Omen 13 - Blood Bonds
Jun. 14th, 2012 08:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janestarzOur return from the Life Web was a shock, and in the real world we found ourselves several days, if not weeks away from the village. We relied on our hunting skills and water stores, and slowly, slowly, travelled back to Eventyr.
On the road we encountered travellers and people from the Order of the Hammer. Several of the humans with Arevalo and me decided to greet and get to know the other travellers, and we tried to steer clear of the Order of the Hammer. They were shouting something about witches, and we thought it wise not to interfere. They found the village soon enough and were still shouting in the distance as Arevalo and myself joined the rest of the Anarquendor at the fire.
"Captain." Dur'Ithil had returned, and with him the customary nod of the head as he adressed me with my title. "Dur'Ithil."
Our exchange was routine, but a welcome one after his long absence. He roamed the woods for weeks and months on end, making sure all was safe, possibly by staying away from us, possibly from exterminating any threat approaching us.
As the rest of the Anarquendor joined us around the fire, they fired a barrage of questions our way. Arevalo stared at the pointed tips of his leather shoes. I eyed the circle.
And then I resumed command as Autherdir.
It was a sad and a happy thought, to see how quickly Sumolan would be rid of the duty I now shouldered again. One by one, they nodded their assent. All would welcome me back as Autherdir.
And then Lyavanna appeared once again with us. She had changed a lot since the Anarquendor saw her last, and she looked at us sadly. We spoke of what had happened on the life web, how the seeers of Kalithé had started to attack the fauns, and how she had chosen to stay behind. To become one of them.
Much time to discuss things, we did not get. I issued orders to several Anarquendor, sending Rána to find out things about Eliamne, who seemed to be losing followers, Arevalo and Alaron to find out more about the current status of the Winti.
Suddenly, other elves were joining us in our camp. Dur'Ithil had already stood up from his seat, trying to keep an eye on the ones still circling our camp. I did not recognise their markings, but I saw a pointed ear and realised who they were.
"You know who we are." one said.
"I do." When he didn't reply, I continued; "You are Nymraif."
"We need your help. We need the blood of the Eventyr."
"I can get it for you."
Luthine burst into questions, and while she and Alaron and Arevalo discussed the merits, I pointed at one of the Nymraif. He looked strong and stood taller than the others. "Please follow me, and we will see about that blood."
As we arrived at the tent of the Eventyr, I saw a crying Serafine at the front entrance. "Aras is dead!" she wailed.
I realised this might not be the best of times to start asking for their blood, however good our intentions.
In the next hour, we spoke to Grigory, Raphael, Grigory again, Istare, and Raphael. They discussed the matter, and suddenly Alaron was also reporting about a crisis with the Winti. Everything seemed to be happening at once. I dealt with everything as well as I could, while the Nymraif stalked around the Eventyr tent.
The one I had brought still refused to give me his name, but he confessed that if we were in the same unit, he would have to follow my orders. He was speaking to Reinard at some point. "Tell me about the weak link in your defenses." he said.
Several people spoke a name at once. The wood elf nodded. "Very well."
He set off, leaving a bewildered Reinard behind.
I stepped forward. "That was arranged rather quickly." I said.
"Arranged? What did I arrange?"
"To have this Lucas Fatalis taken care of." I said.
Reinard sputtered something about 'taking care of' and set off behind the Nymraif. Raphael cornered me next. "Do you trust these wood elves?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Why?" he demanded.
"Because they are wood elves."
Raphael scratched his forehead, beneath his hat. "I don't trust humans, just because they are humans."
"Of course not." I replied. I don't think this helped our conversation forward.
As the Nymraif in question returned, I found myself alone with him for a second. It was still not quite clear what Aras had died of, and the timing was far too coincidental.
"If it becomes known that you had anything to do with Aras' death, this would place me in a very difficult position, diplomatically." I said.
The elf shrugged. Of course, it wouldn't be his problem.
In the shadows of the night at the edge of the village, a large shaped hulked. Arevalo approached it and talked to it briefly. A gust of breath, so powerful it blew us over. When we had scrambled to our feet, the shape had gone. The best I could describe it, was that it was vaguely wolf-shaped.
"Captain, that was Moroi." Arevalo said. "It asked me if I was the alpha here. I told it no. I doubt I would have survived if I had said yes."
Finally, the Eventyr agreed to letting us have the blood. I arranged for Aimée and Nessa to drain the blood, and requisitioned some flasks to transport the blood in. Finally, I could present the Nymraif with two big flasks of Aras' blood, and they thanked us, and disappeared into the night.
Saturday
The next day, the Nymraif returned. They were trying to pass on some letters, and when they were waylaid, they would attack. Raphael demanded an explanation, but after a while the attacks stopped. I myself was unsure what they wanted, until Krughal shared his wisdom.
"Several people have been given a letter." he said. "When they delivered all the letters, the attacks stopped."
They were not the only ones causing trouble. The Order of the Hammer returned as well, and after executing a suspected witch they made the rounds of the village, trying to write down who could use magic in the village. Their demands soared ever higher, soon incorporating bards into their "suspected abusers of magic". I made it very clear to all the Anarquendor that they were under no circumstance to register themselves or any of the Anarquendor as magic user.
As for the Order themselves, they hardly considered us worthy of note. Their chief inquisitor glanced over at me as he was questioning a group of assorted humans and elves who could use magic, and decided I wasn't worth asking. A second later, he decided to be sure, and asked anyway, and I snorted derisively. "Of course not."
Luthine would be in more danger, as she had had dealings with the Order of the Hammer in the past, concerning the prophecy. She said they had no recollection of this and denied all knowledge of the prophecy, which suited us fine. I ordered her to not pick at open wounds, and deny everything should they come asking.
I rounded up some archers and we started training under the watchful eye of Balamaethor. Nessa, Lasshiril, Rána, Sumolan and myself practiced at twenty and then at thirty paces.
The Nymraif returned, and one of them sat us down on a log and we talked. "We came for the blood of the Eventyr." he said.
"I have given it to you." I said. "Two full flasks."
"It was flawed;" he said; "Ask them what they did to it."
"I will." I said darkly. After the previous night's discussion, it would not surprise me if they had poisoned the blood of Aras before giving it to the Nymraif, but then I remembered Aimée and Nessa had been the ones to drain the blood from the body. Aimée had even said that to drain the last blood, they would have to suspend the corpse, and I had told them not to upend the body of Aras, as this would probably shock the family too much.
When I told Raphael that the blood was flawed, he sighed. "Will we never be done with this...nonsense?!" he exclaimed, and looked around, trying to find something sharp. I subtly handed him my dagger and he sliced his arm open on the spot. Dur'Ithil held a little bowl under the arm, and we filled more flasks with Raphael's blood. These were given to the Nymraif.
The Order of the Hammer returned in force. Their return was heralded by a panicked shout by Alaron and Arevalo.
"They appeared in darkness, all around us it became night. We were in the grove." Alaron reported. The villagers were scrambling, and a large force of Hammer-tuniced humans was assembling at the edge of the village.
I gave my orders, and we scrambled between the tents, circling around the battlefield. As Reinard led the humans in their attack, our arrows flew from the side. Several of the Order fell to our arrows, often not knowing what hit them. But sometimes their skirmishers found us instead, and I woke with the taste of a goodberry on my tongue and my mind wandering. It could focus on nothing but the bright light filtering through the leaves. And there was candy in my hand! Alaron slapped my wrist, and the goodberry I was holding fell.
"There's something wrong with the goodberries;" he said, when my mind focused again.
After the Order had gone, peace and quiet returned, but also the Nymraif. They tested our defenses, and soon enough their arrows found Rána, who had loosed arrows at them in turn. We played back and forth for a while, until a group of human tried tracking them in the woods. Alaron and I followed, but we didn't get any chances nor did we even see a Nymraif, and we returned soon enough.
Finally, they wanted to talk. I pleaded with them that hostilities between us were not necessary.
The Nymraif told me to attack the man in the red coat. I turned around and saw Jacques. As I walked over to him, I said: "Jacques, you understand I am in a terribly difficult situation. I do not want to do this, but I must." I drove the dagger into his chest and turned back.
It was never enough for the Nymraif. Not enough blood, not enough killing. Dur'Ithil whispered in my ear. "I say they do their own dirty work."
I drew a line in the sand. "You want the blood of the Eventyr? Go and get it yourself."
I turned my back and walked back to the village. Behind me, the Nymraif tried taunting me, but they didn't loose an arrow at my back.
Soon enough, they returned. The large wolf I had seen the evening previous, Moroi, was with them. I remembered how Thorgrimm the dwarf and Quel'zar the high elf had questioned our loyalty with the barbarians. They were not convinced we had fought on their side.
I lead the Anarquendor into the forest, off to the flank of the Nymraif. On the field, Reinard was getting a line of shields ready, trying to organise the battle. When it finally started, we exited the forest. The looks on the faces of the Eventyr...they really were not sure which side we were on. Victor Eventyr, only so recently become a fighter, was near to crying.
But then our arrows flew, and the villagers saw we were attacking the Nymraif and Moroi. Soon enough, they rushed forward. The battle that followed was a bloody, horrible affair.
Woodelf fought woodelf.
When it was done and we were patched up and healed again, I found the corpses of the Nymraif, calling on Rystill to take their body as nourishment. Then I found Raphael.
"Many have died today, and all have died for Rystill. What has it accomplished?" I asked him. He was speechless. "The next person who questions our loyalty, I will kill." I said, and left him with that.
Wolf asked us for help. Now that Moroi was dead, the cave was empty, and someone should enter it. He was supposedly the one who had to claim the cave for himself, before anyone or anything else could, and he needed the Anarquendor to guide him there. I was a bit sceptical, as on the Lifeweb he had had problems accepting the consequences of his actions, and at some point was afraid to even make a choice because of it. I did not see him do this thing, but I was willing to help him.
Rána was still injured after the fight, and as we prepared to leave, all of a sudden, he seemed to worsen. The diagnose of the healers was that he had no pulse. I gathered healers to help, but to no avail. He seemed to get better for a bit, and then it got worse. Suddenly, scorched black branches grew from his throat. The druids and healers started ripping them out, and even asked Dur'Ithil to burn the remnants away. It was no use, Rána was dead.
We brought him back to our camp, and tried to figure out what had happened. Arevalo told me that Rána had taken five goodberries so he could join us on the mission for Wolf, and had fallen ill immediately after. The goodberries were no longer healing berries. How exactly this could have happened, we didn't know. I told Arevalo to find out what he could about the goodberries, and set out into the village to invite several people to say goodbye to Rána.
"We have come together to say goodbye to Rána Helyanwë." I said. "We met him in Adare, where he came to find refuge during the undead war. Rána had lost much: his wife, his child. He had run for his life and he hoped to find a new purpose with the Anarquendor. From the day he joined us, until the day he died, his sense of duty was unparalleled."
One by one, we said goodbye to Rána, and Luthine, Balamaethor and myself sang the song of passing. His body was returned to Rystill, and Alaron and Arevalo used their druidic magic to sprout new leaves and roots where his body lay. A bed of flowers covered him when they were done and we stepped back.
We cleared the camp, and I sighed. "I think I will have a cup of tea in the bar."
Luthine came with us, and started singing a few songs. The feeling of sadness that persisted in me, grew deeper with every word she sang, and I pulled my hood over my head so my face was hidden in the shadows. Luthine's magic worked so differently than that of Alaron or Dur'Ithil.
At some point, I fled the bar, only to find the shadows outside more comforting. Darael had seen me leave the bar and approached me, but I told him to leave.
Soon enough, I felt a little better. The cold night air cleared my head somewhat. I briefly visited the edge of Aimée's little soirée, but left as soon as some of the nobility feigned interest in me. It was time for sleep.
Sunday
In the morning news reached me that more was afoot on the Life Web. The seeers of Kalithé were slowly reaching their goal: to get the eyes of all the time fauns. To prevent this from happening, it was Lyavanna who warned us, and it was Lyavanna who ultimately gave her life in this battle.
Quel'zar was sitting with her head cradled in his lap. The normally so aloof high-elf was visibly shaken. He had loved Lyavanna dearly.
Much time to mourn her was not given us. Before we knew it, Wolf came bounding into our camp, calling us forward. "The cave is now empty, Moroi's cave. Wolf needs to claim it before someone else does. And they are all coming here! They know we want to claim the cave, so they want to exterminate us before we can even set out."
Most of the village geared up, including the paladins in their rattling armour. Reinard nodded towards me as they set out while the Anarquendor were still getting ready. "Captain Beriadanwen and the Anarquendor will join us shortly. I have every confidence they will catch up to us."
Their slow column set out to meet the unknown foes, which Wolf could sniff out, and we followed not long after.
It was clear that our foes would be strong as soon as we saw the satyrs. They challenged us, calling out that the forest was theirs.
"I have never known satyrs to live in Weylin Woods." I said to my Anarquendor. "These are perhaps, like the Nymraif, taken over by Moroi, corrupted in a way."
"Do you want us to attack them?" Dur'Ithil said.
The satyrs had followed us from near the village, and if they would fall upon us they would no doubt crush the Anarquendor before Reinard's party could even stop their journey into the woods. I told the Anarquendor to move into the forest and wait for an opportune moment. When captain Soban rallied the rear to attack the satyrs, we fell upon the satyr's flank, feathering them with arrows. With Aalten's death the day previous, Soban had been promoted to leader of the militia, and he rose happily to the challenge. As we continued on our way, he commanded the rear guard to shield us, as we let some final arrows fly while we made our retreat.
The satyrs followed us through the undergrowth and were joined by some goblins. Some of the stronger satyrs scuffled with Shuw'ran or Reinard. In the great battles that followed, groups of satyrs were drawn to the group of humans in their rattling steel armour plates, and crushed before they could band together. Anarquendor arrows flew true, finding targets again and again. Humans and elves fought together, side by side, and finally, Wolf found what he was looking for. He was drawn into a ritual circle, where a druidess was challenging him. I let them be, after checking with Raphael whether this was what we had set out to do.
The sun was high in the sky, and already slowly sinking towards the treetops when we returned to the village and our camp. Nessa and I made the rounds, inviting many of the people who had just been fighting. Sweated brows knit together as we asked them to come say goodbye to Lyavanna. "Of course I will come. Many of us owe their lives to Lyavanna." Reinard said.
Many came. The group was nearly too big for our small camp. Quel'Zar sat at Lyavanna's head, and I asked Krughal to speak first, as she was Clan of the Bear before she became Anarquendor.
He spoke of how Lyavanna had already been there when he was born, and how he had expected her to always be there, even when he would die. He spoke of her wisdom and strength.
I spoke, but what I said I can no longer recall. Reinard spoke after me, and then Thorgrimm, and Luthine, and even Reinard's drummer-boy Bartje. Fithe was crying openly, and many others with her.
When everyone had spoken and remembered Lyavanna and her many deeds, Alaron and Arevalo carried her to the edge of the forest, next to Rána, and her body disappeared in much the same way as Rána's body had disappeared: nature embraced them, flowers sprouted and bloomed over them, and roots took hold over them. She was now one with Rystill.
On the road we encountered travellers and people from the Order of the Hammer. Several of the humans with Arevalo and me decided to greet and get to know the other travellers, and we tried to steer clear of the Order of the Hammer. They were shouting something about witches, and we thought it wise not to interfere. They found the village soon enough and were still shouting in the distance as Arevalo and myself joined the rest of the Anarquendor at the fire.
"Captain." Dur'Ithil had returned, and with him the customary nod of the head as he adressed me with my title. "Dur'Ithil."
Our exchange was routine, but a welcome one after his long absence. He roamed the woods for weeks and months on end, making sure all was safe, possibly by staying away from us, possibly from exterminating any threat approaching us.
As the rest of the Anarquendor joined us around the fire, they fired a barrage of questions our way. Arevalo stared at the pointed tips of his leather shoes. I eyed the circle.
And then I resumed command as Autherdir.
It was a sad and a happy thought, to see how quickly Sumolan would be rid of the duty I now shouldered again. One by one, they nodded their assent. All would welcome me back as Autherdir.
And then Lyavanna appeared once again with us. She had changed a lot since the Anarquendor saw her last, and she looked at us sadly. We spoke of what had happened on the life web, how the seeers of Kalithé had started to attack the fauns, and how she had chosen to stay behind. To become one of them.
Much time to discuss things, we did not get. I issued orders to several Anarquendor, sending Rána to find out things about Eliamne, who seemed to be losing followers, Arevalo and Alaron to find out more about the current status of the Winti.
Suddenly, other elves were joining us in our camp. Dur'Ithil had already stood up from his seat, trying to keep an eye on the ones still circling our camp. I did not recognise their markings, but I saw a pointed ear and realised who they were.
"You know who we are." one said.
"I do." When he didn't reply, I continued; "You are Nymraif."
"We need your help. We need the blood of the Eventyr."
"I can get it for you."
Luthine burst into questions, and while she and Alaron and Arevalo discussed the merits, I pointed at one of the Nymraif. He looked strong and stood taller than the others. "Please follow me, and we will see about that blood."
As we arrived at the tent of the Eventyr, I saw a crying Serafine at the front entrance. "Aras is dead!" she wailed.
I realised this might not be the best of times to start asking for their blood, however good our intentions.
In the next hour, we spoke to Grigory, Raphael, Grigory again, Istare, and Raphael. They discussed the matter, and suddenly Alaron was also reporting about a crisis with the Winti. Everything seemed to be happening at once. I dealt with everything as well as I could, while the Nymraif stalked around the Eventyr tent.
The one I had brought still refused to give me his name, but he confessed that if we were in the same unit, he would have to follow my orders. He was speaking to Reinard at some point. "Tell me about the weak link in your defenses." he said.
Several people spoke a name at once. The wood elf nodded. "Very well."
He set off, leaving a bewildered Reinard behind.
I stepped forward. "That was arranged rather quickly." I said.
"Arranged? What did I arrange?"
"To have this Lucas Fatalis taken care of." I said.
Reinard sputtered something about 'taking care of' and set off behind the Nymraif. Raphael cornered me next. "Do you trust these wood elves?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Why?" he demanded.
"Because they are wood elves."
Raphael scratched his forehead, beneath his hat. "I don't trust humans, just because they are humans."
"Of course not." I replied. I don't think this helped our conversation forward.
As the Nymraif in question returned, I found myself alone with him for a second. It was still not quite clear what Aras had died of, and the timing was far too coincidental.
"If it becomes known that you had anything to do with Aras' death, this would place me in a very difficult position, diplomatically." I said.
The elf shrugged. Of course, it wouldn't be his problem.
In the shadows of the night at the edge of the village, a large shaped hulked. Arevalo approached it and talked to it briefly. A gust of breath, so powerful it blew us over. When we had scrambled to our feet, the shape had gone. The best I could describe it, was that it was vaguely wolf-shaped.
"Captain, that was Moroi." Arevalo said. "It asked me if I was the alpha here. I told it no. I doubt I would have survived if I had said yes."
Finally, the Eventyr agreed to letting us have the blood. I arranged for Aimée and Nessa to drain the blood, and requisitioned some flasks to transport the blood in. Finally, I could present the Nymraif with two big flasks of Aras' blood, and they thanked us, and disappeared into the night.
Saturday
The next day, the Nymraif returned. They were trying to pass on some letters, and when they were waylaid, they would attack. Raphael demanded an explanation, but after a while the attacks stopped. I myself was unsure what they wanted, until Krughal shared his wisdom.
"Several people have been given a letter." he said. "When they delivered all the letters, the attacks stopped."
They were not the only ones causing trouble. The Order of the Hammer returned as well, and after executing a suspected witch they made the rounds of the village, trying to write down who could use magic in the village. Their demands soared ever higher, soon incorporating bards into their "suspected abusers of magic". I made it very clear to all the Anarquendor that they were under no circumstance to register themselves or any of the Anarquendor as magic user.
As for the Order themselves, they hardly considered us worthy of note. Their chief inquisitor glanced over at me as he was questioning a group of assorted humans and elves who could use magic, and decided I wasn't worth asking. A second later, he decided to be sure, and asked anyway, and I snorted derisively. "Of course not."
Luthine would be in more danger, as she had had dealings with the Order of the Hammer in the past, concerning the prophecy. She said they had no recollection of this and denied all knowledge of the prophecy, which suited us fine. I ordered her to not pick at open wounds, and deny everything should they come asking.
I rounded up some archers and we started training under the watchful eye of Balamaethor. Nessa, Lasshiril, Rána, Sumolan and myself practiced at twenty and then at thirty paces.
The Nymraif returned, and one of them sat us down on a log and we talked. "We came for the blood of the Eventyr." he said.
"I have given it to you." I said. "Two full flasks."
"It was flawed;" he said; "Ask them what they did to it."
"I will." I said darkly. After the previous night's discussion, it would not surprise me if they had poisoned the blood of Aras before giving it to the Nymraif, but then I remembered Aimée and Nessa had been the ones to drain the blood from the body. Aimée had even said that to drain the last blood, they would have to suspend the corpse, and I had told them not to upend the body of Aras, as this would probably shock the family too much.
When I told Raphael that the blood was flawed, he sighed. "Will we never be done with this...nonsense?!" he exclaimed, and looked around, trying to find something sharp. I subtly handed him my dagger and he sliced his arm open on the spot. Dur'Ithil held a little bowl under the arm, and we filled more flasks with Raphael's blood. These were given to the Nymraif.
The Order of the Hammer returned in force. Their return was heralded by a panicked shout by Alaron and Arevalo.
"They appeared in darkness, all around us it became night. We were in the grove." Alaron reported. The villagers were scrambling, and a large force of Hammer-tuniced humans was assembling at the edge of the village.
I gave my orders, and we scrambled between the tents, circling around the battlefield. As Reinard led the humans in their attack, our arrows flew from the side. Several of the Order fell to our arrows, often not knowing what hit them. But sometimes their skirmishers found us instead, and I woke with the taste of a goodberry on my tongue and my mind wandering. It could focus on nothing but the bright light filtering through the leaves. And there was candy in my hand! Alaron slapped my wrist, and the goodberry I was holding fell.
"There's something wrong with the goodberries;" he said, when my mind focused again.
After the Order had gone, peace and quiet returned, but also the Nymraif. They tested our defenses, and soon enough their arrows found Rána, who had loosed arrows at them in turn. We played back and forth for a while, until a group of human tried tracking them in the woods. Alaron and I followed, but we didn't get any chances nor did we even see a Nymraif, and we returned soon enough.
Finally, they wanted to talk. I pleaded with them that hostilities between us were not necessary.
The Nymraif told me to attack the man in the red coat. I turned around and saw Jacques. As I walked over to him, I said: "Jacques, you understand I am in a terribly difficult situation. I do not want to do this, but I must." I drove the dagger into his chest and turned back.
It was never enough for the Nymraif. Not enough blood, not enough killing. Dur'Ithil whispered in my ear. "I say they do their own dirty work."
I drew a line in the sand. "You want the blood of the Eventyr? Go and get it yourself."
I turned my back and walked back to the village. Behind me, the Nymraif tried taunting me, but they didn't loose an arrow at my back.
Soon enough, they returned. The large wolf I had seen the evening previous, Moroi, was with them. I remembered how Thorgrimm the dwarf and Quel'zar the high elf had questioned our loyalty with the barbarians. They were not convinced we had fought on their side.
I lead the Anarquendor into the forest, off to the flank of the Nymraif. On the field, Reinard was getting a line of shields ready, trying to organise the battle. When it finally started, we exited the forest. The looks on the faces of the Eventyr...they really were not sure which side we were on. Victor Eventyr, only so recently become a fighter, was near to crying.
But then our arrows flew, and the villagers saw we were attacking the Nymraif and Moroi. Soon enough, they rushed forward. The battle that followed was a bloody, horrible affair.
Woodelf fought woodelf.
When it was done and we were patched up and healed again, I found the corpses of the Nymraif, calling on Rystill to take their body as nourishment. Then I found Raphael.
"Many have died today, and all have died for Rystill. What has it accomplished?" I asked him. He was speechless. "The next person who questions our loyalty, I will kill." I said, and left him with that.
Wolf asked us for help. Now that Moroi was dead, the cave was empty, and someone should enter it. He was supposedly the one who had to claim the cave for himself, before anyone or anything else could, and he needed the Anarquendor to guide him there. I was a bit sceptical, as on the Lifeweb he had had problems accepting the consequences of his actions, and at some point was afraid to even make a choice because of it. I did not see him do this thing, but I was willing to help him.
Rána was still injured after the fight, and as we prepared to leave, all of a sudden, he seemed to worsen. The diagnose of the healers was that he had no pulse. I gathered healers to help, but to no avail. He seemed to get better for a bit, and then it got worse. Suddenly, scorched black branches grew from his throat. The druids and healers started ripping them out, and even asked Dur'Ithil to burn the remnants away. It was no use, Rána was dead.
We brought him back to our camp, and tried to figure out what had happened. Arevalo told me that Rána had taken five goodberries so he could join us on the mission for Wolf, and had fallen ill immediately after. The goodberries were no longer healing berries. How exactly this could have happened, we didn't know. I told Arevalo to find out what he could about the goodberries, and set out into the village to invite several people to say goodbye to Rána.
"We have come together to say goodbye to Rána Helyanwë." I said. "We met him in Adare, where he came to find refuge during the undead war. Rána had lost much: his wife, his child. He had run for his life and he hoped to find a new purpose with the Anarquendor. From the day he joined us, until the day he died, his sense of duty was unparalleled."
One by one, we said goodbye to Rána, and Luthine, Balamaethor and myself sang the song of passing. His body was returned to Rystill, and Alaron and Arevalo used their druidic magic to sprout new leaves and roots where his body lay. A bed of flowers covered him when they were done and we stepped back.
We cleared the camp, and I sighed. "I think I will have a cup of tea in the bar."
Luthine came with us, and started singing a few songs. The feeling of sadness that persisted in me, grew deeper with every word she sang, and I pulled my hood over my head so my face was hidden in the shadows. Luthine's magic worked so differently than that of Alaron or Dur'Ithil.
At some point, I fled the bar, only to find the shadows outside more comforting. Darael had seen me leave the bar and approached me, but I told him to leave.
Soon enough, I felt a little better. The cold night air cleared my head somewhat. I briefly visited the edge of Aimée's little soirée, but left as soon as some of the nobility feigned interest in me. It was time for sleep.
Sunday
In the morning news reached me that more was afoot on the Life Web. The seeers of Kalithé were slowly reaching their goal: to get the eyes of all the time fauns. To prevent this from happening, it was Lyavanna who warned us, and it was Lyavanna who ultimately gave her life in this battle.
Quel'zar was sitting with her head cradled in his lap. The normally so aloof high-elf was visibly shaken. He had loved Lyavanna dearly.
Much time to mourn her was not given us. Before we knew it, Wolf came bounding into our camp, calling us forward. "The cave is now empty, Moroi's cave. Wolf needs to claim it before someone else does. And they are all coming here! They know we want to claim the cave, so they want to exterminate us before we can even set out."
Most of the village geared up, including the paladins in their rattling armour. Reinard nodded towards me as they set out while the Anarquendor were still getting ready. "Captain Beriadanwen and the Anarquendor will join us shortly. I have every confidence they will catch up to us."
Their slow column set out to meet the unknown foes, which Wolf could sniff out, and we followed not long after.
It was clear that our foes would be strong as soon as we saw the satyrs. They challenged us, calling out that the forest was theirs.
"I have never known satyrs to live in Weylin Woods." I said to my Anarquendor. "These are perhaps, like the Nymraif, taken over by Moroi, corrupted in a way."
"Do you want us to attack them?" Dur'Ithil said.
The satyrs had followed us from near the village, and if they would fall upon us they would no doubt crush the Anarquendor before Reinard's party could even stop their journey into the woods. I told the Anarquendor to move into the forest and wait for an opportune moment. When captain Soban rallied the rear to attack the satyrs, we fell upon the satyr's flank, feathering them with arrows. With Aalten's death the day previous, Soban had been promoted to leader of the militia, and he rose happily to the challenge. As we continued on our way, he commanded the rear guard to shield us, as we let some final arrows fly while we made our retreat.
The satyrs followed us through the undergrowth and were joined by some goblins. Some of the stronger satyrs scuffled with Shuw'ran or Reinard. In the great battles that followed, groups of satyrs were drawn to the group of humans in their rattling steel armour plates, and crushed before they could band together. Anarquendor arrows flew true, finding targets again and again. Humans and elves fought together, side by side, and finally, Wolf found what he was looking for. He was drawn into a ritual circle, where a druidess was challenging him. I let them be, after checking with Raphael whether this was what we had set out to do.
The sun was high in the sky, and already slowly sinking towards the treetops when we returned to the village and our camp. Nessa and I made the rounds, inviting many of the people who had just been fighting. Sweated brows knit together as we asked them to come say goodbye to Lyavanna. "Of course I will come. Many of us owe their lives to Lyavanna." Reinard said.
Many came. The group was nearly too big for our small camp. Quel'Zar sat at Lyavanna's head, and I asked Krughal to speak first, as she was Clan of the Bear before she became Anarquendor.
He spoke of how Lyavanna had already been there when he was born, and how he had expected her to always be there, even when he would die. He spoke of her wisdom and strength.
I spoke, but what I said I can no longer recall. Reinard spoke after me, and then Thorgrimm, and Luthine, and even Reinard's drummer-boy Bartje. Fithe was crying openly, and many others with her.
When everyone had spoken and remembered Lyavanna and her many deeds, Alaron and Arevalo carried her to the edge of the forest, next to Rána, and her body disappeared in much the same way as Rána's body had disappeared: nature embraced them, flowers sprouted and bloomed over them, and roots took hold over them. She was now one with Rystill.
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Date: 2012-06-14 10:35 am (UTC);-)
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Date: 2012-06-14 01:29 pm (UTC)