More Pensive and Farron; At the Forge
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
Pensive catches Garyth alone and says to him, "Your friend Farron is in danger. I can feel Kor Garesh's influence within him, driving him to despair. I'm. . . not sure how to approach him directly about this. I thought that since you are his friend, you might be able to help him better than I would be able to."
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
Camaraderie. Farron looks up from his spellbook, still not meeting the Elf's eyes. He looks around the room at his companions. He remembers the struggles the party had even to be civil to one another in the beginning. Who of these men would call him "friend"? Sa'id, of course. Thank Fate for Sa'id. But who else? Were it not for the fact that they were all thrown together in the same cauldron, who else here would have looked twice at him? Rennik? He lived for his tribe and family. Would he be here at all if his hatred of Kor Garesh weren't personal? Rennik had always acted like the rest the party was a burden, just slowing him down in the jungle. Mission? Well, he did have a duty to his son. He could hardly be expected to stick around. And it was best that the baby be as far from Kor Garesh as possible. But weren't we all just tools to Mission? What camaraderie was there between him and any of the party he left behind? Garyth? He was from Overlook. Overlook that teased Farron as a boy and thought him strange. Overlook that Farron could hardly wait to leave when he was younger. Garyth was a good man, but Farron didn't feel anything of the camaraderie or even respect that he was showing now to even the lowest of his fellow soldiers.
"War makes strange bedfellows, that's for sure," he says quietly. "But is a common enemy enough to make lasting ties?" He lowers his voice so only the Elf will hear. "Who of this group would think twice of the others if we weren't fighting for our lives? Who would not forsake the lot of us for the promise to go back to the way things were?"
Farron pauses at the implication of his own question. Would HE forsake the lot for such a promise? He thought of what he would regain - a lonely apartment, an aunt and uncle he rarely saw? He had a good job and money to spare, but what was that worth, really? What would be lost from the world if the wraiths had done their job just a little bit better?
He watched as Garyth left with the Halfling newcomer. He was bound to be heading off to give a tongue lashing to his guards. Farron almost envied them.
He looks the Elf in the eyes for the first time. "What common vision do we share that doesn't end at the mountain, one way or another?"
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
(ooc - that's cool. You wrote this before I replied to your last, but I wrote that before I read this. Seems like we're both thinking "this looks like a job for Garyth." ;-)
From: Mike
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
OOC: Karl, the last thing Garyth said about Farron was when he was introducing the group to Bartok, and he specifically called Farron his friend. I just wanted to make sure that everyone got that message, since no one replied to it. I also sent one out yesterday around 11 AM PST. Did everyone get that one?
From: Raja
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
"I am Asha Eradu-- I can feel emotions from other people sometimes."
I'll have to kill him.
The thought is complete before Sa'id can squelch it, crush it, stuff it back into that dark place in his subconscious mind where he has hidden such things. Like his dreams... one comes rushing back to him now, a dream of fire and death. The Devourer's undead turning to him for guidance in the absence of their master. He could wreak bloody vengeance on Elise... or maybe...
He shakes his head to clear it. These thoughts and dreams were not his, they were born of the Devourer's influence.
Or were they? Sa'id was working to seal the horror away, remove its influence from the world. It had nothing to gain by giving him ideas. But its defeat would leave a void at the head of the undead army.
Stop. Stop this. The Elf might sense it, he might suspect... What am I thinking? Farron looks at him, maybe for guidance, maybe for support... had he been talking? Sa'id murmurs a prayer to Pelor under his breath, and makes a small gesture of warding with one hand. It doesn't matter what my motives might be, or whether I myself know what they are. All that matters is the task.
He stands up abruptly. "Excuse me, I need to study. To clear my head." Sa'id walks from the main room to the smaller one where he'd slept. He sits cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room and closes his eyes.
From: Ty
Subject: Waiting for the Sunmaster; At the forge
Gully leads Rennik to the forge in a small shed outside the trading post. He lights a fire, and slowly begins feeding charcoal into it. When it is burning well, he says to Rennik, "Begin pumping the bellows." The bellows handle is high for him, but his shoulders and back are well muscled from years of axe practice. He hooks a toe under the bottom of the bellow, and begins pulling the upper handle down. Within moments, the forge fire has grown so intense that the small rooms becomes unbearably hot. Gully throws open the doors and windows, but the temperature only drops a little. Soon, both men are stripped down to just their pants and the heavy leather aprons.
Gully takes the broken axe head from Rennik respectfully. Clearly, he has handled the weapons of the Halfling tribes before, and knows that they carry great spiritual value to the tribal hunters. Over the roar of the forge, Rennik can barely here Gully's prayer. "Mielikki, make my fire grow hot, give my arm strength, grant my hands skill." Rennik gives the big trader a long look. Had he been out here in the wilds so long that he had gone native? Or was he praying for the benefit of Rennik's feelings?
In time though, all of that is forgotten, as the exhausting work of pulling the bellows goes on and on. First, Gully takes a long flat piece of iron and heats it red hot. Then he uses the anvils cutting chisel and his hammer to cut a small end off of it. Then comes the long and painstaking work of attaching the new piece of metal to the jagged end where Elise's blade cut through. It takes all morning, but by early afternoon, Gully plunges the newly refitted head into a barrel of water to temper it. When he pulls it out, a smile spreads across his soot covered face. He hands the axe head to Rennik. "It's a good bit of work, if I do say so myself. It'll hold good as new. I can probably find a stout bit of oak for the haft. Let me look around for one. I'd bet she'll be ready to swing by the morrow."
From: Karl
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
This is the first email from you I've seen today.
I did get the attached email below earlier, but quite frankly I had forgotten it. You can play it that Farron didn't hear, or perhaps didn't recognize it as anything more than common pleasantry.
In my last turn, I tried to convey that Farron doesn't hold any ill feelings toward Garyth. If anything, he's just feeling bad about the whole situation right now and is looking negatively at everything.
I hope I'm not playing Farron as too dark or too loose a cannon. Should I lighten up or just see what you guys can do with him?
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
The desire to speak with these men is snuffed out of
Pensive-- Farron was obviously being corrupted by the Shadow, and the other. . . was odd. He smelled like cold metal.
Pensive excuses himself from Farron. "I will think on what you told me of Kor Garesh. Thank you, Farron."
From: Scott
Subject: Re: Questions and Answers
OOC: D'oh! Forgot to respond to this. .
"What common vision do we share that doesn't end at the mountain, one way or another?"
Pensive answers, "Who can say what may have happened if the Path had turned to the left instead of the right? The Path is not straight, nor is it soft. . . We walk where it leads us. And we find companions on the Path that can lift us, or who we can help lift. That is what is important."
Pensive's Dream
Subject: eating
Bartok finishes eating, burps, says, "Exuse me" and looks at the group, hoping someone will let him know when they are going to leave.
From: Ty
Subject: Looking down on Huss; A different perspective
Pensive stands motionless on a great desolate plain, hot foul smelling wind shrieks past him, but he pays it no attention. Around him, stretching out as far as the eye can see, stand his legions. They are smaller, impatient creatures, and while he stands perfectly still, they shift and chatter and clack about him. Even so, their gaze never leaves him. They too are waiting.
He stretches out with his senses, past the impatient hordes around him, past the empty desert they stand in, to the very limit of his powers. There. The others, also waiting, their general reaching out to him. A brief touch of minds, and recognition. The enemy has come. Pensive roars out to his troops, and they screech and scream in response, and then charge across the plains at the enemy that is also charging at them.
The two armies slam together with an impact that shakes the very air, and in seconds the slaughter begins. Demons of every horrific form imaginable rip and slash at each other in mindless fury. Dying by the thousands every moment of the battle. Pensive wades into the fray, grabbing and tearing apart any enemy that comes within the reach of his hands. Almost without thought, magics flow out of him; fire and ice and terrible shadow magic that twists the mind shatter all those around him. And those magics that are hurled at him in return he shrugs off with contempt, pausing only long enough to destroy the impertinent spell caster before moving on.
The battle goes on and on. Days, years, time has no meaning in the endless chaos of this eternal war. At one point, he spots the enemy general and charges across the field at him, stomping and rending all those lesser troops that stand in between. He and his enemy collide and go down in a blur of claws and magic. All around them the battle stops, while the troops scream encouragement to their leaders. Finally, Pensive gains the advantage and hurls his enemy to the ground, leaping on top of him and sinking his teeth into the flesh of his throat. Pensive drinks deep of blood and... something else. Something and rushes into him like liquid fire, filling him with energy. His enemy deflates like a punctured bladder, and eventually turns to ash. Pensive stands up, towering over his corpse and the armies standing on all sides, then screams triumph at the blood red and black sky.
His army routes the enemy that day. But even as he moves across the field in triumph, something touches him. A terrible groping power that rips a hole in the sky and yanks him through it. There is blackness for a time, and then when his vision returns, he stands in a circle of power, surrounded by tiny wizards. They speak to him, demanding his service and obedience. Demanding answers to their questions. But Pensive is far more than these tiny pretenders to power realize. He wipes away their runes and protections with a laugh. Their demands change to screams...
And there are so many of them. A giant city filled with small bright lives to take. Pensive is filled to overflowing with power stolen from them. Their mages and priests hurl their best magics at him, but in the end they all wind up as fuel for the furnace burning in his core. Until the last few priests are cornered, huddling in their temple. Pensive moves toward them, his mind empty except for his hunger and rage. A golden room, and bright light, and something even more vast and ancient than himself moves...
Eternity locked in stone. Endless days burned by the hated sun at midday. Nothing but rage and memories of power to fuel him. Images pass through his mind in a flash. Power drained away by the same wizardry that summoned him. A greedy mage makes a crack. A servant on the outside now, the wizard brings him more souls to consume. Some of his strength returns over the long slow millennia.
His reach spreads. All the tiny little sparks of life moving around on his island prisoner. Some are darker, and those he can speak to in their dreams. He tells them of power easily gained. Some come to him. One comes with her belly filled with power, enough power to shatter his prison and turn him lose on the world again. A strange blank spot in his vision appears, and the power filled boy is taken away. But there are many others to take in his place. His power grows outside the prison, plunging the island into darkness, and his armies move across unhindered. The stream of lives sent to feed him turns from a trickle to a river. Soon. Soon...
Pensive knows that soon it will be enough. The walls around him weaken by the day. And he is so very hungry.
*******************************************
Pensive wakes before dawn. He walks outside and turns to face the east. The cloud cover over Kessel glows a malignant red. The demon stirs and struggles in its cage. When will the priest arrive?
From: Ty
Subject: Waiting on the Sunmaster
OODM:
Currently, the group has been waiting one full day for the sunmaster. Yesterday, Rennik and Gully fixed the halfling's axe.
Does anyone want to take any special actions on this second day?
Pensive Wakes
Subject: Re: Looking down on Huss; A different perspective
Pensive wakes with the taste of strange blood in his mouth. He retches, and hurries outside to vomit.
Nothing can escape the gaze of the Devourer. No life is too small, no soul too insignificant. Not even the soul of a little elf-boy hiding in a beat up cabin, hiding behind the legs of Men and halflings. . .
Pensive wipes his mouth and spits, then throws up again. And all the while, the chittering voice from Mt. Kessel scrapes over him, laughing at his weakness, his youth, his insufficiency. It bears him down suddenly, a huge weight that presses his face toward the pool of vomit on the ground. Drown you, the voice whispers savagely, I'll drown you in your own bile, and I'll catch your soul as it ascends, and devour you, eat, eat, eat. . .
Pensive forces himself up, and the weight rolls away from him. He catches his breath, and thrusts his hands into his sleeves to clutch at the silk cords wrapped around his arms. He will not weep. Pensive dams the tears in his eyes, forces his shoulders to stop shaking. The Shadow was not so strong yet it could kill him.
"Is that all your power," he whispers to the east. "It is easily remedied."
Gully's well had not been fouled by the enemy. The Path had granted them that small mercy at least. Pensive fills a trough with bucket after bucket of water and undresses down to his breechcloth. He washes his clothes first, scrubbing out the vomit and muck until they are clean. He dumps out the water, and fills the trough again so that he can wash himself.
As dawn creeps through the Shadow covering the sky, Pensive sits bare beneath it. Calm. The Shadow could see him, but he stood on the Path, supported by the Stone, quickened by Blood. Here I am, he says to himself. The Path is not straight, nor is it soft. My feet are upon it, and my legs are strong to follow it.
He stretches his mind out. The priest that Sa'id said was coming. . . where was he? Pensive's fingers find the holy symbol around his neck. Men are dying still, all over the island-- what are the chances of finding a single soul in all that pain?
Look for the one man who is calm and sad. Pensive almost laughs at the thought. Well, successful or not, he could make the effort at least.
So while his clothes dry, Pensive meditates and tries to find the emotions of the Sunmaster amidst a sea of anger, fear, rage, and hunger.
Quick OOC Question
Subject: Re: Looking down on Huss; A different perspective
OOC: Does Garyth still have the swag we took off of the alchemist's wagon? Might be a good time for Farron to do his identifying magic while we wait around for Grampa. There was a belt and some rings we found that may be MAGIC!
:-D
Pensive Passes the Time
Subject: Re: Looking down on Huss; A different perspective
An hour later, he's still sitting in the same spot, and no closer to finding anything but a sore backside. Pensive pushes himself to his feet, and brushes himself off. The holy symbol Elvira gave him bumps against his bare chest, cool and heavy. Pensive passes his fingers over it, searching for some answer in it-- but there is nothing he can find there that will ease his mind.
His clothes are still wet-- nothing to do but wait around then. Pensive unwraps the stonesash bound to his left thigh, and lets it furl away from his hand. He snaps a few dead leaves laying on the ground into the air, and concentrates on juggling them with the end of the stonesash. There is a comfort in exercise that cannot be gained from study, or meditation. To give the mind over to the muscles, to action and reaction, to blank one's consciousness and become. . . Pensive wasn't sure he knew the right word. Something that moved without physicality, something as light as breath, but solid nonetheless. It was like every inch of him was concentrated into moments that lingered for hours.
And yet, Pensive finds that peculiar peace evade him. Everywhere over him, the scratching of the Shadow. It was frustrating to be so close, only to be called back again and again by the whispering, chittering voice from his dreams. With a snort, Pensive lets the leaves fall, and wraps the stonesash back around his thigh. His clothes are still wet-- he puts them on anyway. Just to be contrary. Let them chafe. Maybe it would distract his mind from feeling Kor Garesh.
He finds Rennick and Gully repairing Rennick's axe, and stands for a long moment in the heat of the forge until his clothes are dry, and his face feels stretched tight. He is careful not to stand in their way, but their work is a distraction, and he needs something to distract him. Also-- Rennick's anticipation and happiness over the axe is a relief from the Shadow's oppression.