Kevin's Watch

Before stepping away to distribute her new items between Hardy and Garvin, Laurel looks back at Marrik and Skyseeker, proffering her shortbow. "Do either of you want this?" she asks.

I don my new belt, then tuck the two wands into it. Then I head to the cave's exit to check on the fury of the storm.

"No disrespect to the dead, but we're running out of time to send them on. This dragon was meant for you all? His replacement may be here soon to finish the job."

The storm has diminished greatly...the snowfall no longer a blinding whirling whitescape, but a gently falling flurry, no longer deserving the title of storm. Visibility is almost unobscured. Skyseeker steps out first, scanning for any nearby lurkers, finding none. "Let us carry out the necessary rites as expeditiously as possible, lest Sigrid's concerns be fulfilled, " she says with a dolorous expression upon her face.

Led nods, and moves over to where Barak's remains have been kept chilled, by the exit to the cave. With reverence, and maybe a little squeemishness, he pick up the wrapped and mangled flesh and begins to head out the tunnel to the open sky.

Marrik follows behind him, carrying Beauregard's similarly mangled pieces in his arms. The pair move out over the plains and find a hollow in the ground sheltered somewhat from the wind while still being exposed to the sky.

They place the bodies there, and arrange them as much as can be done in their current conditions.

Then, they repeat this process with the three Frusvolk warriors. These three are more or less whole, so the task is less distasteful.

When they're done, they stand to the side and wait for Sigrid and her familiar.

While Led and Marrik arrange the fallen, Laurel again retrieves her harp and observes silently the preparations. When Sigrid approaches, she bows low before the cleric. "If I may suggest, would it be possible to send Barak on his journey first? The Heshic way is to depart in silence, and I would have him well on his way before I do honor to the others through song...

"If we may then wait for last to send Beauregard on his journey, I do request it so I may then gather his ashes to put in to the coals of my cooking fire before the wind would have a chance to blow them away as we honor the others."

"Of course."

"It's... weird to have so many different beliefs with which to contend with. But that would keep everybody happy."

I instruct my familiar to start with Barak's body.

Laurel wrote:"If we may then wait for last to send Beauregard on his journey, I do request it so I may then gather his ashes to put in to the coals of my cooking fire before the wind would have a chance to blow them away as we honor the others."

Vynarkus stops as a thought occurs to him.

"Laurel, you said that halflings prefer to buried in amongst trees, right? And being put in the cooking fire was only for when they could not be?

"Weren't there trees outside the cave on the other side of the portal we came through?"

Skyseeker explains, "We came to here using the Sliverstrands through the Veracinean portal. This is one of the Web points of my people's height. We can't use this portal to return to the Waystation. If Laurel remembers clearly enough the Unsongs she heard echo from the abandoned outpost near the DarkWood's edge, we may be able to use this to return to THERE. Travel along the fallen Web by Unsong would be perilous indeed for those who do not serve the dark powers that corrupted the AetherWeb so long ago. But the Songs used on the AetherWeb grew unsafe, and failed utterly as the corruption grew. Although..." she looks thoughtful.."Vynarkus, your skill at twisting the strictures on magics might reduce the risk for us considerably, if you were to make contact with the portal while Laurel sang the Unsong. But first, I would like to make contact the survivors of my folk left isolated up here...well, "she blushes at her mistatement in embarassment, "first thing once we have given all proper respects to those who now stand before She Who Judges All." she concludes on a somber note, features twisting in pain as as the recent loss of Barak and Beauregard slams home afresh

Vynarkus looks thoughtful.

"Yes, I was a little hasty. I am not used to thinking of portals as going to different places then they started from. We could make the attempt later, I was simply thinking of basic portals that let you go from one fixed spot to another."

As I stand watch, the fire elemental incinerates Barak's body to ash.

It moves on to the three Frusvolk. I begin singing the funeral songs. These are mostly a litany of each person's great deeds, with some announcements to the afterlife that great heroes are about to arrive, and should be welcomed warmly.

The bard listens silently to the liturgy and recitation of each of the Frusvolk warriors' deeds. As the Cleric wraps up her recitation, Laurel's fingers start flying over her harp then suddenly breaks out in to a tribute to them...

There's beauty in the heart of the beast
Fear behind the eyes of the thief
I know you know we're all incomplete
Let's get together and let's get some relief

All we are
All we are, we are
We are all, all we need
All we are
All we are, we are
We are all, all we need

Stronger than a mountain of steel
Faster than hell on wheels
We've got we've got all the power we need
Let's build a playground on this old battelfield

All we are
All we are, we are
We are all, all we need
All we are
All we are, we are
We are all, all we need

Now we're stronger
We no longer want you bringin' us down
Now we're stronger
We no longer want you pushin' us

All we are
All we are, we are
We are all, all we need
All we are
All we are, we are
We are all, all we need

The flying notes fading away, the bard waits for Sigrid's companion to finish honoring the three Frusvolk, then with tears again gathering in her eyes, awaits with harp ready to sing the Halfling on his way...

When it's done with my countrymen, I gesture my familiar on to the halfling. I also take their weapons and stab them into the thawed ground where the pyres were.

Laurel kneels next to Beauregard's still form and finger combs his hair in place, rising as Sigrid's companion readies itself for its duty. As Beauregard's essence wafts in a smokey column to the heavens, the bard strums her harp and sings a tune of a different tone; one of longing, searching, and pain. Much the way she had come to view the party's halfling companion...

I gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I'm older

Now this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
And through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
Can't stop now, I've traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
I can't stop now, I've traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

Her tone cracking in grief, Laurel allows her voice to trail off as the tears trickle down her cheeks unchecked. She stands next to his pyre,watching Beauregard's remains burn, preparing to gather his ashes for her evening meal cooking fire. His bones smoldering at the last, she watches in stillness lest any fly away on the wind, occasionally glancing towards Led as he does honor to his countryman.

As Laurel finishes gathering the requisite ashes in somber silence, Skyseeker goes very still, eyes flicking about rapidly....

Led crouches low and turns to the Northwest.

" 'Ware! Several approach."

He drifts forward, though not making an effort to hide himself.

Marrik quickly moves one hand in a large circle in front of him, the Sign of the Sun, over the pyre remnants before taking up his arms.

Skyseeker holds a javelin casually grounded, ready to move and hurl at a moment's notice.

Pocketing the pouch in which the bard had placed the halfling's ashes, Laurel sets down her harp and looks at the newly acquired longbow. Time to see what you are capable of, she thinks to herself, nocking an arrow to it as she starts singing a tune of inspiration while the party waits to see who or what approaches.

I look to the northwest, while taking out my Rod. I'm ready to cast a spell if necessary.

Vynarkus heads for the nearest cover that would work against enemies in the NorthWest.

[ooc]I don't know how long the rites took, but I'm assuming that Vynarkus would have kept up Eldritch Armor. If not, he charges it instead of the action I put next.[/ooc]

Despite the failure of of this same tactic against the summoned Pit fiends, Vynarkus attempts a hasty Diplomacy check. [ooc]Take ten, not sure what bonus is offhand, but at least +23 by now...[/ooc]

Four elves and a particularly large wolverine come into view. Two hold bows undrawn, but arrows nocked. One of them is clearly communicating in some manner with the wolverine, the other bears the symbol of the Lord of Shadows on a necklace, but the Blood-Hunter's mark on his forehead. Of the remaining two, one holds a wand in each of her hands, the last has a short sword out and a symbol of Cerana around her neck.

They are staring at Led and Skyseeker, but the wand-wielder addresses Sigrid, "Child of the Volk, you bear word for us. We would listen". She is clearly speaking a traditional catch-phrase, distractedly.