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Unread 6th of September, 2006, 01:31
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Meat. Soon to be dead meat. Boar, mmmmm... Bra'kan loses his sense of thought, and disappeared. The night edges him on more, and he goes on without the worry of losing his companions or enemies that he is leaving behind.
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Unread 6th of September, 2006, 08:19
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Aramil takes last watch, knowing something is likely to wonder upon them. Mirko is the one to wake him, and he reports that Bra'kan has slipped off. "Damn it," the elf says with gritted teeth. "We have to find him before we can head out." He then turns his head slightly, trying to avert his eyes. "We're going to have to knock him out, you know? Keep him on this edge of life, but unconcious....Its the only way, really. Can't have him lash out, and I don't think he will wake because of the change...." There is a great sadness in Aramil's eyes, for he thinks that they may have to do more than knock Bra'kan out....
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Unread 6th of September, 2006, 09:22
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Originally Posted by generaljimX Aramil takes last watch, knowing something is likely to wonder upon them. Mirko is the one to wake him, and he reports that Bra'kan has slipped off. "Damn it," the elf says with gritted teeth. "We have to find him before we can head out." He then turns his head slightly, trying to avert his eyes. "We're going to have to knock him out, you know? Keep him on this edge of life, but unconcious....Its the only way, really. Can't have him lash out, and I don't think he will wake because of the change...." There is a great sadness in Aramil's eyes, for he thinks that they may have to do more than knock Bra'kan out....
"You really think he’s lost control?
I know sometimes there’s no other way but to put a mad dog down, I know, if it needs to be done it needs to be done, but not sooner than when it needs to be"
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Unread 7th of September, 2006, 03:23
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"Right," Aramil says. "But I don't think he's going to have enough control, or time, to get to the Glade. If he does have control, we'll knock him out only if we won't reach the Glade before dark. We have to be ready to knock him out at any time.....we never know when he could lose control completely." The elf is obviously worried about the whole situation, and it greives him more than he'll admit.
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Unread 7th of September, 2006, 08:48
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Gregson sits nearby, listening to the exchange nodding slowly. Seems they understand the need of keeping him from his transformation. I'll follow their lead if it comes to that. Wait, where is Bra'kan... and where is Krellon... Uh oh. He gets up and asks, "I see Bra'kan is missing, where is Krellon?" A look of worry crosses his face as he poses the question.
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Unread 8th of September, 2006, 19:47
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Quick Post 18

Scenario 3, Quick Post 18: The Green Glade (part one)

"I don't why she did that. I don't understand many people and why they do the things that they do.” Babelson says in answer to Porthane. “All I ever wanted was to be left alone. I planned on living my days in the solitude of the woods. But I needed some new clothes, a new sword and maybe a treat for Red, so I took the job on the barges. Little did I know the trouble that would bring." Sitting atop a log with his head hanging in almost shame wrapped in his freakish (and exposed) hands, the Hin doesn't know what to do.
”To be left alone,” Porthane mutters. “Now THAT would be a treat. Seems the gods have other plans for us, yes?”
"I never asked for any of this. I was born this way." He says motioning towards his chest and showing his hands in the air in frustration. "I just wanted to play with the other kids, but they would not have me at all. They just made fun of me." A few tears begin to fall down upon his cheeks.
”Folk tend to fear what they do not understand – anyone who looks different or act differently from what has come to be expected usually gets treated much the same as you. You’re not alone in this. You’re not the only person to ever be ostracized by his own community. But it is interesting to note that none among this group seems to care how you appear in flesh. In fact, that is the reason the she-wolf wanted you – just for your appearance, because to HER and to her people, your birthmarks are something to be revered…not feared.”

Babelson thinks for a moment on that, giving Porthane a sidelong glare. “Well…I still don't really understand why she was after me. But I hope I don't have to see her ever again."
Porthane raises an eyebrow and stands up. “Well, seeing as how we left her gutted like a deer in the woods to rot, I doubt you will.” And with that, the Wood Elf heads off to into the night.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mirko wakes to the sound of the forest and curses under his breath seeing Bra’kan gone.
He hurries to wake Aramil and tells him that Bra’kan has slipped off.
"Damn it," the Elf says with gritted teeth. "We have to find him before we can head out." He then turns his head slightly, trying to avert his eyes. "We're going to have to knock him out, you know? Keep him on this edge of life, but unconscious....It’s the only way, really. Can't have him lash out, and I don't think he will wake because of the change...." There is a great sadness in Aramil's eyes, for he thinks that they may have to do more than knock Bra'kan out.
"You really think he’s lost control?” Mirko asks. “I know sometimes there’s no other way but to put a mad dog down, I know, if it needs to be done it needs to be done, but not sooner than when it needs to be."
"Right," Aramil says. "But I don't think he's going to have enough control, or time, to get to the Glade. If he does have control, we'll knock him out only if we won't reach the Glade before dark. We have to be ready to knock him out at any time.....we never know when he could lose control completely." The Elf is obviously worried about the whole situation, and it grieves him more than he'll admit.
Gregson sits nearby, listening to the exchange nodding slowly. Seems they understand the need of keeping him from his transformation. I'll follow their lead if it comes to that. Wait, where is Bra'kan... and where is Krellon... Uh oh. He gets up and asks, "I see Bra'kan is missing, where is Krellon?" A look of worry crosses his face as he poses the question.
And in answer to his question, Porthane walks up and says, “He’s hunting your friend. He found him missing a few hours before dawn and went looking. If we hurry we may be able to catch them before Krellon…”
Porthane’s voice drops off and he looks down at his feet. “Well, we’d best hurry.” He finishes, and then takes off at a brisk walk. “Get your gear and follow me. Quickly now!”

For the better part of the morning, you track Krellon; his hooves easy to follow in the soft earth of the forest. Alongside the Centaur’s hoof prints are another set of prints, more animalistic, wilder. At noon, you come across a kill – a bloody mess that used to be a boar – the creature has been torn up, ripped and ravaged by at least one beast during the night. Flies already swarm the carcass. “Which means that it was killed early last night and left a few hours later after he was through feeding.” Aramil muses.
“He?” Gregson asks, dreading the reply.
Aramil nods and takes off at a loping run. “Bra’kan killed this boar and Krellon hunts him like an animal! We must hurry!”

It is late in the afternoon, nearly early evening when the sound of Krellon’s horn cuts through the darkening forest. Red lunges forward and Babelson clings to his back as the hound ducks under limbs and skirts brambles. Aramil and Porthane move almost as quickly while Mirko and Gregson follow the best they can.
Porthane chuckles and shakes his head and Aramil gives him a questioning glance. “It’s just that your friend, whether he meant to or not, is heading for the Green Glade.”
“You’ve been to the Green Glade before, I take it?” Aramil asks.
Porthane nods. “One time…many years ago.”
Aramil thinks on this a few seconds and says, “From the little I know of him, Bra’kan wouldn’t want to be cursed with an infirmity that leaves him powerless to control it. He will want to be cured.”
“Well then, the Lady grant us speed because if Krellon has to…he will ‘cure’ your friend before we reach the Glade.” Porthane says, pushing his tired legs a little harder.

The forest is thick and dark in this part of Ardeep. There is an almost oppressive feeling to it – like the feeling of being watched. The trees are huge, old, and majestic – rising nearly 100 feet to form a canopy of green that allows in little light from the sun. Following the tracks, Red and Babelson cross a shallow stream and climb a small hillock to see Krellon standing just ahead, looking down at the ground. The Centaur has his heavy mace in hand and looks prepared to strike; he is well lathered from exertion. As the others reach Babelson, Krellon moves to the side and they see Bra’kan crouched on a rock like a cat ready to spring.
He is completely naked and his hair is disheveled; his eyes wild and feverish. His body is covered with dirt and hair and dried blood; drool drips from his chin as he snaps his teeth together.
“The Green Glade!” Porthane whispers reverently. “Look! There’s the shining path!”
Not more than 30 feet past Krellon and Bra’kan stands a large ring of trees. The great elms grow so close together that their trunks almost touch. And emerging from their midst is a shimmering path of silver, meandering on the forest floor. The path stops just on the other side of the large rock where Bra’kan crouches.
“We don’t have a lot of time!” Porthane says. “If the path disappears, we may not find it again until it is too late for your friend. We must capture him!”
“How?” Mirko asks, his greatsword in hand, although he doesn’t remember drawing it. “Looks like it’s already too late.”
“Not yet, there is still a window…if we hurry.” Porthane says, easing up alongside of Babelson. “It is time to find something out about your true self, son of Babel. Let me show you what you were born to do!”
Porthane reaches out a hand to Babelson and waits for the young Hin to take it. "Let me show you why the she-wolf fought and died for you."
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

...to be concluded.
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Unread 8th of September, 2006, 23:08
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Taking his hand as best he can (he always feared giving his disease to others through contact) the halfling steps forward. With obvious nervousness and apprehension he replies "O-o-ok..."

Why does he think I can solve this? And what does he know of me? Why don't I know about any of these people? And why in the world did these people even come to save me? They don't care about me. Its my fault Bra'kan is this way. They should never have come to save me...
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Unread 9th of September, 2006, 04:22
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Mirko stands ready,
his eyes hardened,
he knows how to kill but to knock Brakan out will be harder, he takes secures the scabbard on his great sword so he can use it with out spilling Brakan’s blood

holds his attack
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Unread 9th of September, 2006, 13:20
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"KRELLON! Do NOT kill him! We can still get him to the glade, especially if you only knock him out!" Aramil yells out, but in elven so Bra'kan can't understand. "Hurry Porthane. We don't have much time at all." Aramil is exhausted, but he knows there are still things to be done. He has to help his friend. He nocks an arrow none-the-less, though.
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Unread 9th of September, 2006, 13:53
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Why are they doing this to me.

"Friends, leave me alone. I am fine. Leave now, or I shall have to kill you all in defense." With that statement, Bra'kan bends over and picks up his orc axe, and twirls it around in a circle, bringing it to a steady stand still while glaring down his old companions.

"You try to hurt me, and I hurt you back."
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Unread 9th of September, 2006, 14:33
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"We don't want that," Aramil says. "And trust me, we won't let you die on us. Porthane has an idea. Do NOT harm him or Babel. They are not going to hurt you, so there is nothing to worry about. You WILL live if I have anything to say about it." He is yelling to his friend, but the stress of some of his words still comes through.
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Unread 10th of September, 2006, 07:35
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Gregson stands with his bow ready and an arrow notched, pointing it between Bra'kan and the centaur. The half-orc is still injured, I need to be careful not to kill him. The young man is shaking visibly, afraid it would come to this, but reluctant all the same. "We don't mean to hurt you my friend. We only wish to cure your affliction. You know you can trust Babelson, else why were you so intent upon rescuing him just yesterday?" A look of dread is upon Gregson's face, replacing the smile that has lit it all these years. Please, just trust us. Please.
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Unread 12th of September, 2006, 02:19
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Post 19 - The Green Glade (part 2)

Scenario 3, Post 19: The Green Glade (part 2)

Why are they doing this to me?
"Friends, leave me alone.” Bra’kan says, breathing hard. “I am fine. Leave now or I shall have to kill you all in defense." With that statement, Bra'kan bends over and picks up his double Orc axe, and twirls it around in a circle, bringing it to a steady stand still while glaring down at his old companions. "You try to hurt me, and I hurt you back."


"We don't want that," Aramil says. "And trust me; we won't let you die on us. Porthane has an idea. Do NOT harm him or Babel. They are not going to hurt you, so there is nothing to worry about. You WILL live if I have anything to say about it." He is yelling to his friend, but the stress of some of his words still comes through.

Gregson stands with his bow ready and an arrow notched, pointing it between Bra'kan and the Centaur. The Half-orc is still injured; I need to be careful not to kill him. The young man is shaking visibly; afraid it would come to this, but reluctant all the same. "We don't mean to hurt you my friend. We only wish to cure your affliction. You know you can trust Babelson, else why were you so intent upon rescuing him just yesterday?" A look of dread is upon Gregson's face, replacing the smile that has lit it all these years. Please, just trust us. Please.

Mirko stands ready, his eyes hardened, saying nothing. He knows how to kill, but to knock Bra’kan out will be harder. He secures the scabbard on his greatsword so he can use it without spilling Bra’kan’s blood.

"KRELLON! Do NOT kill him! We can still get him to the glade, especially if you only knock him out!" Aramil yells out, but in elven so Bra'kan can't understand. "Hurry Porthane. We don't have much time at all." Aramil is exhausted, but he knows there are still things to be done. He has to help his friend. He nocks an arrow none-the-less, though.

Porthane, his hand outstretched toward Babelson, waits for the young Hin to decide. Why does he think I can solve this? And what does he know of me? Why don't I know about any of these people? And why in the world did these people even come to save me? They don't care about me. It’s my fault Bra'kan is this way. They should never have come to save me...
Taking his hand as best he can (he always feared giving his disease to others through contact) the Halfling steps forward. With obvious nervousness and apprehension he replies "O-o-ok..."
Porthane smiles and grasps Babelson’s hand firmly and closes his eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Babelson closes his eyes too. Then, a whisper in his mind –
Drop your guard, relax your defenses, and let go.

Let go? He wonders. Of what?
Of yourself – feel the power of the earth; it is calling to you. Let go…and answer it.
Babelson doesn’t know what to do, but he knows that Bra’kan’s life is somehow in his hands again and so he tries his best to clear his mind. He feels Red’s cold nose in the palm of his other hand and he takes comfort in his only friend’s reassurance.
But…are not these my friends too? They have fought and bled to save me – isn’t that what friends do?
And with that thought, Babelson drops his guard and “let’s go” for the first time in his life. His mind is immediately flooded with images of nature – the trees are alive and the rocks and everything in between – everything is full of life! He hears their voice, tastes their lifeblood, and feels their power surge through him.
And he hears Porthane chanting and joins in, sinking his toes into the soft loam. The spell comes to him in a flash – as if it had always been there waiting for him. He calls it and it answers.
His friends gasp as the foliage around Bra’kan comes alive and swallows the barbarian in less than a heartbeat. Bra’kan roars and struggles, breaking and snapping vines and limbs, but they grab at him again and again, holding him down. Holding enough for Krellon to step in and bring the haft of his flail against the side of Bra’kan’s skull with a loud crack!
“I SAID DON’T KILL HIM!” Aramil roars, running forward to check on Bra’kan who lies slumped in the tangle of vines and limbs. A thin line of blood runs from his nose and Krellon glances at the ranger and says, “And I didn’t kill him – although I still think it best.”
“Cut him free, quickly now!” Porthane urges, hurrying forward, leaving a stunned Babelson standing still. “Let’s get him into the glade before the path disappears.”
Working quickly, Bra’kan is cut free and Mirko and Gregson half-carry, half-drag him along the shimmering path, following Porthane into the Green Glade. Babelson stumbles along, still in shock at how he was able to cast a spell he had not studied and prayed for. Red trots dutifully alongside while Aramil and Krellon bring up the rear. And as the two warriors slip inside the circle of towering elms, the shimmering path disappears.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“It’s like…Spring time!” Gregson says, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. The glade is alive with flowers and butterflies, bees and birds. Carpeted on lush green grass, dogwoods are in full bloom, their petals floating in the gentle breeze that comes unbidden, but welcome. A spring gurgles from the base of a weeping willow and forms a shallow pool. And it is there that you see a sight that stops you in your tracks.
Leaning against the great tree, looking your way, is a woman – but one unlike any you has ever seen. Her skin is a rich green, like the grass, and her hair resembles the bowers overhead, lush and full. Her eyes are alluring and her Elven face almost brings tears to your eyes. She is without a doubt the most beautiful creature you’ve seen. (see attached pic)
Porthane falls to his knees bowing low, his head touching the grass. Aramil finds himself on his knees too, stunned by her presence.
Babelson cannot even look at her and tries to hide his overly large hands, not wanting to soil this place with his ungainly appearance.
Mirko and Gregson stand speechless, not knowing what to do, but it is Krellon that somehow holds his composure and bows to the woman, saying, “Our Lady of the Forest – we seek the healing of the Green Glade for one whose mind is not his own. Will you entreat us?”
Her eyes take all of you in and when she speaks, her voice resembles the gurgling spring at her feet. “My glade is ever open to those who are good of heart. Come and be refreshed.”
Stuttering and stumbling, you bring the unconscious Bra’kan toward the woman. She beckons you to lay him near the pool. When you do, she hovers over him, briefly disturbing the butterflies and other tiny creatures that fly and flit about her. With long elegant fingers she strokes Bra’kan’s face, drawing a gasp from the man, but not reviving him. She then asks Aramil and Porthane to help him into the water, as she slips into the clear pool. They do as asked, easing Bra’kan into the water and holding his head above the surface. The woman takes him in her arms and begins to sing softly to him as she cups water in her hand and washes his face and head. She sings:
Over on the hill
There grows a flower
Growing quicker still
More perfect by the hour
Deep within that flower
Is a tiny chair
All a-fringed with gold
The fairy queen sits there…


It is in her breath
That the wind does blow
It is in her heart
As pure as winter snow
It is in her tears
Crystal raindrops fall
And within her years
That she is in us all…


Oh dark eyes
Help me see
Just one look
She is gone
Look on me
We are one
Fading with the setting sun…


As the willow bows
To her majesty
All the forest flowers
Love her mystery
Who would not admire
Who could not adore
Who does not desire
Who wishes to see more?


Oh dark eyes
Help me see
Just one look
She is gone
Look on me
We are one
Fading with the setting sun…


When her song ends, you feel as if all of your cares and worries have been washed away, much like Bra’kan feels as she floats him back to the bank of the pool where Aramil and Porthane wait to help him out. He opens his eyes and for the first time since the river battle, you see that he is free from infection and disease.
He blinks a few times, looking up at Porthane and Aramil and asks, “All I want to know – and I’m only gonna ask it once before I start kicking ass and taking names – is why am I naked and why am I in a bath?”

Her laughter is like music and sends your feelings dancing and you can’t help but join in, laughing so hard that tears stream down your faces – tears of happiness, tears of peace, tears of relief.
“Is there another among you who comes for the sustenance of the Green Glade?” she asks, looking at each of you.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Anybody?
-g-
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Unread 12th of September, 2006, 03:45
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Without thinking it trough Mirko steps forward, his body is still torn from the encounter with the she wolf, he doesn’t know better to be more reverent and even if he tries to be cordial, his barbaric background shows in his straight forwardness

Realizing he stepped forward he looks for something on himself
Reaching for the pouch he took from the she-wolf he offers it as an offering or payment, then remembering the contents and thinking he does not know if its valuable, he places the silver dagger and blue still knife as well
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Unread 12th of September, 2006, 04:17
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Originally Posted by Belkregos Without thinking it trough Mirko steps forward, his body is still torn from the encounter with the she wolf, he doesn’t know better to be more reverent and even if he tries to be cordial, his barbaric background shows in his straight forwardness

Realizing he stepped forward he looks for something on himself
Reaching for the pouch he took from the she-wolf he offers it as an offering or payment, then remembering the contents and thinking he does not know if its valuable, he places the silver dagger and blue still knife as well
The Faerie Queen smiles at Mirko and offers him her hand. Trembling, he takes it and she stands up. He tries not to notice how beautiful she is and how the leaves that form her hair barely cover her breasts and the "sweet spot" between her legs. "Keep your weapons of steel...for I have no use for them."
Her eyes are deep pools of green and Mirko tries to stammer a reply, but instead bows his head, blushing severely. Warm hands that smell of loam and fresh flowers tilt his chin up until he meets those eyes again. "No harm done, my shy barbarian. In my glade, the blood on your hands is washed clean...as are whatever stains there may be on your soul. Sit and relax and be at peace with yourself. Your loyalty to these men, your companions, is as refreshing as rain. It may cause you heartache at times, but in the end it will be worth the pain."
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Unread 12th of September, 2006, 04:43
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Sheepishly moving his way to the front of the group young Babelson has his hands tucked neatly behind his back and had previously pulled his shirt tight over his chest again. Eyes to the ground he mumbles something about needing help and cleansing. He stands at the tip of the water awaiting her motions and approval.

Could it? Will I finally be cured by this lady? Will I have to run no more and finally have a place to belong? The hin thinks to himself.

Uttering a few sounds that most would describe as chipmunk squeeks and the north wind he inquires to her speaking in a tongue he never knew he possessed. "Pleee-asse halp." In the language of the druids he bids her assistance while showing his outstreched fingers with nails one could use to pierce the hide of a buffalo if need be.
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Unread 12th of September, 2006, 16:06
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I am not injured, nor diseased... but I do feel unclean in the presense of such beauty. Were everyone else not obviously seeing this I'd think I was dreaming, maybe I am... Gregson pinches himself. Ouch! nope, not a dream. Thinking this to himself he just stands in silence shifting his weight from foot to foot, staring at the marvelous creature in front of him. The world of men were never meant to see the likes of what is before me, I am truly blessed to be here. The smile that departed him from his previous days blunders has returned to his face, and after such a sight as he is beholding now, is not likely to ever depart his face again for he will always be able to find peace in this memory.

Last edited by elmer_jok; 12th of September, 2006 at 16:09.
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Unread 14th of September, 2006, 02:16
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Quick Post 20

Scenario 3, Quick Post 20: Beautiful Ones

Sheepishly moving his way to the front of the group, young Babelson has his hands tucked neatly behind his back and had previously pulled his shirt tight over his chest again. Eyes to the ground he mumbles something about needing help and cleansing. He stands at the tip of the water awaiting her motions and approval.
“Yes child – what can I do for you?” she says, seeming not to notice anything unusual about the Halfling.
Could it? Will I finally be cured by this lady? Will I have to run no more and finally have a place to belong?
Uttering a few sounds that most would describe as a mixture of chipmunk squeaks and the north wind, he addresses her, speaking in a tongue he never knew he possessed. "Pleee-asse halp." In the language of the druids he bids her assistance while showing his outstretched fingers with nails that could pierce the hide of a bull.


Enfolding Babelson in her arms, like a mother would a child, she draws him close and strokes his hair. Tears pour from the young Hin’s face as he his overwhelmed by an array of images ranging from his birth and the death of his mother to the startled looks he has learned to live with all his life to the patient wrapping of his hands by his father. “What could you possibly wish to change about your life, my child of the forest?” She gently pushes Babelson at arm’s length and looks him over, running her slim, delicate fingers over his misshapen hands. “You have been fearfully and wonderfully made! Touched by…”
“Malar the Beastlord!” Babelson cries out, tears dripping onto the grass at his feet.
“Oh, no!” she laughs, cupping one side of his face. “The Beastlord has no hint of beauty in his foul heart – he could not have created something so special.”
And as with Bra’kan, she begins to sing.

Don't look at me

Everyday is so wonderful
Then suddenly
It's hard to breathe
Now and then I get insecure
From all the pain
I'm so ashamed

I am beautiful
No matter what they say
Words can't bring me down
I am beautiful
In every single way
Yes, words can't bring me down
Oh no
So don't you bring me down today

To all your friends, you're delirious
You're so consumed
In all your doom, oh
Trying hard to fill the emptiness
The pieces gone
Left the puzzle undone
Is that the way it is

'Cause you are beautiful
No matter what they say
Words can't bring you down
Oh no
'Cause you are beautiful
In every single way
Yes, words can't bring you down
Oh no
So don't you bring me down today


When her song ends, butterflies encircle she and Babelson, lighting on the Halfling’s face and hands, tickling his skin. “Don’t let anyone dictate how you feel about yourself. Your mother gave you the precious gift of life. Your father gave you all of his love. And you must give yourself a chance! Each creature in this world has a meaning for its existence. You have a part to play in this world – if nothing else but to show those of narrow mind that being different does not mean one is evil or cursed or bad.
“Your gifts have awakened, yes? Then use them – allow the earth to speak to you and guide you. Go forth from this grove and allow yourself to smile…to live!”
She sends a column of butterflies and flowers high into the air, throwing her arms above her head. “THE WORLD IS SO BIG! ALL GLORY TO THE LADY FOR HER CREATION!”
Porthane and Krellon bow deeply. “All glory to the Lady!” they say, reverently.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Anyone else?
-g-
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Unread 14th of September, 2006, 05:54
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Mirko steps out of the pool, feeling invigorated, his heart pumping strong, his blood running his veins pulse visibly just under his skin, lungs full his chest expands, his muscles relaxed he stretches restraining the urge to roar or yawn like a lion would

His body still naked he starts to pick up his possessions and dress adjusting his weapons and armor still not completely understanding the majesty of the presence he stands witness
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Unread 17th of September, 2006, 11:58
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Gregson spends the next few days basking in the beauty of the place, drinking in the smells, sights and sounds. Lovely, lovely place. When everyone is ready to go, he reluctantly goes with. Back to the guard life I guess. "What are you all doing after we leave here?" he asks the group, hopeful of an invitation in their travels. "Someone should at least tell Domon that we have had our vengeance and rescued Babelson, but where to after that? After all I've seen on this venture I'm not looking forward to going back to guarding barges."
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Unread 19th of September, 2006, 03:01
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Originally Posted by Belkregos ...His body still naked ...
"Ha, now I know I'm bigger than you in more ways than one." Bra'kan gives Mirko a slap on his ass and winks at him. He then looks over at the woman of the glade, "I'm not good at saying this. Uh, thanks."

He then takes a look around and looks at the woman once again attracted by her beautiness, but this isn't the place for him. It's to natural, to awe insprining, he wants to be back where he is allowed to bust some heads. "Everyone ready to go, I'm hungry and want some meat. Wolf sounds good tonight. Afterall, you are looking at Bra'kan, the mighty wolf slayer."
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Unread 19th of September, 2006, 04:06
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"What?! the water was cold!"
Mirko dresses grumbling and when he comes back he gives the cloak he made out of the worog’s hide from when they first met, he used to give Brakan a hard time wrapping himself with it and saying how he killed the toughest opponent back them just to piss him off, But Brakan has earned more than his respect

"here Brakan Wolf Killer, you’ve earned this"
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Unread 20th of September, 2006, 07:21
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Aramil busts out laughing at Bra'kan's comment. "Yes, I do beleive we have overstayed our welcome. We thank you all for your help, but we should be on our way." After everyone is ready, Aramil leaves with the group. He goes back to wondering the forest like before, helping those who truely needed it.
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Unread 23rd of September, 2006, 12:55
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With tears in his eyes Babelson doesn't have anything to say to the group. Though they all can see what they have yet to notice on his face before this moment- a smile. He laughs at the posturing between the barbarians, slaps his knee and pets Red some more.
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Unread 18th of October, 2006, 03:39
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Scenario 3, Epilogue

Scenario 3, Epilogue
Leaving the Green Glade wasn't easy for any of you, but the Faerie Queen gently nudged you out "the door" and back into the real world of Ardeep Forest. Urgency and need had brought you together as a group - fighting, bleeding, and nearly dying in the tangled depths of one of the oldest woods in the Realms.
Slaying the she-beast Raven and her minions was yet another step toward making names for yourselves in the Realms. The barbarians and the ranger had fought alongside one another before - and here again they found themselves fighting the servants of Malar, the Beastlord. What was it about this mysterious, deadly deity that kept bringing them together? Maybe they would find out one day.

A few more days in Ardeep, training with Krellon and Porthane was good for you. It helped to keep your grounded and to hone new abilities. But then, as always, there came the time to move on, to go separate ways. To look again for a different path of adventure.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Farther north, in the dark recesses of cave, a hag sifted through the bones of her most recent victim. A young wood elf had let his guard down enough for the hag to ensnare him in one of her many traps. After his bones had been picked clean, she used them for divining...as she always did. "Rolling dem bones" was a gift - a dark one, but one nonetheless. And the bones never lied.
On this day, as the cold autumn winds blew down from the Spine of the World, the hag poked the bones before her and cackled in surprise. The blessed one lived and was coming closer. Smacking her lips, she thought for awhile about what that meant. She muttered to herself, grabbed the bones up, and rolled them again. But this time, what she read in the bones made her gasp...in fear.
"Can't be true...can it?" she wondered aloud. And then, "You promised us!" she raged at the darkness, shaking her fists. "You promised!"
Little Wren, as she was called, snatched up her bones and hurried from her room. She must tell her sisters about her readings. She must warn them that the bones foretold their doom.

Thus ends Scenario 3....................................
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