//I will post what happens with the sending stone however, as ive told both stranded parties there is something to consider so please be patient.
//Odettes group left two days before brindas and mirs expedition left to go find them, so brindas and mirs events are in essence two days ahead of the first group, as of the even i ran with te first grup today they are about half a day behind brindas and mirs group so when they "catch" up, i will notify odette of wither or not she gets the message from vyse.
Shards Of History
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*Nimiane
- Posts: 347
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
[Rains of Castamere; Red Wedding Cover]
Glad was the Bardess for the coming of night, despite the uncertainties it held. Painted in the blood of their enemies, ash disguising their scent and creating a fierce countenance, the trio had departed the battlefield and continued east. Now, as darkness fell, they worked to set up camp for the night. Ugno, the Grand Magus of Ulnik was dead; slain by the fearsome might of Kelth's roaring blade. So too did his comrades go down, one by one under the ravenous assault by their group and the aid that had come by the way of Scar's mercenaries. Not that they'd needed it, mind you.
Tired, sore and sweaty; nightfall made it's approach and embraced the war-torn prime of Illia. The luxury of a fire was one they could not afford for a multitude of reasons; the primary being the attention it would draw in addition to the soaked foliage of the rain that fell even even now, pooling at the bloodied tips of her bangs and rolling along her jaw to drip from a slender chin. Despite the rapidly falling darkness, the night was not a quiet one. Sounds of war echoed from the horizon amidst the rolling thunder, the thudding of projectiles fired from siege weapons. Having pitched her own tent alongside the others, Odette took the opportunity of a solitary moment and tread carefully from their makeshift camp-site to it's borders. The further her steps took her, the heavier the shadows cloaked her until she was one with them entirely; such it was since her trip to the Plane of Shadow.
With the area secure, her gaze drifted toward the comet in the sky and her thoughts along with it. Odette found herself torn in her thoughts and beliefs. Scar and his men had killed hundreds of thousands of people on the prime of Orculus, claiming they, like Illia, were servants of Ulnik and massing an army of their own. How many innocent lives were caught up in such? On that same note, how many of Scar's mercenaries were simply men trying to feed their families? Would they choose to die as well, once the snake's head was cleaved from it's body?
The bardess had felt mild frustration as Quinn had tended their wounds, to her own surprise. "Why do we heal our enemy?" she had questioned in her mind, jaw clenched as she gazed upon the butchers. What was the point when they would likely perish too in the days to come? Likely, even, at the mercy of her own blade. Where does one look when both sides are as vile as the other. At first she had hoped to use one against the other, inevitably destroying both. She was not physically strong, as Kelth was, nor did she have the patience and wisdom of Quinn. The thought of having two hundred legionaries driven against the might of Sammaster was a strategy she herself had come up with in the hope they would destroy one another. Plans change, however, and Scar would perish once he was drained of useful information. It was a plan she preferred, truth be told and things were progressing nicely, or as well as possible given the circumstances. A two-day march would take them to Scar's camp as decided when they first left Sigil.
Turning from the pricks of firelight on the horizon, Odette dismissed the shadows around her and returned to the camp. Their accommodation was a far cry from the luxuries of the Cage, not that such was particularly bothersome to Odette. Her life at sea had never been exactly comfortable. Perhaps there was a lesson in this, she had become to settled. Too comfortable in such needless extravagance. Welcomed, but not essential. Perhaps a lesson for them all, and those beyond - to be grateful for small mercies. Odette pulled her cloak around her more tightly, hands shaking as she did so. It had been two days since since she'd felt the pleasant warmth of liquor through her veins, perhaps only realising now how dependant she'd become on it. For one as independent as she, the thought sickened her.
As she passed Quinn's tent, she couldn't help but smile. The soft-spoken older gentleman held a special place in her heart akin to family. All too often they were pulled their separate ways, yet here they were facing such together. He was strong, in his own way. Moving then to her own tent, Odette's quiet steps halted outside of Kelth's own. The gleam she had seen in Kelth's eye this day caused her brows to pinch with a mix of concern and thought. It went beyond his usual ferociousness, an accepted part of who he was in his core. A fond smile curled her lips as she recalled a past memory, aquamarine gaze flicking to her own tent before lifting the flap of his and crawling inside. It was a cold night, and she knew he would not mind.
Tomorrow, they would venture further east and hopefully reunite with Argent. Two hundred thousand of Scar's men were positioned between their makeshift camp and his, high in the Gryk mountains, along with another three hundred thousand among Ulnik's army if what information they were given was true. Supplies were limited, the local water poisoned and... Sammaster had been sighted recently. Whatever the coming days had in store for them mattered not. Odette would greet it with open arms, as was her way.
Glad was the Bardess for the coming of night, despite the uncertainties it held. Painted in the blood of their enemies, ash disguising their scent and creating a fierce countenance, the trio had departed the battlefield and continued east. Now, as darkness fell, they worked to set up camp for the night. Ugno, the Grand Magus of Ulnik was dead; slain by the fearsome might of Kelth's roaring blade. So too did his comrades go down, one by one under the ravenous assault by their group and the aid that had come by the way of Scar's mercenaries. Not that they'd needed it, mind you.
Tired, sore and sweaty; nightfall made it's approach and embraced the war-torn prime of Illia. The luxury of a fire was one they could not afford for a multitude of reasons; the primary being the attention it would draw in addition to the soaked foliage of the rain that fell even even now, pooling at the bloodied tips of her bangs and rolling along her jaw to drip from a slender chin. Despite the rapidly falling darkness, the night was not a quiet one. Sounds of war echoed from the horizon amidst the rolling thunder, the thudding of projectiles fired from siege weapons. Having pitched her own tent alongside the others, Odette took the opportunity of a solitary moment and tread carefully from their makeshift camp-site to it's borders. The further her steps took her, the heavier the shadows cloaked her until she was one with them entirely; such it was since her trip to the Plane of Shadow.
With the area secure, her gaze drifted toward the comet in the sky and her thoughts along with it. Odette found herself torn in her thoughts and beliefs. Scar and his men had killed hundreds of thousands of people on the prime of Orculus, claiming they, like Illia, were servants of Ulnik and massing an army of their own. How many innocent lives were caught up in such? On that same note, how many of Scar's mercenaries were simply men trying to feed their families? Would they choose to die as well, once the snake's head was cleaved from it's body?
The bardess had felt mild frustration as Quinn had tended their wounds, to her own surprise. "Why do we heal our enemy?" she had questioned in her mind, jaw clenched as she gazed upon the butchers. What was the point when they would likely perish too in the days to come? Likely, even, at the mercy of her own blade. Where does one look when both sides are as vile as the other. At first she had hoped to use one against the other, inevitably destroying both. She was not physically strong, as Kelth was, nor did she have the patience and wisdom of Quinn. The thought of having two hundred legionaries driven against the might of Sammaster was a strategy she herself had come up with in the hope they would destroy one another. Plans change, however, and Scar would perish once he was drained of useful information. It was a plan she preferred, truth be told and things were progressing nicely, or as well as possible given the circumstances. A two-day march would take them to Scar's camp as decided when they first left Sigil.
Turning from the pricks of firelight on the horizon, Odette dismissed the shadows around her and returned to the camp. Their accommodation was a far cry from the luxuries of the Cage, not that such was particularly bothersome to Odette. Her life at sea had never been exactly comfortable. Perhaps there was a lesson in this, she had become to settled. Too comfortable in such needless extravagance. Welcomed, but not essential. Perhaps a lesson for them all, and those beyond - to be grateful for small mercies. Odette pulled her cloak around her more tightly, hands shaking as she did so. It had been two days since since she'd felt the pleasant warmth of liquor through her veins, perhaps only realising now how dependant she'd become on it. For one as independent as she, the thought sickened her.
As she passed Quinn's tent, she couldn't help but smile. The soft-spoken older gentleman held a special place in her heart akin to family. All too often they were pulled their separate ways, yet here they were facing such together. He was strong, in his own way. Moving then to her own tent, Odette's quiet steps halted outside of Kelth's own. The gleam she had seen in Kelth's eye this day caused her brows to pinch with a mix of concern and thought. It went beyond his usual ferociousness, an accepted part of who he was in his core. A fond smile curled her lips as she recalled a past memory, aquamarine gaze flicking to her own tent before lifting the flap of his and crawling inside. It was a cold night, and she knew he would not mind.
Tomorrow, they would venture further east and hopefully reunite with Argent. Two hundred thousand of Scar's men were positioned between their makeshift camp and his, high in the Gryk mountains, along with another three hundred thousand among Ulnik's army if what information they were given was true. Supplies were limited, the local water poisoned and... Sammaster had been sighted recently. Whatever the coming days had in store for them mattered not. Odette would greet it with open arms, as was her way.
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*DigitalDragoon
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
How long it had been since he last spent a night like this, camping out in the wilderness of a truly hostile world. Perhaps there are some who would say he was getting too old for living in such a way. To be honest with himself though It appeased the vagabond buried deep in his soul. Coupled with the beautifully dreary weather, the feeling it generated put him quite at ease in a conflicting nostalgic sort of way. Bleak memories of the past washed away in the cold, soaking rain. To a degree he missed doing this.
He quietly observed his companions as they set up. Waiting until they had retired for the evening before coming out of his tent to sit in the rain and let it soak into his hair. The water washing some of the blood and ash from his clothing.
It had been a long day since their close encounter with the enemy. Ugno the High Speaker. Apparently a powerful mage, An Illusionist if he had to guess from the ogre's spell choices. He could not help but wonder if some trick had been played upon them, even as he watched Kelth empty the monster's skull. The brains dashed across the rocks just outside camp. A pity really, With time and appropriate tools it might have been possible to draw workable essence from such a thing. No. No it would not. It was inappropriate to even consider. He dare not interrupt anyway. Having kept company with a worg or two he knew better then try to interfere with the prize of a fierce hunt.
It was by some power's grace that Scar's men arrived when they did. Though he knew his companions could feasibly have fought their way out if pressed. It was good to know they would have someone at their backs tonight.
"Why would you heal them!? They are just going to die." Oh dear Odette. How like kin she could be, but so very eager to see everyone as the enemy. Itching for a fight just as Kelth seemed to be. Perhaps they were not the fastest friends with the Scars, but one much take allies where they can. Those men. To someone they are son. Possibly a brother, a husband or even a father. That is reason enough alone to see them healed. In truth though there is more too it. She was right of course, they would die and soon, the old wizard wagered. Well before the great guide's calling, in the retaliation that was liable to come from their actions in the fort that day. It was best to give the men a fighting chance, For at the end of the day, did they not deserve as much?
Perhaps it was time to get some rest, he thought. Staring up at the clouded skies a few minutes longer. Watching the brilliant arc of the ensorcing comet, pondering what brought it into being and sort of mischief would follow in it's wake. Finally, chilled to the bone, he crawled into his tent to sleep as the dead. A night of rare, truly restful sleep.
He quietly observed his companions as they set up. Waiting until they had retired for the evening before coming out of his tent to sit in the rain and let it soak into his hair. The water washing some of the blood and ash from his clothing.
It had been a long day since their close encounter with the enemy. Ugno the High Speaker. Apparently a powerful mage, An Illusionist if he had to guess from the ogre's spell choices. He could not help but wonder if some trick had been played upon them, even as he watched Kelth empty the monster's skull. The brains dashed across the rocks just outside camp. A pity really, With time and appropriate tools it might have been possible to draw workable essence from such a thing. No. No it would not. It was inappropriate to even consider. He dare not interrupt anyway. Having kept company with a worg or two he knew better then try to interfere with the prize of a fierce hunt.
It was by some power's grace that Scar's men arrived when they did. Though he knew his companions could feasibly have fought their way out if pressed. It was good to know they would have someone at their backs tonight.
"Why would you heal them!? They are just going to die." Oh dear Odette. How like kin she could be, but so very eager to see everyone as the enemy. Itching for a fight just as Kelth seemed to be. Perhaps they were not the fastest friends with the Scars, but one much take allies where they can. Those men. To someone they are son. Possibly a brother, a husband or even a father. That is reason enough alone to see them healed. In truth though there is more too it. She was right of course, they would die and soon, the old wizard wagered. Well before the great guide's calling, in the retaliation that was liable to come from their actions in the fort that day. It was best to give the men a fighting chance, For at the end of the day, did they not deserve as much?
Perhaps it was time to get some rest, he thought. Staring up at the clouded skies a few minutes longer. Watching the brilliant arc of the ensorcing comet, pondering what brought it into being and sort of mischief would follow in it's wake. Finally, chilled to the bone, he crawled into his tent to sleep as the dead. A night of rare, truly restful sleep.
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*Mausman
- Posts: 486
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
wrote:Odette's expression eased into a smirk, then a genuine smile of her own. A soft chuckle is drawn from her lips as she gazed up at him in return, the tiny bells in his dual-braids ringing lightly in the space between them.
"I know yer tryin'. I cannae ask fer more than that, nor would I." she offers softly, folding her arms under her head as she locked her eyes with his one. Despite the momentary impulse to flip him, the bardess nodded to his words and their meaning.
"Who's t'say what is an' what ain't meant fer ye, or what will or won't come, y'know? Life be full of surprises, and nae matter what comes I'm sure yer loved ones will be smilin' down on ye through it all."
After a momentarily pause, during which time her eyes danced over the smeared warpaint on his features, she lifted one of her hands from where they rested behind her head to tap a single time at each of the bells in his hair. Despite the heaviness of the current circumstances, of times past and present, Odette found herself comfortable in the towering warrior's presence; as was oft the case in shared moments such as these.
"Yer welcome, Kelth. Ye've been a real blessin' with yer hospitality, and. . . so much more. I thank ye fer that as well."
Despite the chilled shiver that ran through her rain-soaked form, the expression on her freckled face was a warm one.
"I dunnae what the morrow will bring, but I do know it ain't here yet. Let us take t'time t'relish in that, eh?"
*Kelth nodded and smiled at that, grinning as she tapped the bells in his hair*
Yer welcome as well, dear. Aye...morrow still is far away...but reverie is a scarce lookin' commodity 'ere as well...soddin' cold too, with all this rain an' nae fire...will ye manage?
*He combs her wet locks with his finger, wrinkling his nose at the sheer dampness*
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*Nimiane
- Posts: 347
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"I'll do more than manage, dear Kelth. Cannae light fires at sea, after all." Odette retorts impishly, lips parted in a teasing grin despite the feigned misery on her features. "Then again, I dunnae. . . it is awfully chilly, and m'tent be ever so far away. Might nae make it."
Trailing off, a quiet chuckle leaves her lips as she falls into silence and allows her gaze to dance over the familiar contours of his features. With her own expression slowly melting into one of serenity, a long, steady exhale drains the air from her lungs with the gentle motion of his fingers through her blonde tresses. Slowly, Odette's lips curl softly upwards with a fond smile.
Trailing off, a quiet chuckle leaves her lips as she falls into silence and allows her gaze to dance over the familiar contours of his features. With her own expression slowly melting into one of serenity, a long, steady exhale drains the air from her lungs with the gentle motion of his fingers through her blonde tresses. Slowly, Odette's lips curl softly upwards with a fond smile.
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*Mausman
- Posts: 486
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HipoikwHRb8 - Summoning, Land of the Dead.
Where forest stream went through the wood
And silent all the stens there stood
Of tall trees, moveless, hanging dark
With mottled shadows on their bark
As faint as deepest sleeper's breath
An echo came as cold as death
Long are the paths, of shadow made
Where no foot's print is ever laid
No moon is there, no voice, no sound
Of beating heart; a sigh profound
Once in each age as each age dies
Alone is heard. Far, far it lies
The Land of Waiting where the Dead sit,
In their thought's shadow, by no moon lit
Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high
Shadows at dead end of night and mirrored in the sky
Far far away beyond might of day
And there lay the land of the dead of mortal cold decay
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*Kelth had raged and roared through the ranks of Ogres, bugbears and trolls. They had claimed a small battered outpost for themselves and sifted through it for supplies. A wise move. Kelth then barricaded the stronghold for what it was worth, merely some obstacles, not much to work with.
That bone chilling scream of Quinn...Kelth made no hesitation to go and search along with Odette and Argent.
Then came the mist...that thick sickly mist. Fully blinded now, Kelth relied on his keen hearing to get his bearings, but there was no sound save for that dirge of a song...
Something resonated within Kelth...he had been a bard with more darker arcane a few years ago, using dirges as well to crush those he hated.
Flashbacks ensued, and he in turn tried his best to shake them off, as he soldiered onwards, into that thick mist...*
Where forest stream went through the wood
And silent all the stens there stood
Of tall trees, moveless, hanging dark
With mottled shadows on their bark
As faint as deepest sleeper's breath
An echo came as cold as death
Long are the paths, of shadow made
Where no foot's print is ever laid
No moon is there, no voice, no sound
Of beating heart; a sigh profound
Once in each age as each age dies
Alone is heard. Far, far it lies
The Land of Waiting where the Dead sit,
In their thought's shadow, by no moon lit
Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high
Shadows at dead end of night and mirrored in the sky
Far far away beyond might of day
And there lay the land of the dead of mortal cold decay
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Kelth had raged and roared through the ranks of Ogres, bugbears and trolls. They had claimed a small battered outpost for themselves and sifted through it for supplies. A wise move. Kelth then barricaded the stronghold for what it was worth, merely some obstacles, not much to work with.
That bone chilling scream of Quinn...Kelth made no hesitation to go and search along with Odette and Argent.
Then came the mist...that thick sickly mist. Fully blinded now, Kelth relied on his keen hearing to get his bearings, but there was no sound save for that dirge of a song...
Something resonated within Kelth...he had been a bard with more darker arcane a few years ago, using dirges as well to crush those he hated.
Flashbacks ensued, and he in turn tried his best to shake them off, as he soldiered onwards, into that thick mist...*
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*Nimiane
- Posts: 347
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
To have one's flesh peeled from their bones was a remarkable sensation. Though the act was made painless, it did not make it any less of a sickening, horrifying experience for all those involved.
Having returned to the confines of the fortress ruins they had secured only hours ago, Odette's gaze weaved in the direction of the elderly mage nearby. Bathed in the pale light of the moon and wrapped in the cloak she had placed around his shoulders, she remained near enough that her presence may offer some comfort, yet far enough away to provide them with some personal space. Quinn was.... unstable, and the bardess was at a loss in what to do. Whatever had occurred presently or in years passed, had shaken their companion to his very core. She was no healer of minds, and with Amir being back in the cage Odette knew the next best thing was the Silvanesti elf in their company whom had barely left his side. Additionally... Kelth was missing. They'd gotten separated and she was worried despite knowing full well that the man could handle himself. He would return to them when he was able.
Odette could still hear the music, playing repetitively at the back of her mind as she once more poked and prodded at her flesh as she remained seated in the clammy dirt. Now clothed again, she couldn't shake the discomforting feeling that it didn't quite fit properly. Her jaw clenched with the memory; the haunting feeling of her limbs moving against her will. Dancing, forever dancing to that whimsical tune that coursed through her body and hazed her mind. Kelth, Argent, Odette. They had been beckoned through a thick fog to a clearing; responding to the scream which had echoed through the woods following Quinn's decision to hunt for a much needed meal after a long day's travel from their previous camp.
The skeletons jerked like puppets on strings to the tune played by the wraith, the mage among them. Skinless. Fleshless. Skeletal. Sickened as she was, Odette he had felt the melody within her very mind. Inviting. Questioning - when was the last time you experienced true joy? It started with the tapping of her booted toe in the dirt. Fighting. Struggling. She battered away the skeletal hand, once. Twice. The third time, she no longer had the will to do so, her clothing and flesh then being magically unzipped from her form. Muscle and sinew had parted and peeled from where it clung tightly to bone, yet she could force no sound from her skeletal maw. Dancing, dancing. A single word stuck in her mind, standing out from the din. "Coronation".
Another voice joined in the song, a voice she recognized.
Light. Searing pain. Darkness.
A shudder rippled through the body of the bardess in her recollection, arms wrapping around her knees as she drew them close. There was no shame in her terror, Odette knew this... yet she could not allow herself to succumb to it. Not here, not now... and not without a strong drink in hand. They had survived, barely, and assuredly more trials fettered the path before them. Her strength was needed, and she would not give anything less. What Argent must have endured to restore them, what must be tormenting the mind of Quinn in his present state...
Shoulders weighted and heavy, her gaze drifted toward the night sky. Whatever this coronation was for, she knew it did not bode well. They were still a days hike from the provided location of General Scar's camp. Were such festive preparations mere arrogance, or had Sammaster's final pieces fallen into place?
Quinn, dear Quinn... Kelth... What's to become of you both?
Having returned to the confines of the fortress ruins they had secured only hours ago, Odette's gaze weaved in the direction of the elderly mage nearby. Bathed in the pale light of the moon and wrapped in the cloak she had placed around his shoulders, she remained near enough that her presence may offer some comfort, yet far enough away to provide them with some personal space. Quinn was.... unstable, and the bardess was at a loss in what to do. Whatever had occurred presently or in years passed, had shaken their companion to his very core. She was no healer of minds, and with Amir being back in the cage Odette knew the next best thing was the Silvanesti elf in their company whom had barely left his side. Additionally... Kelth was missing. They'd gotten separated and she was worried despite knowing full well that the man could handle himself. He would return to them when he was able.
Odette could still hear the music, playing repetitively at the back of her mind as she once more poked and prodded at her flesh as she remained seated in the clammy dirt. Now clothed again, she couldn't shake the discomforting feeling that it didn't quite fit properly. Her jaw clenched with the memory; the haunting feeling of her limbs moving against her will. Dancing, forever dancing to that whimsical tune that coursed through her body and hazed her mind. Kelth, Argent, Odette. They had been beckoned through a thick fog to a clearing; responding to the scream which had echoed through the woods following Quinn's decision to hunt for a much needed meal after a long day's travel from their previous camp.
The skeletons jerked like puppets on strings to the tune played by the wraith, the mage among them. Skinless. Fleshless. Skeletal. Sickened as she was, Odette he had felt the melody within her very mind. Inviting. Questioning - when was the last time you experienced true joy? It started with the tapping of her booted toe in the dirt. Fighting. Struggling. She battered away the skeletal hand, once. Twice. The third time, she no longer had the will to do so, her clothing and flesh then being magically unzipped from her form. Muscle and sinew had parted and peeled from where it clung tightly to bone, yet she could force no sound from her skeletal maw. Dancing, dancing. A single word stuck in her mind, standing out from the din. "Coronation".
Another voice joined in the song, a voice she recognized.
Light. Searing pain. Darkness.
A shudder rippled through the body of the bardess in her recollection, arms wrapping around her knees as she drew them close. There was no shame in her terror, Odette knew this... yet she could not allow herself to succumb to it. Not here, not now... and not without a strong drink in hand. They had survived, barely, and assuredly more trials fettered the path before them. Her strength was needed, and she would not give anything less. What Argent must have endured to restore them, what must be tormenting the mind of Quinn in his present state...
Shoulders weighted and heavy, her gaze drifted toward the night sky. Whatever this coronation was for, she knew it did not bode well. They were still a days hike from the provided location of General Scar's camp. Were such festive preparations mere arrogance, or had Sammaster's final pieces fallen into place?
Quinn, dear Quinn... Kelth... What's to become of you both?