Shards Of History

[*Nimiane]

Aquamarine eyes darted quickly to Kelth's hands with the movement, the bardess turning to close the flap behind her in an effort to allow him some sort of privacy without ignoring his sentiment completely. Her gloved, blood-stained fingers rested against the canvas for a few moments, head slowly swivelling to glance over her shoulder in his direction. After a few beats in wordless silence, those same fingers fished out the stale bread of her rations as she paced over and moved to sit at his side, leaving a trail of freshly pooled rain in her wake. The dried crust was broken in two, half offered alongside gentle words.

"Here. Yer bigger than I am, got a lot more t'power if we want t'make it out of here alive."

Her lips twitched, pulling lightly to the side with an encouraging smirk. There was no judgement in her gaze as it sought out his, the husk of break waved in his face as she brought her own half to her waiting maw. Proceeding to bite sparingly at her rations, Odette's eyes pulled from his and weaved throughout the tent to the soft pitter-patter of rain echoing above. With little else to occupy the space, her attention was drawn to the skull of their slain enemy and the familiar markings that surrounded it. Casting a side-long glance to her dark haired companion, she gestures in the direction of the runes and makes a quiet query.

"What do they mean?"

[*Mausman]

*Kelth grabbed the offered part of bread, smiling and inclining his head*

I thank ye... *He glanced along with her towards the skull, speaking slowly*

All who died that day...I carry 'em with me...Ugno's demise is my salute to all o' 'em...down here? I am wha' I was made t' be...an instrument o' war. Godess knows wha' will 'appen, eh? we easily may die down 'ere. At least I'll go with a roar if an' when it 'appens...

I know fear as well as Quinn does, I jus' don't let it drag me down. Nae means I do not recognise th' state o' affairs we're in.

Down here...in this...warzone, I feel as if -they- are with me...y' know? fightin' as one...I can feel 'em...


*He slowly glanced at her again as he took a huge bite from the crust*

All o' this...puts things a bit more in p'rspective again. We 'ave to succeed...but if we fail, at least I'm glad t' die alongside ye lot. I'm just...ne'ermind..

*Kelth smiles, shaking his head, offering her his wineskin*

[*Nimiane]

Odette nods slowly to his words, her readable expression a mix of sympathy and respect. She takes the wineskin as it's offered, a low sigh of appreciation leaving her lips as she tastes the liquor on her tongue. Handing it back and placing her remaining crust of bread on his lap, she rises to her knees and shuffles in the direction of the skull.

"You're jus' . . . ?"

Her gaze flicked back to him as she reached her destination, golden brows lofting slightly as she waited for him to continue the thought. Looking back to the skull in her expectancy, Odette slowly pulls the glove from her left hand. Drawing a small knife from her boot and without hesitation,she presses the tip of the blade to her palm. A small wince follows as the incision begins to pool blood, yet she raises it with clenched fist and squeezes gently. Though her actions might seem strange, it soon becomes apparent that each of the drops of blood that follow land specifically on each of the runes. A silent, but personal tribute to each of the lives lost and those possibly to follow.

[*Mausman]

*Kelth shook his head once again*

Nae th' time nor place, dear Odette...

*He offered her a warm smile, then glanced as she performed her own "ritual"*


...Wha' makes ye do this?


*He smiled, taking her gesture as a positive thing as he placed the sheathe on his lap to his left*

[*TheSteamWolf]

It was about four hours after he and Vyse had given up on palaver and resigned themselves to trying for sleep. To his own astonishment, Gregory, despite being stranded on a strange prime, in an unfamiliar cabin, and surrounded by sulfurous polluted water, had passed out the moment his head touched down.

Whereas most people tended to sleep between six and ten hours in one go, Greg had a different rhythm. After three or four hours of sleep, he would wake for two, then sleep another three of four. It was in this mid-sleep waking time that he felt most at ease; it was also when he did his best writing.

Glancing around to make certain he was alone in the room, he slipped a ring onto his right middle finger, causing the room to illuminate with warm suffusive light. The leather cover of the writing journal was worn from time and travel, but still quite thick and pliable.


Completely Mental Foolhardy Mission – Day The First

Where to begin?

I met Elminster today. Well, he claimed to be Elminster, but nobody in the room questioned it, not even Brindas or Lady Mir. I suppose there is an unmistakable aura to such men. He told us, being Vyse, Brindas, Mir, and myself, (Well, Terry was there, but did not accompany us), that our actions in the coming days would shape the fate of the multiverse. No pressure, eh wot? And here we thought it was a simple matter of boarding a spelljammer, slipping through the astral to some backwater war-torn prime, and recovering our companions. In case somebody who does not know me personally is reading this, two things: One, that was sarcasm, as none of that is commonplace for me. Two, why the devils are you reading my writing journal? If it is not for posterity because I did something marvelous, go away!

Poor Alice. Alice is Lady MirÂ’s jammer. What an absolutely lovely ship. I could spend simply ages living on her. She has everything you could want in a small city, and her crew are brave and true. Note that I am not anthropomorphizing the ship. Alice, evidently, possesses sentience of some kind or another, and experienced pain when those skeletal draco-fiends damaged her mid-flight.

I failed to mention them? AliceÂ’s deck crew, including our intrepid band, were attacked by a small army of undead. After theyÂ’d been dealt with, two skeletal dragons, desiccated flesh still clinging to their frames, flew up and raked bits off Alice. I believe one of them was Ignition, the red I met who serves a lich named Sammaster, or something like that. They set Undersigil ablaze for some reason. ItÂ’s all related to The Cult of The Dragon somehow, and possibly tied in with those evil scrolls. Then again, everything seems to be tied in with those evil scrolls. I may have died in the crash-landing if not for BrinÂ’s quick thinking. We were carried down by celestials.

Come to think of it, poor Lady Mir. She and I are friends and, as such, I feel compelled to go offer her comforting words. To her, Alice is a dear friend, perhaps even like family. Unfortunately, it is a little more complicated than simply waltzing across the hall and speaking. The issue is that if I make my way to her room everybody will assume my intentions are carnal, likely including the lady herself. This is not favorable for several reasons, the foremost of which is that Sinja and I exchanged some very meaningful vows before I left on this trip, and I would not wish to endanger those in any way, but another very good reason is that I would not want Lady Mir to think I was trying to take advantage of her emotional ordeal to bed her. Perhaps I shall say something when the circumstances allow me to do so without arousing suspicion.

The swashbuckler lifted a hand to his shoulder, rubbing at the fresh bruise where Sinja bit him. A warm smile creased his features as he lowered his quill back to the page.

My darling Sinja. I miss her terribly already. I really did underestimate her. This is something I am deeply ashamed of. It may have been all the canine jokes being spouted by my chums, but at some point I started to feel embarrassed of being with her. I care for my friends, but if IÂ’d listened to their jeers, what wonderful kindness and affection I would have missed out on. Sinja is far from the woman I always envisioned myself settling down with, but I feel there is a genuine possibility of this.

Less than a day and I miss you terribly, darling.

[*Nimiane]

"We're at war, nae just here... but every damn day. Ye know this just as well as I do. It's important t'remember what we fight fer, nae just fightin' fer the sake of fightin' an' killin' fer the sake of killin'." the blonde murmurs her thoughts out loud with a few small gestures of her unoccupied hand.

"Ye are, and do what y'are and there ain't nothin' wrong with embracin' it. I'd nae seek t'ever tell ye otherwise, but as ye know everythin' holds weight, Kelth. A wagon, even a damn fine wagon made of t'sturdiest wood, needs more than a path t'follow. Needs a horse, an' wheels an' a little grease, y'know?"

Odette glances over in his direction, words offered with a smile that caused the freckles on her tanned cheeks to dance with the expression in the pale light. Evidently, the words were spoken from her heart and intended to support rather than chastise the man he was. The last designated drop of blood trickled from her hand and onto the rune, her attention shifting back to the task at hand.

"This is the sailor's way, my way, of honoring those lost t'ye. It's said tha' life is t'most precious thing one can give another, the blood symbolises m'life force in gratitude t'the sacrifices made an' lost t'ye. It's. . ." she draws back her hand, pressing a gloved thumb to her palm to halt the bleeding as she murmured a soft incantation. A small shrug follows along with the shake of her head, damn tresses clinging to her features. ". . . hard t'find the words t'explain."

Pulling off the remaining glove, she tossed it aside with the other upon her return to the previously seated position. Running a few bare fingers through her wet locks, she reached for, and took back her half of the rationed crust.

"I'm glad yer here, Kelth. Even if it's our blood that spills on t'morrow."

The bardess then proceeds to punch him in the nearest bulky shoulder, a grin flashing the whites of her teeth.

"That's fer takin' the brunt of t'impact, y'sod."

[*Mausman]

I'm glad yer here too, Odette...and aye, I know yer rite...workin' on tha' aye? Just is...in this environment, it's easier t' feel I belong...but I know there's more.

*He blinks as she punches him and he shoves her, growling with a chuckle and ends up on top of her, gazing down*

Gettin' cut out there...is how I...punished myself fer bein' tha only surivor, back then. But I also d'sire t' be tha best warrior out there...I used to wish t' make a home somewhere an' live a simple life...but came t' accept tha' wasn't meant fer me. At least, ever since we've been livin' under a roof, how odd th' circumstances 'ave been tha' made it so...I've known some calmth. Tha' it's arrite t' be me...an' try things...thank ye fer tha'

*Kelth then smiles, his one eye gazing down at her*

[*Nimiane]

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?"

[*MadJackValance]

Vyse and Greg had sat out front of the cabin chatting well after Brindas and Mir had turned in. They spoke of a few woes and worries they'd left back in the Cage. Vyse even shared a song, to try and ease their troubles. It was one of his best, he felt, one he had written long ago about a friend. A solemn, but hopeful tune of the parting of paths and keeping hope that they would one day rejoin...


"As I sat and surveyed"
"The moon shone in the day"
"The stars take such a shine summer nights"

"One and alone"
"I watched night's darkness hone"
"As the moon led the stars from the light"

"I would lay down my quill"
"That my thoughts could grow still"
"That my heart may find some reprieve"

"I deny myself rest"
"And deny night's behest"
"Not to dream of the tales that we'd weaved"

"'Fore winter's grief"
"There fell two fated leaves"
"How they'd dance and twist in the wind"

"So obscured by the snow"
"One another can't know"
"So they wait for the spring to begin"


And for at least that brief time, he could set the knot aside and stop picking and prying, but before long there was a tense, restless tug at the bard's joints. Despite some concerns Doc Brindas had expressed, Vyse felt compelled...

"Elminster said roads have a way of meeting... I don't mind asking for directions." The ruddy bard thought to himself.

Once they had said their good nights and Greg had headed inside, the bard sat his dear lute, Ruby, aside and fished from one of the pouches on his belt, an enchanted gem, a messenger stone. Odette had given it to him some time ago, though she stipulated it was strictly for emergencies. The tiefling wagered that if ever there was an emergency, this was it. There was no knowing what those four had gone through, what were planning, or what dire situation they may be facing now, but those plans and those situations could change a great deal for them knowing of the new team's arrival.

And so the tiefling palmed the gem, took a deep breath, and lifted it to his lips. After thinking on what to say for a few quiet moments, he settled on something simple. "Odette? I-It's Vyse. If you're there... p-please respond. Please..." He pleaded gently, pausing for a reply in the silent, stretching seconds that followed.

He had already prepared a litany of excuses if he received no reply. For now, he was quiet and hopeful...

[*WhenWizardsWar]

"Ive got you under my skin"

-Odette, Keith, Anathiel and Quinn-

//No story no long words, this should say enough about their second night on war torn Illia, as always please post ic thoughts/actions etc etc.

Come on in!.
The party has just started.
You and your skin will soon be parted.
Dance with us, we the departed.
When your with us, the music is endless.
Thanks to us, you'll never be friendless.
Hang up your coats.
On the hooks that float.
Dance with us, we don't gloat.

Some can't dance.
They can only prance.
Look at that one he's in a trance.

Here comes another.
She's really moving
She's hung up her skin.
Now the dance can begin.

So here we are.
The dead who dance.
Here comes a third.
He sings like a bird.
He's a little off key.
But now they are free.

The dance is over.
Please come again.
Don't be afraid.
When next we dance.
It will be in the parade.