In Tents Conversation

Faewen'il finally has enough of listening to the others argue about Darius and how to take out the Nyemetz; she shakes Darry's head as she speaks:

"Far what will hopefully be tha last time I have ta shake sense into tha lot o ye, hear me out."

"I am not made o spells ta simply be used as a tool; asked ta do this an that as iffin all I had ta be doin is snappin me fingers an ye wish come true."

"More now than ever, we have ta be PLANNIN our actions ahead o time. It be true that Granny's books have given me quite a bit o spells ta be choosin from, but I needs ta be knowing tha night a'fore what ye will be needin."

"Iffin ye aren't blind, ye surely would have noted that I spend me mornins buried in me books as I commit tha magical words ta memory. Once they be committed, there be no turnin back."

"So I donna thin that today be a wise choice ta be goin after so large a group o dark hearted folk as me "quiver" o spells be one short o full."

Faewen'il then holds Darry's hand up to forestall comments.

"An a'fore ye go sayin that I be spoutin feminine nonsense about not takin out tha enemy" Faewen'il says as he looks disdainfully at Bennett, "take a look at what ye are plannin ta take out an then tell me ye can pull it off without me magic."

"Indeed.... what ye need be me magic an not me.... but tha gods have seen fit ta curse ye with me instead. So ye will have ta be livin with me limitations."

"Now then, ye can go back to ye quibblin about how ta kill tha Nyemetz; but know that yer pet mage will na be doin a thin about it till tomorrow mornin." Faewen'il adds in a sarcastic tinged tone as she folds Darry's arms and waits for the inevitable demeaning comments from Bennett; mumbling something under his breath in elven about putting the packs on the wrong ass.

Winnacer looks Faewen'il dead in the eye, obviously not amused by her continuous abusive and childish tone. Winnacer's voice rings clear as he responds:

"I am sorry if our attitudes about your magics offends you. But for the most part we have simply tried to think of reasonable plans to approach the problems that seem to arise wherever we go. We have never dictated what spells you are to study, nor have you yet felt the need to share with the group the list of spells you have committed to memory. We have only offered suggestions. Unless you share with us your limits, we will constantly seek to push the envelope with our suggestions. If you are offended by our understanding and means of asking for your skills, you must realize that some of the burden of fault lies with your desire to remain somewhat mysterious to a number of us. If you really believe in planning in advance as you say, you would be more forthcoming. I do not believe we treat you as a magic tool, instead it is more like guessing what powers you are ready to invoke and how we can use them to best advantage without making you all upset at us."

"If you want the respect that you believe members of our party are withholding from you, you need to start to treat the rest of us with some respect as well. Telling others that they need to have 'the sense shook into them' or they 'must be blind not to notice' is as condescending as I must sound right now. For all your talk of being treated as a pet mage, you certainly speak to us as if we were all beneath you. I seek no quarrel with you Faewen'il, for I too can often come off as cold and haughty. But my ears tire of being constantly berated when there is blame to share."

"With all that said, let us not start screaming at each other. Let us talk quietly of what we could do tonight with the skills and spells that are available. The enemy is all around us, save the desire to fight for them."

Faewen'il looks as if she is about to say something, then she clamps his mouth down and takes a deep breath before continuing to talk; Darry's eyes becoming mysteriously moist though no tears manifest themselves.

"And I am tired o listenin to remarks made about feminine chaos and hysterics sar Winnacer... as they come after a supposed apology made ta me. An look at ye... as soon as I make even tha slightest comment I am renounced far it."

"I am not sayin that ye be sayin them... but I know when me company is na wanted."

"A'fore this moment, none of ye have even bothered ta take tha time to ask o me what it is I have learnt ta do from Granny's books. Ye go off makin all kinds o grandiose plans and then as an afterthought, ye ask me iffin I can do them."

"Just tha same as some o ye have beliefs in tha gods, do I revere tha magic that flow through me veins and those who taught me ta harness that power. Magic to ye all be a neat toy an a useful tool ta be helpin tha folk o Bohavia. Do ye even realise what it be takin ta do what it be I do?"

"I could lose me concentration and kill tha whole lot o us with a mis-cast spell. I could just as easily miscast a spell and destroy me mind or rip tha magical fabric o tha land an cause catastrophe's tha like ye would na want ta be seein. Power be a fickle thin... and as such I respect it greatly for what it can and canna do."

"All tha time I hear talk o respectin this thin an that; yet except for sar Xavier's fear o power, none have shown respect for tha thin I hold dear. How do ye thin that that makes me feel?"

"I canna and will na demand ye ta respect magic, as it not be somethin I condone. An yet ye all expect me ta be acceptin the snide comments about me temper as iffin they not be said... an ye expect me ta be actin as iffin wieldin a blade and killin was a purely natural thin; when truth be told I get sick at me stomach thinkin about it."

"By tha gods man... I try ta be acceptin o yar ways for tha betterment o Bohavia.... but it becomes harder an harder ta simply keep goin when people be talkin about me in front o me face as iffin I was an idiot or some woman who knew na better."

"Ye comment ta me about me tongue an tha way I speak. Well I speak so out o frustration... frustration o being forced ta swallow thins I donna believe in... forced ta accept a world I never knew was out here.... frustration at bein lonely an without a home or family..... frustration at not bein understood by those who have na tha trainin ta understand magics."

"And what is there for me ta be doin about it? Nothin.... when ye become frustrated, ye simply go an practice with ye blades with others. I have na tha luxury o doin that. I simply have me books and the small hope that some day I will wake up and tha need for war will be over.... nothin else."

"Thar will be nothin far me when it be over, for tha power o magic will have consumed me iffin not tha kiss a steel take me life a'fore then. It be rather hard ta watch as one's life slowly ebbs away an na have a single soul ta be sharin it with.... an that one thin more than any other thin is more tha reason me own Master saved me from... from tha flames.... he be lonely... an wanted ta share his magic with another...."

Faewen'il wipes at the few tears that manage to trickle down Darry's face; the back of her hand becoming wet in the process. She takes another breath before continuing.

"I not be askin far sympathy or pity or anythin.... I just be tellin ye thins from me own point o view....sorry iffin it not be what ye want ta hear...."

She then walks away from Winnacer and the others, her hands occasionally wiping at Darry's face as she heads back to her tent.

Yaz has been seated cross-legged in the dirt during the discussion. With Faewen'il's first words, Yaz didn't seem to be paying much attention. When Winnacer replies, Yaz in slow succession stops drawing in the dirt, lifts his head to peer up at Winnacer, and half-smiles, half-grimaces incredulously as he finishes. When he's done, he cringes and falls back on one elbow, briefly holding a hand over his eyes. Then Faewen'il speaks again, and Yaz watches intently. When she walks away, there is an awkward pause.

"Way to go, ya squirrel-brained oaf," Yaz says accusingly. "How 'bout a little sensitivity, huh?"

Winnacer ignores Yaz's comment.

Jihan can only look on as Faewen'il systematically declares that she isn't wanted or understood, a speech he has heard echoed in his own head so many times before, years ago, though for different reasons.

"I don't think your parenting is going to work here, Winn," Jihan says as she walks away. "You cannot treat her like a miscreant soldier who should be obeying for the good of the company. These are matters beyond our understanding."

Still, he walks towards her tent, Tharnold's small form hesitant and tense. Knowing that she may be crying inside and would rather be alone, or at least unseen, he seats himself in front of the tent flap, and begins speaking in elven, trying to give some comfort.

"Why is your life ebbing away? Is it because you think that, as you grow in power, people won't accept you or will see you so differently as to regard you as someone else? Why? The memory of elves is long, and I'll be there through it all. I won't forget. I'll still sing your song to my Lady and her creation for you... Faewen'il..."

Sighing, he leans back a bit and crosses his arms:

"It was just as hard for me to decide to begin wielding a blade... I'd always used a bow for protection, a knife to carve and whittle. My uncle showed me things, and told me that the world was a cold, hard place, but I never believed it completely. I still remember the first death that I caused. I was guiding a human fleece merchant and his family through the woods when we were set upon by some Slovene bandits. There weren't many of them, but they were not just out to take whatever goods we had, they were after his wife and daughter. His son was struck down by their blades... I had run to the trees, too afraid for my own life to do anything. When I heard his daughter screaming I had to turn around. They were holding the merchant, forcing him to watch their atrocities. Arrows came to my hands as if they were guided. I could not let it happen. It was all just a blur to me, but when I was done, two of them lay dead, the others having fled in fear of more archers from the woods. I could not face that merchant, knowing that his son's death would lie in his eyes... knowing that I could have acted quicker. I had broken the Lady's great circle... I had destroyed two whole lives... two whole universes gone... Nothing seemed to make it right... nothing... I stayed away from those risky jobs after that. I avoided what it was that I had done. It was only those weeks ago that I thought about what they would have done had they lived... they would have continued on their evil path, twisting and breaking up lives... marring Her great picture more so than the small act of my arrows' flight ever would. Acting like parasites on the whole of creation. Creatures die every day, from causes natural and otherwise... and everything has an affect, one way or another, on those things around it. How many lives did I save with those arrows..."

Shaking his head, he continues:

"It has taken me over 20 years to accept that killing can help people, though I still believe that every creature has the individual potential for good. The responsibility that comes with my blades is the same as that which comes with your spells. Knowing that this sharp steel can tear apart whole universes... I can imagine what is like to know that channeling energy can have effects beyond what you expect. And my greatest fear is that... some day, I will become so used to killing that I won't think like this any more. I won't take the time to consider what could have been different... That the taking of life will become as easy as wielding the blades with increasing skill. If this is anything like what you fear with magic, that the idea of it... the power that comes with it... the responsibility... will all melt together and away as you get better at it, then I can imagine what you are going through... It is hard... we must never let each other stop thinking about it... we must never let it become so easy... But we must remember that Bohavia must be freed. That so many more people suffer and die for each one of these murderers we leave alive. My choice to kill is more of a weapon than my blades... and as much a weapon as your magic can be. If you do not wish to wield arcanities in Bohavia's defense, then you must find something else that makes you happy... another life... But if you love magic the way I love reading, the way I love my Lady... I cannot see you ever giving it up."

He leans his head back against the tent at this point, his gaze up and back:

"I'm sorry if I talk about magic as I talk about my arrows, but I have no idea of what else you can accomplish with it. We have... forced you to use only those spells that help us to win fights... but I have read so much more about the wonders of magic... the beauty of it. I saw some of it in Corrow's illusions... and in Will's... if you show me, and tell me more about it, I'll learn. I've been wondering about what those other tomes held for all the weeks we've had them. There may be things in them well beyond my understanding, but there may be things that I can comprehend. Surely, there are things about the world only hinted at by what we perceive that magic has pierced in the past. I... oh hell..."

Realizing just how overwhelmingly awkward the situation is becoming, the elf stands and turns to look at the entrance to the tent, switching over to speaking in Bohavian.

"Faewen'il, we need you. Some of us are inconsiderate because we were brought up to think only in martial terms... nothing else had value. Some of us are inconsiderate because we are ignorant... I can only speak for myself, but I'm sure that there are others here who value your opinion and your spirit. Who see you for a person beyond simply the abilities to drop enemies to the ground in slumber from far away or encase them in a web. It is your decision to use your power... we cannot do it without you. It is also your responsibility to live with the consequences, just as it is mine, or Xavier's, or Bennett's. We all see the world in different ways, yet we all want the same thing for it: freedom. Your view on matters is who you are, just as mine is, and just as Winnacer's is," he says, with a sidelong glance at the warrior.

"And they mean as much to me as anyone else's. I think we all have enough respect for each other to at least consider the motivations behind them rather than scorn or deride them because they are so different."

Looking at the rest, he takes a step closer to the tent, raising a hand as if to lift the flap, but holding back:

"You are no one's pet. No pet can mean so much... ... you aren't alone..."

This last is barely more than an exhalation and the dwarf's hand falls to his side.

Faewen'il sits inside her tent chewing on a fingernail as she listens to Jihan's words both in elven and common. The words give her little comfort, but just the simple fact that someone stood outside and was willing to talk finally calmed her nerves enough so that the tears stopped falling. Her reply his barely louder than Jihan's last words.

"Then why does Bennett continue ta torment me?"

"He made an apology, yet he still makes comments about me behavior; an no one says a thin ta him. Winnacer wants me ta be open an talkin ta ye as iffin ye be me kin..... an that be somethin I canna do while that man still be bringin up tha ghosts o tha past.... indeed, it be somethin that be hard even if Bennett were not here at all...."

Glancing surreptitiously back towards the man in question, Jihan coughs a little and continues on in elven.

"Well... Bennett is a good man with a blade... a soul burning for a free Bohavia. Yet he is a man, with all the lusts and prejudices of manhood, reinforced in double by his background. Frustration and shame were so large a part of his past life, it appears. Sadness and pain too. Anger...hatred...You saw how he was with the girls at Boris's. I don't think he knows what it is to worry so much about the feelings of others, though he knows about warrior's mutual respect, but he is learning by being with us. What could a life of pain, degradation and shame teach someone about the delicate nature of the fairer emotions?, especially when one has been forced down the path of retribution..."

"The problem, I think, is that we all of us don't talk to each other enough. We plan our missions carefully... we argue about how right our own convictions are, but none of us really makes the effort to get to know the others... to know why we think the way we do. The only time I have ever heard much about anyone' past here is when some other offers offense or misunderstanding. Then the past is brought up in glorious detail, all well and good, but after the fact. If I had known how much magic meant to you all those weeks ago... if I'd know how sacrosanct you hold it, I would never have asked or even thought of using your enchantments to just go out and kill... Only now do I come to realize just what it must be to be a mage... to have all that responsibility... to wield all that power... I had no clue before..."

"Do all of ye simply expect me ta be acceptin o tha thins in tha world overnight?" asks Faewen'il/Darry. "Ta ignore me upbringin and simply accept everythin around me as iffin it be natural an I be queer at findin offense with it?"

"Badgerin me about tha way I act will certainly bring that moment o acceptance none tha closer. What Winnacer wants is unnatural ta me as this form I wear. Everythin about this rebellion be unnatural ta me.... an there only be so much o tha unnatural I can accept at one time without losin me mind."

"Overnight?" questions Jihan. "It took me two decades to accept something as simple in itself as two sticks of wood with metal on the ends superimposing themselves with people. I never said overnight... but we must make such decisions more quickly in this war... we don't have the time to resolve everything we must do with our finer sentiments. I've had to learn this the hard way, when the lives of the people I care about are threatened. The split second it takes to decide is all the time a dagger needs to spill the life out of a friend's throat..."

"Asking you to ignore your upbringing would be like asking you to stop being a woman. It cannot be done. No matter how much you try... if you change your name or if you force yourself to use your dagger on Nyemetz throats. You can't try and hold the two things separate. What would Ludd be doing in this war? Would he be sitting back while the country degraded, thinking how beautiful and wonderful magic is while people were killed or paupered in front of his eyes? If the soul of a Bohavian rested in his breast he would try his best to help. Perhaps not directly, with balls of fire blasting from his eyes or bolts of lightning booming from his hands, but in his own way. Maybe he could put a shield around a standard bearer in a battle, protecting him from the enemy's bolts and arrows, keeping the spirits of the fighting men high... or maybe he could make the number of Bohavian soldiers in a fight appear to be double... to scare off the enemy. He would have done something... in his own way. You need to find YOUR way, Faewen'il. You need to find that balance between what you were raised to believe and what you are willing to do yourself. What you believe is necessary or right... This cannot happen over night... and we are certainly not helping by pushing you in the directions that would suit us best. But there must be SOME direction... some path that you are willing to tread that follows Bohavia's freedom. It may take some time to find it, but I cannot believe that you would do nothing because you are afraid to. You are too strong for that..."

Faewen'il/Darry interrupts:

"Bloodshed, killin, new spells, imprisonment, tha death o those close ta me, me ignorance o tha world, feelins I donna understand, tha power that eats at me heart an tha growin desire I have ta wield it... how much does a parson have ta take on at one time an not bat an eyelash a'fore?"

Silent for a moment, the elf/dwarf's eyes focus far away on something only he can see:

"It is not all or none. You don't wake up one morning and say, 'It's all all right with me now.' But you have to accept that it is all there, and deal with it as you are able. Life is a neverending battle to find resolve... to find meaning. It's all just hitting you at once, making you feel like a leaf on a river being carried to the ocean... Don't think that it is impossible just because it looks so large... Don't give up because it looks too complex. You can swim across the sea, Faewen'il... I will help you if you let me... just talk to me...life is more than conflict..."

Sighing again, he turns away from the tent and looks at the party:

"To Smurt's Hell with fighting these bastards. We need some gods' damned time to sit down and iron out all these wrinkles that divide us. If Bohavia's own freedom fighters cannot find a day to learn more about themselves and become stronger as a group, then She is doomed to fail. If we want to fight them, then we shall. And we shall prevail, one way or another. But after we must rest for one cursed moment... I cannot stand all this running around here and there with the weight of all the country's problems on our shoulders all the way. Unity comes in the face of adversity, it is sure, but unity of purpose is not enough. We need unity of mind... of action... I remember so long ago, Winnacer worrying about our group not acting cohesively enough... I said that with time it would get better, but it is getting worse. We are improving our martial skills, and then assuming that we as a group are performing better just because we are able to face more difficult obstacles now than we could before, yet we still argue incessantly. We still let our opinions divide us on things where we should have unity of thought..."

Here he thinks back to the gnomish village and their near demise there:

"We must learn more about each other... Our pasts, our opinions... our hopes... our dreams... I do not want to be killed because one of us was too reticent to reveal a fear or inability. Let us just rescue Darius and move on. I am tired of all this bickering that we could have avoided long ago had we made our feelings known. I want to rest... a real rest... not just of the body."

With that he draws Weitbeissen from its holster on his back, checking his swords and daggers in their sheaths and his arrows in their quiver, which he has switched to the back of his battle harness, replacing one of the shortsword sheaths, which is now on the belt of his battle harness.

"If we must, shall we go now or in the morning? Shall it be drunkenness or hangovers that we wish to fight against?"

He cannot help but have some bitterness in his voice.

"I wish it were never at all" says Faewen'il sadly. "But me own wishes be beside tha point it seems. I also wish it be in tha mornin so I be havin one more spell ta be usin.... but again... I donna thin we can stop tha warriors from havin thar way."

Faewen'il then looks down at Darry's hands and sighs.

"As far what Luud would be doin.... ye be correct.... he would be doin thins ta help Bohavians, rather than spells directed at the Nyemetz. It be one o tha reasons why I feel great shame far what I be doin. He taught me right an proper tha way o usin tha power so it would tug least at me soul.... an I have broken that word ta him."

"You haven't broken anything yet" replies Jihan. "As long as you remember what he taught you, and think on it, then Luud has succeeded. You can still change... your whole future is ahead of you. The day that you forget his words and start abusing your gift... on that day I will become worried. If I thought my life had ended all those years ago with those bandits, that I could not be redeemed, I would be sitting somewhere very sadly... very quietly... doing nothing, and hating myself for it."

"Me only redemption will be when Bohavia be free an not a moment sooner" replies Faewen'il. "An even then it will be in tha god's eyes ta be seein iffin me burden be cleansed. I feel dirty every time I even think o tha thins I have done.... dirty an wretched an unfit far proper company."

"I will never stop thinkin they be wrong or offensive.... an never will I thin that they be acceptable when thar be ways o peace ta be trod as opposed ta war. Tonight will be just another one o me sins.... but I know that I canna do nothin ta stop it. Indeed.... I will be needed ta insure that tha hopes o Bohavia still be livin come mornin; an that be a duty I canna shirk, despite how distasteful it be."

"I just be afraid that none will be wantin ta listen to tha ways o peace when they see tha ways o power be far easier... an all I will be doin is followin after ye all usin me magics tha wrong way. That not be a bright future, but iffin people will na listen ta me when I talk about demeanin behaviour o one o our own, then what hope do I have o ever makin people understand tha ways o peace?"

Faewen'il sighs and throws up Darry's hands; rummaging through her things and producing a leather bandoleer, much the same as Jihan's, only it was made to contain scroll tubes; the tiny hollow wooden tubes dyed different colors and marked with a rune. Two of the eight tubes are filled. He slowly puts it on, adjusting the straps to fit his obviously larger torso. With that in place and the dagger in a sheath on his hip along with two pouches she walks out of the tent.

"I be tired. Let's be gettin this o'er with."

Walking up to the disconsolate dwarf, Jihan enacts something that would be common viewing for the patrons at the Queen's Head, and gives Darry a warm hug.

"Don't let all of this get you down... we are all getting too caught up in things. I just want to rescue Darius, get those gnomes and dwarves to safety, and then rest for a while. We are not Bohavian Freedom Machines. We can't just run and run until we break, and then get 'oiled up' with healing enchantments, then run and run again. We aren't just heros... we're people too. I could stand spending a few days in Holitze seeing how my archery squad has progressed, and talking and resting..."

"I, too wish ta see Holitze again" agrees Faewen'il. "Ta see how well me warnin an evacuation plan be workin out far them. Thar be many more thins I think they might be able ta learn.... an I think that tha group should make it thar temporary base o operations so we has a place ta be comin home to once in awhile."

Bennett waits until Darry\Faewen'il is gone and then speaks intensely but quietly:

"Shit, man, are you saying that all this PMS bullshit is deserved? I have held my temper with that girl beyond the point where it has boiled up, then it erupted and I apologized, but it is rising again. Never have I met a more infuriating person in my life. Are you saying that you agree with her, we all should bow and ask her permission before we take a dump in the woods? It may be me, as I seem to have a gift, but I cannot imagine how you all dealt with this before I arrived. Seems her only input into anything lately is manic-depressivity. She has saved my life and I respect her for that, but I worry for her sanity, as I think those of you who love her," Bennett's eyes stay away from a couple of specific party members: "should worry even more so. I don't mind being the target of her attacks, as it is something I grew used to many years ago, but I worry that the revolution may be stealing her life from her and breaking her grip on reality. Magic does that, you know."