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  #51  
Unread 16th of August, 2003, 03:24
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She listens wordlessly to his story, hears the echoes of his pain. Those echoes resound within her, touching her own deep wounds. There is sometimes a sweetness to pain and so it is now, her aching soul finding a kindred spirit. Her hand reaches up to touch his rough cheek as a single tear slides from one of her grey eyes, frosty in the moonlight.

Instead of answering him she moves closer, arms sliding around his neck, and stands on her toes. Ignoring the chimes of the warning bells that ring in her head she listens to her heart, pulls him closer and their lips meet in the dark. Somewhere a moth makes a final, fated circuit before diving home into the flames.
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Unread 17th of August, 2003, 11:07
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He's surprised by her actions, at least consciously. After his tale he expected a wide variety of reactions; hatred, disgust, pity, anything but the single tear and the simple kiss. Cadrius almost pulls away in surprise, he's certainly strong enough to pry the lithe woman away. Yet the arms that initially move to restrain, merely embrace her. How long has it been since he was kissed? Years, years that seem like ages to the fallen paladin.

Confusion intermingled with the pain of telling his tale wash through him, but there's also another emotion; it's not happiness, he hasn't felt something like that in a long time, but somewher within the walls of his heart, a spark flickers into life. How long it will remain is unknown, but it's something. It reminds him of the man he used to be.

He knows this is wrong, that while part of him might want this, rationally it isn't a good idea. It certainly won't keep her safe from the dangers to come, nor will it make their present journey any easier. Yet none of these alarms are allowed to be acted upon. Instead he merely continues the embrace, pulling his head away at last and sharing warmth.

Looking down at the shadowy form in his arms Cadrius smiles, but it's tinged with sadness. Even now the bitterness and sorrow that stains his character creep back in. He wonders how long it will be until they are torn apart due to their pasts, or possibly their futures.

"Come, we must watch the camp and it sounds as if there will be many miles to travel tomorrow." He pulls away, reluctant but unwilling to become too ensnared within the moment.

The die is cast.
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Unread 19th of August, 2003, 03:47
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Shade looks up into his eyes as Cadrius breaks their embrace. She can see the sadness that flickers there, at odds with his brave smile. She doesn't smile back, her eyes slowly turning inward, and she nods at his statement.

"You're right, we should go."

As they walk back to camp her thoughts are whirling with what just happened. Her long pent up emotion now swirls throughout her body like a windstorm. She wanted to say so much, to tell him that what happened wasn't his fault, to let him know that he was still the same person he'd been before that tragedy. She didn't know where to start, though, and he didn't give her the chance.

Her step slows imperceptibly as they walk. Maybe he hadn't given her the chance because he didn't want her opinion. Maybe he'd already made up his mind about who he was. Maybe he didn't want to hear what she'd have to say.

Like you?

She quickens her stride so that they enter the camp together; everything looked the same. Odd, because inside she felt like everything had changed.

"Laronar claimed the second watch, but you're up anyway . . . do you want me to wake him?"
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Unread 19th of August, 2003, 04:29
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Atop the small rise near the campsite, a lonely vigil continues. To those with eyes to see and the will to do so, however, the nature of the vigil has changed. The quiet of the figure is now born of serenity, not sadness. Somewhere in the forest night, Blarth had found the strength to let his brother's death go. The feelings of loss remained, as they always would, but the pangs of guilt were gone. Like a fog they had lifted, revealing Blarth's true role in his brother's death, as comforter not killer. The fact that he had not saved his brother's life when he could have, was not a failing, but a strength. His brother knew the tribal law concerning the Mind Markings. To have used them on him would not only have been in violation of that law, but would also have stained his brother's honor. That would have been a fate far worse than death. A fate, for which his brother would have never forgiven him.

As it was, Blarth had tainted the honor of the elf in saving his life. The elf, however, was not of the tribe and did not seem to understand the offence Blarth had commited. It would be up to Blarth then, to redeem the elf's honor for him. How strange the world was, when an orc owed eren to an elf.

Down below, two figures make there way back to the camp. Above, however, Blarth continues his vigil, exploring his mind as his lerares had taught him.
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Unread 19th of August, 2003, 04:39
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"Don't bother," Nicos speaks from the shadow in which he had hidden himself.

Rising he moves to stand before the newly returned pair, moving silently on bare feet.

"I'm awake now, so I might as well finish off the watch. You get some sleep."

Casting a knowing eye, on the pair, Nicos slowly forms a small knowing smirk.

"Next time the pair of you decide to sneak off for a midnight tryst, could you wake someone up to watch over the camp? If someone had happened upon it while you were out..."

Leaving the thought hanging, the bard looks at the couple.

Last edited by itches; 19th of August, 2003 at 04:47.
  #56  
Unread 19th of August, 2003, 12:36
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Cadrius' face remains impassive despite the bard's jab. He hefts the bastard sword in one hand and speaks quietly. The blade flashes once as it passes through one of the few shafts of moonlight streaming into their little camp.

"If it was a tryst, I would not have needed this," he says, eyes narrowing as he sees the smirk and retort forming on Nicos' face. "Shade heard something, she decided to wake me, end of story." He is in little mood for further argument on this day. It had been long enough without the wounded elf demanding they take his unconscious form along.

The bard's remark does cause him to take in the camp though, eyes straining in the darkness. He counts the forms and comes up short.

"Where is the one that had taken to Paladin? Blarth," he says, suddenly remembering the conversation with the half-orc's brother. He looks again, double checking to make certain that the somber half-orc isn't curled up somewhere out of the way.

Turning to Shade he speaks again, his voice still hushed, "Let the elf take his watch, I have heard they do not need sleep like we do and I feel as if I just ran fifty leagues. There will be time to talk later."

The energy he had received from Shade begins to flag, leaving him more tired than when he had first stretched out upon his bedroll. He looks at her once more, attempting to say more with his eyes than he's willing to voice in front of the bard, before returning to his bedroll and carefully laying blade by his side. Within moments, he is asleep again, but for the first time since it all began, he is not tormented by his dreams.
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Unread 19th of August, 2003, 14:18
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Nicos waves aside their plains again.

"I said Id take next watch, I'm already awake."

Casting another knowing look at the two, Nicos retreats to his shady watch post, mutters just loud enough to be heard by those in the camp.

"You hear something approaching, so do you wake someone who can see at night? No. Do you wake someone who can move quietly? No. Could at least come up with a convincing lie."
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Unread 20th of August, 2003, 22:30
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Shade's face darkens at the bard's accusation and she stares daggers at him while Cadrius responds. She recalls a time not very long ago at all when Itches had left his watch, left them unguarded - their words had been eerily similar to what Nicos said. Unsettled, she nods as Cadrius urges her to let Nicos take this watch. She catches his meaningful gaze and merely stares back, her gaze filled with things left unsaid.

He heads back to his shelter and the bard returns to his post. She looks up at the moon, her breath steaming, and she wonders what just happened. For a moment she enjoys the peace of the night and the beauty of the wilderness. When Nicos makes another comment, though, the moment shatters and her patience snaps.

"Indeed. Why wake the one person in this camp I can trust to watch my back?"

She turns her back on him and stalks past the twin shelters, settling in a small niche in the hillside about as far from the bard as she can be. She pulls her cloak about her and veils the lower half of her face. The chill was already seeping into her, but the confined space should trap some of her body heat. It would be enough.
  #59  
Unread 26th of August, 2003, 00:22
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Between the cold and her churning emotions, she is a long time falling asleep. Indeed, she is still awake when Nicos finishes his watch and Laronar takes his place. Her body was tired but her mind was wide awake, a confusing swirl of wants and needs held in bitter check by reality and fear. Sometime during the elf's shift she dozes, shivering.

It seems she sleeps forever, though it is a dark slumber, feeling more like a struggle to escape the black than a peaceful rest. Before dawn has lightened the sky she wakes briefly, or perhaps it is only a dream. There is no light, an ebony so intense she thinks that perhaps she is blind. Gradually, she becomes aware of vague shapes around her and finally makes sense of those shapes. It is the campsite, but distorted and vague, as if she views it through an inky sea.

One shadow detaches itself from the negative world, and at first she assumes the indistinct form to be Cadrius. As it draws closer, though, it begins to become more detailed until it is real and actually bathed in it's own light. Gleaming blond hair frames a well chiseled face; a pointed ear pokes from beneath the falling mass, equisitely shaped. She judges him to be a half-elf, and exceedingly handsome at that. He is tall and lean, athletic and supple. The cold seems to emanate from him like a wave and she is engulfed as he closes the distance to in in two short strides. One well-shaped hand reaches out to caress her cheek. Unable to move, she watches with a mixture of horror and awe and as he touches her she shivers uncontrollably, the cold of his fingertips like razors on her skin and then the darkness drops once more.

****

Two hours later the first rays of light stab over the low rise. Shade's eyes snap open as dawn's fingers touch her; her teeth are chattering and she wills them to stop, hugging herself for warmth. After a few moments she is feeling good enough to stand and she does so, feeling suddenly dizzy, though the feeling quickly subsides. She surveys the camp, the others stirring as well, and notes nothing amiss.

What surprises will this day hold?
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Unread 26th of August, 2003, 01:27
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Cadrius wakes shortly before his watch and relieves Laronar early and passes his watch, contemplating the lands and stars. They seem particularly bright. But they always do, he reminds himself, when there is no light from the cities to block them.

Time rolls pleasantly by for the fallen paladin. The night air is cold, but the thick blanket keeps him warm. And so he spends the quiet hours before dawn, lost in thought, watching his breath create small puffs of steam.

The winter blanket and his own large body create a cocoon of warmth and so he sits, facing east, watching the first rays of light rise up over the horizon. His eyes shift from the horizon and onto his companions below. They're an unlikely group, certainly, and he isn't entirely sure how far he can trust most of them.

"Good morn," he says softly to Shade as she pokes her head up, coming out of what had looked to be a fitful sleep.

As the others begin to wake and move about, Cadrius stands and begins to prepare a meal. Keeping his blanket draped about him, he shuffles through the camp and to his backpack. In the relatively dim light, he looks different, as if he was an old man. While he had tried to keep warm, the chill air and the unchanging position that he had sat in, have stiffened his joints.

Within a few minutes he casts off his blanket, and begins to move freely, the image dispelled as his muscles warm up to the activity.
  #61  
Unread 26th of August, 2003, 03:27
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The rising sun breaks Blarth's vigil as it breaks the horizon. Drawing on an inner reserve, Blarth strengthen's himself for the day ahead. It would be a long one after his sleepless night.

Unfolding his legs, Blarth rises to his feet and walks down the rise to where he had dropped his backpack the night before. Rooting around inside, Blarth pulls out a piece of jerky and takes a bite. Chewing out of habit, it is apparent that he isn't really hungry as he ignores the rest of it while taking in his companions, as if for the first time.

The one-armed bard from the inn, the elf to whom he owed eren, the woman who knew what had happened to Sir Paladin, and the man...

"You," Blarth calls out, rising to his feet and pointing at Cadrius with the jerky in his hand. "You were the lafhart who was willing to let my brother die to save your own skin. What kind of a man are you to hide from your own people?"
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Unread 26th of August, 2003, 09:48
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Laronar rises fresh, his watch was not long, Cadrius had after all releaved him for watch earlly. The extra rest was welcomed, any chance to rest off the last tendrils of pain were not going to be passed up.

"You," Blarth calls out, rising to his feet and pointing at Cadrius with the jerky in his hand. "You were the lafhart who was willing to let my brother die to save your own skin. What kind of a man are you to hide from your own people?"

Laronar cannot help but nod at Blarth's remark, it had not been to long since he had spoken to Cadrius in a similar manner. Objecting to his escape, and to the aid he would recieve.

My Sentiments Exactly

Although Laronar is sure to stand back, he was already on thin ice with the group...and without them, he may not be able to find Cadogan. But he cannot help but wait for the forked tongue of Shade to come to his aid once more.

Why does she persist in fighting his battles?
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Unread 26th of August, 2003, 10:25
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You.

Cadrius neither needs to hear the rest of the sentence, nor turn and see the person addressing him to recognize an accusation. It oozes out of the voice of the speaker and shatters his brief period of tranquility. Turning around he continues to buckle and strap on the various layers of steel over his legs.

Blarth, the half-orc brother Trak, stands before him, the self-imposed silence now broken. He looks familiar, the face slowly clicks into place with a memory. Cadrius, shopping for supplies the day after the murders, and seeing a figure, orcish by heritage, fleeing an angry mob. It could have been someone else, but there would've seen more half-breeds in the jail.

Blarth's hand, once gentle, used for healing the elf yesterday, now jerks spasmatically as rage overloading his senses. Cadrius looks down for a moment, fixing one greave before straightening again and facing the tortured young-man. He regards him for a moment, seeing perhaps too much of himself there; rage, pain, regret, he even looks lost, although perhaps not now that he has a target to vent at.

"So," he says, his voice is quiet, but there is nothing else in the camp to drown it out, "you are Trak's brother. He spoke very fondly of you."

He continues to look at Blarth, to study him, wishing he had more of a way with words, or at least being able to think more quickly on his feet. Instead, he looks at the half-orc, thinking to buy some time.

The truth is all that matters here. The question becomes, which does he accept? His brother's truth, or my own?

"I am not certain what this lafhart is, but I do not think it is a compliment-" he readjusts one greave, sliding it into place "-and I did not send your brother to his death. Nor was I willing to let him take my punishment. I am not certain what he told you, or even what he was told by the priests, but he was taken before I turned myself in. After the Highpriest received my confession, he had Trak, turned loose."

He folds his arms over his chest, pausing again to look at Blarth. He can see the resemblence, the sight of the angry, well-muscled half-orc is intimidating and any sign of Blarth's gentle soul seems to be masked.

"I am sorry to hear he is dead. He was...a good man, though I do not think he would agree had he known it was I who shared the cell next to him. I almost believe he thought me to be like him," he continues quickly, hoping to avoid any outrage at comparing himself to the fallen Trak, "He felt sorry for me. I saw you and him during the...fight. I am sorry you were caught within it."

Feelings, old feelings, begin to well up within him. The old sensation of self-sacrifice begins to take hold, and he spreads his arms wide, palms open. His speech has been disjointed, his mind leaping about

"I do not know your customs, or if you desire revenge, but I am here and unarmed," he does not speak with an ounce of threat, he simply stands by the hastily erected shelter, arms dropping to his sides and waiting for the response.
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Unread 26th of August, 2003, 22:32
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As Cadrius speaks Blarth's face goes from one of anger to one of confusion. He had been expecting a denial, a confession, or even an explanation, anything but what Cadrius actually gave him.

"He spoke of me? Whe...? Wha...?" Blarth blusters as Cadrius continues.

Finally he finds some words he can latch onto and grabs hold for dear life, "You shared the cell next to him? But Trak said it was one like us but raised by humans."

"Your lying! Trak would never make a mistake like that," Blarth shouts, his voice screaming denial. His face, however, shows a diffrent story as it still roils with confusion.
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Unread 26th of August, 2003, 23:45
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She smiles at Cadrius when he greets her but quickly looks away as the others rise. She starts to climb to the summit of the small rise but stops when Blarth singles out Cadrius. The half-orc's demeanor is utterly different than the child like stupidity he normally displays. It surprises her, much as if a docile hound suddenly bares it's fangs with a growl.

Unconsciously, she shifts her weight to the balls of her feet, flexing her knees slightly to ensure balance and readiness. She notes Laronar's acid gaze and gives him a withering look in return, but otherwise she stays silent. More than anyone here, she wanted to see how Cadrius reacted, wanted to know if he was ready to pull himself from the pit of his self imposed despair.

When he speaks she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. He didn't lapse into the melancholy she hated, nor did he jump to rage, the other side of the dark coin of depression. Perhaps there was hope for him.

For us.
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Unread 27th of August, 2003, 01:13
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Cadrius gazes with pained eyes at Blarth's struggle. The sadness, as deep as any ravine, threatens to overwhelm him, but he gently pushes it away. The melancholy will always be there, but now is not the time for his self-pity. The half-orc fumbles for words, uncertain, confused; Cadrius understands far more than he'd think possible.

"Trak never saw me, not until the trial. He...he took pity on me, that I would be raised by humans. He never pressed me about why I was there, just content to talk with one of his own. Lesser men would have panicked, or raged, but he seemed...resigned to the treatment, used to being judged by his heritage. It takes a good deal of courage to accept such a fate."

He looks again at Blarth, trying to gauge how his words are received. The camp is still quiet, Laronar looks on with what could only be anticipation, but Cadrius doesn't have time to ponder why. Shade stands partway up the nearby hill, looking back at him.

"I know what it is like to lose a brother," he says, eyes still on Shade, "it is hard-" his voice drops to a whisper "-very hard."

He swallows once and returns his gaze to Blarth and when he speaks again his voice regains some strength.

"I did share the cell next to Trak, and I did confess, at least partially so that he might be set free. I do not know why as those of orcish blood are not well received in my homeland. Yet there was something about him, something proud, perhaps noble," he smiles, but there is no happiness in it. The thought of referring anything resembling an orc as noble would've never entered his mind, not in the past anyway.

Things change.

Once again he lets his arms drop to his side, palms open, awaiting a response.
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Unread 27th of August, 2003, 01:57
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Cadrius' description of Trak rings true, and the resistance within Blarth begins to melt away, but like a child he clings to his denial, making one last vain effort to make it true.

"You can't be the man from the cell next to Trak. Your human, Trak would have never barred his heart to a human," he crys out.

His conviction shattered by the realization being forced on him, Blarth's hands drop to his side and he hangs his head. Staring down at the jerky in his hand, Blarth casts it aside, and looks back up at Cadrius, searching for the truth in the fallen paladin's face.
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Unread 27th of August, 2003, 02:56
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Blarth struggles between denial and acceptance. The emotions dance back and forth on his face, but denial is gradually losing out. For whatever reason, he believes the fallen paladin, perhaps he simply knows truth when he hears it. Yet whether or not the half-orc accepts his words doesn't matter to Cadrius, nor does the prospect of being killed in revenge bother him. Instead he's replaced by an emotion, another one he hasn't felt in a long time; it's not pity, he doesn't feel sorry for Blarth, no, he feels with him. A torrent of empathy rushes through him, battering the normally serene dam that tightly controls his emotions. Suddenly he becomes intensely concerned that Blarth not fall onto the same path of pain and anger that Cadrius had taken.

He moves across the camp, slowly, the half-orc watching his face for something. It might be too late for Cadrius, but he's determined to make sure he doesn't have another following him down the trail. Coming to a stop infront of Blarth, he stops looking the half-orc in the eye, his face blank except for the sorrow in his eyes.

"He did not know who I was, nor did I until after he had gone to bed," he speaks low enough so that only the half-orc can hear, "he did not speak it, but I could hear in his voice when he told me about seeing you help an old man down some stairs. He was gruff, but it sounded like he loved you, regardless of what you did."

Cadrius continues now in earnest for two reasons; he's uncertain of orcs and their feelings about love, but there's something else, something that Trak said to him, but he can't quite remember. His mind works through his memory, frantic for any phrase or word to aid the young half-orc.

"He has gone to Grummsh," Cadrius says, his voice still soft, "and I am certain he will make a fine addition."

Then it clicks, the phrase, it had sounded so odd when he first heard it, but Trak's violent death suddenly makes it fit. Perhaps it's why they used it as a greeting. As outcasts they lead dangerous lives, neither accepted by humans nor by the orc tribes. The phrase served as both a greeting to the living and a farewell to the dead.

"Honor to his blood."
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Unread 27th of August, 2003, 04:07
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"Honor to his blood."
The tribal phrase sounded so strange coming from a human, especially bastardized as it was in the common tounge, but the words destroyed any last vestige of denial Blarth had. Trak had insisted on using it in his greetings and farewells, even in a time when most young orcs were forgetting the old ways.

"For in his blood lies honor," Blarth replies formally, using a similar bastardization to the one Cadrius had used.

Kneeling down, Blarth opens his backpack and pulls out Trak's silver Eye of Gruumsh.

Offering it to Cadrius, he says, "I know humans don't generally follow Gruumsh, but Trak wanted you to have this. He felt that you were troubled by human weaknesses and hoped you might find strength in Gruumsh."
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Unread 27th of August, 2003, 15:02
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Blarth's closing statement is punctuated by a loud snap that makes everyone's head jerk toward the source, somewhere above the dying embers of the campfire. Several feet above, something metallic -- a weapon -- has materialized in midair. Spinning rapidly, it falls... landing point-first into the fire, sending sparks and embers flying in all directions.

As the firestorm settles, the weapon can clearly be seen. A claymore, easily six feet in length, with a distinctive hilt and handle: the steel wire wrapped in a way that conveys the impression of multiple bolts of lightning. Hanging from the hilt is a silver pendant, fashioned into a single lightning bolt.

The weapon looks quite familiar, even though it was shattered nearly a month ago.

As that realization sinks in, the blade snaps in two, spraying blood at the breaking-point. The handle and about two feet of the blade land near the campfire, while the pendant sails through the air, landing between the half-orc and the fallen paladin.
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Unread 27th of August, 2003, 23:56
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Waking up with he others, Nicos moves slowly around the camp, trying to get the kinks out of his body. His night of broken sleep tells on him, and his movements reflect his lethargic feeling.

Once he had returned feeling to his limbs, washed his face, and woken up a little more, he sits back down and quietly begins to sing scales to himself, idling packing up his gear.
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Unread 28th of August, 2003, 01:05
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Cadrius reaches forward, his hand hesitating for a moment. Gruumsh, the evil god of the orcs, and here was a confused half-breed offering the deity's holy symbol to him. He looks at the eye made of silver, wondering for the first time, how different the their two races were. He had a similar code of honor, the same pride, the same sense of duty.

Cadrius reaches forward again, his fingertips brushing the cool metal, and that's when all hell breaks loose.

A spinning blade impacts within the campfire and Cadrius reflexively throws one arm in front of his face, protecting himself from the flying embers. He recognizes the weapon, he had wielded it for a time while battling against his own blade. Watching it, he sees it snap, blood oozing from the fracture.

He looks down, seeing the silver pendant on the ground. It glitters slightly, nearby a few scattered embers giving it a reddish hue. Cadrius knows this item as well. Slowly, ever so slowly, he kneels down and reaches one trembling hand toward the object. His hand grasps the pendant, and he gasps in pain. The metal feels as if on fire, but it suddenly becomes the least of his concern. Once more, all hell breaks loose, or perhaps it is all heaven that breaks loose. This time, however, it is completely contained within Cadrius.

For an instant, one brief flickering moment, he can feel the presence of Heironeous. He's filled with divine energy, feeling it course through him, lifting the worries from his shoulders, relieving the fatigue from his muscles. Mouth dropping open he freezes in place. The sensation of being part of a higher order envelopes him.

Then as quickly as it came, it goes, leaving him to draw a shuddering breath and close his eyes. When they open again, the pendant is gone. He flips his hand over, to examine the burn. Scalded within his palm is an angry, red lightning bolt. His fist closes over the burn, completing the symbol.

What is this? A warning? An offer?

Still kneeling, he looks over to the campfire. Paladin's broken claymore is still imbedded into the center of the campfire. His eyes shift back to Blarth, remembering the gift, he reaches forward with his other hand and takes the symbol of Gruumsh. He opens his other hand and examines them, the burn in his left, and the silver eye in his right.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

Moving back to his backpack he carefully removes what's left of a silk shirt, the rest having been sacrificed to bandage wounds, and carefully wraps the holy symbol with it. Gently placing it within his backpack, Cadrius resumes buckling on his armor, remaining silent throughout the process. A few minutes later he's ready to leave.
  #73  
Unread 28th of August, 2003, 02:46
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Caught up in the scene between Cadrius and Blarth, Shade is as surprised as the rest when the mysterious sword seems to detonate their small campfire. Instinctively tucking her chin down into the hollow of her shoulder and turning her face away, she nevertheless keeps her eyes on the scene. Somehow, a blade has found it's way into her hand, though it remains hidden beneath the mantle of her cloak.

Paladin. Can't I just be rid of him?

Somehow, he'd attached himself to her. That was his sword, and she recognized the symbol now perched in front of Cadrius, like a tiny silver adder. Without thought, her free hand grasps at the silver locket she wears beneath her shirt. She knew that symbol. Cadrius stoops forward.

Don't touch it!

Too late. It disappears into his big fist and she sees him stiffen, sees the pain flash across his face and watches as his blue eyes go icy. Fear like she has seldom felt surges through her and before she can react it is over. His shoulders slump and he seems almost himself as he slowly flexes his hand, then retrieves Blarth's offering and stowes it in his pack. The remainder of Paladin's blade juts from the remnants of the fire, an arrow pointing the way to hell.

"What the devil just happened!?"
  #74  
Unread 28th of August, 2003, 03:10
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During the confrontation Nicos stays well out of it, yet watches intently - any insight into his new companions would be welcome indeed.

As the sword appears, the bard rolls to his feet, glancing around the clearing for any mundane answer to where it came from, causing him to miss Cadirus pick up the fallen pendent.

"What the devil just happened!?"

"I don't know, but last time it was an axe," Nicos answers on instinct.

At the looks directed at him, Nicos attempts to explain.

"The last time I saw a weapon appear out of nowhere ... yeah, so anyone know what just happened?"

Eyeing the weapon fragment stuck into the soil, the bard continues.

"Better yet, why don't we get moving before we look for an answer, if there is anyone near by, they would of noticed our shiny friends dramatic arrival."
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Unread 28th of August, 2003, 05:17
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The sound which accompanies the appearence of the sword startles Blarth so, that he almost drops the Eye in his hand. Quickly recovering, however, Blarth's eyes instinctively follow the pendant when the sword shatters and he watches as Cadrius picks it up. The shock and awe which are apparent on his face confuse Blarth as they have no apparent source, but leave as quickly as they came, leaving only a burnt scar in Cadrius' palm.

As Cadrius takes the Eye from him, Blarth eyes with trepedation, the burn before returning his gaze to the broken blade in the fire.

"What the devil just happened?"
For some reason the question seems strangely appropriate, but Blarth can only shake is head in reply, plainly unsure of what to make of all this.
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