The Stunned Green Berets
Fynvola Quain
Fynvola returns desolate and heart-weary to the funeral pyre and without
planning to, pulls out her clarsach, strumming the strings and softly singing,
her eyes never leaving Darrin,
"I have been given
one moment from heaven
as I am walking
surounded by night.
Stars high above me
make a wish under moonlight.
On my way home
I remember
only good days.
On my way home
I remember all the best days.
I'm on my way home
I can remember
each day with solace.
I move in silence
with each step taken
snow falling round me
long absent is the fight.
And there, in the distance
is my wish under moonlight
Peace, solace and comfort
such as none have ever known
who hasn't walked this path
that takes us all home..."
She gently sets down her clarsach and approaches Tag and Darrin silently.
She stands and waits until Tag's words, when she reaches for Darrin and
holds him to her and leading him to the campfire, still humming the farewell
tune. She will broke no refusal in taking him and she will detour only far
enough to get a blanket on the way. She will keep him in her arms and wrap
the blanket around them both when they reach the fire.
Dunz Kann
The big man showing a never-ending supply of stamina, quickly and
efficiently helps complete the pyre, and stands around until the fire dies
down.
When returning to the house to sleep for the night, he now shows slumping
shoulders and a bowed head. He is out like a light before his body hits his
bedroll, oblivious to the others until morning.
(He will take his place on the wagon tomorrow.)
Darrin
Darrin moves numbly, not even having the conciousness to wipe the tears
that continue to trickle gently down his cheeks. Without Fynvola's
guidance, he would have tripped over every rock in his path, and would
not have probably cared to get up again.
Several people look up around the nearest campfire, and most quickly
move away. Listless, it is easy for Fynvola to get him to sit.
A minute later, one of the two dwarves stands in front of Darrin and
Fynvola, forcing a cup into her hand. Gruffly he orders, "You make him
drink that. It'll do him some good, and then I'll bring you some. You
look almost as bad as he does. I'm Maeg," he introduces himself, " and
yonder is my missus, Varn. She's tending the pot over there," he points
toward the other dwarf, who is ladling soup into additional tin cups.
He says more softly, "Now he's got to drink all that, or she'll come
over here with her ladle. And I don't mind telling you, she can wield
a mean ladle," he says with a wink. The wink looks strange coming from
one so darkened and twisted looking. "And you've got to get him to
quit this cryin', or the missus will be over here. She can't stand
to see him cry, and she'll be blubberin' herself."
He takes a peek over his shoulder, just in time to see his wife trudging
towards your little camping area. Maeg looks back and says quickly,
"Ain't seen you before, but get that down him, and I'll try to keep her
back." He doesn't wait for a reply. He turns and glides, (a strange
sight that you thought you would never see a dwarf accomplish), into
Varns' path. She almost bowls him over, but he catches her weight
squarely. She tries to step past, but he is quick to block her again.
How much longer he can detain her is very questionable.
Fynvola Quain
Fynvola sends a grateful, if weary smile to Maeg and turns her attention
back to Darrin. She slips her right arm around his shoulders and uses her
left hand to hold the cup of Maeg's brew to his lips. She softly speaks to
him and seems to caress his hair and shoulder with her right hand.
Zantorax Nightwind
Having fallen silent, unaccustomed to suck a waste of lives, I begin to
regain my composure, somewhat. I move away from the pyre, respectful of the
dead, but unable to endure the heat of the flames, a sensation totally new
to me.
I move in the direction of the camp, hoping to find Fyn and Darrin, a tear
running slowly down my face.
Dunz Kann
Darrin
Darrin seems to focus, and is persuaded to drink from the cup. He
even helps tilt the cup back to drain it. Fynvols gives him a quick
hug for his effort and he seems to be feeling a little better. And
then he staggers wildly to his feet and looking at Fynvola, cries
out, "What have you done?" He staggers, his eyes roll to the back of
his head, and he collapses unconcious to the ground. Zantorax makes
it to the edge of the campfire area to see Darrin's fall.
Smugly looking on, Varn says, "Took longer than I thought. Thought
you gave the lass the wrong cup."
"Never missed the mark before, my love, why should I begin..." the
dwarven male leaves off suddenly, looking up at Zantorax a look of
shock on his twisted features. "By Barish, what curse has come upon
you? I pray it does not strike at me." He runs his hand down his
long, full black beard. "Or, are you too young to grow any hair?" he
peers up at Zantorax curiously.
"Nar," his wife whacks him on the arm and then continues, "He looks
to be Darrin's age, and the boy's got plenty of hair for one of them.
Now, you pick the lad up and let's get him to the wagon."
"Yes, dear," Maeg says obediently. He steps towards Darrin's prostrate
form.
Fynvola Quain
Fynvola watches him fall with absolute horror on her face and a
heartwrenching "NO!" is torn from her lips as she falls upon him and cradles
him in her arms. She rocks him back and forth repeating "What have I done?"
Over and over in an endless litany...lost in her own heartache.
Zantorax Nightwind
I rush over to Fynvola's side upon seeing Darrin collapse and her fall to
her knees beside him. I listen to her words and survey the situation, then
thinking that I've figured the situation out, place my hand on her shoulder.
"Fyn, they're not going to kill off their own employer." My tone is calm and
logical. "It's probably just a sedative. Under some circumstances it's best
to use such potions on someone who has undergone a period of such extreme
stress."
I atttempt to pry her away from Darrin's body, assuring her that the
dwarves will take good care of him and try to get her to sit near the fire or
go to sleep.
I look at the dwarf, amusement playing, like lightning, over my face.
"Tis no cure, m'lord, I mearly shave my head and face so that I will not
miss my hair the next time I end up burning it all off." A burst of flame
errupts from my right hand to emphasize my point. "Of course, now that I
have quit with in-door experiments I might try growing my hair again. Who
knows. Ah, but where are my manners, I am Zantorax Nightwind." I extend my
hand to shake...
Maeg
The dwarf continues forward, and grasps Zantorax's hand and gives it
a good shake. Maeg says, "Looks like she don't want to let him go.
It's for the best, missy. Let me take him to the wagon and get him
settled there?" he asks softly. "Tis a shame about your hair though."
Fynvola Quain
The stress appears to have take it's tole on Fynvola as she is inconsolable,
rocking herself and weeping and lamenting her betrayal of Darrin.
Maeg reaches down to coax Darrin from Fynvola's arms to find her
sword pulled and it's tip at his throat. He backs up a step quickly
and his head somewhat tilted, he turns to his wife confused.
Varn quickly marches over, saying, "Should have made two cups, but
Tag didn't tell me we had two hysterical humans on our hands. Now
you listen hear young lady. You didn't do nothing to him, but let
him get a good night's rest. Did you want him replaying this scene
over and over in his head all night long. Now put your sword up and
Maeg will show you where the boy's gonna be all night long."
Fynvola's sword wavers between Maeg and Varn rather shakily. Maeg clears
his throat and says, "Well, mayhap we can just let them sleep by the
fire, lovedove. I'll just get a bedroll and lay it here by the fire.
I'm sure our boy will be fine just lying here by the fire." He takes
hold of his wife's hand and tugs her back towards the nearest wagon.
You hear rummaging around and shortly Maeg returns with a bedroll
and an extra blanket. He lays the bedroll down a few feet from Darrin
and Fynvola, and lays the extra blanket to one side. He looks up at
Zantorax and says, "I think I leave her to you. We've some good hot
stew, be good for her though. You can take it right out of the big pot
so maybe she trust you. Any of you can grab some as well," he adds
glancing at the rest of the group. He looks down at Fynvola and says
softly, "You don't understand. Perhaps in the morning you will both
feel better. But believe me when I say, me and the missus would never
do anything to harm this boy. We was there when this boy first scraped
his knee, and the first time he found a ladybug and gifted it to me
wife, and now we are here for this. Do not judge us harshly because we
wished him to have peace this night. Tomorrow will be too soon, and I
fear there is nothing that will take this ache from his heart." With
that the dwarf turns slowly and returns to his wife's side.
Jeremiah when things get settled
"I've been taught that we drink at the wake to the passing of
those who have departed this world and I would be thankful if you would join me
in the gesture to those who lost their lives in this valley. The horrible
deaths of these kind folk have put me in a mind of my own mortality. Since I
have no family of my own, I would speak to you who fate has brought together
with me; to tell you what little there is to know of my life."
I must thank you, noble
sir, for your words this afternoon which brought me to my senses. The horror of
this event pushed my mind to a place where I could only stare in horror at the
scene and I was not able to do my duty as a cleric of Lathander; and my service
to Lathander is all I have; it is all I know."
"You see of course that I wear the colors and garb of Lathander and that I am
one who serves the glory of the Morninglord. This is as it should be for this
is all I am and all I have ever known. You see my story begins when I was found
one morn, an abondoned child, who was found at a dawn ceremony by the
priestesses of Lathander, when the morning sun shone on the place my mother had
left me. They named me Jeremiah, Child of the Morn, and took me back to their
temple and raised me to know and proclaim Lathander's glory. This is of course
a fair life, and I was brought up to know the joy of life with the matrons and
worshippers of Lathander, many of whom found time to teach me skills as a scribe
and as a healer in addition to my training as one who can battle if need be to
defend those beset upon by evil and misfortune. As I grew older, blessed with
fair looks, strong and gentle healing hands and the Morninglord's grace, I was
looked on with favor by many of the leading priestesses who requested my
services as a scribe and help mate. Unfortunately those jealous of my place
spread scandalous rumors that led my patron, the Lady Hathale, to send me west
to contact the temple in WaterDeep and offer service there. Having been sent
from the only home I have ever known, I have journeyed alone sadly, but
hopefully that I will find a place, a time, a purpose; for who and what I am.
As my path crossed yours and we found ourselves working together I sensed a
fitness, and a properness that seems to tie me to this group. As one who has
learned to listen to his feelings, I feel and hope that this service with each
of you, this road, this journey will take me to the place I belong; and help me
to the purpose I feel I am destined for. The unfortunate tragedy that we came
upon today, only convinces me further; that we travel together to grow into a
force that can counter in some way the negative forces which seek to destroy
that which is good in the world. It is to this purpose that I feel drawn to
travel with you, my friends. My greatest fear, is that I have been wrong in the
purpose I have followed and that some day, even as I felt today, I will find
myself alone and helpless to contest the forces of evil as they seek to harm
those who are lost, abandoned and helpless as I once was."
Zeptha waits quietly at the fire, and then when Tag reappears after
he is done, she says softly, "Tag why don't you go after them? These
people would surely go with you."
Tag shakes his head and sighs. "Darrin would want to come, as he should.
But then who would get you to Waterdeep safely. Your wedding has important
consequences for this entire region. And I will not escort you while he
is hunting orcs out on the High Moors. I will not leave him alone to die."
Zeptha bows her head and softly says, "Then go with him. I will lead the
caravan to Waterdeep."
Fynvola
When the dwarves bring a bedroll for Darrin and speak to her, Fynvola
accepts that they were not trying to hurt Darrin and lowers her sword. She
wraps Darrin carefully and then shrugs away from Zantorax with mute apology
in her eyes.
She then sinks to the ground beside Darrin with her blanket wrapped over her
shoulders until she, too falls asleep, her head sinking to rest on Darrin's
shoulder.
Zantorax
> Worried for my two friends, I sit nearby until I am sure they are both
> asleep. When I am certain they are, I head over to the pot of stew and fill
> two bowls. Taking these with me, along with a couple of spoons, I head out
> to find Zeptha.
> Should I find her without incident, I hand the second bowl to her and a
> spoon, saying, "Here, you should eat something, m'lady."
> If Tag is still there I will offer him the other bowl I am carrying.
Zeptha accepts the bowl gratefully. Tag puzzling over what Zeptha just
said, looks at the bowl you offer him with a hint of surprise in his
dark eyes. He reaches out and with a nod of thanks, takes the bowl.
Zeptha says, "Well, Tag?"
"It is a dilemma, that perhaps I can not answer. Your safety is
extremely important," he pauses to take a thoughtful sip from his
cup. "If we return safely to Waterdeep to find that you did not
arrive there safely, then how will Darrin feel. You see him at a loss
for the midwife that helped us raise him. It is nothing to the rage
that will torment him if you are hurt or possibly killed."
"Tag, it is true I have never done this before, but I have learned
a lot from both of you in the past month. If you give me exact details
of the road from here to Waterdeep, and orders as to who I have to
contact upon arriving there, I am sure I can succeed. I am a Miyar.
This is the business in our blood."
Tag looks very uncertain and mumbles, "Whatever this decision is,
if we are to go after the orcs, we should leave now. With Darrin
unconcious, it means tying him to his horse, and your," he looks to
Zantorax, "friends must be awakened."
"And don't think you're going off without us," says a gruff
voice from behind your little threesome. Turning you see Varn and
Maeg each holding a battleaxe, hefted up over their shoulders. Varn
continues, "We've been ready to go since we rode over the crest of
the hill."
Zantorax
I pause for many moments, unsure as to what should be done. "I would like
to go after the orcs. Unfortunately, Lady Zeptha's safety should be my
primary concern. I must admit, I am new to the road, well caravans at least,
and not really sure what the proper thing to do would be. How well prepared
would the caravan be to protect Zeptha should they run into trouble?" I look
to Tag for an answer. His answer being the factor that could swing my
decision either way.
Tag looks down at the sleeping form of Darrin, and then looks
to Zeptha. He says briskly, "You will take this warrior and this
sly one,(Malic and Shiro) to continue to guard you. I will find
two volunteers to go from our other men." He then turns to Zantorax
and says, "Wake your friend, and I will wake yon warrior. Pack light
and grab the best horses you can find to back up the ones you rode
into this valley with. We will not stop. Varn, you and Maeg and horses
are not..."
Maeg says sharply, "We're goin' Tag, even if we have to sit a
saddle. No choice." The glare in both dwarves eyes brook no
argument.
"We would be hard pressed without your axes and your wisdom,"
Tag says. "If you would get help to tie Darrin to his horse. We
must be off in ten minutes." He turns to Zeptha and says, "Find
the guildhouse to deliver our goods to in Waterdeep. Ross will be
able to help you find them. Darrin will be crushed that he does not
see your wedding. One last thing, Milady. Tell your new husband
that I believe the orcs will head to the High Moors. Any help he
sends will be appreciated."
Zeptha quickly says, "I am so confident of your return, that I
am sure Ross and I will postpone our wedding."
"Zeptha we may never return to Waterdeep. Surely you know this."
"I know you, Tag. If it is possible you and Darrin can do it. Look
at these noble people who go with you. I have only just met them,
but this Lady will be my maid of honor when you return, and perhaps
this priest will perform our ceremony. And Zantorax and Dunz will
stand as our witnesses, and Darrin will be our best man. I see this
all very clearly Tag. And I only leave you out, because I know how
much you hate such gatherings, though I pray you will reconsider."
"I swear by my love for Darrin, that I will attend your wedding.
Now go and help wake the woman."
He strides quickly over to Dunz and after a second's hesitation, he
nudges Dunz with the toe of his boot and says loudly, "What are you
waiting for warrior? We ride in five minutes to follow the orc's
trail. I will need my daggers, as soon as possible!" He then stalks
off
to find volunteers.
Zeptha can be heard saying to Zantorax, "I will miss, Fynvola.
She is the best friend I have ever had."
Zantorax
"I understand, she's the best friend I've ever had as well. Worry not,
I'll not let anything happen to her." I squeeze Zeptha's shoulder slightly
in hopes of offering some comfort. I then move back to where I left Fyn and
Darrin.
I shake Fynvola's shoulder gently to wake her saying, "Fyn, wake up. We
were not meant to rest this night. We've got orcs to find and vengeance to
reap."
My tone is the deathly calm of a trained combatant before battle, a sure
sign that what I am saying is deadly serious...
> I shake Fynvola's shoulder gently to wake her saying, "Fyn, wake up. We
>were not meant to rest this night. We've got orcs to find and vengeance to
>reap."
>My tone is the deathly calm of a trained combatant before battle, a sure
>sign that what I am saying is deadly serious...
Fynvola
Zanthorax's tone wakens Fynvola more quickly than the icy rains of late
fall, though his words totally excape her. Her eyes and nose are red with
the tears she's shed, but she sits up quickly, short sword in hand and
immediately searches the area looking for danger. Seeing none immediately,
she looks back to Zan, seeking his eyes and asking with icy calm through a
slightly hoarse voice, "What is it? Where is the battle, Zan?"
Zeptha
Zeptha reaches down, and places her hand gently on Fynvola's forearm
and whispers softly, "There is none close by. But I must go one
way and you another it seems, for awhile. But I pray that we will
meet again soon, dearest friend. I leave my cousin in very capable
hands, to be sure, but he would wear a black mark on his heart, if
these marauders were to go unpunished. When you are done, I will
await your prescence as my maid of honor."
Dunz Kann
"Go ... away. I ... can do ... no more. ... Let me sleep ... ... Follow the
orc's trail? ... "
Having had this conversation earlier, the warrior looks hard into Tag's
eyes to see if this is some kind of a practical joke. "Just get me close to
'em!" says the now alert warrior who quickly readies himself while glancing
around the camp. He then gets his horse ready and mounts.
Fynvola
Confusion is evident on Fynvola's face as she looks at her friend, but slowly
Zeptha's words sink in and she begins to shake her head, "You are the best
friend I have ever had, Zeptha, I can't leave you unprotected out here! "
she falls silent a moment and then repeats softly, "Bridesmaid?! Me?!" and
an unmistakable note of glee creaps into her voice before she shakes her
head and slips back into the gravity of the current situation. "Really,
Zeptha, you have to be our priority ...perhaps Tag and some of the others
could follow the Orcs and leave us a trail to follow... he would never forgive himself or any
of us if something were to happen to you...
and neither would I"
Jeremiah
Zeptha says softly, "Malic and Shiro shall keep me safe. Darrin
>would never forgive any of us, if he did not try to rescue those
>people the orcs have taken. I will tell Ross as soon as I see him,
>what you are all attempting, and though there is no money in it
>for his band of mercenaries, I am sure he will send help your
>way. Good Luck, Fynvola, and I hope you find the happiness that
>I have found."
Fynvola
Fynvola meets Zeptha's eyes for a long moment, then nods almost reluctantly.
She hugs Zeptha and with the glimmer of tears in her eyes replies with a
teasing light in her voice, "You be careful, okay? No more heroic riding..."
With a last look at her friend, she turns to gather her gear (she had left
her clarsach accross the other side of the fire), saddles and loads up her
palomino as quickly as she can. Then she turns back to see how everyone
else is doing and if they need assistance before she mounts up...
The Chase Begins
You are ready in record time, and Tag without waiting for anyone that
is sluggish, rides off quickly to the east. He rides fast and hard and
though there is no road, the tracks are easy to see in the waning moonlight.
Heavy are the orc prints in the new spring grass, and they lead you
up out of the valley and straight to the NorthEast East. The only time
that he halts is when he hears a groan from the bound youth on the horse
he is leading. He calls to Varn upon halting and is lithely off his
horse and quick to unbind the still groggy Darrin. Tag helps him sit
up in his saddle and keeps him propped there while catching a canteen
from Varn.
Tag hisses, "Drink this. We must be on our way. The orcs will not
rest nor stop." He helps Darrin tip the canteen and Darrin unquestioningly
drinks a huge swallow, making a bitter face even as his senses clear
and his eyes open wide. Tag hands the canteen to Dunz and says clearly,
"All of you take a swig. It is some foul dwarven concoction, but it
will wake you. Let's move out."
The sun's light is just rising from the east and there is no sign
of the orcs, except for their heavy laden footprints.
Darrin looks behind him briefly, but then he trots his horse to
ride up with Tag and though he works out the kinks in his muscles, he
seems ready to ride for years, if it takes that long. Finally you
hear him say the word, "Zeptha."
The brew you take a swig of tastes like sludge from the darkest cavern.
It is dense like a shake, but it tastes like mud with a few roots and
twigs in it. But it will wake you right up.
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