A Bit of Resolution, Party Begins to Turn In for the Night
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
The seeds of discord are within the words spoken tonight. Something has to be done; the party must remain united. But the hot words and insults come so quickly, and Garyth has little chance to get a word in.
At Gully's mention of the Blood Falcon Regiment, Garyth raises an eyebrow. He nods to Gully. "I know the Blood Falcons. I trained with them for a time while I was in Nesalin. At one time I even thought to join them myself. But I joined the Guard to protect my home, and the Overlook garrison is where I belong. Still, it's good to meet a man who might have been a comrade in arms."
Garyth turns to the rest of the party. "Master Patter is right. Each of us tonight was necessary for our victory, and each of us made his mistakes." He looks down for a moment. "Perhaps none more than I."
"If we are to succeed, we must function as a unit. Over the past few days we have been lucky, for our enemies have been as disorganized as ourselves, and perhaps our strength has been unexpected. But we cannot expect that to last. A unit like the Blood Falcons maintains its reputation by fighting as a team. Each man knows and utilizes the strengths of his comrades, and buttresses their weaknesses. Such familiarity normally comes with time, but we don't have that luxury. And we don't have time to squabble amongst ourselves."
Garyth squirms mentally a bit. Does a leader expose himself? But this is not the time for squeamishness, he must establish a rapport with these men, and setting himself apart will not accomplish that. Besides, after his cowardice before, he has no right to leadership. "For my part, I know I must learn to control my impulses. I have escaped death only through luck and plenty of help, twice now. I appreciate that. We cannot continue running off alone if we hope to even survive, let alone return safe home." He looks pointedly at Sa'id. "Neither can we allow our emotions to get the better of us." He looks at Cadfael and Farron. "We must stand together, for apart we will surely fall."
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
Together, Garyth said. Unity. Team work.
There is an itch in Mission's soul, and though he understands the need for these men, his one desire is to push off alone after Anileth. Reason tells him it would be utter suicide-- and yet, has he not come this far alone? Where were these men in all his days wandering after Anileth?
We are each of us alone. And lonely. Rennick, too savage. Cadfael, too holy. Garyth, too young. It is odd to him that of the six, the two mages are the ones who seem to have bonded most. Who are, in fact, unified. And what of me? Where do I stand in this group?
The shepherd of mages. His son, the loneliest of all, lost to darkness and chaos, and here he stood debating with mages. And yet where was he to go? He had no means to find Anileth or Promise. He had come to this island on rumor and intuition alone. Luck and fate had both been with him so far.
But strong companions were better than both luck and fate. Strong arms and keen minds made luck and fate.
Ale and battle-weariness make poor advisors when wisdom and compassion are warranted. Mission feels that he shoulud say something wise; something that will bind the group together. Something like his father might have said. But Mission is not Rigor, and he mistrusts anything he might say.
Finally, he settles on an apology. "Sa'id. I am sorry for my harshness out on the battlefield. I hope that you will forgive me."
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
"Amen", says Farron, quietly and gives Gully an appreciative pat on the back.
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
Farron nods at Rennik's words, then turns back to Sa'id and their discussion of tomorrow's spells.
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
And I enjoy reading it. My problem is that your portrayal of Mission is so vibrant that I let Farron react to him as *I* know him and not as Farron should be able to. Big goof on my part, so I'll be more careful in the future.
And, generally, I also use "quotes" to mark what is said outloud.
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
Funny how we're all bending over backwards to fix this minor misunderstanding while our game characters won't bend for fear of breaking. :-D
From: Raja
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
Sa'id's demeanour softens visibly at the words of Garyth and Mission.
The warrior from Overlook is smarter than Sa'id had given him credit for. Sa'id's confidence that he should have been the one to direct the battle fades, and a hint of remorse creeps into his consciousness. Still, he believes he made the right choice since he would have been utterly useless inside the lodge. We just need, he thinks, to learn to work in "squads," not as a whole complete unit.
"Shuk'ran, Mission, for your protection today. Garyth is right; without your help I would have been hurt much more severely. The first potion that revived you came from my own pocket; consider it a token of thanks." He pauses, unsure of how to phrase his next thoughts, but decides that they are too incomplete as yet. He shakes his head as if to clear it, but can't help wincing at the pain in his collarbone. "I need to think."
From: Matt
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
Just to be clear, Rennik has nothing more to say. He will fight his internal battle while trying to stay focused on the fire, and will seem to grow paler as time progresses, with a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. After some time, he will curl up under a blanket in the corner, gripping his axe across his chest as though it were his last lifeline, and fall into fitful sleep, hoping he will again wake.
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Fireside Healing
Mission casts a cautious eye at Rennick's back. The others had said he had fought with Horan. And been wounded. A wound from a lycanthrope could fester in unpredictable ways. It could drive a man mad, although he personally wondered if a part of Rennick's 'charm' was a kind of madness. Who would know the difference?
It could make him into a beast.
Mission shudders. The tone of the room has settled down a bit. Bone-weariness has taken the place of surly arguing, but no one yet has the strength to get up and go to bed. We all wait for someone else to surrender.
He begins to hum to himself, meaninglessly, until the tune he wants surfaces. He is by no means a bard, and his voice would bring no coin on the street-- a song fit for a campfire, or on horseback.
The sun has sunken her low in the sky,
And sweet night winds blows o'er her.
The herdsman bids his flocks goodbye,
But I must roam forever.
No home has seen my feet go in,
No wife to take me to her;
I wear this road like my own skin,
And I must roam forever.
Up dale, down hill, the valley green,
The deserts and the rivers
No man can see the sights I've seen
So I must roam forever.
And only the wind sings me a charm,
And only the sun call I father;
No roof, nor kin to keep me from harm,
As I will roam forever.
"And on that cheery note, goodnight." Mission says.