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11th of Alturiak - CoRD Epilogue 1 - Calimport

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11th of Alturiak - CoRD Epilogue 1 - Calimport

Post  Colin Marcus on Sun Jan 17, 2010 5:51 pm

All around him he could hear the screams. Elric couldn't see much due to the smoke and the fire, but he could still hear them. He tried to blot them out but there were too many.

The dragon was dead. Xvim himself was dead and more importantly gone. Ashara had smited it with the mace of Lathander and it vanished before his eyes. In the last three days they had destroyed two dracoliches, finished the last of the priests of Cyric and destroyed an artifact of extreme evil. They had saved the world.

Again.

Still this was no time for celebrations.

His hands were covered in dirt and blood, but he wouldn't let that stop him. Calimport was in ruins. Buildings that had stood for years were now collapsed. The western portion of the city was simply gone. Flame and Acid that had been meant for them had melted the structures and the people inside them to nothing. This side of Calimport faired little better. The buildings were destroyed, but there were still people trapped inside.

He didn't know how long he had been working at this. Time seemed to have no meaning. When he was done in one place he quickly moved to somewhere else. Anywhere else he could help. He hadn't seen the other Champions in what seemed like forever. He knew they were each doing what they could, wherever they would be the most useful. Therogoen occasionally showed up and blessed him with extra strength, but it wasn't often.

Not nearly often enough.

The fighters mind kept wandering. Every time it did the guilt nearly crippled him. He focused on the work. One more rock. One more person. He knew there were still people under the rubble. Others were helping him. They came in shifts. When they found someone who could still be saved, they pulled them out to safety.

The citizens had erected tents and camps in various portions of the city. That's where the priests were. That's where the wounded were sent. That's where everything was organized from. At least that's what Elric had heard. He hadn't been there himself. From the time that Xvim fell, he hadn't stopped digging. As various shifts of volunteers came and went, the half-elf was able to shut his mind down. he didn't know anymore if he'd been there for hours or for days. Between the unnatural rain and the smoke from the fire, he couldn't tell the time. There was nothing but the work.

It wasn't very rewarding work.

Every time he saw a shape or thought he heard a sound he called out for help. Redoubling his efforts it didn't take long to get the person. One in ten, one in Twenty perhaps were still alive. Half of those died in his arms.

And it was all their fault.
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Mon Jan 18, 2010 12:28 am

The wounded just kept streaming in. A never ending flood of dying innocents. They woke this morning to do their business, be with their families, live their lives, and in an instant everything had changed. Calimport was in ruins. There hadn't been any time to think. It should have been impossible for the dragon to fly that far that fast. It was the farthest place they could think of at the time and now, because of that split decision, hundreds maybe thousands were dead. Ashara couldn't think of that now. There was just too much to do...

She had gone straight to the House of the Holy Dawn after Xvim was finally destroyed. The temple had collapsed trapping many of the priests within, and those lucky enough to make it out unscathed had begun digging through the rubble looking for survivors. They were in shock. In truth, so was she, but she was terrified to stop moving. With uncharacteristic boldness she ordered three groups of priests to stop digging and start setting up triage areas. One there near the rubble of the temple, and two others to the north and east. Nothing was left in the west...

Many citizens were helping to dig survivors from the rubble, and after Raising two of the priests including the High Morninglord Vrendyl Systeran, Ashara began making rounds, healing those that were on the brink of death. When she ran out of bandages, she began tearing strips of cloth from her cloak. Soon there wasn't anything left of that either.

Many hours later, Eddick's rain had finally put out the majority of the burning areas of the city, and now that the orange glow of the fires had dissipated, Ashara realized how late it was. She had never been so exhausted. The day had begun with a Resurrection. The first she'd ever done, and though she was shocked that she could move at all afterwards, the casting of such a powerful spell had not only sapped her energy, but her very life. Adrenaline was the only thing that had kept her going this long, but now, after casting all of the forty one spells she was allotted in a day, there was nothing left. Well, maybe one thing...

Though the weather was warm, she shivered as she moved northeast to what she thought may have once been the Khanduq Ward. Without her cloak to protect her, the rain seeped through her plate mail soaking everything beneath. She didn't know where anyone was or where she would find sleep, but she knew she must. She had to sleep in order to pray for new spells at dawn. There were so many more in need of healing, and she would be able summon a couple of earth elementals to help dig people out of the debris. As she traveled along, she noticed that everyone looked the same. The dying. The volunteers. They were all covered in mud and blood and they were all either screaming, gritting their teeth or screaming through gritted teeth. Only the dead were completely silent.

She whispered the words of her final spell. The one she had been granted by Lathander after offering up the bones of the green dragon in the Forest of Wyrms along with the black plate mail armor of the priestess of Xvim. It wasn't much, but it was something. Ashara began touching the shoulders of those who were helping to dig, giving them the strength and fortitude to be able to work much longer than would be humanly possible. The priestess hoped she'd be able to at least pick Kaber out of the crowd somewhere, but the city was enormous and really the chances of seeing any of the other Champions weren't good. Maybe at dawn... She just needed to find a sheltered corner to sleep in for a few hours. That or pass out where she stood, and she wasn't far from that point.

Ashara turned to the east, hoping to find a standing building or at least one that wouldn't collapse any further. A short distance front of her, a couple of mud-covered men were pulling a child from the rubble. Even through her bleary eyes, she knew the child was dead. The smaller man moved back into the rubble, leaving the body in the arms of the larger man, who just lowered himself to his knees in despair. She wanted to believe there was hope. With eyes on the child, which upon approaching, she realized was a young boy, Ashara moved in to check for a pulse. Nothing.

"I can take him to the priests," she whispered with what was left of her voice, as she looked up at the man holding the child. Though they were dulled with exhaustion and grief, Ashara was surprised to see familiar emerald eyes looking back at her.

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Eddick

Post  Eddick the Steady (XIV) on Mon Jan 18, 2010 8:58 am

Eddick smiled.

He was covered with grime up to his elbows, a particular concoction of rain, blood, sweat and tears. He had seen more death today than ever before, including the Kobald and Goblin wars of which he had been a part, and also including the battles in Zazesspur and some of the other skirmishes of the civil war. All of it together did not sum up to this devastation.

And yet, here in the rubble, a flower bloomed.

Eddick had learned long, long ago that one could not assume responsibility of other person's actions. It was his idea to go to Calimport, thinking that they could be escape the godson's wrath for a short while. But they just brought the wrath down upon them. Truly, it was Xvim who destroyed the city. Xvim who was to blame, and he had received his due. People may look for others to blame, even look to themselves. But that would just destroy a person as sure as if they had died that day as well. Casualties like that would be difficult to number.

The next day, if the elm was still standing, he would visit the nymph and tell her of what strange occurrences allowed for her to be alive. Unlike Ashara, he could do little for those who had already passed. He had handed out the scores of magical grain that he had stockpiled for the last couple weeks, one grain to anyone injured, five to those who were dying, and it helped them recover. He had bound up more injuries than he had seen in his entire lifetime. He had wept.

But here, standing in the midst of a destruction hitherto unknown, a flower stood. Delicate, beautiful, defiant, and just the kind of encouragement that was needed for an old druid who had been surprised that he had made it this far.
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Gwilly

Post  TRU on Mon Jan 18, 2010 11:11 am

They had done it! They had destroyed the rod and defeated the black dragon/god thingy! Gwilly couldn't help but squeal as she did flips in the air sending illusionary star bursts of many colors into the sky! Now was a time for celebration, for singing and dancing and merriment! Maybe Elric would write a song about the epic battle! The excitement was almost too much for Gwilly to contain!

The happy pixie looked around expecting to see utter joy on everyone else faces... but she saw no such thing. All she saw was sadness, and even deeper emotions then she was able to understand. It was all very confusing to her... she just didn't understand...

Then she heard it. The wailing. The screams. The cries for help. Yet, to Gwilly's ears, all of those desperate cries were drowned out by something even more deafening. The complete lack of normal, everyday sounds. Behind the screams there was an eerie stillness, a silence she could not ignore. It struck her deeply in the core of her being, though at first she didn't know why.

And then she realized that what she heard was the sound of death.
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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Mon Jan 18, 2010 12:34 pm

Another one.

How many children had he found today? Men, Women, Children. Everyone around him was dead or dying. The Children were the worst. Everytime he pulled one from the wreckage a part of himself died with them.

He didn't have much left.

He had never felt exhaustion like this. His training had left him perfectly suited for physical labor. He could work all day if the need arose. An added bonus from the intense training of his youth. He was strong, he was very sturdy. He never complained about physical weariness. The half-elf was in control of his body, not the other way around. Those who knew him best, knew that as long as his spirit was strong, he would never quit.

But what happens when his spirit breaks?

So much death. As he laid the newest corpse to the ground, his mind intruded again. How many were there? Too many to count. All this blood was on their hands. These people didn't deserve this. This boy didn't deserve this.

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind again. He tried to throw up a wall of anger or denial. Something that would let him keep going. It had worked in the past. But not this time.

Spiritual weariness had cracked his defenses and despair finally overtook him. As he went to lay the boy down, he finally hit his knees and couldn't move. His eyes were burning and he tried to wipe the tears away and regain his feet. He had no time for tears. No time for weakness.

"I can take him to the priests,"

In his state he didn't recognize the voice. She was hoarse from the smoke and the continual prayers to Lathander. He stared at the speaker for a few moments before the reality settled in.

Like everyone else she was covered in mud and blood. Not enough to conceal the familiar armor though. Her cloak was gone, but her medalion still shown bright.

"Ashara...." he managed to whisper as the tears finally broke. "What have we done?!?"


Last edited by Elric on Tue Jul 13, 2010 11:30 am; edited 1 time in total
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Mon Jan 18, 2010 3:31 pm

Elric was teetering on the edge of emotional collapse. It was easy for her to recognize, as she had built a home and had taken up residence on that edge for many months following her release from the Curse. That house was vacant now, but she was afraid that Elric may be about to move in.

Ashara had never seen him like this. Tears spilled down his soiled cheeks, revealing lines of his skin beneath the grime. She was sure he hadn't eaten anything since this morning, and knowing him, he had been working tirelessly since the dracolich had fallen. His iron fingers were bloody and torn from digging desperately through the debris, relentlessly searching for one more victim. One more sign of life. Fingernails were ripped deep into the tissue beneath, and though they must have been painful, she knew he was feeling none of it. The medic in her wanted to treat those physical injuries, but she had nothing left. No bandages, no magic, no herbs. Even the last of her healing potions had been given to those who were in most desperate need.

That wasn't where the real wound was though, and when she heard the hissing through his teeth as he tried to draw in ragged breaths, it was confirmed. It was his spirit that was suffering. A great gnawing pain that ate at the very heart of him. The same heart that had been beating in her own chest for a few brief moments just over a week ago now. Josiah had called such injuries sucking chest wounds. Both the physical and spiritual form needed to be treated immediately and a pressure bandage needed be applied to the wound to allow the victim to continue breathing, and therefore his heart to continue beating.

Touch. That's what it came down to for every kind of healing. Her mother had taught her that, as well as her mentor, and at the core of her being that was who she was. A Healer. As she wrapped Elric in a tight hug, hoping that it would be enough to keep him breathing, Ashara's memory flashed back to that little girl within the copse of trees trying to comfort her friend.

"Ashara.... What have we done?!?"

That same simple question that she had been avoiding thinking about since they first saw the black dot growing on the horizon, now rang in her ears. Over his shoulder, the priestess gritted her teeth against the rush of guilt she stubbornly refused to let control her. They couldn't have known. It should have been impossible. They were just trying to buy time to prepare... Xvim, Shar, the Cult, THEY were the ones responsible for this loss of life, but the Champions had unintentionally brought the final battle here. None of the words that swam through her mind at that moment could lift the pain of loss that surrounded them. None of her words could take his guilt away. Words were so often useless. All she could hope to do was lift his head above the surface to allow him to catch his breath before he drowned. Elric had done that for her, and now she was determined to do the same for him.

"Don't lose yourself in it," the priestess pleaded while she tangled her left hand in his muddy hair in an effort to pull him closer. "Grieve for them, but don't let the guilt swallow you." The cold mithril plate formed an unacceptable barrier between them that enraged her, but she simply didn't have the energy to remove it. "You need to rest, Melamin, for a few hours at least. The Dawn is coming soon, and we will need to redouble our efforts with the morning light."


Last edited by Ashara on Tue Jan 19, 2010 2:09 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Mon Jan 18, 2010 10:15 pm

Once the tears started, there was no stopping. He felt disconnected. Everything seemed so far away. He could hear Ashara speaking her words of wisdom, but from what seemed a great distance. He heards the words, but the meaning behind them confused him. The only thing that felt real at the moment was the embrace. That he could feel.

He had no idea how long they stayed that way. Her whispering words of comfort and him with his head on her armored shoulder releasing the tears that been building for so long.

"You need to rest, Melamin, for a few hours at least.

It took some time, but eventually the words he heard began to register. Weakly he shook his head. "No..." He whispered through the sobs. "No time... I can't... "

Stubborness alone had kept him going this long, but that was spent. Even if he wanted to keep going, he had nothing left. Still his mind hadn't registered that fact either.

"They need us..." His voice broke again. "We're the heroes... aren't we?" She knew from the tone of his voice, that he didn't really believe it.
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Kaber

Post  Swiftboot on Tue Jan 19, 2010 12:11 am

Rain mixed with dust, dirt, and sand. There was no sense wipping any of it off, more would coat the cleaned area. Kaber ignored it all as he worked tirelessly on the rubble. The minotaur knew his muscle and stamina were great. In fact, he once thought he could cross the distance from Impresk to Waterdeep on foot, non-stop if he had needed. Now, he was putting it all to the test. Besides, he wondered, when is one ever truly done in a situation like this?

After the dracolich had been defeated, the warrior had remaind at the site. They had won, yet the victory seemed hollow. People had begun to emerge, and as the fear of the battle wore off, the shock of the situation set in. The others moved off, in an almost dazed state, and worked to help where they could.

With great effort Kaber removed each piece of his armor. It would not help against the heat, his thick fur already matted with sweat, but it would make his work easier. Finding a length of rope, he tied the metal plates together along with his weapons. Placing the bundle on a pile of rubble he set to work.

He began with clearing paths where streets once lie, that way workers and the injured could get through. If he heard someone call for help, he was there, doing what he could. He did what he could in one place then moved on to the next. No one seemed to mind a minotaur working next to them, they were all too stunned by what had happened to care about something so trivial.

This city had never set well with him. The distust and fear had been so thick, you could have touched it. This was not the way Kaber had wanted it to happen, but the suspicion was now gone. The city had been reset by a cataclysmic disaster. Survival was the necessity now.

Hoisting his armor over his shoulder, the warrior set off for the next place. The weight of the metal and leather pulled on him more noticeably than any stone or wood. It reassured him and solidified every decision he had made in this long journey. Eddick's words of duty and doing what was necessary came back to him.

Kaber paused a moment, looking out across the destruction. He had not seen his companions since the last blows were dealt, and now he wondered how they were fairing. Ashara would be tending to the wounded as much as possible, and probably pushing herself hard. The druid would either be organizing people or have his hands in the rubble himself. There was no slowing him down, no matter how old he was. And Therogeon, it was hard to say. Perhaps aiding with his magic, or assisting Ashara, maybe even digging for survivors. The mage was always surprising.

Then there were two he felt would be taking this the hardest. Elric was an incredible warrior, both highly skilled and brave. He would throw himself against any foe for his friends. But he did not belong in a war. For as deadly as he was, his heart sought peace above all else. Kaber mused, if anyone was a knight, it was Elric.

Lastly, he wondered where Gwilly was. Even after all she had been through, this had to be completely unnatural for her. It went against everything that was her being. He hoped that she was with one of the others. If she was alone, the pain might be unbearable. Perhaps she was taking small comforts in the relief on the faces of those who found loved ones and friends they thought dead. He could only hope.

Ahead, several people were trying to move a large wooden beam that was blocking progress on a building. Kaber laid his belongings down and set to work.
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Re: 11th of Alturiak - CoRD Epilogue 1 - Calimport

Post  The Sub-Creator on Tue Jan 19, 2010 1:57 am

Bajita walked with ample patience and care through the rubble strewn about Calimport’s streets, her soft eyes welling with tears from the corpse-riddled ruin all about her. Few paid her any heed as she meandered about—their attentions focused exclusively on excavating the dead and dying from the shattered carcass of the city itself, and for those that did, she simply acknowledged their grief-stricken calls with a brief tip of the head. Already, the smell of rot permeated the sweltering air from the copious number of bodies awaiting retrieval, and this beneath the strange rain shower that had let loose upon the city earlier that morning! The stench promised to only grow worse as the days and months progressed—it would take at least that long to clear away all this devastation! In that time, disease would run rampant, claiming many more lives weakened by injury and fatigue from strenuous labor. The great city that had lost so much would lose so very much more.

The giddiness she felt tightened in her stomach, and, without meaning to, Bajita chortled once loudly. Seeking to disguise the mistake, she squeezed her eyes closed, tilted her head slightly down and to the side, and covered her mouth with a slender hand pocked with dirt. A man plastered in mud from head-to-toe hurried to comfort her, his face a brown curtain of sympathy. Tears mingled with the rain traveling in rivulets down her cheeks as the kind-hearted man placed tender hands on either side of her shoulders, and, not knowing what else to do, whispered mournful words laced with optimism for her benefit. Bajita merely nodded her appreciation, hiding the ever-widening smile on her lips behind the protective shielding of her hand. After dutifully listening to his pathetic blathering for a few seconds longer, she gracefully separated from him and continued on.

After several hours of traversing the eastern ruins, Bajita finally arrived at the intended destination: the green wastes. The rain shower had beaten down the great conflagration over the last few hours, ensuring that the desolate remains of Calimport need not fear from its spreading, at least, but the damage was already extensive. The entire western half of the city bubbled and smoldered from the devilish, acidic flames. Large portions of that area, where the destructive power of those unique flames had eaten away the foundations, had toppled into the sewers below, and, in some places, even farther down. Gone were the great minarets poking like great, sculpted trees into the sky; gone were the majestic arches that permitted passage between the mud brick walls of the sabbans, drudachs, and wards; gone were the wondrous by-ways that paralleled the streets from above, offering clean travel to the upper echelons away from the muddy, flea-infected retches that inhabited the crowded thoroughfares; gone were the magnificent palaces that housed the Syl-Pasha and his expansive Court in all their lavish finery. All that had been melted away into mammoth clumps of black, formless mass—save in those places that still shone with a fierce, bright green where the fires refused to die. In the west, nothing remained.

Truly, the Lady of Loss had blessed the city this day!

Bajita glanced about her surroundings, looking for any who might be working their rescue attempts nearby, but the area lacked for even a single living soul. Few wished to come near where the city still burned, and she supposed that made sense, as nothing existed here to be saved anyway. Relieved to finally be alone, the woman turned back to the brilliant mass of desolation and marveled at its beauty. She allowed herself to smile openly now, to bask in the handy-work of the goddess with whom she had devoted her very being. It pleased her to know that these same fools who toiled away within the ruins to find survivors, who grieved for the dead they pulled from the wreckage, failed to recognize the significance of this occurrence: that beneath the eastern portions—that half of the city where all destruction had happened upon the surface only—resided the greatest temple to the Mistress of Night in all Faerun. Shar had sent a Destroyer to ravage the earthly dwellings of the unbelievers above, and left only her servants in the Temple of Eternal Night unscathed in the eastern catacombs below.

The divine comedy of it filled her with a raptorial joy that could no longer be silenced. Laughter burst from her lips in an almost adolescent-like mirth, building from the very pits of her stomach and rumbling all the way up her diaphragm. She gave glory to her goddess with it—sang with it her rapture, as if praising the name of the Nightsinger directly through the Book of Shadows!

Rudimentary,” something spoke behind her, the suddenness of its presence abruptly halting her jubilant hymn. “Hardly praise-worthy,” it proclaimed. The voice sounded gravelly, stone grinding on stone as the words formed, and, yet, with a harshness softened by the occasional popping gurgle at each accentuated syllable.

Bajira spun toward the voice, her glare filled with venomous malice. There, towering over her, stood a man of powerful girth not ten paces away. He wore a simple robe of glistening black that so frighteningly distorted depth she believed it possible to reach into the garment without ever meeting resistance. With his hands hidden inside those voluminous sleeves, she had to force her thoughts away from the idea that only his head actually existed there atop a space of pure nothingness. The stranger shaved his head completely, revealing perfectly smooth skin that flowed just as flawlessly over the many peaks and valleys of his countenance, which were pronounced to the point of being comical---or would have been, had this man not exuded a tangible aura of hatred and defilement surpassing anything she had ever known.

The woman masked her growing apprehensiveness behind a wicked sneer. “What are you talking about, fool?” she demanded, not bothering to adopt the sorrowful guise worn throughout her tour of the ruined city. Though careful not to openly display it, his sneaking up without notice unnerved her, most significantly because it should not have been possible. An enchanted band worn on a finger of her left hand enabled Bajira to sense all movement within thirty feet of her position—by the living or the dead. That he somehow eluded that detection---and still eluded it, she realized!---confused and terrified her.

Prominent lips almost too large even for his bizarre visage hinted at a smile. His eyes peered into hers, and Bajira found herself backing away from him unintentionally. Something about the way he looked into her sent a chill coursing along her spine. No, she realized, not how he looked at her, but what he looked at her through! Those eyes matched the insubstantial nature of the robe he donned, and in them she saw a vast void where some semblance of a spark should have existed, but did not. In her time within the Temple of Eternal Night, Bajira had dealt with many kinds of thinking undead, and, despite the undeath, those beings harbored a keen intelligence within their eyes.

His displayed nothing . . . nothing at all.

That massive form stepped forward, closing the gap between them by nearly a third. The breath caught in her lungs as a very real fear spread like a cancer through her mind. She thrust her hand forward, the unholy symbol of Shar now clenched so tightly between her fingers that its rounded, purple-bordered edge cut grooves into the flesh. The priestess desired to call forth the name of her goddess and summon a spell that would compel the demon---for what else could it possibly be before her?---back to its home plane, but the words embedded themselves to her tongue, spurning her attempt to command them. “What are you?” she cried instead in a quivering tone.

You will never know your god,” it declared, and Bajira felt her heart go rigid, followed immediately after by the rest of her. She implored her legs to run, but they refused the desperate plea. A second stride brought the thing so near it could have reached out and touched her had it possessed the whim to pull a hand from the confines of its sleeve.

Instead, sickly cracks appeared in its face, starting at the mid-upper lip and extending toward the backside of the head. Half-a-dozen thin fissures bled out a vaporous black puss, with each flap of skin between them rippling and pulsating as though something grew within seeking freedom from the confinement of its head. The creature expelled a moan that sounded half anguish and half exultation as the skin broke open into six grotesquely writhing tentacles with nothing but an all-consuming darkness hidden where its brain should be.

Before Bajira even had the opportunity to scream, the creature snapped its tentacles and void-like head down upon her terror-stricken form . . .

And the priestess ceased to be.

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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Tue Jan 19, 2010 11:54 am

"They need us... We're the heroes... aren't we?"

The priestess' heart ached hearing the pain in his voice, and the first tears she had allowed herself that day began rolling down her cheeks. She wasn't sure how she was managing to hold it together at this point. Possibly she was still in shock, and too exhausted to think on all that occurred here, but when Josiah's ancient words drifted to the forefront of her mind, she realized the truth of it. "You will have to learn to forget yourself and be what others need you to be. You will provide hope and encouragement to those who have none." The devastated citizens of Calimport needed to feel that there was hope in the face of such loss, and Ashara was determined to help in their recovery, in whatever minor way she could.

They weren't the only ones in need of hope, she thought as she felt another string of sobs wrack the body of her betrothed.

"Yes, Elric," she whispered softly, trying to keep her voice steady, "we're the heroes that brought down The Most Hated Wyrm, and destroyed the final vestiges of Xvim on this plane. We are not the only heroes however." Ashara looked around at all the people toiling at the rubble and pulling their friends, family, neighbors and rivals from the destruction. "Calimport will rise again. This city has not suffered the same fate as Athkatla or the Purple Hills. Many have survived, and the people here are resilient."

She gently lifted his head until her eyes met his. "They do need us, and that's why we must rest. Tomorrow morning there will be much work to do." He shook his head in weak protest again, but the priestess ignored it and rose to her feet, using what little strength she had left to pull him up with her.

"Come with me," Ashara urged. Lifting his arm around her shoulders she began walking south, out of the Khanduq Ward. She knew they must be close to where the temple of Cyric once stood, and she was sure she could not find rest knowing that the priests of the Mad God might be about. Not a single building stood as far as she could see. The rain continued to fall, but it felt cleansing, and she silently thanked Eddick for bringing it. The priestess hoped the Champions would all find each other again at Dawn. She worried about them, but she knew they were all doing everything they could to assist the citizens of the city.

When the pair came across the place where the dracolich had finally fallen, Ashara stumbled in the mud. The weight of the armor, the battle, tending to the dying, and the exertion of channeling massive amounts of Lathander's power had taken its toll, and she knew she could go no further. She forced her feet to carry her to the closest pile of rubble, where she sat and leaned against the bricks. Gently, she pulled Elric down next to her.

Thankfully it was warm out, and she had never minded the rain. The triage tents would be dry, but filled with screams, and she didn't think either of them could bear any more of that this day. Perhaps their friends would find them here.

Ashara leaned her head back, staring into the black sky. She began to smile as she felt the rain splashing against her face. "Elric, do you remember when we were kids and we'd lay in the fields during a summer storm and catch those fat drops of rain on our tongues? We'd go back to our homes all muddy and soaked to the bone, and I at least would always get a good thrashing from my mother."

"It was worth the thrashing," she chuckled. "Every time."

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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Tue Jan 19, 2010 6:22 pm

Silently Elric followed the priestess through the city. He didn't know where they were going, truthfully he wasn't sure where they'd been. He hadn't much talent for navigating Calimport before, but now... impossible. Everywhere he looked the scene was the same. He wanted to argue, to keep digging, but he had no resistance left.

His tears were spent. As was his strength. Emotionally numb, he blindly followed where she led. Always she had a comforting word, a soft touch. In this state he didn't hear all the words, but her soothing tone still chipped away at the despair.

Suddenly he found himself being pulled to the ground next to her. She was reminiscing about the past. He didn't remember. Did he? He wasn't sure he'd remember his name if asked right now.

The rain poured over them, slowly washing the mud, blood, and grime from their faces. He tried to fight the sleep, but it was too much. Soon Ashara noticed the fighter had passed into a fitful sleep.

Elric sought refuge in the land of dreams. He knew it was a dream, It's the only thing that made sense. He was standing in front of the Shrine in Impresk with Ashara. It was their wedding! She was wearing the white robes that Josiah had left for her... Which made no sense, she wouldn't be wearing that. Aryyn was having a dress made for her... Cadderly seemed to be officiating, but he also knew that her friend from Waterdeep should have been standing there instead.

Also the fact that it was spring was a peculiar point. It was still winter and he knew they weren't waiting till spring. Perhaps Gwilly was casting an illusion, but he could feel the warm sun on his face. Everyone was there. Eldorath, Arturo, Josiah, Marinelle... even the friends and aquaintences they'd met on the road. Everyone from King Haedrick to Matilda the gnome.

He didn't care if this was a dream, he was happy. Happier than he ever remembered being. As the ceremony ended he leaned in to kiss his new bride. Suddenly he heard her gasp in pain!

As he watched Ashara's face took on a sad, confused look. He watched as two pools of red started to spread across her white robes. In shock he watched the precious light slowly fade from her eyes. Like puppet without strings she crumpled to the floor. Behind her stood a man clutching two daggers made of shadow.

He tried to scream, but had no voice. As he tried to revive her, she became as shadow and slowly drifted through his fingers. He tried to catch the assassin but it was as if his feet were in mud. The Assassin started laughing.

Infuriated Elric looked to the crowd to see why nobody was helping. The crowd was laughing too. Eldorath, Cadderly, Josiah, the other Champions. People whom he never knew their names, his only contact with them had been when he'd pulled them from the rubble. The people of Calimport, Athkatla, Dagadar. All the people he'd met who were now dead... As he watched each one of them began dying in front of him. Some from wounds that suddenly appeared, causing them to fall in pools of blood. Some instantly caught fire and burned to ash in green flame. Some seemed to age and turn to dust.

Suddenly he was alone.

The sky grew darker and a shadow seemed to block the sun. Suddenly from the bodies of his friends the bones seemed grow and join together into the shape of dragons! Skulls larger than building with eyes that burned like the fires from the abyss. He tried to run, but couldn't. Everywhere he turned there was yet another dragon! Some alive, some dead. All laughing a hollow, grating laugh.

Time had no meaning. He ran, he screamed, he tried to fight back. Everytime he swung his fist the monsters just laughed louder. Finally the biggest of the dragons, one composed purely of shadow bit down and the world went dark...
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Eddick

Post  Eddick the Steady (XIV) on Wed Jan 20, 2010 12:04 am

Eddick came upon the young lovers sleeping rather furtively in a nice warm pile of mud in the crater left by the fall of Xvim. He decided they should at least be more comfortable. In a practiced fashion, he made a couple individual beds for them out of wheat grass. After all, they were not married yet. He had to make a straw man as well, just to help him lug the sleeping forms onto their mattresses. They did not wake, but Elric stirred and furrowed his brow.

Had Eddick missed something? He looked deeply into the sleeping face of his friend and did indeed think he saw an injury previously unnoticed. He let out a breath of hot air, settling down on his haunches. He pulled out rosemary, and rose hips, and a mortar and pestle. Smells bring memories. Memories of better times hopefully. One think that was unmistakable to the trained nose was that Ashara smelled like roses. It was probably all those rose bits she carried around with her. It must be a morninglord thing, because even when she would run out, they would just magically appear. Eddick remembered seeing that happen a couple of times in Dagadar of all places.

He finished his paste, and he settled down and spread some of the concoction on Elric's upper lip. The stench of death ran thick around here, it was liable to mess with anyone's dreams. He thought for a minute and put some on Ashara's upper lip as well.

Eddick stood up from his work feeling a bit proud of himself and whistled a bird call. Three of his creations, although these were made from seaweed, came over toward him as he had beckoned them. In their hands were plants that had survived the wreckage, and he had them brought here. He knew that Xvim had counted on his ability to come back from the dead, but here, where his hopes ended, new hope would arise.

For the next couple hours, Eddick worked tirelessly. He arranged the plants into an ascending pattern, each supporting one another, and used the rubble and a spell or two to make a rich bed for them as well. At the end of his work, the old druid smiled and looked upon his newest creation. He inhaled the smell of freshly turned earth, and thanked nature for the cleansing power of the rain, which had already slowed to a trickle as the flames had petered out, not having much more to burn.

The garden that would be there eventually would be quite large, if Eddick had anything to say about it. There would be some kind of monument as well, he supposed, but the triumph of life over such destruction, a green place that is preserved beyond all reason. Death would try to make its presence forever known, but Eddick knew, that it would pass, and life again would blot out its memory.


Last edited by Eddick the Steady (XIV) on Wed Jan 20, 2010 12:28 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : people didnt understand that Eddick was making a garden.)
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Wed Jan 20, 2010 3:42 am

It had taken her but moments to pass out after hearing Elric's breaths deepen and steady themselves. She had hoped that a soothing voice would help him to sleep and help chase away the realities of the last few days, but apparently that was not the case. He slept fitfully and at one point cried out, startling Ashara out of a hard sleep. Without thought she tightened her arms around him protectively, sadly realizing that now she wasn't the only one susceptible to nightmares, before she promptly passed out once again.

***

Ashara found herself back in the rose gardens at the Spires of the Morning in Waterdeep. Instead of the High Radiance that had actually been there at the time, it was Eddick that was walking along beside her. He talked of his family and the many adventures of his forefathers, and she smiled, absorbing the wisdom of his years as she listened intently. Her hand rested comfortably in the crook of his arm, just as she would do when walking with her father.

At some point in the dream, and she realized that it was that, she got the feeling that she was late for something. Slightly panicked, she ran out of the gardens and out of the temple, only to see that the sun had nearly reached its zenith. In her eagerness to hear the druid's tales, she had missed the dawn.

***

The priestess sat bolt upright. The dawn was still nearly half an hour away, and she was relieved for that, but her surroundings confused her. She remembered that she had been sitting against the bricks over there with... ELRIC!? Where was he? She whipped her head around to the side and saw him lying a few feet away on a wheat bed, sleeping soundly. A wheat bed? Ashara rubbed her eyes wondering if she was still dreaming. Surely none of this made any sense!

She opened her eyes once more and saw that she was still surrounded by what was left of Calimport. A harsh reality. Plumes of smoke from dying flames still rose to the skies in the west, and there were still many people purposefully moving down the cleared pathways of the city. Some carrying bodies, the lucky ones carrying the injured. Turning her eyes to the south, she saw that at some point in the night a garden had been skillfully planted, and she smiled warmly when she saw the sleeping form of the old druid hunched next to his handiwork.

Eddick always seemed to be watching over them like a protective father of his children, and Ashara had grown to fondly think of him in that light. She had told him before that would've asked him to walk her to the altar for the wedding, but that duty was already claimed, and rightfully so. Still, she wished he could play a larger part on that day. A seed of a thought was planted in her mind at that moment. The priestess had yet to talk with her friend at the Spires of the Morning about performing the ceremony, and Eddick knew very much of the faith of Lathander having a paladin son and a temple to the Morninglord back at his home... She smiled and wondered if he would accept such an offer. It would seem fitting in a way, to keep it all 'in the family.' Ashara was sure that Elric would rather have their friend officiating their wedding, than a man he had never met. It certainly couldn't hurt to ask Eddick what he thought of the idea!

Rain and mud saturated armor broke her from her pleasant thoughts, and she shifted uncomfortably in the mithril plate. Her pack sat next to her and she was happy to find that the crimson robe she had stuffed inside of it remained mostly dry. Piece by piece she removed the heavy armor. Perhaps wasn't the most appropriate place for changing clothes, but she was discreet enough and everyone was either sleeping or going about more important business to notice anyway.

There was much work to be done today, and though she knew that she couldn't heal the entire city, Ashara hoped that perhaps she could bring a ray of hope to a few of the lives in this place. Again she wondered of the other Champions. Eddick had found them, but what of the others? Gwilly would probably be exhausted by now and she worried for her dear friend. Kaber had probably worked all night without slowing, but Therogeon would have needed to get some rest. She hoped the mage had found a safe place to sleep for the evening.

As dawn approached, her eyes drifted back toward Elric. Normally he would be awake by now, beginning his morning routines, but she had no desire to wake him. He needed the sleep. More for his spirit than his body. Ashara smiled as she knelt on the bed of wheat, glad that the two men were with her, even if they were sleeping. When the blazing red sun broke over the horizon, she began her prayers.

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Therogeon

Post  MrPrettyPretty on Wed Jan 20, 2010 11:00 am

It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Therogeon hated this town. Hated as much as any mortal could hate anything. Yet, the sight of it burning, the smell of the bodies, filled the young mage with a profound sadness and a desire to aleve the suffering of the citizens of this once great city. He had worked all through the night, stopping to rest only to memorize spells, and still for all his power, all his abilities, it wasn't enough.

He was so tired now he could no longer cast spells much less memorize them. He had used every drop of power from his wand of frost battling the fires, now it was nothing more than a fancy stick. He had resorted to digging through the rubble by hand, desperately searching for any signs of life. Still, it wasn't enough.

He had used his spells to free this family only to watch as another was crushed by a falling building. The burned or crushed corpses of children haunt his visions, so much that he sees them where ever he looks. A mother desperately trying to sheild her only child as the flames consumed them. He had found those bodies only an hour earlier. He honestly did not know how he was still crying. The tears had been falling from his eyes all night.

He slowly stood up. There was nothing left in this building. No survivors and thankfully, no bodies. There was nothing here. Or was there? Was that a sound he heard? A faint scratching? Desperately he continued to dig, stretching his muscles past their point of endurance. Slowly the sound got louder, and it was definitely a scratching and a, whining? Quickly he tossed aside the last peice of mud brick and saw....a small puppy. This thing couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. It's one back leg was broken and it was looking up at the mage with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.

Carefully and ever so slowly, Therogeon picked up the puppy. Immediately, with a trust that only the young and animals can have, the puppy licked the wizards face. The half elf carefully cuddled the puppy to him as a fresh set of tears fell from his face. He slowly stood up, attempting to find some help for this small animal, when exhaustion over took him. His last memory was off falling backwards so as not to hurt the puppy any more.
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Re: 11th of Alturiak - CoRD Epilogue 1 - Calimport

Post  Swiftboot on Wed Jan 20, 2010 1:16 pm

Timbers creaked in protest, but held firm as the men dragged three bodies from the wreckage. When they were clear, Kaber released the supporting beam with a crash. Glancing down, he saw one of victims seemed to be alive, barely. A small victory, but a victory still.

The familiar weight once again rested across the warrior's broad shoulders. His work was done here, on to the next, as it had been all night. At some point, muscles of iron would weaken and fail to move his legs any further. But not now, not yet.

Somewhere ahead Kaber could hear wood being shifted as someone furiously bore through the rubble. Stepping around the remnants of what used to be part of the upper street, he saw a figure emerge from the fragments of a building. The person seemed to be holding something small close to their chest. They took a couple of unsteady steps, search for aparent aid. Having seen the signs of exhaustion in others a dozen times already, the minotaur moved to help.

Large hands gently caught the form as it began to fall backwards and eased it to the ground. Looking closer, Kaber had his first surprise when he realized that this man was known to him. Covered in grime, and clothes in tatters, Therogeon looked as any other person among the ruins.

What the mage had pulled from the destruction was surprisingly not an infant, but a concerned, and somewhat protective, small animal. Clearly it was injured, but not life threatening. Perhaps Eddick could do something for it. As for the wizard, he would need much rest.

The minotaur tried to make things as comforatble as he could for his campanion, then sat down next to him. He could rest a minute and take stock of the situation. Through the night the minotaur had not seen any of his fellows, and had no idea where they could be. It would be unwise to leave Therogeon here alone.

Grinning at his own thoughts, Kaber pondered how much he had come to rely upon the mage. He still did not understand magic, but he no longer feared it either. Therogeon fought as hard as anyone with a blade. He fought for what he believed in, and to protect those in need. In fact, it was him who dealt the blow that destroyed the the dragon-god, and allowed Ashara to smite it before it could reform. Also, while it was the minotaur's own blade that destroyed the first dracolich, it was the mage's enchantments upon Kaber that allowed him to do so. Magic came through, where steel alone could not.

His foolish fears about magic seemed unfounded now. Oh, there were those who used it for harm, but just as with a sword, there were those who would use it to help others. By Eddick's definition, they should all be knights. Perhaps that is why they are always spoken so highly of, knights and the Champions, because they are all willing to fight for something bigger than themselves, whatever the cost.

Sitting here would not find their fellows. And while it was good to rest, there was much to be done yet. Kaber stood and slung his gear over his shoulder again. Carefully, he knelt down and lifted the unconcious mage with puppy still cradled in arms. Taking a brief glance around to make sure he didn't miss anything of Therogeon's (he'd never hear the end of it if the mage's books were lost), he set out to find the next place he was needed.

He would have to find someplace for the mage to rest while he worked. He would continue to carry his friend from place to place until the rest of the companions were found, or Therogeon awoke. Secretly, Kaber wished that either would happen soon. As much as he owed the wizard, it was a little embarrassing caring him as such. Also, the minotaur was sure his charge would be a little disturbed if he knew what was happening.
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Wed Jan 20, 2010 3:01 pm

The priestess prayed for about an hour that morning. Not only for spells, but for strength and the wisdom to know how best to aid those people in need. There was also the question of Dawnspeaker. Why did it remain at her side? She had been sure that it would go back to the Morninglord after they had completed the mission set before them. Did that mean they were not yet done? What of Annalganan? The Champions had expected to have to fight him, and then defend him against those that sought to kill him, yet none of that had taken place. The only answer Lathander saw fit to provide her with was that their mission had indeed been completed.

Joy for the future mingled with the serious responsibilities they had yet to attend to in Calimport, as she got to her feet. Both Eddick and Elric still lay asleep, and though she knew that the day before had been long for both of them, she also realized that this day could be just as taxing. Her fingers traced symbols in the air as she whispered a few divine words before touching the first the druid then the warrior. The spell was the same that she had cast the previous evening, and would make them immune to fatigue for almost two weeks. At least that would take care of the physical exhaustion, though neither of the men woke up at that moment.

Kneeling down next to Elric, she carefully examined his shredded fingers. They didn't appear to be infected...yet, but she couldn't leave them in that state, or he wouldn't be able to use his hands at all. Ashara was glad that he was still asleep, for she knew he would object to her using even the most minor of her healing spells on him when there were others in need. Since sleeping people didn't get a vote, she breathed a single word and touched his hands, sealing up the injuries.

He would not be pleased if he slept in too late, since there was so much to do. The thought of dumping a bucket of water over him DID cross her mind, but she knew that today was not the day for such pranks. Startled that she'd even consider such a thing, she realized that perhaps she HAD been spending too much time with Gwilly! After chastizing herself with a tug of a braid, Ashara reached over and squeezed Elric's shoulder gently to try to wake him.

"Elric, it's morning..."

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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Wed Jan 20, 2010 5:23 pm

The sound of Ashara's soft voice jerked him awake from the horrible nightmares. Disorientated the first thing he noticed was the pleasant smell of roses. Very powerful, almost overwhelming. Next he felt the warm sun on his face blinding him. Finally blinking away the water and the light the concerned face of Ashara faded into view.

All the horror of the night before melted as he saw her there. It was only a dream. She was covered in dirt and had slept out in the rain, but at that moment she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"hmmm....Good morning..." He shook the final remnants of the dream from his head and smiled up at her. Dazed he looked around at his strange surroundings. Wheat beds, gardens. For a moment he wondered if he was still dreaming. As he sat up, the bigger picture came into view. Once again he looked upon what was left of the once great city. The devastation sparked the memory of the day before. It was all a blur, but he remembered enough. Slowly the smile slid off his face.

"It wasn't all a dream..."


Last edited by Elric on Fri Jan 22, 2010 3:10 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Wed Jan 20, 2010 9:17 pm

"It wasn't all a dream..."

"No," she sighed as she followed his gaze over the ruins, "I'm afraid not."

Ashara drew her legs beneath her and sat on her heels, absentmindedly clutching Dawnspeaker at her side. "I have been told that our mission has been completed, though from this view of things it seems like there is still so much to be done before we can rest."

She studied the warrior's expression as he watched another body being carried down the road past them. She was still worried about him. In the Dawn, the way is always clearer, it is true, but lack of sleep and food could cloud the mind like a thick fog. And it wasn't only her stomach that was grumbling...

"I told the High Morninglord that I would meet him sometime this morning so we can feed and get clean water to as many citizens as possible. I had hoped that all the Champions could meet there at the temple -- well, where it used to be -- this morning to get some food as well. Eddick joined us last night," she smiled motioning to the curled up form next to the tilled earth, "but I have no idea where the others are."

The druid's legs twitched a bit, and she grinned as she wondered if he was dreaming of being a horse running through his plains back home. She hoped so. They were all in desperate need of some good dreams. And maybe a vacation...

When she turned her attention back to Elric, it seemed as if the weights of guilt had begun pulling again at his strong shoulders. Ashara could not hide the concern in her eyes as she addressed him.

"Elric, are you going to be alright?" She brushed her fingers along his newly healed hand. "We witnessed some terrible things yesterday..."

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Gwilly

Post  TRU on Wed Jan 20, 2010 11:25 pm

The pixie hung there in the air feeling nothing. Time was lost to her as the sun fell and rose again without her notice. The still silence of death rung loudly in her ears demanding her very soul to listen and respond, and yet, she didn't know how.

Finally Gwilly came to her senses. She looked around for her companions and saw no sign of them. Only then did she notice that it was once again morning. How many days...? She looked around and the city looked much the same as she remembered. It couldn't have been to long, but she had to find her friends.

Keeping a watchful eye out for anything familiar, Gwilly started to fly around looking for her friends. Soon she spotted something that seemed out of place, a garden, growing in the midst of the rubble. Curiosity overcame her as she flew closer to check it out. As she got closer she recognized a familiar form sleeping near the newly planted garden. It was Eddick.

Gwilly flew down and landed softly on her old friend's shoulder. She made herself visible as she whispered, "Eddick, what do I do?"
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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Wed Jan 20, 2010 11:54 pm

"I... don't know." He answered with complete honesty. "Yesterday was..." he was silent as he searched for the right word. "Intense." It seemed a poor description, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice.

He looked around again at his surroundings. The druid, the garden, these homemade beds. The half-elf just shook his head in confusion. "I have no memory how we got here."

"The last thing I remember was digging... There were so many..." The weight on his shoulders seemed to grow as he spoke.

His eyes seemed to focus on Dawnspeaker as if he just realized its presence. He remembered Ashara using it to finally destroy Xvim, yet there it still was. With a long sigh he asked "Why doesn't it feel like we won?"


Last edited by Elric on Thu Jan 21, 2010 10:45 am; edited 1 time in total
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Eddick

Post  Eddick the Steady (XIV) on Thu Jan 21, 2010 9:28 am

Eddick awoke with a start. He felt as if he had been caught drooling in his sleep, when he realized that he was nearly all wet due to the rain. It was an uncomfortable feeling waking up wet, But there was nearly nothing dry around here. It wouldn't be long though until the familiar sun was up today, and the desert air would come in and all would become arid like before. Eddick glanced over at his garden, realizing that it was well placed and would be fine for the day at least, suddenly figured out the means of his waking.

Gwilly was staring at him with a questioning look.
"Eddick, what do I do?"
"It might be good to find the rest of our friends. And then do what we can to help. But whatever we do, we should do together, don't you think?"
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Thu Jan 21, 2010 11:10 am

"Why doesn't it feel like we won?"

Ashara's heart grew heavy as she listened to his words, but what concerned her the most was the hollowness of his voice. She released her grip on the holy weapon, and wrapped both of her hands around his in support.

"It's hard to feel like we've won when we are surrounded by so many who've lost. But, if we're weighing the worth of what has been accomplished here, we have to remember the thousands...millions?...of lives that have been saved by destroying The Most Hated Wyrm."

A strangled sigh escaped her lips when she saw the pain in his eyes.

"Whatever you need from me, Aratoamin... Anything I can do, you mustn't be afraid to tell me. If you need to stay here until the city is rebuilt, if you need to leave and find some peace for a time... Whatever it takes to make you whole again. You have done exactly that for me, and I want to be able to return the favor."

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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Thu Jan 21, 2010 6:15 pm

Elric listened to what she said. It made sense. They had just saved the world from an Evil God. They had foiled whatever plans Shar had for the rod. He had no idea what those plans were... Perhaps ressurecting Myrkul was or wasn't part of it anymore. However, Shar had told them herself that they had ruined her plans... That had to count for something.

Again he looked around what was left of the city. Calimport was in ruins. It's people were dead. However, Calimport was not the nation of Amn. Calimport was not the whole of Faerun. It was hard to focus on all that had been saved when surrounded by all that they'd lost.

In his gazing, his eyes came across Ashara's discarded armor. The twin holes where Cyric's assassin struck stared at him mockingly. Once again he saw a vision of a white robe splashed with red. He couldn't repress the shiver that worked its way through him. He looked at his hand in hers and half expected them to melt away.

"All I need is you." He kissed her hands. "Please, just... stay nearby today." For the first time he noticed that while his hands were trembling, they weren't as damaged as he vaguely remembered them being. He tried to remember if he'd still had the regeneration yesterday... He didn't think so.

"I'll... I'll just feel better, knowing your near."
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Ashara

Post  Penelope on Thu Jan 21, 2010 9:11 pm

The priestess smiled up at him warmly. "I promise to keep you in my line of sight at all times, except perhaps for the few mintues it will take me to wash this grime off in the ocean. It would be easy enough to use a spell, but I think that there is likely someone in this city who could use some healing more than I could use a bath!"

"At least I feel like I need a bath," she sniffed, looking a little confused. "I can't for the life of me figure out why the only thing I smell is roses!"

Ashara grinned and squeezed his hand before shifting over to pack up her things. Glancing over to where Eddick had been sleeping, she saw him sitting up talking to Gwilly who rested on his shoulder. She turned back to Elric with a thoughtful look on her face.

"I know this might not be the most appropriate day to discuss such things," she said in a low whisper, "but I was wondering what you thought of Eddick leading our wedding ceremony? Whenever that will be...," she added with a grin and a slightly frustrated sigh. "As the highest ranking druid in the region, he's more than qualified to officiate, and plus he knows much of the faith of Lathander. He's become a close friend and I think it would be nice if he could be a part of it!"

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Elric

Post  Colin Marcus on Thu Jan 21, 2010 10:24 pm

"Eddick?!?" Elric said with surprise. "I didn't know druids did that..." Ashara's question had come right out of the blue and it took him a moment to think straight. "I thought you had something already set up with Ea.. Eol...." Elric tried to remember the name of the friend she had told him about from Waterdeep. "Erolon?"

Elric looked over toward his two friends. He felt a spark of joy to see that Gwilly had rejoined them. The thought of her lost in this place was not something he wanted to dwell on. For a moment he wondered what had become of Kaber and Therogeon. But just for a moment. Focusing on the wedding seemed to drive many of the dark shadows from his mind.

It surprised him that Ashara would have someone other than a priest of Lathander perform the ceremony, but as he looked at the druid, it made sense. He's been there from the beginning of their relationship. Before really... The half-elf thought back to the knowing grin the druid wore in Dagadar... Was that his memory or Ashara's? Maybe both. All the advice that he'd given to both of them... It was fitting that he see it through!

"I think that's a wonderful idea..." he smiled up at her. For the first time since they met Tantarius in Athkatla the smile seemed to reach his eyes again. He even surprised himself with a chuckle. "I hope he keeps the metaphors to a minimum, I'd like to know what's being said at my own wedding!"
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Colin Marcus
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