Mages Grumble, Cadfael Explodes, Remorseful Garyth, Mission Explains
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
****He nods to Farron. "Is this creature," he jabs a toe at the halfling mage. "still living?"******
"Apparently not," Farron replies, "But Sa'id here is the expert on the dead and un-dead." As he returns to the lodge, he calls over his shoulder to Sa'id, "Let me know what you find out. I'm going to check with the others."
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
He had expected more than a nod.
Mission watches with narrowed eyes as the mage makes his way back to the lodge. Mission is silent however-- and watches as Sa'id holds his arm still.
Watches the way the shift of his body tenders that shoulder.
The halfling mage's attack with the hammer. Well, perhaps the pain would teach Sa'id not to run out in the darkness. Better a ghostly hammer than Anileth, who could have been in the darkness just as easily as hordes of skeletons.
Mission kicks a pile of bones, sends them scattering out into the darkness. Work. He had to do something. Despite his wounds and aches, Mission scours the grounds for the skeleton's remains. He piles them up downwind from the lodge.
Now the mage. Mission sets his teeth as he touches the dead, cold body. Halfling-- one of the wild ones? Perhaps Rennick would want to perform last rites for it.
It is then that he sees the armor. This was a cleric, not a mage. Perhaps. Worshiper of Anileth's god? Or some other god, sand taken, pathless?
Mission sticks his head in the door of the lodge. "Rennick, do you have any love for a dead, evil halfling cleric? If not, I'm going to burn his body along with the bones of the skeletons."
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
Farron has no doubt that Mission knows the source of the potion. To Farron, however, Cadfael's power is just another school of the same power he and Sa'id use. Albeit, it is often more theatrical and--in this specific case--*much* more condescending than Divination.
(OOC - and for the record, Karl is pretty impressed with the way Scott is playing Mission. You're making me pin down Farron's feelings better, too.)
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
Agreed. :)
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
Farron steps into the lodge to see Cadfael and Rennik in some heated discussion, and Garyth and Gully ruefully surveying the damage to the once cozy and comfortable inn. As Gully starts talking about securing the dining room for the evening, Farron goes to his room and gathers his and Sa'id's things and brings them out to the common area. Walking back to the room he can't help but notice all the bones and debris laying about inside the inn. He picks up the bones and larger pieces of debris and carries them outside. Once there he notices Mission's clean-up efforts outside, but not really wanting to get in a discussion with him, carries his loads to Mission's growing pile and dumps them there without a glance.
Later, when Gully pours the wine, Farron drifts to a corner of the lodge where he pulls out his spellbook and tries to select tomorrow's spells. Thumbing through his spellbook, he is surprised how many of the spells in his repertoire seem too tailored to his merchant career. He chafes at the realization that from the point of view of the group, he really hasn't been the most impressive of mages thus far and wishes they could see him on a merchant voyage. The guys he's traveled with in the past sure appreciated his skills. More than once, his linguistic skills saved the party unnecessary confrontation. And he never heard curses on all mages when he was able to make a nice warm and dry shelter for the bridge crew when the weather got stormy at sea. And even during times of combat (mostly against would-be pirates), he was able to prove handy. But pirates aren't undead, brain-dead for the most part, maybe, but not undead. And he's never met a pirate that didn't turn and run at the first sign of defeat. But now he's seen a frenzied halfling suicide squad, an undead demon incubator, and a hoard of walking bones. He makes a silent vow to add some more versatile and combat oriented spells to his book at the first opportunity.
He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes in thought while Jack scurries out of his pocket and up onto his shoulder. Farron strokes his back absently, eyes still closed, as he ponders the best way to prepare for events that are sure to be stranger than he can imagine.
From: Mike
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
After nailing the last board in place and checking the security of the barricaded windows, Garyth steps into his room and collects his gear, bringing it to the common room before Gully blocks off the hallway.
Sitting before the fire, he checks over his weapons and armor, touching up the edge on his blade, polishing the studs on his armor. His motions are precise, but his eyes are distant, meditative. When finished, he buckles on his armor and stares into the fire, idly fingering the hilt of his sword.
Finally he breaks the silence, asking the question he knows is on everyone's mind.
"Mission, who was that woman?"
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
At that, Farron opens his eyes and glances toward Mission before turning his gaze back to his spellbook, but otherwise gives no obvious sign that he has heard the question.
From: Dan
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
Cadfael does not break stride and Rennik finds himself addressing his back. However, rather than stopping to speak with Gully and Garyth he storms past them into the common room. There he begins to gather up wood and throw it into the fireplace, tripping over his shield all the while. Finally he yanks it off his arm and hurls it to the floor with a loud crash. Ignoring the startled looks of his companions he continues gathering wood and piling it into the fireplace. The flames climb higher and higher and still he feeds it. It's as if each log were a trouble to be consumed, as if he wants to burn away his anger. Finally, the fire reaches the point where adding any more wood would cause it to spill onto the floor. And still, the tension has not left his shoulders.
The cleanup begins around him and he does not move to help but stays standing before the blaze, face aglow with the heat and sheen of sweat. After a time he retrieves his discarded shield and finds a chair that survived the battle. He sets it side on to the hearth and rests there, leaning forward with his shield in his hands, watching the play of flames over Pelor's emblem. He has not been there long before Sa'id enters. Glancing up briefly he notes the grimace on Sa'id's face before losing himself in the reflection of the fire's dance once again. However, the tightening of his grip on his shield betrays that he does not approve of what he sees.
"I'll not heal you, Sa'id." He says in soft response, making no move to take the jewelry nor meet his eyes. "Sleep on your pain, study through it. There will be more pain to come and perhaps this will make you think twice before charging into battle." Slowly, Cadfael's voice begins to rise. "What possessed you to leave the walls of the lodge? At least they offered some sort of protection from the undead. Could you not get a close enough look at them here? It is hard enough to keep track of people without having them strike out alone. If you had been seriously injured I would not have known. I could not have helped you," by this point he his standing and his voice carries clearly through the common room, "I *can* help you. I can protect you, I can heal you, I can lend you strength. But I CANNOT do this when you run from me into the claws of our enemies."
After this brief tirade he manages some level of control and his voice returns to its normal level, although the acid remains in his tone. "Now, let me see these trinkets. I cannot say that I will know them, Pelor does not create undead and I do not make a habit of studying the rites and rituals of other Gods." He takes them one at a time and turns each over in his hands for a few minutes. "No. No I have not seen any of these before. It is clear that the hieroglyph is a religious symbol of some kind, but you probably could have told me that yourself."
(OOC -- Another battle over and I still have yet to take damage. I feel that this is largely because by the time I reach the fighting everyone already has their dance partners sorted out. But hey, I ain't complaining :)
From: Raja
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
Sa'id is completely unsurprised at Cadfael's criticism, but does not bother responding to it. He is simply too tired and sore to deal with these people right now. That does not, however, stop his thoughts. They chose to stay in the lodge when it could easily have become a deathtrap, he thinks. They are the fools here. My offensive magics would have been utterly useless indoors, and if that priest had instead been a mage, they could all have died in a single casting of a Fireball spell. If Cadfael had brains in that skull of his, he and his protection circle would have come outside.
Of course, it's not as though anyone but Farron understands or respects wizardry, yet they all have respect for Cadfael and his precious Pelor. The priest has but to ask his god for favours, and they are bestowed, while I bend the universe to my will. And where were the fickle gods when... His hand twitches involuntarily, and he mentally retracts his slight against the gods.
Sa'id's thoughts trail off as he realizes that Cadfael has finished speaking. He shrugs at the priest. "All the same, shuk'ran. Salaam." Turning, he moves to the corner Farron has settled in. He's gradually getting used to the pain in his collarbone, and so his thoughts become more coherent and focused as he makes his way toward the other wizard. The strange sense of satisfaction fades from his psyche as logic regains its preeminent position. Setting aside his frustration with Cadfael and the warriors, as well as his musings about Anileth's nature and her relation to both Horan and Mission, he sits down gingerly near Farron. Speaking quietly, he says "We should choose spells together. I'm sure we'll see battle again very soon."
At Garyth's words to Mission, Sa'id pauses. Anileth, her unborn child, and the mysterious black pillar leap anew to the forefront of his thoughts.
(OOC: Karl, I'll send you a tentative spell list for Sa'id. Let me know what you think.)
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
(OOC: Ty, Mission would have stripped the halfling of armor before throwing him into the fire. What did he note from the halfling's body? Dead/undead? Anything in its pocketses? )
Mission smells of woodsmoke and something altogether. . .unpleasant. The halfling did not burn as easily as the bones of the skeletons. In the clean air of the lodge, he smells himself-- the stink of the dead and burning.
He cannot help but think of the resemblance between the burning halfling's eyes and Anileth's. Lifeless. And still they burn.
He should have prepared himself for their questions. Of course they'd want to know about Anileth. . . Penance. . . his betrayal, her deception.
There is a long silence. Finally, Mission answers Garyth. "An old lover. You know how it is with women: one moment they're all daises and wine and kisses, the next, it's her fist in your chest, and hordes of her undead minions scrambling for your life-blood."
He laughs uneasily, but his laugh is the only one in the whole lodge. So he clears his throat. "Anileth was my. . . lover. I believed. Obviously, things did not work out."
He wipes his hands on his trousers and falls silent.
From: Mike
Subject: Re: Something Wicked; The aftermath
(OOC: Crap. I just realized that Garyth ran away screaming like a little girl well before Mission and Anileth started talking to each other. Crap crap crap. Can we just assume that Garyth was able to pick something up from body language or something and not that I'm a bad bad RPer? This turn based on that assumption.)
Garyth looks over at Mission, sees the pain and uncomfortableness in his eyes. He realizes that he has been fidgeting, sheathing and unsheathing his dagger, and forces himself to steady his hands. He looks away, back to the fire.
A moment passes, but Garyth finally continues. "I know this is difficult for you, and you do not wish to speak on this, but our safety may depend on knowing what we face." He draws a heavy breath, holding his right hand in his left to keep from fidgeting nervously. "I... I like to think of myself as brave, and before today I would never have doubted my courage. Now..." He shakes his head, ashamed. "I have never known fear such as I felt when I beheld that woman. I have shamed myself before you all as a coward, and if it remained an option, I would leave this expedition; I am too grave a risk and I would not jeopardize our success." His jaw tightens. "To leave now, though, would help little and I would not leave you short a sword. But if I am to have any hope of redeeming myself, I must know what I am up against." He looks back to Mission, his expression set in grim resolve.