As he sat up, watching Quinn, shaking off his thoughts, he waited. Waiting for when Odette would wake. Least she was still sane, he would thought. Still tied down to this reality.
"Are you alright Odette? I know that..ordeal was not pleasant. If there is something I could do . ." [a long pause] "By midday, Im going take a look around for Kelth after I secure this post with some wards. Allow you some rest. . "
He exhales slowly, brushing his hands through his rumpled hair and adjusting his headband.
" I'll let you know. . . I think Quinn could be out for a while. What I saw. Know. Lost in the horrors his own memory. It almost makes me wonder, how much of this is reality, how much is of Illusion, out to destroy our will . I promise though, if this has to be our last resolve, our final act to see this through. I will fight to my last breath, to not let us go. "
He wandered briefly, if this was another test. Just the same as true Testing that Magi go through on Krynn. He climbed to the top of the tower, to scout the area again. Then settled for just a few moments, closing his eyes, an effort to disbelieve this current reality, and held his breath.
Shards Of History
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*Nimiane
- Posts: 347
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Though she had attempted to fight it off, sleep had finally laid claim to Odette in the early hours before sunrise; slumped in an upright seated position against one of the cold stone pillars of the ruined fortress. It had been a broken rest, a dance of twisting memories both pleasant and unpleasant fighting back against one another:
~Placing Ruby into Vyse's hands for the first time, then smashing his vials of Agony against the wall. Phantom's proposal, then the ringing gunshot and pooled blood as he committed suicide by her side. Kelth's warm embrace followed by the sight of his back disappearing into the mist. The wind in her hair and the smell of salt at sea, the shadows that had partially fused with her in the Plane of Shadow, spiking Quinn's tea with whiskey, fire raining down from the draconic form of Ignition, drinking with Brindas at the B&J, the moment she was awarded her rapier, the song and dance of her skeletal body~
Memories, swirling. Fighting for dominance. A fitful reverie if ever there was one, yet short-lived.
Lashes parting abruptly a mere two hours later, the bardess groaned softly as she forced herself to alertness and rubbed at the cobblestone imprint on her cheek. Her fingers curled and uncurled, shoulder rolling out it's armored stiffness as her gaze panned the surrounding area. Aquamarine orbs quick to find the huddled form of Quinn, the concerned expression was evident on her freckled features. A small smile found her lips, however, with the sound of Argent's voice and his posed question.
"Argent." she offered quietly, dipping her head ever so slightly. "I will be. . . fine, aye. We are alive, surely that must count fer something." A pause of her own followed, blonde brows creasing with her loss of words. Taking in a deep breath, she exhales it slowly and lifts her gaze to the Elven wizard. Odette never knew quite what to make of Argent, curious as he was. At times it caused her frustration, having to decipher his cryptic words when she spoke so honest and blunt herself. Yet he was a friend, and she treasured his company now more than ever.
As if reading her mind, lips parted to ask that very question as to Quinn's current condition, she nodded slowly. She had no way of knowing, or understanding what the elderly mage was going through right now, but given what little she knew of his past.... he was in torment still. Odette knew she would be relying on Argent a great deal when it came time to move him.
"And yerself, Argent? How are you holding up? I know it couldn't have been easy to do what I imagine ye had t'do. But. . . thank you. I wouldn't be here now if not for you, dear friend. You have my support in this, as I have yours."
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JKU-cm-ZZA][/sub][/color]
As the elf went about his scouting, making use of his keen vision and hearing, Odette pulled herself to her feet and dusted the clumps of dirt from her attire. There was much she wished to say, and yet could not find the words to do so. Her mind filled with numerous thoughts and fears. Now was not a time she could afford to give them any footing, however. Dawn would come soon, and with it the burden of a decision that had to be made. The woman's gaze pulled to the broken archway of the ruins, then to the night sky. Her eyes closed briefly, voice raising to reach the Silvanesti after clearing her throat.
"I think . . . it's best iffen we make preparations t'depart. It ain't a decision made lightly, an' I will not depart without spending a short while searching fer Kelth. But. . . I know we also have a plan, an' he would want us to stick to it. He'd likely make his way t'the same destination."
Her eyes opened slowly, looking to the horizon. The words crushed her to say out loud, but Odette knew this was how it had to be. Her gloved fingers trailed the simple, winding filigree of her rapier hilt with a small twitch of her lips. Both here and in Sigil, she must see tasks completed. He had taught her well, and she would not throw away that gift.
"We have limited supplies, an' with Quinn in his current state our pace will be slow, nae t'mention we won't have the physical might we did before. We'll. . . leave what we can here. My own rations, if necessary, an' a waterskin. Just in case." she lifted her chin, swallowing the lump in her throat. "But we must continue onward. The task remains, an' it be bigger than any one person. The stakes are too high; many more lives will be lost if we do nae continue."
Odette pauses briefly, then speaks words to reassure her as much as he.
"Kelth will find his way back t'us."
Tearing her gaze from the horizon, the bardess began to make preparations of her own for departure. She takes what items were scavenged from the ruins and bundles them in the cloth and leathers from the discarded bedrolls of previous occupants before distributing their weight in two separate piles; one for each of them. The cloak around Quinn's currently unconscious form was fastened a little tighter, his hair fondly raked into a neatened position as he was oft prone to do himself.
Over the next hour, Odette tends to her own attire. Chainmail rings are carefully fastened back into place, or in some cases, ripped off all together. Such was the case when it came to freeing the movements of her arms and doing away with unnecessary weight. A stick of writing charcoal is broken and rubbed into the fibres of tunic and leathers once silver, now a blackened brown. Medical supplies and magical items are checked, belts tightened, and pouches fastened into place.
Lastly, a small haversack of rations is placed where she had slept; a loaf of stale bread, a few strips of jerky and a half-full waterskin.
~Placing Ruby into Vyse's hands for the first time, then smashing his vials of Agony against the wall. Phantom's proposal, then the ringing gunshot and pooled blood as he committed suicide by her side. Kelth's warm embrace followed by the sight of his back disappearing into the mist. The wind in her hair and the smell of salt at sea, the shadows that had partially fused with her in the Plane of Shadow, spiking Quinn's tea with whiskey, fire raining down from the draconic form of Ignition, drinking with Brindas at the B&J, the moment she was awarded her rapier, the song and dance of her skeletal body~
Memories, swirling. Fighting for dominance. A fitful reverie if ever there was one, yet short-lived.
Lashes parting abruptly a mere two hours later, the bardess groaned softly as she forced herself to alertness and rubbed at the cobblestone imprint on her cheek. Her fingers curled and uncurled, shoulder rolling out it's armored stiffness as her gaze panned the surrounding area. Aquamarine orbs quick to find the huddled form of Quinn, the concerned expression was evident on her freckled features. A small smile found her lips, however, with the sound of Argent's voice and his posed question.
"Argent." she offered quietly, dipping her head ever so slightly. "I will be. . . fine, aye. We are alive, surely that must count fer something." A pause of her own followed, blonde brows creasing with her loss of words. Taking in a deep breath, she exhales it slowly and lifts her gaze to the Elven wizard. Odette never knew quite what to make of Argent, curious as he was. At times it caused her frustration, having to decipher his cryptic words when she spoke so honest and blunt herself. Yet he was a friend, and she treasured his company now more than ever.
As if reading her mind, lips parted to ask that very question as to Quinn's current condition, she nodded slowly. She had no way of knowing, or understanding what the elderly mage was going through right now, but given what little she knew of his past.... he was in torment still. Odette knew she would be relying on Argent a great deal when it came time to move him.
"And yerself, Argent? How are you holding up? I know it couldn't have been easy to do what I imagine ye had t'do. But. . . thank you. I wouldn't be here now if not for you, dear friend. You have my support in this, as I have yours."
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JKU-cm-ZZA][/sub][/color]
As the elf went about his scouting, making use of his keen vision and hearing, Odette pulled herself to her feet and dusted the clumps of dirt from her attire. There was much she wished to say, and yet could not find the words to do so. Her mind filled with numerous thoughts and fears. Now was not a time she could afford to give them any footing, however. Dawn would come soon, and with it the burden of a decision that had to be made. The woman's gaze pulled to the broken archway of the ruins, then to the night sky. Her eyes closed briefly, voice raising to reach the Silvanesti after clearing her throat.
"I think . . . it's best iffen we make preparations t'depart. It ain't a decision made lightly, an' I will not depart without spending a short while searching fer Kelth. But. . . I know we also have a plan, an' he would want us to stick to it. He'd likely make his way t'the same destination."
Her eyes opened slowly, looking to the horizon. The words crushed her to say out loud, but Odette knew this was how it had to be. Her gloved fingers trailed the simple, winding filigree of her rapier hilt with a small twitch of her lips. Both here and in Sigil, she must see tasks completed. He had taught her well, and she would not throw away that gift.
"We have limited supplies, an' with Quinn in his current state our pace will be slow, nae t'mention we won't have the physical might we did before. We'll. . . leave what we can here. My own rations, if necessary, an' a waterskin. Just in case." she lifted her chin, swallowing the lump in her throat. "But we must continue onward. The task remains, an' it be bigger than any one person. The stakes are too high; many more lives will be lost if we do nae continue."
Odette pauses briefly, then speaks words to reassure her as much as he.
"Kelth will find his way back t'us."
Tearing her gaze from the horizon, the bardess began to make preparations of her own for departure. She takes what items were scavenged from the ruins and bundles them in the cloth and leathers from the discarded bedrolls of previous occupants before distributing their weight in two separate piles; one for each of them. The cloak around Quinn's currently unconscious form was fastened a little tighter, his hair fondly raked into a neatened position as he was oft prone to do himself.
Over the next hour, Odette tends to her own attire. Chainmail rings are carefully fastened back into place, or in some cases, ripped off all together. Such was the case when it came to freeing the movements of her arms and doing away with unnecessary weight. A stick of writing charcoal is broken and rubbed into the fibres of tunic and leathers once silver, now a blackened brown. Medical supplies and magical items are checked, belts tightened, and pouches fastened into place.
Lastly, a small haversack of rations is placed where she had slept; a loaf of stale bread, a few strips of jerky and a half-full waterskin.
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*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Argent finally hops down from his vantage point, having made up his mind. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was grinning from one side to the other. Perhaps he had a plan or just plain mad.
Pish'posh, Tick-Tock, your so right and a good thing you got a doctor of the clock, eh? Oh. No, no. Odette. You will usually find one wizard is enough to get out any situation.
He claps his hands and walks around the unconscious Quinn, leaning over .
"You know friend, I will tell you this, weather you can hear me or not. I have wander what your friend Zack would think, you laying out, all passed out and having giving up. Is that what you really wanted after all this?"
He pulls out a vial from his belt loop, un-stoppers it and pours one drop of mercury onto the ground, and begins to gesticulates with bone white fingers.
"Sihir edar eka daya'imbas."
A disc of force, conjured under the human male, and lifting him up into the air. A flat surface staying even, just three feet up. He then nods to himself, looking to Odette with enthusiasm.
"Ah well least we wont be slowed down /that/ much. Leaves my hands free should we get into another scuffle. And absolutely right, I wouldn't doubt that Kelth couldn't just track you down by sheer force of will if he is what he claims."
He sets to his own preparations. Hooking a few scrolls to under his belt, taking what components of the hidden alchemy lab for his own spells and putting them in their own compartments. A frivolous attempt of putting his hair back. He knew he was starting to feel a bit grimy without having a bath. After his poor attempts to fix his attire, he bows before Odette with a spread of his arms, and tilt to his head.
"We have a date to make and I dont plan to be late."
He secretly mused to himself, if only he was the white rabbit and her name was Alice.
Pish'posh, Tick-Tock, your so right and a good thing you got a doctor of the clock, eh? Oh. No, no. Odette. You will usually find one wizard is enough to get out any situation.
He claps his hands and walks around the unconscious Quinn, leaning over .
"You know friend, I will tell you this, weather you can hear me or not. I have wander what your friend Zack would think, you laying out, all passed out and having giving up. Is that what you really wanted after all this?"
He pulls out a vial from his belt loop, un-stoppers it and pours one drop of mercury onto the ground, and begins to gesticulates with bone white fingers.
"Sihir edar eka daya'imbas."
A disc of force, conjured under the human male, and lifting him up into the air. A flat surface staying even, just three feet up. He then nods to himself, looking to Odette with enthusiasm.
"Ah well least we wont be slowed down /that/ much. Leaves my hands free should we get into another scuffle. And absolutely right, I wouldn't doubt that Kelth couldn't just track you down by sheer force of will if he is what he claims."
He sets to his own preparations. Hooking a few scrolls to under his belt, taking what components of the hidden alchemy lab for his own spells and putting them in their own compartments. A frivolous attempt of putting his hair back. He knew he was starting to feel a bit grimy without having a bath. After his poor attempts to fix his attire, he bows before Odette with a spread of his arms, and tilt to his head.
"We have a date to make and I dont plan to be late."
He secretly mused to himself, if only he was the white rabbit and her name was Alice.
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*DigitalDragoon
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Somewhere in the slithy fog, a hoot echos through a gloomy twisted woods and a skittish hare hesitates it's mad march to listen.
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*Nimiane
- Posts: 347
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Odette's golden brows lofted with uncertain curiosity as she watched the elf's antics, his final flourish coaxing a laugh from her lips and a shake of her head; finding herself pleasantly surprised. Her gaze dipped and weaved over the hovering mage, before she dipped with a flourished bow of her own.
"Well aren't ye bloody clever." she grins wryly, chuckling faintly as she righted herself and slung her leather satchel over her shoulder. Pulling her sandy coloured hair over her shoulder and tightening the bag's strap one final time, Odette nods sharply."Let's get a move on. Wouldn't want t'keep ol' man Scar waitin', hmm?"
"Well aren't ye bloody clever." she grins wryly, chuckling faintly as she righted herself and slung her leather satchel over her shoulder. Pulling her sandy coloured hair over her shoulder and tightening the bag's strap one final time, Odette nods sharply."Let's get a move on. Wouldn't want t'keep ol' man Scar waitin', hmm?"
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"Keith"
The battle field vanishes, gone, as if it never was.
He stands now in a town, intact and untouched by the war on Illia, its streets slick with blood and bile, men woman and children running in terror, fleeing in every direction.
Bodies lay sprawled around him, his weapon in hand soaked with blood, no not soaked drenched. The bodies appear to be the remains of the cities militia who had sworn to protect the village and its people from danger, but now they lay strewn about the pavement.
Butchered.
It's so easy.
Keith regains his sanity for but a moment, long enough to realise his previous visions were just that, images, illusions...lies.
His spine wasn't removed, the people he saw were actually trying to heal him, a fall he took that broke his leg while he stumbled through the mist.
The orc battle? Never happened, instead Keith had been trying to walk on a wounded leg when he found out one of the villagers was of pure orc descent and something inside unleashed the rage within.
He wasnt killing hundreds of orcs with faces of his old friends and loved ones.
He was slaughtering innocent villagers, a mental vision of another time, another place pulled over his eyes.
The orcs regrouped infront of Keith and pressed another attack, the slaughter continues.
Men, women and children run in terror, wondering why this stranger is butchering them.
The king killer comet twinkles over head....
The battle field vanishes, gone, as if it never was.
He stands now in a town, intact and untouched by the war on Illia, its streets slick with blood and bile, men woman and children running in terror, fleeing in every direction.
Bodies lay sprawled around him, his weapon in hand soaked with blood, no not soaked drenched. The bodies appear to be the remains of the cities militia who had sworn to protect the village and its people from danger, but now they lay strewn about the pavement.
Butchered.
It's so easy.
Keith regains his sanity for but a moment, long enough to realise his previous visions were just that, images, illusions...lies.
His spine wasn't removed, the people he saw were actually trying to heal him, a fall he took that broke his leg while he stumbled through the mist.
The orc battle? Never happened, instead Keith had been trying to walk on a wounded leg when he found out one of the villagers was of pure orc descent and something inside unleashed the rage within.
He wasnt killing hundreds of orcs with faces of his old friends and loved ones.
He was slaughtering innocent villagers, a mental vision of another time, another place pulled over his eyes.
The orcs regrouped infront of Keith and pressed another attack, the slaughter continues.
Men, women and children run in terror, wondering why this stranger is butchering them.
The king killer comet twinkles over head....
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*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
No, no , no, this won't do. Shall we sing to our hearts content so we are not subdued? Have you figured we maybe marching to our doom, the drum beats in our breasts, out of tune with the rest of world?
Come with me Quinn, Rabbit Stew we shan't be for our guests, because tonight will be our Test.
Come along Odette, Maiden of the Humming Fla-ire, braver then all, full of daring do.
You got the blade, I, the Silver Tongue.
The mad as a hatter elf seems to be singing a song, plucking words and rhythm with out abandon. Only other sound being quiet foot steps and the jingle of metal as accompaniment. He does occasionally check from one side to the other, watching his footing and prepared to jump at a moments notice into action. He calls out , again, as if talking to Quinn.
Quinnie Boy, you scoundrel you. We are going stand on the edge of the Abyss. Do you not want to see the end of the world? I will prove to you that after we fall, there still life for us to love!
Don't leave us alone, maybe I and Odette need a chaperone before we start something.
Rebellion! Revolution! Rectify the final absolution!
We be heroes, you, and you and you. Oh. Wait, I as well. Come seek the truth, burning, biting, cutting deep as sinew. I know, boy. I know, Odette. Its what hurts the most.
Beautiful chaos and eternal wisdom, Melethkanara, be our guide tonight!
Come with me Quinn, Rabbit Stew we shan't be for our guests, because tonight will be our Test.
Come along Odette, Maiden of the Humming Fla-ire, braver then all, full of daring do.
You got the blade, I, the Silver Tongue.
The mad as a hatter elf seems to be singing a song, plucking words and rhythm with out abandon. Only other sound being quiet foot steps and the jingle of metal as accompaniment. He does occasionally check from one side to the other, watching his footing and prepared to jump at a moments notice into action. He calls out , again, as if talking to Quinn.
Quinnie Boy, you scoundrel you. We are going stand on the edge of the Abyss. Do you not want to see the end of the world? I will prove to you that after we fall, there still life for us to love!
Don't leave us alone, maybe I and Odette need a chaperone before we start something.
Rebellion! Revolution! Rectify the final absolution!
We be heroes, you, and you and you. Oh. Wait, I as well. Come seek the truth, burning, biting, cutting deep as sinew. I know, boy. I know, Odette. Its what hurts the most.
Beautiful chaos and eternal wisdom, Melethkanara, be our guide tonight!
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*DigitalDragoon
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
A lilting song like a little bird comes a whiffling through the way. Is it meant lead and save the day or merely tricks to spin the world astray?
Through the mists that swirl and snatch, comes the shadow which sits inside your head. Twisted 'round inside your mind, with jaws that bite and claws that catch. The sort which sees you in your bed and eats you while you're sleeping.
"..Don't leave us alone.."
A morhg...No, that is ...wrong..a man turns about, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. For a moment panic and fear subside.
"Just another nightmare. A of mixing metaphor and metaphysical."
Slowly the smothering atmosphere seems to ease, phantasmal terrors withdrawing into the capricious fog. A path becomes faintly visible, spidering every which way. Indistinct images both fearful and enticing churn in the haze just beyond the edge, threatening to close in at any moment.
The unfamiliar sound of song continues unabated, even beckoning. Leading a wayward mind to oblivion or to reckoning.
"..Come seek the truth.."
Through the mists that swirl and snatch, comes the shadow which sits inside your head. Twisted 'round inside your mind, with jaws that bite and claws that catch. The sort which sees you in your bed and eats you while you're sleeping.
"..Don't leave us alone.."
A morhg...No, that is ...wrong..a man turns about, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. For a moment panic and fear subside.
"Just another nightmare. A of mixing metaphor and metaphysical."
Slowly the smothering atmosphere seems to ease, phantasmal terrors withdrawing into the capricious fog. A path becomes faintly visible, spidering every which way. Indistinct images both fearful and enticing churn in the haze just beyond the edge, threatening to close in at any moment.
The unfamiliar sound of song continues unabated, even beckoning. Leading a wayward mind to oblivion or to reckoning.
"..Come seek the truth.."
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*Nimiane
- Posts: 347
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Odette roared ferociously, the thin blade of her unsheathed rapier skewering the flesh of the nearest mercenary only to draw back and pierce the one that took it's place. Even as the leathered forms of Scar's men poured into their campsite and the words "Seize them" rang in the early morning air, did she fight still. Her sword arm brutally disarmed, the bardess kicked and clawed and bit her resistance, struggling in an animalistic fashion as the cold irons clamped around her wrists. Oppressed. Contained. Shackled. Her core screamed internally in protest.
With the unreturned presence of the Warrior Poet, both Odette and Argent had gone about taking shifts in the search for Kelth, and the gentle minding of Quinn with attempts to coax him back from the nightmare he was evidently living. Argent had an uncanny knack, a bond with the mage she could not replicate but she tried as best she was able. Morning had come, their supplies packed as they made ready to depart; yet with the dawn so too came an apparition. The ghostly visage of a familiar tiefling reaching out through broken communication of a sending stone. Then, swarms of legionaries. . . everything went black.
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Odette fumed quietly in the darkened room of the compact establishment. Cloaked in the shadows that answered her beckon, she could take no more patriarchal bullshit on top of everything that had been endured already, and all that would come. Having recently been over to check on the semi-coherent form of Quinn, the bardess blinked back a few frustrated tears, leaning back against the wooden panelling as she vigilantly watched the nearby legionnaires patrol through the window. This was not the plan.
Having roused from her unconscious state in the apparent throne room of the General himself, handed over to the company of Sigilian friends whom had seemingly appeared out of thin air, her gaze had instantly fallen on the Mercenary leader and the plans he was making to work with the new arrivals. Her cherished blade, Fang, had been taken from her. The plans they had made, dashed without a thought and her protests to such quickly silenced as they were ushered away to claims of madness. To make matters worse, the overheard reports of Kelth had churned her stomach despite the relief he lived.
Within the house they had effectively been imprisoned within, things did not improve. After the initial shock of seeing their companions on the same prime as they, mere days after their arrival, Odette had gone about immediately checking the exits and perimeter to fully understand the logistics of the position they were in. They had been provided all that they desired, and yet remained nothing more than glorified rats trapped in a crate. It was then the demands had began, unsympathetic with accusations of madness when it came to expressing one's feelings, talked about as though they were not even in the room. Odette had grown frustrated, calling upon the shadow's of the veil to cloak her so that she might find peace rather than break a bottle over someone's head. She knew they cared, even if she didn't agree with their reasonings nor with the idea that any of them needed to be rescued.
The din of argument swirling all around her from the other room, Odette became keenly aware of the alcoholism that ran rampant throughout her system, causing her hands to shake. Just how much more could she take, now more than ever? Forcing the cork from the bottle of liquor nearby, the one she hadn't smashed, she quickly brings it to her lips.
Three months....from pup to....someone on 'er own feet... Some moments more...merry than others...but r'gardless, I've witnessed how ye marched on...in yer own way. Ye started out as a pupil, but yer an equal...an' wha' I find in yer presence, is...peace an' freedom...a rare thing... t'is nae e'en somethin' we 'ave t' give a name...jus' one look at ye an' I know...
Kelth's words from time together in Sigil rung in her mind, eyes closing for the briefest of moments as she allowed their encouragement to wash over her. Slowly her fingers inched for her pack, the knowledge of her taken blade once again causing her to grimace as she drew out a leatherbound book and with it a quill and a small travellers vial of ink. Soon, she sets nib to parchment as she was often encouraged to do in times of reflection.
Entry Three
There is a rage that boils inside me and I am left wondering. . . no, wavering in my faith of people. Not just people, but those who would call me friend. So caught up are they in their own lives and selfishness that fail to see the bigger picture, they fail to see the work that needs to be done and the war that wages all around them. It is ever-present in Sigil and continues even here. So focused are they in dealing with their own problems, in being right and dominant, they neglect the real problems which are glaringly obvious.
People are dying for feck sake. There is more than a single prime's lives at risk, here. Our plan to drain Scar of information and have him slain falls flat on it's face with the unaccounted for additions. In the middle of a war, dirty, bloody, hungry. . . and the focus placed on the lack of warmth in greeting, the absence of hugs and smiles with the apparent need of rescue. So melodramatic in sexist words and actions, not caring for the actual tasks at hand or the trauma endured. Grow up. He said, unknowing and unwilling to ask. Knock it off. As if such was easy. I need not even write of the insult against my person at the lack of trust and faith that I cannot handle myself. And not just me, the four of us, having been gone but two days.
Everywhere around me is chaos, the kind of chaos where people use it as an excuse not to think. It is not the needed chaos. It is not the chaos that brings about change. It is the poisonous chaos of selfishness as opposed to selflessness.
Sometime later, an addendum is added beneath the entry after several splotches indicate the tapping of the nib in that space over a lengthy duration.
They are here for us, rather than this goal. Our mission. I find it foolish and frustrating, but can I truly be angry with them for that, despite the utter lack of respect held for us? It is not that I do not welcome their aid, it is the fact that they believe us incapable without it. It changes not how I feel, nor my opinions on the matter. It changes not the fact that I am entitled to speak my mind, untamed... but... I should not overlook the fact that they came because they care. Methods and demands aside, whatever their reasons for coming, selfish or selfless, they came all the same and the aid should not be berated, nor turned down.
Yet I cannot allow such petty behaviours to get in the way of the task at hand, nor allow the ruckus to take precedence over those whom remain quiet simply because one other remains the squeaking wheel whom draws the most attention.
Quinn continues to improve bit by bit with the hours that pass, and I feel our shared experiences have brought Argent and I onto a shared page of understanding and friendship. Vyse becomes stronger and more in control of his life with each breath, and Brindas - despite this whole 'rescue' being his idea - is at least keenly focused on the task.
As for me.... some people are born to do the dirty work that others can't do. March on.
Focus on the mission.
The book snaps shut and is pulled tightly too her breast for a moment with a long exhale. After a time, it's leather-bound pages are slipped back into the satchel from whence they came. Rising from her seated position at the window, Odette moved once more to check on those whom likewise occupied the building before settling in front of the coal furnace; a luxury in comparison to recent campfires.
With the unreturned presence of the Warrior Poet, both Odette and Argent had gone about taking shifts in the search for Kelth, and the gentle minding of Quinn with attempts to coax him back from the nightmare he was evidently living. Argent had an uncanny knack, a bond with the mage she could not replicate but she tried as best she was able. Morning had come, their supplies packed as they made ready to depart; yet with the dawn so too came an apparition. The ghostly visage of a familiar tiefling reaching out through broken communication of a sending stone. Then, swarms of legionaries. . . everything went black.
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Odette fumed quietly in the darkened room of the compact establishment. Cloaked in the shadows that answered her beckon, she could take no more patriarchal bullshit on top of everything that had been endured already, and all that would come. Having recently been over to check on the semi-coherent form of Quinn, the bardess blinked back a few frustrated tears, leaning back against the wooden panelling as she vigilantly watched the nearby legionnaires patrol through the window. This was not the plan.
Having roused from her unconscious state in the apparent throne room of the General himself, handed over to the company of Sigilian friends whom had seemingly appeared out of thin air, her gaze had instantly fallen on the Mercenary leader and the plans he was making to work with the new arrivals. Her cherished blade, Fang, had been taken from her. The plans they had made, dashed without a thought and her protests to such quickly silenced as they were ushered away to claims of madness. To make matters worse, the overheard reports of Kelth had churned her stomach despite the relief he lived.
Within the house they had effectively been imprisoned within, things did not improve. After the initial shock of seeing their companions on the same prime as they, mere days after their arrival, Odette had gone about immediately checking the exits and perimeter to fully understand the logistics of the position they were in. They had been provided all that they desired, and yet remained nothing more than glorified rats trapped in a crate. It was then the demands had began, unsympathetic with accusations of madness when it came to expressing one's feelings, talked about as though they were not even in the room. Odette had grown frustrated, calling upon the shadow's of the veil to cloak her so that she might find peace rather than break a bottle over someone's head. She knew they cared, even if she didn't agree with their reasonings nor with the idea that any of them needed to be rescued.
The din of argument swirling all around her from the other room, Odette became keenly aware of the alcoholism that ran rampant throughout her system, causing her hands to shake. Just how much more could she take, now more than ever? Forcing the cork from the bottle of liquor nearby, the one she hadn't smashed, she quickly brings it to her lips.
Three months....from pup to....someone on 'er own feet... Some moments more...merry than others...but r'gardless, I've witnessed how ye marched on...in yer own way. Ye started out as a pupil, but yer an equal...an' wha' I find in yer presence, is...peace an' freedom...a rare thing... t'is nae e'en somethin' we 'ave t' give a name...jus' one look at ye an' I know...
Kelth's words from time together in Sigil rung in her mind, eyes closing for the briefest of moments as she allowed their encouragement to wash over her. Slowly her fingers inched for her pack, the knowledge of her taken blade once again causing her to grimace as she drew out a leatherbound book and with it a quill and a small travellers vial of ink. Soon, she sets nib to parchment as she was often encouraged to do in times of reflection.
Entry Three
There is a rage that boils inside me and I am left wondering. . . no, wavering in my faith of people. Not just people, but those who would call me friend. So caught up are they in their own lives and selfishness that fail to see the bigger picture, they fail to see the work that needs to be done and the war that wages all around them. It is ever-present in Sigil and continues even here. So focused are they in dealing with their own problems, in being right and dominant, they neglect the real problems which are glaringly obvious.
People are dying for feck sake. There is more than a single prime's lives at risk, here. Our plan to drain Scar of information and have him slain falls flat on it's face with the unaccounted for additions. In the middle of a war, dirty, bloody, hungry. . . and the focus placed on the lack of warmth in greeting, the absence of hugs and smiles with the apparent need of rescue. So melodramatic in sexist words and actions, not caring for the actual tasks at hand or the trauma endured. Grow up. He said, unknowing and unwilling to ask. Knock it off. As if such was easy. I need not even write of the insult against my person at the lack of trust and faith that I cannot handle myself. And not just me, the four of us, having been gone but two days.
Everywhere around me is chaos, the kind of chaos where people use it as an excuse not to think. It is not the needed chaos. It is not the chaos that brings about change. It is the poisonous chaos of selfishness as opposed to selflessness.
Sometime later, an addendum is added beneath the entry after several splotches indicate the tapping of the nib in that space over a lengthy duration.
They are here for us, rather than this goal. Our mission. I find it foolish and frustrating, but can I truly be angry with them for that, despite the utter lack of respect held for us? It is not that I do not welcome their aid, it is the fact that they believe us incapable without it. It changes not how I feel, nor my opinions on the matter. It changes not the fact that I am entitled to speak my mind, untamed... but... I should not overlook the fact that they came because they care. Methods and demands aside, whatever their reasons for coming, selfish or selfless, they came all the same and the aid should not be berated, nor turned down.
Yet I cannot allow such petty behaviours to get in the way of the task at hand, nor allow the ruckus to take precedence over those whom remain quiet simply because one other remains the squeaking wheel whom draws the most attention.
Quinn continues to improve bit by bit with the hours that pass, and I feel our shared experiences have brought Argent and I onto a shared page of understanding and friendship. Vyse becomes stronger and more in control of his life with each breath, and Brindas - despite this whole 'rescue' being his idea - is at least keenly focused on the task.
As for me.... some people are born to do the dirty work that others can't do. March on.
Focus on the mission.
The book snaps shut and is pulled tightly too her breast for a moment with a long exhale. After a time, it's leather-bound pages are slipped back into the satchel from whence they came. Rising from her seated position at the window, Odette moved once more to check on those whom likewise occupied the building before settling in front of the coal furnace; a luxury in comparison to recent campfires.