21st of Eleasius-In the Tunnels under the Water

Willow heard herself telling the others that they should take some time to rest here after all that had happened. They all seemed to agree. She felt strangely calm in spite of it all and she wasn't sure why.

She looked down at the body of her fallen friend. Mirelda lay at an awkward angle... It had to be fixed somehow. The mysterious lady deserved more honor then to be left as she was...

Willow laid her straight on her back, crossing her hands over her chest and, finally, closing her eyes.

It was then that the emotion of it all hit her. A raging flood of tears broke the dams and Willow's whole body was wracked with sobs so fierce that they hardly made a sound. Only when she gasped for breath did she make a sound as a momentary wail would escape her lips. Pain, there was so much pain! Why... why did it hurt so much...?

Willow felt as if she could cry for an eternity and never stop.

How did it come to this? He had sworn to help the terrified young woman who had come charging into the landbound ship.

He had failed.

Evil had won a victory this day, and he himself had been bested in combat. Admittedly Evil had not fought honorably... But Lady Mirelda had done her best to save HIS life... That was NOT the way things were suppose to be. His hands wandered up to the wound on his throat. Or else she had gone mad too... but inside he truly believed she'd been trying to help.

Nor was he the only one having difficulty coming to terms with this loss. The cat-bird was curled up next to their fallen comrade, and Willow was sobbing. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was the sound of a woman crying. He made his way over toward her and gently placed his hand upon her sobbing shoulder.

"Be at ease Lady Willow... She shall be avenged." He proclaimed with confidence, though he himself had no idea how such a thing would come to pass.

Alec stood back, away from the sorrowful sobs and bold reassurances. He had attempted two spells to aid the suffocating woman -- both he knew to be futile before ever he had cast them, but something within had compelled him to try regardless. The majority of his magic helped when researching whatever creature they stumbled across in writings of old, but in the field were hardly practical. In no way was he prepared to help anyone in her situation.

That realization hardly served as condolence while watching the woman expire, and witnessing the tears silently sliding down the cheeks of Tara as she stared in unblinking sadness at the display only compounded that lingering guilt. How many had he seen butchered by teeth and claw? The number easily crested two score. Staggering figures, to say the least. Why, then, did the loss of this particular woman seem to affect him so profoundly?

That question echoed within the realm of his throughts even as he caught Jean-Pierre by the arm as the Dementlieuan started forward to the grieving folk. "We are not new to this end," Alec reminded his partner, reminded himself. He knew the truth of those words, spoke them with conviction even, yet their meaning fell short of significance at that moment.

Jean-Pierre nodded to his companion without ever looking back. In the Realm from which they had come, dark magic festered abundantly within every alley, sewer, and shadow-infested forest. Jean-Pierre had seen many a practitioner driven mad by its use, and often feared what he would one day be forced to do when insanity laid claim to Alec. In his experience, such a thing was not an eventuality so much as inevitability. He had known Mirelda for a very short time, yet seeing her paling and still upon the hard stone acted as a reminder to him how difficult it would be when that time arrived. It becomes personal, no matter how desperately one might struggle to keep it otherwise.

When his partner reluctantly released the grip on his arm, Jean-Pierre continued forward and kneeled above the woman's head. He kissed two fingers of his right hand, then placed them upon Mirelda's forehead, tracing an invisible pattern there with an almost religious efficiency. "A kiss to warm your journey beyond ze cold veil," he whispered, though not in an attempt to hide the words. "I know nussing about Barovia, save for what ze tales have told . . . I say zis only so you might not grow angry by my wishing zat Ezra show you mercy and comfort and warmth."

He inhaled a steadying breath after the short prayer, then peeked to Willow from beneath his eyebrows, offering her a quick nod of condolence.

The dwarf, for once, didn't feel like laughing. He was no stranger to death, one couldn't be a battle rager and not expect to see friends die. This was different however. This strange woman from somewhere called Barovia wasn't a rager. Sure, she didn't seem to like him much, but again that was nothing new for the eccentric dwarf.

Soft tears fell into his beard as he watched the other young woman, Willow he believed, close the eyes of the poor lass. He brought out his pipe but even the familiar taste of tobacco didn't soothe the overly emotional fighter. Sighing he tamped out the pipe and put it away.

The dwarf looked around. There was not much around but the lass deserved better than to lie on the cold ground. He brought out one of his axes and searched for a place to start digging. To the dwarf, there was no better ending than to be returned to the stone and earth, and this way, no wandering animals or creatures would make a snack and desicrate her remains.

The sobs threatened to tear Willow apart. The cords of hope and peace that she had used to so carefully tie her new life together with were not proving to be very strong. They were fraying quickly indeed, some of them were about to snap.

In the midst of her lonely sobbing she felt someone touch her shoulders. Surely it was Gilraven, for he was always there for her. He would understand. He would...

"Be at ease Lady Willow... She shall be avenged."

But that wasn't his voice.

He wasn't here. She didn't know what to do. Gilraven had always been there to guide her when she was unsure of something. But she had left him... Left to go on this blasted journey to find herself. All she had found so far was an ignorant jumbled mess. If she couldn't save someone dying from a necklace then what good was she? A necklace for gods sake! Maybe she should just go home and give up on being a "beacon of hope to all". There was no hope.

There was no peace.

The tears were hot on her cheeks now as anger and disappointment mixed with frustration and loss.

"There... was... nothing... I could... do." she whispered through her tears. "Why? Why couldn't I... help her? Save her?"

The feeling of failure weighed heavy on Willow's small shoulders. She was a strong girl but this weight was more then she could bare. She wanted to bang her head against the stone floor. Maybe some physical pain would bring some relief to the grief that she felt. Maybe it would make things easier...

What was she thinking, hurting herself just to make the emotional pain go away. This was absurd. Willow knew she wasn't thinking clearly but her mind was in such a fog, she didn't know what to do.

She tried composing herself as she looked up at Sir Trueblade standing next to her. She was able to choke back the sobs just long enough to speak.

"What do I do now?" her eyes pleaded with the knight as she looked at him, lips quivering as she still shook from the sorrow of it all.

"Persevere." The dismayed knight stated softly but with steel in his voice.

"The forces of Evil struck a mighty blow against us today, tis true." Sir Trueblade sad voice explained. "I did not know Lady Mirelda very well, but she shall be missed. Her information about this evil we face has proven invaluable."

A determined look came over the knight. His back straightened and his voice deepened. Even without his armor there was no doubt he spoke with the conviction of a knight. Perhaps because he was without the dilapitated armor the powerful, confident man's words held more power. "It has drawn first blood. Yet, know that we are not defeated yet. From what I gathered, Lady Mirelda was well acquainted with this brand of evil and had been at odds with it her whole life. If we are able to prevail using her knowledge, then she will not have died in vain. This force she fought against did not kill us all tonight. That shall be it's undoing."

"Remember her well, Lady Willow." He said softly again and patted her shoulder. "She was not a part of this world for long. However, it is a better world for her having been here."

"There is nothing more a person can ask for."

"Persevere."

As soon as Willow heard Sir Trueblade say this she knew he was right. She had to keep going, even through the pain. She sighed and nodded at his words.

"The forces of Evil struck a mighty blow against us today, tis true." Sir Trueblade sad voice explained. "I did not know Lady Mirelda very well, but she shall be missed. Her information about this evil we face has proven invaluable."

The knight paused. His words were strong and sure. Willow had thought him foolhardy, chasing the mist with no other plan of attack. His methods where unorthodox but his words, at this moment, rung true.

Willow listened to Sir Trueblade as he spoke again. He seemed confident that they would best this evil mist. She wanted to believe him, but she wasn't so sure yet. Mirelda was gone, and what would keep the rest of them from the same fate. The mist was deceptive and tricky, and, so far, it seemed to have remained unharmed by anyone except the one who lay dead on the cold stone.

"Remember her well, Lady Willow." He said softly again and patted her shoulder. "She was not a part of this world for long. However, it is a better world for her having been here."

"There is nothing more a person can ask for."

Willow nodded as she looked over at Mirelda's body lying on the ground.

"Yes, I will remember her. Though we only knew each other a short while I feel as though I had a strong bond with Mirelda. We had been through a lot in these past hours... I shall miss her and never forget her."

"I pray she will be avenged!"

Willow sighed. Though her heart was heavy, she realized that her tears were gone. She had stopped crying a while ago with out realizing it. She smiled kindly at the knight.

"Thank you for your words of comfort." she paused for a moment, finding the right words in the jumbled mess of her head. "I will try to persevere!"

The knight nodded. He was glad his words held some comfort for the young lady. They helped him too. This was the first time he could remember having been defeated by the forces of evil. It was a stinging blow, but the battle was not over. They had been knocked from their steeds, but they would rise up again.

"I know you will, Lady Willow." he said with certainty. "You have a strength in you. I'm not certain what kind yet... but I can sense a strength. You can persevere."

Willow let a small smile escape her lips. It was strange to hear Sir Trueblade call her "Lady Willow". She certainly wasn't used to him yet, but she did appreciate his ideals.

Willow sighed. Her grief still waited in the wings, threatening to overcome her again. She needed to do something else to take her mind off things. She noticed the dwarf swinging his axe at the stone floor several paces away. She walked over to him, hoping to get his attention.

"Mournaxe, what are you doing?"

As Willow and the knight began to converse in earnest, Jean-Pierre quietly slipped away to not intrude upon their words. Approaching Alec, he saw the look in the moon-flashed eyes of his companion and furrowed his brow slightly in question.

Alec glanced down to the young girl that had inched back toward him and wrapped her small arms about his waist in a comforting hug. He brushed the hair away from her face in a rare display of tenderness. "I am going to secure a way out," he said softly, allowing only his partner to distinguish the words.

Jean-Pierre moved right up beside him, so their conversation could be more easily disguised. "Zey wish to rest now," he reiterated.

"I know what they wish to do," Alec growled. "Yet I question their nerve. I wonder how many of them would simply die here if another way beside the obvious cannot be found."

The Diementlieuan threw his partner a sharp glare. "You give zem too little credit, Alec. Zese are not quitters to just lie down and die."

Alec refused to acknowledge the harsh look. He maintained a steady countenance. "Find rest, then, Jean-Pierre, but do not sleep soundly. She's out there, and she's angry with us . . ." His eyes swept across the cavern, taking in the others going about their business. "With all of us. This must end sooner rather than later. Watch Tara closely. I do not understand exactly what's going on here, and would not see her hurt."

"Of course I will watch her," Jean-Pierre replied, as if the obvious point need go without saying. "Should I stall zem until you return?"

Alec shook his head. "No. When everyone feels rested and dealt with their grief, let them go. I hope not to be gone that long, so it should not matter."

"Very well, Alec," Jean-Pierre said. He held out his hand so that Tara might take it, and the little girl complied. His fellow hunter wasted no time departing.

The dwarf paused in midswing. He turned and looked at the human female who had spoken to him, the traces of tears on her cheeks mirroring the ones staining his beard.

"Doin Lass? Why, I'm carving a cairn for the lady." He pointed his axe at Mirelda, "I may not 'av known her well, but she was a boon companion and I'll not see her to sit out here and become lunch for what ever beastie comes a crawling." He shook his head, his beard waggeling fiercly beneath his chin, "Nah, she deserves better than that and by Moradin's toes, I'll see she get's it."

The dwarf then continued to hack at the ground beneath him, stone and dirt chips flying harshly into the air.

"A 'Cairn'?" Willow wasn't sure exactly sure what Mournaxe meant by that strange word.

"Wait," the young woman grabbed the dwarf's arm. "Do you think we would just leave her body here?"

Willow hung her head as a heavy sigh escaped her lips. In her grief she hadn't thought about what they should do with Mirelda's body. It had all happened so fast, she had barely had any time to react, but now duty called. For some reason, the dwarf thought it would be best to bury her in this pit. Maybe being buried under ground was honorable to the dwarves, but this place was vile and tainted by the mist.

Willow sank to the ground.

"No, we cannot leave her here," she said firmly. "We must bury her, but not here, not in this vile place. The mist has tainted these tunnels. I would not rest at ease knowing Mirelda was buried here. I believe it would be best if we buried her above, out of the mist, that she may finally be free of the very thing she feared."

Willow looked up at the dwarf with steel in her eyes.

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't call me 'daft' about this decision."

The dwarf placed a stubby and calloused hand on Willow's shoulder. "Nay lass, ye might be daft but not about this." He looked around them at the cavern and sighed. "Yur right of course. This be no place to lie in eternal rest."

He awkwardly patted the girls shoulder and turned to look at the group. Willow was not strong enough to carry the body, and obviously the young'en couldn't. The dwarven priest would probably needed for...what ever humans needed priests for. He shook his head, it still struck him as odd, a dwarf worshiping a human god. The two who spoke funny might be able to carry her, but then again, they didn't look strong enough to carry themselves, even -if- one of them proclaimed to be a priest of Moradin. Silly humans. That left him.

He stretched out his shoulders, arms and neck. Holding his hands out in front of him he laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "Ai'ght I'll take her. Let's get out of here then."

The knight exhaled a deep breath. He wasn't sure what to do now... While conversing with Lady Willow he had failed to take notice of what the naked dwarf had been doing. As soon as the young lady had drawn his attention to the makeshift grave he had prepared to launch into a verbal jousting match with the (likely) mad dwarf... but it wasn't necessary.

As he had thought about this den of evil and the disfigured and desecrated sailors down the hall... there was no way he would allow a fallen comrade to be left behind. He intended to inform his companions of that in no uncertain terms...

But it appeared that his words were not necessary. He wasn't sure how he felt about that... Another battle denied him, though he had no desire to fight his companions in ANY arena. Lady Willow had easily deflected Mournaxe's grim intentions, and his own support was not necessary. Now the dwarf was just as intent on carrying Mirelda out of here as he was...

But not JUST yet...

"Good dwarf... " Sir Tobias interrupted. "Leave her rest as she is for the time... Indeed, it had been decided that we all could use some rest." It stung Tobias to acknowledge weakness in himself, and in fact if so many in the group were not on the verge of collapse both physically and emotionally, he would never allow his own limitations slow the party.

"Though I have no desire to stay here a moment longer than necessary... I am not so certain that our battle in this cursed place is over yet. Nor have we determined a manner to survive the trip to the surface..." That thought bothered the knight. If they had no magic to reach the surface... then whatever evil was left to fight, had to be defeated here!

It was then that he noticed the group was not as complete as it should have been.

"Besides... Someone is missing! Where is Lord Troson?" He didn't entirely trust the one called Alec. Or the one called Jean-pierre either. For people who had dedicated their lives to fighting this specific form of Evil... They didn't have NEAR the knowledge that the knight expected... Nearly every question presented to them was answered with "I have no idea..." Very suspicious... He also highly disapproved of their 'care' for the child Tara. They almost seemed to use her innate Terror of evil as a measuring stick to track it! To willing use a child's terror in such a way did NOT sit well with the knight. He felt their first priority should have been to heal the child and after five years, they SHOULD have at least found her voice... or found SOME way of communication.

Still his instincts told him they were not evil. He had learned to trust those instincts and he had no intenions of second guessing himself now. The child truly seemed... attached to them of her own will...