Reunion At The Great Library

Winnacer, obviously weakened from the fight, trudges over to the fallen Aneira, lunging the tip of the Ripper into her heart:

"May Spravedelna's Judgement be harsh on your soul, Boscobelous."

The evil necromancer in the ice priestess' body has no reply, however. From the gray matter that is leaking through Aneira's cranium and the crimson blood that is spewing from her pierced heart, it is quite obvious that Bosco has 'died' for the very last time.

Fae dismisses the other six of her and walks over to the form that used to belong to Aneira. It is quite easy to see her anger in the clear tone of voice she speaks in; very cold, precise tones as cold as the emerald gleam in her eyes:

"So long and thanks for all the spellbooks... you F***."

While Winnacer and Faewen'il stare at the fallen form of Aneira/Bosco, still unsure as to whether to believe that the bane of their lives for the past few months is finally no more, Yaz staggers over to where the mystery archer is lying unconscious upon the floor:

"Hail minion of Prirodna," Yaz cries, a little delirious, "just in time and then away again! My Lady's dryad avatar..."

He shakes his head, then falls straight back onto his rump with a little bounce, surprised at the ground's sudden violence. After a second, he smiles, then gets to his feet and hobbles over to where the elfin lady rests. He kneels to check her pulse at her neck, and unexpectedly finds one, albeit weak. Quickly he takes a leaf from his pouch and casts a healing spell on the wound in her shoulder.

The effects of Yaz' healing enchantment are strong, and the half-elven woman's eyes immediately open. It is obvious that she is still rather confused though.

As she realizes that the half-elf standing over her has brought her back to consciousness, the mystery archer smiles weakly pushing stray tendrils of rich, chestnut hair out of her face from the braid into which she'd woven it into for the night. The smile reaches her warm brown eyes:

"Thank you," she says weakly to the druid.

She then pauses, looking around her as if she is a little confused as to where she is:

"Wh-who are you?" she questions.

"Yaz," Yaz replies. "I hug trees. And heal people who shoot necromancers in the head."

He grins his trademark scowly grin:

"By Prirodna's power."

The mystery archer looks as if she's weighing his words carefully, but having a hard time remaining dignified while wearing her nightclothes in the middle of the ruins of the inn she unfortunately chose as her resting-place for the night. As if of its own volition, a smile makes its way across her face, reaching all the way to her eyes:

"How fortunate for me that you were here then," she replies. "My name is Aithne Laurellan, by the way. I am handy a bit with sword and bow. Not bad at tracking either. And, of course, I have a habit of shooting...er...necromancers, did you say?... in the head. In my spare time. More of a hobby really than a profession. I tend to stick more toward the tracking type of work."

Aithne then continues to look around in a state of some confusion, her eyes resting upon the grisly remains of Aneira/Bosco:

"So what was that foul creature?"

Yaz looks confused:

"Well, it WAS our friend Aneira, priestess of Zima, but... seems like the evil wizard had control of her body so we had to kill both of them. We'll fill ya in later... Come with us now, we're going to get patched up."

"Indeed," she replies and then hesitates before continuing:

"Don't suppose any of you have the need for a spare blade do you? One of the things I like to hunt most are Nyemetz."

"Lady, we are always in need of trusted allies," replies Will.

While Yaz is attending to Aithne, Winnacer turns to the others:

"I would imagine this spectacle is going to draw a bit of attention from the powers that be. I would recommend a swift retreat to the Great Library of Kitry immediately before the Nyemetz come to investigate."

Even as Winnacer speaks, they can all hear the sound of a great deal of commotion in the general vicinity above the crackling of the flames that have all but engulfed the remaining part of the 'Pen and Parchment'. One of the other buildings close by is also ablaze as a result of Faewen'il's catching its thatched roof with her lightning bolt. Many of the other buildings overlooking the scene have lanterns burning, with several faces at windows, looking down at the scene below in shock and amazement.

Yaz is pleased to still be alive, but is still sick and tired of feeling the way he has so often in recent memory:

"F***in' Kitrian bug-eyed book-readin' pale-assed know-it-all pansies..." he curses as he rises, dusting himself off. "That's the last thing we need, the Kitry weirdos..."

Will throws a scowl at the druid, but says nothing, simply shaking his head with disappointment at hearing the druid's words.

Winnacer agrees:

"I'm in no mood for them myself, but there is no closer sanctuary."

Yaz then turns to help Aithne get up, but finds he is utterly without the strength:

"F***!" he says, "somebody help me with her..."

Will is only too happy to assist the druid with the task, although he is almost as weak as the druid. He comes up alongside Yaz in order to support the half-elf.

As he supports her, he turns and speaks to Aithne:

"My thanks."

"I'm just glad I could help," she replies with another weak smile.

Winnacer calls out to Milan and Tadeus. They immediately appear, having led the panicked horses away from the stable as soon as it started to burn.

The LawBringer gestures towards the two lads to come towards him:

"Help everybody to get to their horses, including the Inn staff. We've got to get going as soon as possible."

Winnacer then sees that Yaz and Will are so weak that they are struggling to carry Aithne between them and comes to assist them. Trying hard to assist the other two to support her weight despite the weakness wracking his own body, he helps the others guide her over to the squires to be put onto a horse.

Having had her say, the irate sorceress then looks towards the inn, planning on digging out her chest and satchel from the main room before too many people got curious as to what was destroying their city. Upon her approaching the inn, however, she sees that it is almost completely ablaze now and she just stands before the burning building, terrified of entering the blaze, but more scared still of losing all of her prized possessions.

Milan notices her predicament and rushes over to the magess' side:

"Don't ye be worrying, Mistress," he says to her with a mixture of fear and enthusiasm. "I'll be getting your big box o' tricks for ye, if ye'll help Tadeus with the horses."

Not waiting for an answer, Milan throws his cloak over his head and charges into the burning building. Not only Faewen'il but Winnacer also look on in panic as the reckless squire runs into the building, soon disappearing into the thick black smoke belching out from inn.

Much to their relief, he reappears a few moments later, dragging Faewen'il's heavy chest behind him, with her satchel slung over a shoulder. He is coughing heartily from the smoke and his cloak is smoldering as a result of many burning embers that have fallen upon it. Once the chest is clear, he throws his cloak to the ground and starts stamping up and down on it, coughing violently as he does so.

No sooner as he stamped out the flames that he hears a loud creaking behind him and turns to see the remains of the inn falling in on itself, collapsing with an almighty CRASH, which sends glowing embers flying into the air all around them.

Milan's face blanches of all color as he stops and stares at he totally destroyed inn, finally realizing how close to death he has come.

Winnacer places a firm, comforting hand on Milan's shoulder, unable to hide his beaming smile:

"We all can't stand here at looking at our handiwork, let's get on the move. The LawBringer helps the squire to his horse, patting the beast on the rear to send it off before finding his own mount.

While the building continues to burn, Will takes his harp and starts to play a mystical tune upon it. As he does so, several patches of the rubble start to glow slightly, their magickal enchantments made visible due to the song.

One of the glowing patches is close to from where the half-elven archer emerged. Will uses his limited strength to toss various pieces of stone and timber aside in order to get at the items. Once cleared of debris, he sees that there is a longsword and a shortsword there, together with a cloak and a pair of boots, all of which are glowing.

Aithne looks at Will holding the items and calls out to him a little nervously:

"Um .. . those are mine. I'd quite like to keep them. I'm rather fond of a few of them."

Being a true gentleman, Will readily agrees to her requests and scoops up all of the items, bringing them to her:

"There's also a pouch that should be there with them, and if you could bring me my bow and quiver, I would be most grateful," she smiles.

Will is, once more, glad to oblige and brings Aithne all of her belongings. He then continues with his investigation, heading for the next area that emanated magick. As he gets to the area, he calls out to the others:

"It's Padre Kokal. He's trapped under some debris. Give me a hand to help get him out."

Winnacer, Yaz and Milan head over to where Will is kneeling among the debris, trying to clear away some of the rubble. The four of them start to clear it, revealing the form of the Padre beneath the stone and timber. They can see that the Padre is out cold, his head bleeding from his being hit on the head by some of the wreckage. He is still breathing, however.

As the others work to free the others, Faewen'il hunts for the remains of the S.M.A.T. Team. The charred remains of Priest Klima are easy to find, as they are on top of the pile of rubble to the north of the blazing inn.

The first thing that she picks up from using the Witchfinder's Rod is the fact that the chainmail that the Priest was wearing under his robes are magickal. However, it hardly took the Rod to inform her of the fact as, although the rest of the priest and his belongings are terribly charred, the chainmail is still a bright silver color and seems to not have been effected by Bosco's fireball in the slightest.

Several broken glass vials are surrounding the body of the priest. The Rod detects the fact that their contents were magickal, presumably potions. However, as a result of his fall, it appears that all of the vials are now broken, the potions now forming small pools upon the ground.

In his gnarled and blackened hand, the priest is clutching a burned fragment of paper, which also radiates faint traces of magick. The fragment obviously belonged to a scroll, but it is now burned beyond recognition. Several other fragments are blowing in the wind around him, also burned to a state where they are useless.

There is a mace underneath the cleric's body, which also shows itself to be magickal. Just as she begins to think that the priest has nothing remaining of interest, she notices that he is wearing two rings on the now almost skeletal fingers of his left hand. One of them is chunky and made of gold, while the other seems to be made of iron, and is decorated with the form of a head of an ox. She quickly slips the rings from his fingers, depositing them in her pouch and then starts to remove the chainmail and takes the mace.

While she does so, Winnacer, Yaz, Will and Milan finally free the unconscious Padre and drag him from the rubble, whereupon they lay his still form over one of the horses. Oldrich then saunters around the side of the burning inn, swigging from a bottle of brandy while carrying a sack in his other hand, which clinks whenever he moves it.

Winnacer looks at him in a disapproving manner, to which Oldrich just shrugs in response:

"The innkeeper and his wife are dead, so it seemed a waste to let all the drink go to waste."

Winnacer's face twists, both in sadness and in disgust:

"May Spravedelna safely guide them to Kitry's glories. They deserve better than this."

Before Winnacer has chance to speak to the bard further, the sound of boots on the cobblestones can be heard approaching the inn, with flickers of torches visible between the buildings and the occasional shout in Nyemetz.

The young Lord shouts over to Faewen'il as he mounts his horse:

"We need to move out of here right now, Faewen'il," he says sternly. "We are in no condition whatsoever to fight off any Nyemetz tonight."

Having liberated Priest Klima of his items, Faewen'il looks around for the bodies of the other two members of the S.M.A.T. Team. She can just make out the body of MageMinder Kafka buried in some rubble right before her, obscured by too much debris for her to be able to dig it out on her own.

The body that she really wants to find, that of Oskar the Overconfident, is nowhere to be seen, however. She deduces that it probably fell back into the burning inn and is now impossible to retrieve due to the inferno raging around it.

Annoyed at missing out on what devices the Master Mage might have left upon his body, Faewen'il reluctantly rushes over the rubble and mounts her horse.

The party then quickly heads away from the scene of the fight, not having time to retrieve the fallen body of Aneira. As they do so, three companies of goblins appear right behind them and the party just manages to avoid being seen by the Nyemetz.

The spires of the Great Library are quite visible from the area, as the building is just four blocks away from the inn. Winnacer leads the party on a circuitous route to get there, however, so as to evade anyone that could possibly be following them. Nevertheless, it takes just a few minutes before they arrive outside the huge wooden doors of the Great Library, which are closed, as it is after curfew. Yaz curses as he looks up at the building, rambling about why it is that the party has to spend the night with the Kitrians. Winnacer pointedly ignores him and tells the party to dismount so that the squires can take the horses round the back in order that they may be stabled for the night. As the squires take the reins to the horses from tem all, Winnacer walks up the steps to the doors and raps confidently upon the brass knocker.

A minute or so later, the great oaken doors open a little, and a white robed acolyte peers through the crack at them:

"Yes?" he says in a friendly manner. "How can we be of assistance at this late hour?"

"I would like to speak with Acolyte Clarissa Stradheim," Winnacer requests. "If she is available."

"Loremistress Stradheim," the acolyte corrects him. "I think that she is probably sleeping at the moment, but I can raise her if it is important."

Winnacer nods in approval.

The acolyte looks at the bloodied state of those whom stand before him:

"Which I presume that it is. Whom may I say is calling?"

"It is her brother," Winnacer replies.

The acolyte nods and opens up the door to them all:

"Please wait in the Library," he beckons, "I shall bring her immediately."

They follow the acolyte into the Library and then he leaves them to walk through a door in the rear of the gigantic room. While waiting for the acolyte to return with Clarissa, they all stare around them at the enormous room, marveling at its size and splendor, including its magnificent painted ceiling. As with the Library of Kitry, the walls are lined with bookshelves, although they are far from being filled with books. The vestry of the library is filled with desks, with just a few of them occupied at this late hour with acolytes and other clergy-members reading silently by candlelight.

The acolyte returns several minutes later, but they are surprised to see that he is alone. His friendly appearance has gone, to be replaced by a stern expression. He advances back up to Winnacer:

"And WHICH of her brothers would you be?" he asks.

"Winnacer," the young Lord replies. "Winnacer Duene Stradheim."

The acolyte simply nods and turns round to head back for the door. They all wait for a few moments longer and then they see a young woman aged in her early twenties, dressed in the white robes of Kitry, rushing from the door in their direction. The woman is attractive, and the family resemblance to Winnacer is obvious for all to see.

Winnacer's beaming smile returns, his white teeth flecked with reds and yellows from the torchlight. His face is one of simple unselfconscious joy as it contorts itself in ways rarely seen.

A look of delight is apparent on the woman's face also as she rushes towards her brother. As she gets to him, she wraps her arms around him, almost knocking him to the ground in her excitement as a result of his weakened state:

"Oh, Winnacer," she cries, her eyes starting to moisten, "is it really you? I thought that I may never see you again."

Winnacer takes his sister in his arms, holding her close a few seconds quietly before responding:

"There have been many days when I feared the same. I missed you sorely, Clarissa."

"I've missed you too," Clarissa replies. "More than you can ever imagine."

The rest of them just stand around looking somewhat embarrassed at the family reunion, still aching from their wounds.

Clarissa and Winnacer finally part. As they do so, Clarissa looks down to see that her white robes have become stained with blood in places as a result of her hugging her brother. Her expression immediately changes from one of relief and joy to one of concern:

"By Kitry, you're injured," she says with alarm.

Then she finally notices the fact that Winnacer is not alone.

"Your friends too. By Kitry, you all look half dead. You must be seen to immediately. Kitry forgive me for my selfishness in not attending to you earlier."

She then immediately summons the acolytes on duty at the moment with the fervor of one whom has recently achieved a position of minor power:

"These people are injured," she shouts over to them, disturbing them from their studies, "please help me to get them to the cloisters."

The five acolytes on duty close their books and quickly move over to assist them all, with two of the acolytes supporting the unconscious Padre who has been supported by Yaz and Will and another two assisting Aithne, who is only barely capable of walking unassisted.

They escort the party members through the main Library, through the doors which Clarissa emerged from earlier which leads to a corridor, off which are a number of small rooms furnished with just simple beds, wardrobes and writing tables, plus well stocked bookcases. They pass the rooms, carrying on down the corridor to a larger dormitory area containing several beds, all of which are currently empty. The acolytes sit them down on the beds, and then start to see to their wounds.

Clarissa sees to Winnacer's wounds while the acolytes see to the others. Clarissa casts a total of seven different curing spells upon her brother's wounds, but in none of the cases are the results very successful, and Winnacer is still a little away from full health by the time that she is finished.

Clarissa looks rather surprised at this and shakes her head weakly, the effort at casting so many spells in quick succession having taken its toll upon her:

"You certainly have changed a great deal since I last saw you, Winn. The amount of damage that I have healed on you I would have expected to kill you."

"Its' been a long and arduous year for me," Winnacer replies. "It seems even the meekest of the Stradheim boys was unable to escape our family's legacy."

The five acolytes see to the others, casting two or three spells apiece upon the injured. In the majority of cases, however, the spells are weak in curing the many wounds inflicted by either the shadows or the falling stonework and the party is still far from fully recovered after they have finished up all of their spells for the day. At least they have managed to get the Padre back on his feet, however:

"Thank ye all f'r ye 'elp," Kokal says to the acolytes. "P'raps Radegast blessin's'll be 'ealin' 'em the rest o' th' way."

Kokal then sets about using his own healing spells in order to try and bring the party back up to full health. Although he quickly manages to quickly heal himself, Aithne sucks up spell after spell, still not returning to full health despite several spells being cast. Kokal ignores Yaz totally and so the druid uses his last remaining curing spell upon himself.

Clarissa is astonished that five people were able to swallow up a total of 32 healing spells between them without any of them returning to full health:

"Let me summon one of the Loremasters to finish the healing exercise," she says before heading out of the room.

She returns a couple of minutes later with a man in his late twenties dressed in a similar style to herself, who is trying to stop himself from yawning. He investigates the remaining wounds of the party ad then casts a couple of spells upon Will and one more on each of the others, finally bringing everyone back to full health.

Clarissa pats the man on his shoulder:

"Thank you for all of you help, Patrik. I'll let you get back to bed now."

The Loremaster nods his head, stifles a yawn and then returns from whence he came.

Clarissa then addresses the acolytes:

"Thank you too. You may return to your other activities."

The acolytes then begin to slink away. As they do so, the clock on the tower forming part of the library begins to sound the hour of midnight.

Clarissa addressed the party:

"It's getting very late now and I'm sure that you're all very tired after ... whatever it is that you have been doing this evening."

From the look upon her face, it is obvious that she is not sure that she really wants to here the details of the party's recent pursuits.

"There seems to be quite a lot of commotion in the city tonight and it is way after curfew and so I doubt that you will be able to find alternative accommodation this evening," she continues. "I'm sure that the Patriarch will not object to your spending the night in the Great Library. Please ask myself or one of the acolytes if there is anything that we can provide to make your stay with us any more comfortable."

Once she has attended to the needs of the others, Clarissa invites her brother over to sit next to her and the two of them begin to catch up on all that has happened to each other during the months since they last saw each other:

"So whatever have you been up to over the past months, Winn?" Clarissa asks excitedly. "I got a very strange letter from father just two or three weeks ago that didn't seem to make any sense to me at all."

"He said that Klauf had met you at some sporting event a month or so ago and that Klauf is frothing at the mouth, claiming that you have become nothing but a terrorist who has fallen in with a band of ruthless thugs who go round maiming and torturing innocent civilians."

"That doesn't sound like you at all, Winn. Whatever was he talking about?"

"Anyway, Klauf is livid about the situation and is threatening to bring you back to Kladno in chains to answer for your 'crimes'."

"From the tone of the letter, it appears that father doesn't really know what to think about the situation. It's obvious that he doesn't fully believe Klauf's side of the story fully but, to quote him 'there's no smoke without fire'. You know how close Klauf and father are."

"In any case, he told me that, if I was to meet with you at any time in the future, then I should tell you that he wants you to return home to Kladno immediately so that he can find out what you have been up to and sort things out once and for all."

Clarissa lets out a long sigh:

"You're not the only one that he wants to return back immediately. Over the past six months, he has been getting more and more insistent that I return home as well. Apparently the son of the Lord Protektor of Beroun is looking for a bride and father is getting quite insistent that I should 'stop wasting my time with all those book-reading, lilly-livered, yellow-bellied, inky-fingered no-good freaks' and do something useful with my life by becoming a good wife to someone of noble blood."

She wrinkles her delicate nose in distaste:

"I know what the real reason for his insistence is, however. By marrying me off to the Lord Protektor's son, he knows that our offspring would unite Beroun and Kladno, giving the family control over one of the largest estates in Western Bohavia."

"Isn't that typical of him?" she asks, shaking her head. "To him that's all his daughters are useful for; just pawns for him to use in his grand political schemes. Well, he might have been able to bully Laura into playing his games, but he's not getting me that easily."

Clarissa looks a little sad as she continues:

"Laura writes to me regularly. The Duke of Rakovnik treats her terribly, you know, and I fear that it is only her faith that keeps her going."

She pauses for a moment, absent-mindedly picking at a loose thread coming from one of the embroidered book symbols on her robes. She sighs and then looks back up at Winnacer, smiling weakly:

"Anyway, what about you?"

She points at Winnacer's ceremonial hammer:

"So it's really true then? You really ARE a LawBringer? That was another thing that father mentioned in his letter."

Her smile grows wider and she shakes her head with obvious pride as to her brother's achievement:

"Who would have thought it? My baby brother now a fully-fledged LawBringer of Spravedelna."

She shakes her head in wonderment.

Winnacer listens to his sister without interrupting her, taking in her smile and returning his own. It has been a long time he had heard a supportive word spoken in his direction, especially from his own family, and a sense of ease crept into his body despite his weakness and fatigue:

"To recount what exactly I've been doing over the last five months would take the greater part of a week. The life of adventurers in father's books always seemed simple, but my life on the road has proven to be anything but."

"Klauf wasn't exactly off." Winnacer unsheathes 'Old Bohavia' and hands it to his sister. "The story really starts with this sword, 'Old Bohavia', which was in the possession of one Lord Svatopluk of Prostyeyov before he died in front of me. He wanted to create a unified resistance to return Bohavia to its former glory and rid itself of the foreign influences enslaving our folk. I decided to become involved in such a cause, as both you and I have seen first hand the horrors the Nyemetz are capable of. With his death, I became the defacto leader of a small enclave of freedom fighters."

Clarissa looks a little startled at Winnacer's story, but her initial expression of surprise relaxes back into one of pride for her brother's achievements.

"We've done quite a bit of harassment to the Nyemetz, from minor skirmishes to leading men out into battle under Bohavia's banner," the LawBringer continues. "This sword, The 'Ripper of Pardubitze', I claimed from the Lord Protektor when I struck him down. So, I am certainly a traitor to the Nyemetz, with quite a price on my head."

"I also found that I had a calling after I left Kladno, but it was not clear to me until I met a great man, Kesryk. He introduced me to the teachings of Spravedelna and guided me to Her service. I underwent the Trials and was judged worthy of the title LawBringer, and it is for Spravedelna that I now fight instead of the callous reasons of our family."

Winnacer fills her in on various sundry details while Clarissa listens on, both fascinated and astounded at all that her little brother has been able to achieve in a little over three months. The young Lord's cheeks still turn beet red when the matter of Magda finally arises, but he cannot hide those feelings from his sister at all:

"So that's the long and the short of it, Clarissa. I almost cannot believe it myself. But tell me more about things, like when were you promoted to Lorekeeper? What are you going to do about father?"

"Well, I know that it's hard to believe," Clarissa replies, "but it's been over two years since I left Kladno on the day of my 21st birthday, when father couldn't legally stop me from joining the Church any longer. I've been working hard on my readings and devotions during that time and was finally rewarded with the rank of Loremistress just a little under three months ago."

"I really like it here, Winn," she continues. "It's just so pleasant to be with people who think and talk about other things than simply battle and politics all of the time and it's also very nice to be treated as an equal and not just as a servant simply because of my gender."

"The hours are long and I still have to study well into the night every night so as to continue my devotions, but I am learning so much in the process that it's all worth it."

Her smile fades once more:

"This is why father's letters demanding that I return to Kladno are causing me such pain. I can't possibly leave the Library now, as it's my home. However, father's letters are getting more and more insistent and it gets harder and harder to tell him that I'm not returning. I pray often to Kitry that He helps me to overcome this problem, as it is weighing heavily on my mind."

Winnacer looks knowingly at her sister:

"Father had a similar ignoble fate in store for me as well. I'm sure he would have impressed me into service for the Nyemetz if he had his way. If these last months have shown me anything, it is that we must resist authority when we know in our hearts that it is misguided."

Winnacer shakes his head:

"Who ever thought those words would come from my mouth? But know that I will support you Clarissa, no matter what you decide, and will stand up to Father on your behalf if necessary. Not that I would do any good, but you deserve to be happy and productive. Any other fate would shatter my heart."

Clarissa smiles at hearing her brother's words, squeezing his shoulder as she does so:

"Thanks, Winn. I knew that I could rely upon you for all your help if I needed it. I've got to learn to fight my own battles though. It's not just to father that I have to prove that I am capable of standing on my own two feet now. I have to prove it to you also. Myself too, if the truth be known."

While Winnacer and his sister continue to chat, Fae simply finds a place to sit, clearly still in a foul mood from the night's activities. Not even the thought of Bosco finally being dead is able to brighten her up any.

Will too, not really in a upbeat mood, walks over to Fae and motions as if to sit beside her:

"May I?"

Fae simply looks at him, though she doesn't shoo him away or tell him no.

Will sits next to her and starts to speak:

"Fae, whether you forgive me or not is your choice, but believe me when I tell you that I am glad to know that the necromancer is upon your person no more. I only wish I had the knowledge and skill to have better aided you in your time of need, rather than mucking it up the way Winnacer and I seem to have done. Gods grant that it may be so in the future."

Fae's eyes narrow a bit as she contemplates his words. Now was the time for the truth....

Without acknowledging Will's words, Fae stands up on the bench she had been sitting on and spoke out loudly enough to get everyone's attention in the room, regardless of who they were. She was tired of half-made apologies and useless gestures:

"Ye will all be hear'n tha truth o Bosco now... a truth I can ba hope ye will all be larnin from," Fae said, though her gaze took in Winnacer more than the others.

"Many a week ago, we came upon tha Towr o Bosco. Yet evn a'fore we stood upon th' grounds o such a place, I had hard th' necromancr speakn in me head. Tauntn me with thoughts na proper.... T'would been folly t' spake o such thins ta th' lot o ye... fr evn now ye think o me a nuthin more thn a child. What would ye ha' said t' hearn voices as we neard yon black abode..."

"Fancifl dreams be what ye would ha calld them... an donna tell me now tha ye would ha turned back on account o a 'wee lass' be hearn voices...bah"

"An then we all went ta battle wi' his minions an ye thought yerslvs talentd an fearsom far tak'n them oot. But tha night... tha night I met th' necromancer hisself whilst ye war sleepin an dreamn o yar victory. An he showed me wha would happen t' tha lot o ye iffn I refused him."

The cold anger in her voice seems to get colder then as she continues with her story:

"I, IN ME FOLLY, THOUGHT I BE DOIN THA REBELLION A FAVOR BY HELPIN TA SAVE YE FROM HIS GRASP!" Fae says as she slams her fist against the wall.

"So sure was I tha me sacrifice war far tha good o Bohavia... that YE war warth the darkening o ME OWN SOUL... tha I paid th' price far yar miserable lives!"

"I carried his foul presnce in SILENCE, knowin ta speak would undo all tha I ha done. All th' while, I PRAYED far a way ta get rid o him a'fore it war too late or he got tired o gettin his amusements off o me!"

"An then..... by accident... I war able ta speak ta Konan..... I told him o EVRYTHIN... all th' horrible thins I war made ta do ta others... people whose ONLY hope war ta live in a FREE land.... a land made FREE by people such as yarselves...."

"Farever tainted they be now.... tho they still ha' tha hope left iffen ye ha' the BALLS ta live up to thar sacrifices!"

"It be then tha me and Konan plannd ta trap him... but th' plan only wark iffen we KNEW whar Bosco would be."

"I agreed ta keep me vigil.... and trust tha a trap be set...."

Fae then spits on the ground.

"And it all would ha been FINE till ye had ta mess with thins better left alone... EVEN AFTER YE WAR WARNED BY ME OWN HAND!!"

"Aneera would be livin now if ye ha' left well enough alone... even yar own squires would na know tha tainted touch o Bosco, iffen ye ha done one simple thin.... TRUST me."

"I trusted yoo.... I sacrificed me own soul far yoo an tha others... an all ye ever did was spit upon it. My trust ye shall nevr have again."

"Tha night when ye came ta try an apologize far exposin me raped body...tha war th' night Bosco took Aneera's body far his own... TA PUNISH ME FAR HAVIN WRITTEN THA LETTER YE WAR TA NOT SHARE WITH OTHERS AND TA BURN!!!"

"Evn now ye will nevr know tha extent o damage ye caused....but I know....an I will na forget, LawBringer. Thar will na be a night I will go ta sleep an not see every LAST VIVID detail."

"Nothin I do will evr motivate yoo, LawBringer.... so I want ye t' thin o those people whose souls are forevr darker. I want ye ta make it up t' THEM far yar mistakes!"

"I gave me WARD tha I would be see'n th' people o Bohavia free... an it be a ward I will na break. And tho I loathe yar very presence, I will continyoo ta travel with ye an see ta it tha YE stand by yar own ward o bringn peace to this land."

Faewen'il then stands down from where she was, grabs her satchel and heads for the front door.

Aithne looks at this exchange with a curious interest. Leaning over to those who are near to her, she murmurs:

"A bit high strung isn't she?"

"Aye," says the bard," but it is not without cause."

Winnacer watches the raving magess with interest, doing his best not to interrupt whatever catharsis she may need. As she turns her back on the party, Winnacer gently calls out to her:

"Perhaps you would care to hear my side of things before you start passing Judgement."

With a scowl on her face, the magess turns around at the door to see what the LawBringer has to say in his defense. The LawBringer then speaks to all that are present:

"That ill-fated night back in Hradetz, when Konan gave me the news of Faewen'il's possession, was a horrendous burden and puzzle for me. Konan told me few details except that Faewen'il was in danger from Boscobelous' spirit and that he would need the help of others to excise it. He gave me a single scroll at that time, telling me not to read it until I was sure that the spirit of Boscobelous firmly took hold of Faewen'il by Spravedelna's Judgement. Equipped with little knowledge, I trusted Konan at his word, believing that his knowledge would far outstrip my own here. There was no room for questioning that night."

"Each day I monitored Faewen'il for signs of possession from that day on. She remained pure to my sight until right after we were separated. At our reunion in the Pardubitze jail cell, I was struck by a degree of sinister evil I have never felt before, so overpowering that it almost knocked me backwards by just viewing it. I was terrified, fearing that Faewen'il's overly black moods were the manifestations of her possession."

"I had planned to sneak off to check out the scroll given to me by Konan when we made it back to the Vine. Konan had eluded to the scroll being able to stave off the effects or slow them down, or at least that is how I interpreted his vague words. It was then that Faewen'il decided to skulk off into the darkness without an explanation when the whole of the Nyemetz garrison was ready to hunt us down in a few minutes. I thought that Boscobelous had taken hold and was ready to make a hasty escape while the rest of us would be forced to hide."

"We all know what happened next, and it is not something that I take great pride in doing. I leapt to some incorrect conclusions because of my concern for Faewen'il and the incredible lack of information provided to me."

"What I read up in my chambers afterwards was shocking. The first surprise was when, upon opening Konan's scroll, a second scroll fell out of the sealed tube. Konan neglected to tell me that Faewen'il had written a letter to me explaining what was going on. After having read both letters, I better understood Boscobelous' curse and how I had mangled things horribly. But considering the amount that I was misinformed and still expected to watch out for Faewen'il's interests, I still do not believe that I could have prevented the catastrophe without disregarding Konan's directions completely. I was asked to do something on faith, to trust in the judgement of others without knowing myself. Sometimes, it seems, just faith is not enough."

"We can seek to pin blame for this whole catastrophe, but what is it worth now?" Winnacer questions

"It seems that there is enough blame to go around, and no benefit in attempting to mete it out in deserved measures," says Will, shaking his head.

"Should we be sore that Faewen'il felt that we would ignore her dreams and portents instead of giving us a chance to perhaps believe her?" the LawBringer continues. "Should I flagellate myself because I made mistakes that I could not have known I was making or for not having a gift for reading minds? Are we to be angry with Konan for leaving out some crucial elements in his directions? These pursuits are all useless, as the evil was Boscobelous' doing, and it is now finished. We can only try to make the best of what is left of the situation."

Winnacer then turns to specifically address Faewen'il:

"As for what happened at The Vine, I can never fully apologize for. Read my mind and you will know it to be true, as you will know that my actions were taken thinking I had your best interests at heart. It may sound impossible, but it is true."

"Perhaps you truly will never trust me again, but I venture that you never trusted me, or perhaps any of us, from the beginning. Your letter did not find me until after it could have been any use in preventing what happened. And I felt that it was Just for those who were in very real danger of being possessed and killed to know that my words were true, as we both know the plan was wrecked as soon as I spoke a word at the Vine. The only way to circumvent the whole situation was to avoid it initially, which is not an option ever presented to the rest of us."

Winnacer takes a breath:

"If you wish to hate me, then do so knowing why I did as I did. But if you wish to make me feel guilty over things deliberately or accidentally kept from me, know that I've already had my fill of your vitriol. I'm sorry that any of this had to happen, but it did and we must make the best to get over it."

Seeing that Winnacer has finished his speech, Faewen'il opens the doors and heads out into the cold, snowy streets of Olmutz, slamming the huge oaken doors behind her.

Once things inside the Great Library have gone quiet once more, Will eyes Aithne again, since all have regained full health, then makes introductions:

"Again I thank you for your aid. I am Will, this is Yaz, Kokal, Winnacer .. ." he motions toward each as he makes introductions.

" ... and that was Fae," he adds pointing to the door.

After being able to wash the dust and embers from her body, Aithne feels much better once accoutered in her accustomed leather armor, which she wears beneath a simple white robe lent to her by the Kitrians. Her weaponry restored to its various locations, and her long bow and arrows ready for more use. A long sword hangs from a sheathe at her left side. A short sword at her right.

"Yaz already so kindly introduced himself. I am most pleased to make your acquaintances," Aithne bows politely to Will, Winnacer, Kokal.

Since Fae has already stormed out, she bows slightly in the direction of the door:

"As I mentioned to Yaz, I am Aithne Laurellan. I hope the rift between your two friends is not irreparable. It is hard enough to fight evil; it would be harder still with no trust."

She sighs:

"Still, that is your business, not mine. Is Winnacer the leader of this band? Should I speak to him about possibly aiding you in your endeavors?" adds Aithne.

"If it can be said that we have a leader, then yes, Winnacer would be the person to speak with," Will replies.

Winnacer faces the newcomer, removing his helmet as he makes a formal bow to her. He pushes back his drenched forelock as he fixes the half-elf with a tired smile:

"My apologies, Aithne."

Winnacer looks surprised at how easily the elven pronounciation rolled off his lips:

"It seems that this night conspires to keep our company too busy to do things correctly. I am Winnacer Duene Stradheim, LawBringer of Spravedelna. It seems that we, and the whole of Bohavia, have you to thank for ending a five century old scourge with a well placed shaft. You have done perhaps more than you are aware of, and it would be my pleasure to fill in those details when time is less pressing."

"No need to apologize, er, Sir?" Aithne replies, obviously somewhat puzzled on how to address the paladin. "I see you have a lot on your plate right now. It will keep until a cold evening around a warm fire."

Winnacer peers deeply into her eyes, somewhat uncomfortably for the young half-elven mistress:

"It also seems that Spravedelna is also pleased with your actions here tonight." Winnacer smiles approvingly. "And judging from your words, it seems that you wish to link your fate to ours. I would be pleased to keep your company in the future, and if it is all right with the others, a place is certainly yours to take."

Aithne merely nods, trying to stay serious but fighting a strong impulse to laugh, or at least smile. It is clearly hard for her to remain serious for any length of time:

Winnacer's face then grows more serious:

"Before you decide that this is what you want, let me just warn you that we follow a hard and painful path. Those in power seek our heads, we have no true places to call our home except the road, and we constantly are surrounded by death, both of our enemies and our friends. Our commitment is to the freeing of Bohavia and challenging the overt and sublime forces that seek to subdue our land, one that we are willing to lie our lives down for. If such a path does not agree with you, we may not be the best companions for you."

Aithne raises an eyebrow, brown eyes still gleaming in the light of the room. She glances at her weaponry, her cloak and boots, but still says nothing.

Winnacer's face then lightens up a bit:

"But if all that doesn't scare you off, I look forward to seeing you at our sides in the near future."

"Let's see," Aithne responds; "the disadvantages are:

1. Sought by the Nyemetz , or others in power. I've got that covered already.

2. No place to call home but the road. Well, if you add the forests as part of the road, that's more of an advantage to me.

3. Surrounded by death. Well, I was surrounded by that when I wasn't actively seeking trouble, so I don't know why not going with you would make much difference here either."

"Am I willing to lay down my life for Bohavia? I am willing to lay down my life for what we call 'good'. Good in my eyes right now is wiping those that oppress those that cannot fight them off the face of the earth. Granted, I tend to use the element of surprise to some extent, likely more than you do, good sir knight. But I hunt those that feed on the powerless. And the Nyemetz are my principle prey, so far. Though I am thinking of opening a sideline of necromancer hunting."

In a flash, her demeanor sobers:

"I have seen their actions close up. My father, my grandfather, and, indirectly, my mother. They are wrong and they must be stopped."

"Though I may not have the eloquence of a man such as yourself, be assured that I am no less dedicated to this cause. My sword and bow are yours.. ."

She looks at the entire group, not just Winnacer:

".. .as long as you fight evil in this land."

Winnacer looks from Yaz to Will to the Padre, and then over to the open door:

"So what do you guys think?"

Winnacer's question is met with nods all round. Will nods approval with a weak smile being all that he can muster, the many deaths of close friends in the recent past still darkening his thoughts.

"Well then, you've got the majority vote. Welcome aboard."

Aithne beams:

"My thanks."

Clarissa was obviously astounded by Faewen'il's outburst and her tempestuous exit from the Library. Once everything has calmed down and the Library is silent once more, she turns to Winnacer:

"What on earth was all that about, Winn? Whatever was she talking about?"

Winnacer takes a deep sigh, and then begins to explain the night's activities, telling the Temple of Kitry's role in this as well as revealing all of his message scrolls to her:

"Your Temple has lost a few of its more powerful clergy tonight, but Boscobelous' soul has finally been given its final Judgment. Perhaps it would be best if we were to relate these details to the Patriarch."

"Patriarch Yodathlion is probably not the best person to speak of these matters about," Clarissa replies. "Although he is the head of our Faith, he is in his final years of his venerable life and has little time for the day-to-day activities of the Church or the country, instead concentrating on loftier matters."

Clarissa seems to be in awe of the Patriarch:

"He spent thirty years searching for the ultimate answer," she whispers. "He discovered that, but now he's hard at work thinking of the ultimate question. He's been at it for twenty years already, so I think he's still got a great deal of thinking to do before he comes up with the answer."

"The Vice Patriarchs see to the day-to-day matters of the Church. I think that it would be good for you to talk to one of them."

"Can it wait until tomorrow though?" she asks. "It is getting very late now and they will both be sleeping. You're not going to rush off too soon are you, Winn? We've still got a lot to talk about."

Winnacer sighs:

"We are planning on spending two or three days in Olmutz, but then we must head off again, as we have a very important task that needs our urgent attention."

"Oh," Clarissa replies, a little said at not having her brother around for longer. "And what is that, if I may ask?"

Winnacer then proceeds to answer by telling her of the party's next mission, the pursuit of the Nemotz and the attempt to put a stop to their nefarious plan.

Clarissa's eyes go wide as she listens to Winnacer's tale, shaking her head as she learns of the death of her brother's colleagues. She holds on Winnacer's every word until he finally falls silent.

"Ratmen?" she finally says, her eyes open wide in astonishment. "I've never heard of anything like that before."

"Do you think that the Library could be of any assistance to us in our task?" Winnacer asks.

"I - I'm not sure," Clarissa replies. "I think that you are best to speak to the Vice Patriarch about this matter, as he is far more learned on every subject than I am."

Clarissa stifles a yawn:

"I'm sorry, Winn. I'd love to carry on chatting with you for the rest of the night, but I'm due on duty in just a few hours. I think that it's best if we all got a little rest now and carried on our talks in the morning."

Winnacer, who is also feeling very tired after the strength draining of the shadow agrees, and allows himself to be shown by Clarissa to one of the small, simple guest rooms of the Library. The rest of the party also decide to call it a night, with each of them heading off to their rooms.