they would see the ruins that make her who she was, the power that surges through her doings and her writings, and what they represent. I remember the day she came though I did fall prey to the simple person she was, remember the lady in black that approached (OTHER LEZA), well that was her.
I remember that she told once, before the Nightmare Tower, of the day she arrived at Rangio. She walked as though if she got to the festival sooner, it will be over sooner. “We all must continue doing our pretense, and you, as a doctor need to go to the and fulfill your pretense,” She told me that her master had told her, “continue being your brilliant self, so you can study the Power all other time.” She, a servant of the Unholy and True Chaotic God Gomo, 9th circle of the Provadio dres dek Lestion, wielder of the Unholy Mass, conqueror of souls and dominion over the Undead, pushed into that of a mere mortal woman, how dare they! Did these Masters not see that she had been touched by their God, He who has guided her through the depths of thought and of magical beings, taught her that there is no right and wrong, that justice at it's truest thought is that of Chaos? She once told me she was His chosen, He who sends His workers to commune with her, to guide her through her meditations unto Him, to purge the world of weakness. She, who above any other, given the understanding and ability to accomplish that which He demands. She told me that she could feel the fire burning within her, the power of her seemingly Unholy God coursing through her veins. He who is the God of Death, is the giver of life, and in the darkness is where one can truly see the light. Do not these droves of imbeciles see this? She used to believe it was only blindness outside of the order that brought ignorant thoughts and selfish desires, but she saw that her Masters have not cleansed themselves of this either. One day, she felt she will be called upon by Him, to purge this place and make it Holy unto Him. But this is not that day, He never told her when, but neither does He tell her now. So she had followed obediently, and she came to this town to be a doctor which she loved being, not for this tournament, which she found to be very stupid, a waste of time when people could start learning true power. She had no time for this, but she must, because her master had demanded it. She slowed down and walk with authority into town and toward the High Clerics tent. She had done this many times before, go and present yourself, humbly asking to participate, even though she did not want to be here. They do this stage of blah blah blah, since she was 10, and year after year after that, they called upon her, ask for her by name. The thought made her, made her even telling me this, smile, if they were to know from whence her power came, would they ask whither she was going? Elroy, who she called the old fool, so devoted to his God, could not sense the power that she had wield, if they would let her finish her research, than no one would ever die. She told me also, “Fools, they would probably reject my gift, hiding behind the Gods they follow, never knowing the power of the justful God, Gomo, God of Death.” If she was anything, it was passionete. Lost in her thoughts, she make it across the field without hesitation, that’s when when she saw a very unusual sight, a lesser cleric talking to a Halfling. The only time she had seen a halfling was when she experimented on one for my research, “You little noble creatures were of great use in searching for the truth.” She apologized for that one, which still makes me giggle thinking of it, she was proud of her work, though she later saw the folly of her ways. As she approached, I walked off, toward the market, she said she thought, “I must remember to catch up to him later.”
Unknowingly, she had caught the attention of the lesser cleric that I was talking too, this meant one thing, unnecessary chatter with another person who fancied themselves a scholar but could not see past their own preconceived notions of right and wrong, to see that true power comes from that which they find taboo.