The Stunned Green Berets Fynvola Quain Fynvola returns desolate and heart-weary to the funeral pyre and without planning to, pulls out her clarsach, strumming the strings and softly singing, her eyes never leaving Darrin, "I have been given one moment from heaven as I am walking surounded by night. Stars high above me make a wish under moonlight. On my way home I remember only good days. On my way home I remember all the best days. I'm on my way home I can remember each day with solace. I move in silence with each step taken snow falling round me long absent is the fight. And there, in the distance is my wish under moonlight Peace, solace and comfort such as none have ever known who hasn't walked this path that takes us all home..." She gently sets down her clarsach and approaches Tag and Darrin silently. She stands and waits until Tag's words, when she reaches for Darrin and holds him to her and leading him to the campfire, still humming the farewell tune. She will broke no refusal in taking him and she will detour only far enough to get a blanket on the way. She will keep him in her arms and wrap the blanket around them both when they reach the fire. Dunz Kann The big man showing a never-ending supply of stamina, quickly and efficiently helps complete the pyre, and stands around until the fire dies down. When returning to the house to sleep for the night, he now shows slumping shoulders and a bowed head. He is out like a light before his body hits his bedroll, oblivious to the others until morning. (He will take his place on the wagon tomorrow.) Darrin Darrin moves numbly, not even having the conciousness to wipe the tears that continue to trickle gently down his cheeks. Without Fynvola's guidance, he would have tripped over every rock in his path, and would not have probably cared to get up again. Several people look up around the nearest campfire, and most quickly move away. Listless, it is easy for Fynvola to get him to sit. A minute later, one of the two dwarves stands in front of Darrin and Fynvola, forcing a cup into her hand. Gruffly he orders, "You make him drink that. It'll do him some good, and then I'll bring you some. You look almost as bad as he does. I'm Maeg," he introduces himself, " and yonder is my missus, Varn. She's tending the pot over there," he points toward the other dwarf, who is ladling soup into additional tin cups. He says more softly, "Now he's got to drink all that, or she'll come over here with her ladle. And I don't mind telling you, she can wield a mean ladle," he says with a wink. The wink looks strange coming from one so darkened and twisted looking. "And you've got to get him to quit this cryin', or the missus will be over here. She can't stand to see him cry, and she'll be blubberin' herself." He takes a peek over his shoulder, just in time to see his wife trudging towards your little camping area. Maeg looks back and says quickly, "Ain't seen you before, but get that down him, and I'll try to keep her back." He doesn't wait for a reply. He turns and glides, (a strange sight that you thought you would never see a dwarf accomplish), into Varns' path. She almost bowls him over, but he catches her weight squarely. She tries to step past, but he is quick to block her again. How much longer he can detain her is very questionable. Fynvola Quain Fynvola sends a grateful, if weary smile to Maeg and turns her attention back to Darrin. She slips her right arm around his shoulders and uses her left hand to hold the cup of Maeg's brew to his lips. She softly speaks to him and seems to caress his hair and shoulder with her right hand. Zantorax Nightwind Having fallen silent, unaccustomed to suck a waste of lives, I begin to regain my composure, somewhat. I move away from the pyre, respectful of the dead, but unable to endure the heat of the flames, a sensation totally new to me. I move in the direction of the camp, hoping to find Fyn and Darrin, a tear running slowly down my face. Dunz Kann Darrin Darrin seems to focus, and is persuaded to drink from the cup. He even helps tilt the cup back to drain it. Fynvols gives him a quick hug for his effort and he seems to be feeling a little better. And then he staggers wildly to his feet and looking at Fynvola, cries out, "What have you done?" He staggers, his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he collapses unconcious to the ground. Zantorax makes it to the edge of the campfire area to see Darrin's fall. Smugly looking on, Varn says, "Took longer than I thought. Thought you gave the lass the wrong cup." "Never missed the mark before, my love, why should I begin..." the dwarven male leaves off suddenly, looking up at Zantorax a look of shock on his twisted features. "By Barish, what curse has come upon you? I pray it does not strike at me." He runs his hand down his long, full black beard. "Or, are you too young to grow any hair?" he peers up at Zantorax curiously. "Nar," his wife whacks him on the arm and then continues, "He looks to be Darrin's age, and the boy's got plenty of hair for one of them. Now, you pick the lad up and let's get him to the wagon." "Yes, dear," Maeg says obediently. He steps towards Darrin's prostrate form. Fynvola Quain Fynvola watches him fall with absolute horror on her face and a heartwrenching "NO!" is torn from her lips as she falls upon him and cradles him in her arms. She rocks him back and forth repeating "What have I done?" Over and over in an endless litany...lost in her own heartache. Zantorax Nightwind I rush over to Fynvola's side upon seeing Darrin collapse and her fall to her knees beside him. I listen to her words and survey the situation, then thinking that I've figured the situation out, place my hand on her shoulder. "Fyn, they're not going to kill off their own employer." My tone is calm and logical. "It's probably just a sedative. Under some circumstances it's best to use such potions on someone who has undergone a period of such extreme stress." I atttempt to pry her away from Darrin's body, assuring her that the dwarves will take good care of him and try to get her to sit near the fire or go to sleep. I look at the dwarf, amusement playing, like lightning, over my face. "Tis no cure, m'lord, I mearly shave my head and face so that I will not miss my hair the next time I end up burning it all off." A burst of flame errupts from my right hand to emphasize my point. "Of course, now that I have quit with in-door experiments I might try growing my hair again. Who knows. Ah, but where are my manners, I am Zantorax Nightwind." I extend my hand to shake... Maeg The dwarf continues forward, and grasps Zantorax's hand and gives it a good shake. Maeg says, "Looks like she don't want to let him go. It's for the best, missy. Let me take him to the wagon and get him settled there?" he asks softly. "Tis a shame about your hair though." Fynvola Quain The stress appears to have take it's tole on Fynvola as she is inconsolable, rocking herself and weeping and lamenting her betrayal of Darrin. Maeg reaches down to coax Darrin from Fynvola's arms to find her sword pulled and it's tip at his throat. He backs up a step quickly and his head somewhat tilted, he turns to his wife confused. Varn quickly marches over, saying, "Should have made two cups, but Tag didn't tell me we had two hysterical humans on our hands. Now you listen hear young lady. You didn't do nothing to him, but let him get a good night's rest. Did you want him replaying this scene over and over in his head all night long. Now put your sword up and Maeg will show you where the boy's gonna be all night long." Fynvola's sword wavers between Maeg and Varn rather shakily. Maeg clears his throat and says, "Well, mayhap we can just let them sleep by the fire, lovedove. I'll just get a bedroll and lay it here by the fire. I'm sure our boy will be fine just lying here by the fire." He takes hold of his wife's hand and tugs her back towards the nearest wagon. You hear rummaging around and shortly Maeg returns with a bedroll and an extra blanket. He lays the bedroll down a few feet from Darrin and Fynvola, and lays the extra blanket to one side. He looks up at Zantorax and says, "I think I leave her to you. We've some good hot stew, be good for her though. You can take it right out of the big pot so maybe she trust you. Any of you can grab some as well," he adds glancing at the rest of the group. He looks down at Fynvola and says softly, "You don't understand. Perhaps in the morning you will both feel better. But believe me when I say, me and the missus would never do anything to harm this boy. We was there when this boy first scraped his knee, and the first time he found a ladybug and gifted it to me wife, and now we are here for this. Do not judge us harshly because we wished him to have peace this night. Tomorrow will be too soon, and I fear there is nothing that will take this ache from his heart." With that the dwarf turns slowly and returns to his wife's side. Jeremiah when things get settled "I've been taught that we drink at the wake to the passing of those who have departed this world and I would be thankful if you would join me in the gesture to those who lost their lives in this valley. The horrible deaths of these kind folk have put me in a mind of my own mortality. Since I have no family of my own, I would speak to you who fate has brought together with me; to tell you what little there is to know of my life." I must thank you, noble sir, for your words this afternoon which brought me to my senses. The horror of this event pushed my mind to a place where I could only stare in horror at the scene and I was not able to do my duty as a cleric of Lathander; and my service to Lathander is all I have; it is all I know." "You see of course that I wear the colors and garb of Lathander and that I am one who serves the glory of the Morninglord. This is as it should be for this is all I am and all I have ever known. You see my story begins when I was found one morn, an abondoned child, who was found at a dawn ceremony by the priestesses of Lathander, when the morning sun shone on the place my mother had left me. They named me Jeremiah, Child of the Morn, and took me back to their temple and raised me to know and proclaim Lathander's glory. This is of course a fair life, and I was brought up to know the joy of life with the matrons and worshippers of Lathander, many of whom found time to teach me skills as a scribe and as a healer in addition to my training as one who can battle if need be to defend those beset upon by evil and misfortune. As I grew older, blessed with fair looks, strong and gentle healing hands and the Morninglord's grace, I was looked on with favor by many of the leading priestesses who requested my services as a scribe and help mate. Unfortunately those jealous of my place spread scandalous rumors that led my patron, the Lady Hathale, to send me west to contact the temple in WaterDeep and offer service there. Having been sent from the only home I have ever known, I have journeyed alone sadly, but hopefully that I will find a place, a time, a purpose; for who and what I am. As my path crossed yours and we found ourselves working together I sensed a fitness, and a properness that seems to tie me to this group. As one who has learned to listen to his feelings, I feel and hope that this service with each of you, this road, this journey will take me to the place I belong; and help me to the purpose I feel I am destined for. The unfortunate tragedy that we came upon today, only convinces me further; that we travel together to grow into a force that can counter in some way the negative forces which seek to destroy that which is good in the world. It is to this purpose that I feel drawn to travel with you, my friends. My greatest fear, is that I have been wrong in the purpose I have followed and that some day, even as I felt today, I will find myself alone and helpless to contest the forces of evil as they seek to harm those who are lost, abandoned and helpless as I once was." Zeptha waits quietly at the fire, and then when Tag reappears after he is done, she says softly, "Tag why don't you go after them? These people would surely go with you." Tag shakes his head and sighs. "Darrin would want to come, as he should. But then who would get you to Waterdeep safely. Your wedding has important consequences for this entire region. And I will not escort you while he is hunting orcs out on the High Moors. I will not leave him alone to die." Zeptha bows her head and softly says, "Then go with him. I will lead the caravan to Waterdeep." Fynvola When the dwarves bring a bedroll for Darrin and speak to her, Fynvola accepts that they were not trying to hurt Darrin and lowers her sword. She wraps Darrin carefully and then shrugs away from Zantorax with mute apology in her eyes. She then sinks to the ground beside Darrin with her blanket wrapped over her shoulders until she, too falls asleep, her head sinking to rest on Darrin's shoulder. Zantorax > Worried for my two friends, I sit nearby until I am sure they are both > asleep. When I am certain they are, I head over to the pot of stew and fill > two bowls. Taking these with me, along with a couple of spoons, I head out > to find Zeptha. > Should I find her without incident, I hand the second bowl to her and a > spoon, saying, "Here, you should eat something, m'lady." > If Tag is still there I will offer him the other bowl I am carrying. Zeptha accepts the bowl gratefully. Tag puzzling over what Zeptha just said, looks at the bowl you offer him with a hint of surprise in his dark eyes. He reaches out and with a nod of thanks, takes the bowl. Zeptha says, "Well, Tag?" "It is a dilemma, that perhaps I can not answer. Your safety is extremely important," he pauses to take a thoughtful sip from his cup. "If we return safely to Waterdeep to find that you did not arrive there safely, then how will Darrin feel. You see him at a loss for the midwife that helped us raise him. It is nothing to the rage that will torment him if you are hurt or possibly killed." "Tag, it is true I have never done this before, but I have learned a lot from both of you in the past month. If you give me exact details of the road from here to Waterdeep, and orders as to who I have to contact upon arriving there, I am sure I can succeed. I am a Miyar. This is the business in our blood." Tag looks very uncertain and mumbles, "Whatever this decision is, if we are to go after the orcs, we should leave now. With Darrin unconcious, it means tying him to his horse, and your," he looks to Zantorax, "friends must be awakened." "And don't think you're going off without us," says a gruff voice from behind your little threesome. Turning you see Varn and Maeg each holding a battleaxe, hefted up over their shoulders. Varn continues, "We've been ready to go since we rode over the crest of the hill." Zantorax I pause for many moments, unsure as to what should be done. "I would like to go after the orcs. Unfortunately, Lady Zeptha's safety should be my primary concern. I must admit, I am new to the road, well caravans at least, and not really sure what the proper thing to do would be. How well prepared would the caravan be to protect Zeptha should they run into trouble?" I look to Tag for an answer. His answer being the factor that could swing my decision either way. Tag looks down at the sleeping form of Darrin, and then looks to Zeptha. He says briskly, "You will take this warrior and this sly one,(Malic and Shiro) to continue to guard you. I will find two volunteers to go from our other men." He then turns to Zantorax and says, "Wake your friend, and I will wake yon warrior. Pack light and grab the best horses you can find to back up the ones you rode into this valley with. We will not stop. Varn, you and Maeg and horses are not..." Maeg says sharply, "We're goin' Tag, even if we have to sit a saddle. No choice." The glare in both dwarves eyes brook no argument. "We would be hard pressed without your axes and your wisdom," Tag says. "If you would get help to tie Darrin to his horse. We must be off in ten minutes." He turns to Zeptha and says, "Find the guildhouse to deliver our goods to in Waterdeep. Ross will be able to help you find them. Darrin will be crushed that he does not see your wedding. One last thing, Milady. Tell your new husband that I believe the orcs will head to the High Moors. Any help he sends will be appreciated." Zeptha quickly says, "I am so confident of your return, that I am sure Ross and I will postpone our wedding." "Zeptha we may never return to Waterdeep. Surely you know this." "I know you, Tag. If it is possible you and Darrin can do it. Look at these noble people who go with you. I have only just met them, but this Lady will be my maid of honor when you return, and perhaps this priest will perform our ceremony. And Zantorax and Dunz will stand as our witnesses, and Darrin will be our best man. I see this all very clearly Tag. And I only leave you out, because I know how much you hate such gatherings, though I pray you will reconsider." "I swear by my love for Darrin, that I will attend your wedding. Now go and help wake the woman." He strides quickly over to Dunz and after a second's hesitation, he nudges Dunz with the toe of his boot and says loudly, "What are you waiting for warrior? We ride in five minutes to follow the orc's trail. I will need my daggers, as soon as possible!" He then stalks off to find volunteers. Zeptha can be heard saying to Zantorax, "I will miss, Fynvola. She is the best friend I have ever had." Zantorax "I understand, she's the best friend I've ever had as well. Worry not, I'll not let anything happen to her." I squeeze Zeptha's shoulder slightly in hopes of offering some comfort. I then move back to where I left Fyn and Darrin. I shake Fynvola's shoulder gently to wake her saying, "Fyn, wake up. We were not meant to rest this night. We've got orcs to find and vengeance to reap." My tone is the deathly calm of a trained combatant before battle, a sure sign that what I am saying is deadly serious... > I shake Fynvola's shoulder gently to wake her saying, "Fyn, wake up. We >were not meant to rest this night. We've got orcs to find and vengeance to >reap." >My tone is the deathly calm of a trained combatant before battle, a sure >sign that what I am saying is deadly serious... Fynvola Zanthorax's tone wakens Fynvola more quickly than the icy rains of late fall, though his words totally excape her. Her eyes and nose are red with the tears she's shed, but she sits up quickly, short sword in hand and immediately searches the area looking for danger. Seeing none immediately, she looks back to Zan, seeking his eyes and asking with icy calm through a slightly hoarse voice, "What is it? Where is the battle, Zan?" Zeptha Zeptha reaches down, and places her hand gently on Fynvola's forearm and whispers softly, "There is none close by. But I must go one way and you another it seems, for awhile. But I pray that we will meet again soon, dearest friend. I leave my cousin in very capable hands, to be sure, but he would wear a black mark on his heart, if these marauders were to go unpunished. When you are done, I will await your prescence as my maid of honor." Dunz Kann "Go ... away. I ... can do ... no more. ... Let me sleep ... ... Follow the orc's trail? ... " Having had this conversation earlier, the warrior looks hard into Tag's eyes to see if this is some kind of a practical joke. "Just get me close to 'em!" says the now alert warrior who quickly readies himself while glancing around the camp. He then gets his horse ready and mounts. Fynvola Confusion is evident on Fynvola's face as she looks at her friend, but slowly Zeptha's words sink in and she begins to shake her head, "You are the best friend I have ever had, Zeptha, I can't leave you unprotected out here! " she falls silent a moment and then repeats softly, "Bridesmaid?! Me?!" and an unmistakable note of glee creaps into her voice before she shakes her head and slips back into the gravity of the current situation. "Really, Zeptha, you have to be our priority ...perhaps Tag and some of the others could follow the Orcs and leave us a trail to follow... he would never forgive himself or any of us if something were to happen to you... and neither would I" Jeremiah Zeptha says softly, "Malic and Shiro shall keep me safe. Darrin >would never forgive any of us, if he did not try to rescue those >people the orcs have taken. I will tell Ross as soon as I see him, >what you are all attempting, and though there is no money in it >for his band of mercenaries, I am sure he will send help your >way. Good Luck, Fynvola, and I hope you find the happiness that >I have found." Fynvola Fynvola meets Zeptha's eyes for a long moment, then nods almost reluctantly. She hugs Zeptha and with the glimmer of tears in her eyes replies with a teasing light in her voice, "You be careful, okay? No more heroic riding..." With a last look at her friend, she turns to gather her gear (she had left her clarsach accross the other side of the fire), saddles and loads up her palomino as quickly as she can. Then she turns back to see how everyone else is doing and if they need assistance before she mounts up... The Chase Begins You are ready in record time, and Tag without waiting for anyone that is sluggish, rides off quickly to the east. He rides fast and hard and though there is no road, the tracks are easy to see in the waning moonlight. Heavy are the orc prints in the new spring grass, and they lead you up out of the valley and straight to the NorthEast East. The only time that he halts is when he hears a groan from the bound youth on the horse he is leading. He calls to Varn upon halting and is lithely off his horse and quick to unbind the still groggy Darrin. Tag helps him sit up in his saddle and keeps him propped there while catching a canteen from Varn. Tag hisses, "Drink this. We must be on our way. The orcs will not rest nor stop." He helps Darrin tip the canteen and Darrin unquestioningly drinks a huge swallow, making a bitter face even as his senses clear and his eyes open wide. Tag hands the canteen to Dunz and says clearly, "All of you take a swig. It is some foul dwarven concoction, but it will wake you. Let's move out." The sun's light is just rising from the east and there is no sign of the orcs, except for their heavy laden footprints. Darrin looks behind him briefly, but then he trots his horse to ride up with Tag and though he works out the kinks in his muscles, he seems ready to ride for years, if it takes that long. Finally you hear him say the word, "Zeptha." The brew you take a swig of tastes like sludge from the darkest cavern. It is dense like a shake, but it tastes like mud with a few roots and twigs in it. But it will wake you right up.