Darkwood--Darkness Rising

[Led Pighp]

"Woman! Don't shush me. I'm free of evil parasitic... stuff... growing inside me. That's enough to make anybody happy. And if I choose to share that with..." he waves his hand at Annalysei "... some most excellent fighter of mixed ancestry, well... that's just fine." He loooks closer at her and sees the flail. "Hey, I have one of those, too."

Back to Laurel, "Because in just a few minutes, I'm going to realize that Marrik is still dead. And that's going to just kill my mood all to hell."

"Yup. There it is." Led falls back on his back in the thin snow, no longer smiling. Speaking upwards to the sky now, "That guy promised to Raise Marrik from the dead in a day or two. And to think, just a few days ago, we were standing over the bodies of Barak and Beauregard. Now I wish we hadn't burned them. That was probably a really bad idea."

[Seven Words]

Skyseeker tells Annelysei of her homeland....how the Golden Wood fell to the Dark millenia ago, the wardings around the edge of the Wood, the desperate exodus southeast....the recent failings of the great wards. She emphasizes how appalled her people wold be at the disgusting xenophobic self-righteous superior attitude of the Protector. And also, the fact that one of the Protector's close associates has been fomenting trouble between her enclave and some of the local Heshic tribes, leading an apparent double-life between the thousands of miles separate places.

[Annalysei]

Anna smiles at Led, chuckling, "You're absolutely right. My mother was elven, hence the pointy ears. She didn't much care for the Protector, and found my father rather fetching, I suppose. From what I've heard, it didn't take long for my father to realize that not all elves were like the Protector and his followers. " her smile fades as she continues "The Protector's people found her eight years ago, when my father was out training. She and my father thought they were safe, it had been years and my father's keep is deep in the countryside. They slaughtered her and all of our servants in our home. I was the only survivor, only because she hid me when the screams started. My father began to train me for war that very day."

A faint ghost of a smile returns to her face "...but I do thank you for the compliment. I've been fascinated with Norkkun ever since I heard of him, so I picked up a flail. You wouldn't believe how often I hit myself in the head with it in the beginning. Tricky things, flails."

Annalysei turns and nods in thanks at Skyseeker "Thank you for sharing your story. It seems that all of us have been victims of the Protector's dark ambitions."

[OOC ETA: Pronounz. I do not haz them correct.]

[Laurel]

Seeing Led slowly coming out of an apparent manic episode, and assuming Spirit Stalker's silence regarding paying a tribute to Darethon implied permission to use the two vials of Cure Disease, Laurel turned and handed one to Vynrkus and the other to Crush Spike. As she handed the vial to Crush Spike, she turned to address him. "I know nothing of your kind and have yet to hear you speak. When your armor was frozen earlier, your eyes made it clear you comprehended all Led said to you, as have your actions after. It is my hope you can speak directly with us now.

"The cleric of Savage War says the adamantine of your anatomy will make removing the slaad eggs extremely difficult. Do you know of any surgical techniques we could try that are different from what you just saw me do to remove one from Led? Any specialized tools which could make the procedure easier? Or is there a specialist of healing for your kind we should seek out?

"You joined in our campaign to free these people of the Protector with no questions asked. In return I wish to offer help to you in whatever form I can."

Turning briefly back to Led after Annalysei finished her reply, the bard lowers her head at the mention of Beauregard and Barak. "We currently do not have anyone with us who has the gift of foresight. We had to decide to give them honor with what we knew was available to us. Between doing what we could to honor the volk companions of Sigrid, to allow Barak to ascend in silence, and to toss Beauregard's ashes in to the flames of our cooking fire per the traditions of the halflings, we did the best we could at the time."

Reaching out to brush his brow tenderly, she whispers to him, "Rest, and let this sorrow go..."

[Led Pighp]

Led closes his eyes at the caress, and mumbles. "Norkkun. That's the guy who fought all those undead?"

[Seven Words]

CrushSpike replies to Laurel, "I would rather, if it's all right, simply drink the potion and be done. I joined you because the vast farrago of lies my life had been based upon were ripped from me. The plight of my people is an abomination. Led, to whom I am forever indebted, showed me the truth, that my people and his people are capable of being civilized, of living on our own, rather than beholden to our makers like particularly gifted pets.

My kind? We were created as an attempt to create better constructs, rather than simple-minded golems. We bridge the gap between living and nonliving. Spells of healing work upon us, but not well. Our construct nature makes them only half as effective. However, we are very resistant to many things which plague living creatures. Disease and poisons, to name two. We need little or no sleep, also. We were made for war, hence the name, WarForged"

[Sigrid]

"You're Maartyn's child? He is of Norkkun's line. Even my clan knows of him. I believe we have something for you."

I approach Led. "You should show her your flail. She's the one we can trade it with."

[Sorchat]

"So, um, were you hurt in the fighting?"

[Still speaking in Ignan, so as to not exclude Aednat.]

"She doesn't speak Ignan. She can talk special to me, but nobody else understands."

[Led Pighp]

Led opens his eyes again, and focuses them on Sigrid. "She's the one? Norkkun's great-great-granddaughter or whatever?"

He sits up quickly, still perhaps a bit manic, even in his funk, then rocks back and flips up to his feet. He's a little unsteady in his landing, but he makes it. "Let's see, shall we?"

He whistles for his horse, and eventually sees where Laurel had tied them all up. Going over to the animal, he rubs its neck and nuzzles its face a bit. Then he opens the saddlebag and pulls out an exquisitly forged dire flail. He absentmindedly uses it as he walks back to the group, performing some of the same maneuvers Annalysei had done during the fight. He seems to have reasonable competance with the thing, if not outstanding. He at least fails to injure himself as he moves.

When he arrives back, he gets a solemn expression and holds the flail close to his chest. "Before we begin negotiations, you may inspect the goods." Then he inhales, and closes his eyes, almost in prayer. That done, he holds out the flail to Annalysei, "This is your umteenth great grandfather's flail. When you absolutely, positively, gotzta kill every wraith on the field... accept no substitute."

[Laurel]

At Sigrid's words to Led, the bard raises a brow. "Yes, the tales say Maartyn is of Norkkun's line. But I doubt a questing heir would have on her what this flail would be worth to him.

"Led, I suggest you show it to our new friend. Let her verify it is as we say. But hold on to it, until she can trade for it in good faith, with her father's wealth in accessible coffers to back up her offer.

"I mean no offense, Annalysei. But Led has given up weapons even more dear to him for nearly nothing. Someone must start looking out for his generosity."

[Kalindriel Ec'urb]

"She doesn't speak Ignan. She can talk special to me, but nobody else understands."

"Oh really, now?" she muses in Ignan. "I'll wager I could. My tongue is quite proficient."

[Annalysei]

Annalysei gasps in surprise as she grips the flail. Words fail her as she feels the sheer power emanating from it, and her blood hums in response. She swings it hesitantly at first, then faster and faster as the flail seems to mold itself to her grip. Her movements finally slow and she halts.

She nods at the bard Laurel, then at Led. Her grey eyes meet his and she places her fist over her heart "It is true. This flail is worth more than I have to give at this time. I can, however, give you a marker of good faith." She reaches back and loosens her hair, which falls almost to her waist. In her palm she holds a small jeweled hairpin. "This is the only item I have of my mother's. When she was murdered, my father had all of her possessions burned. This was all I could salvage. I've kept it on me every day since then, and have never parted with it. It is more dear to me than any other item in this world or the next. If you will let me use this flail, you may keep it as a token of my promise until I can give you an object of equal or greater value. My father's resources are vast, and I'm sure that there is something in the storeroom or his coffers that will be of equal value to you. I swear this to you by Tar-Anatha, may she smite me if my oath is untrue."

[Led Pighp]

"Led has given up weapons even more dear to him for nearly nothing. Someone must start looking out for his generosity."

Led waves off Annalysei's hairpin. Looking at her, but turning to face towards Laurel as he says "I have given up nothing. My axe and my double-sword are merely on loan, where they could do more good than being stowed in my saddlebags." He turns back to Annalysei, "As is my flail. Your family's name is hostage to your good behavior. Steal this now, and all the Volk will know of it. But, I give you leave to use it in this fight and whatever comes after it, until such time as we've been able to work out something more permenant. I have no doubt that in your hands, this weapon will prove very valuable to me, regardless of who owns it." He snickers, "Besides, I am not at all sure that I could protect your mother's token from being destroyed in some battle along with my spleen. I wouldn't want that on my conscience."

Still feeling disconnected from the world, and suffering from the weight of all this seriousness, Led quickly turns and walks over to Marrik's corpse. He lifts the axe and makes a few half-hearted practice swings with it. When he remembers the elf-bane nature of the weapon, he steps away from the pointy-eared, just to be careful. "How did he keep this thing sheathed, or covered, or whatever it's called with axes? I can't remember, did he just carry the naked blade around all the time?"

[Seven Words]

Skyseeker gestures at what remains of a couple of leather pieces and bits of wire..."There, upon his back..it slid down in...a little lift, twist, and a pull down and it was freed."

[Led Pighp]

Led bends down to inspect the apparatus, trying very hard to ignore that it's still wrapped around the corpse of his friend. "Feh. Warriors. Who knows how they keep track of all this stuff. Give me a nice inkwell, any day." He snaps his head up again, and gently puts the axe back on Marrik's body. "You hold on to this a while longer, friend. I don't think I'm ready for you not to have it."

Then he jogs back to his horse and gets out his book. "I almost forgot. If we're going to be burning these bodies, I'll need to record their faces." Led begins to sketch the faces of the dead allies, as he did with the fallen of the caravan when this whole adventure started.

[Sorchat]

"My tongue is quite proficient."

"You hear with your tongue?"

[8 intelligence]

[Laurel]

The bard mutters under her breath, "I'm only looking out for your benefit." Yet smiles in relief as Led's innate generosity shines through.

Her own longing finally getting the better of her, Laurel finds herself moving back, closer towards Khaurum, if only to bask in his radiance. I know it is selfish, she thinks to herself, but please take note of me and once again gift me with your gaze...

[Seven Words]

The GOld wyrm notices her approach, and waves one foreclaw to indicate she should come closer..."I have heard you composed a song, about a fight with Marrowrime? That evil drake's name is well-known, and I am gladdened to hear of her demise. Would you share this song with me?"

[Kalindriel Ec'urb]

"You hear with your tongue?"

Kalindriel deadpans, "Yes." She sticks her tongue out. "Thii? Ah caan heer oou eetter."

She chuckles, "I merely mean I can probably understand and speak it."

[Annalysei]

Anna nods her thanks as she winds up her hair and repins it, carefully nestling the pin deep within the knot. "I may be the daughter of a man with ice in his veins, but I am not without honor. My oath is good." Her hair securely fastened, she grips the flail reverently. "If you don't mind, I believe I'll practice for a bit to get used to her."