A synopsis of: Your responses to the pins and needles.
Most of you basically spent the afternoon making plans to watch the harpers
and discussing battle tactics. As it gets late, Darrin spurs his horse to
each of you and let's everyone know that two of you will always be on watch
and a third should pretend to sleep during each watch.
Teal makes camp
As the sun is just setting to the west you see another grove of trees
and a quaint, quiet campsite in their midst, much like where you met the
Harpers. The elves from Agrardon's party quickly make a fire and the older
human male begins to break out rations. Agrardon quickly says, "I am sorry
to have been so remiss. This is my husband Eralinad, Christian our son and
our two elven companions are Fiowyn and Uneldur. Master Darrin, if you have
some rations, my husband can combine them and we can all share a different
fare tonight. The same hardtack and beans gets old after three or four
days."
Darrin looks up surprised, but then nods his head and moves to the
back of the wagon to get some dinner supplies, and moves to help the older
man. Eralinad says kindly, "We wish we could share more of our food, but
we travel light and so are reduced to the basics."
"I understand. I have spent my life on the road," Darrin replies.
"Have you any stories of your adventures? What can you tell us of your
deeds and works?"
"We will sing you a song, young master," says one of the elves. The
older elf produces a small handheld pipe with holes and begins a light
and airy tune, while Agrardon and the younger elf begin to sing. Their
voices mingle nicely and everyone that listens hears a tale of a fair
princess saved from doom, and then they flow into a song about a clockmaker
in Neverwinter and his travails of trying to get a magnificent piece to
the dalelands.
"There are other songs," begins Agrardon as they finish the second
ballad. "And many tales. We are peacemakers and do our best to help
travellers, and protect the North from invaders. But dinner will be
ready soon and some of the horses are still not cared for and camp is not
quite made. We will be glad to sing more for all of you after dinner,"
Agrardon offers. With that she rises and begins to set out bedrolls for
her and her husband.
Replies to Camping with the Harpers
Clavel
>Even as you dismount and Darrin is called by Eralinad to the campfire,
>it is Christian who approaches you immediately. "Milord Clavel. As
>your new squire is detained, might I offer to take care of your fine
>stallion. He is a beauty, and I will give him the finest brushing
>of any horse here." As he speaks you begin to hear the flute playing
>by the campfire, and Christian continues, "You could relax, Milord, by
>the fire and listen to my mother's fine singing voice. I will take
>good care of him for you."
Clavel smiles kindly at the youth and replies, "A warrior such as I, can
never relax. If ye wish to become Tempus's sword there is no such thing
as relaxation, Master Christian. I thank ye for thy most gracious offer,
but Blacky here has a temper, ye see. We've just become friends and he
may not take kindly to someone else handling him. He might be deeply
offended."
Patting Blacky, Clavel looks Christian over and notes, "Ye have the look
of an experienced horsehandler, lad. I'm sure ye understand that it might
be wise that Blacky here gets more accustomed to thy presence, being a
stallion and all. But there is one favor, lad, that I have to ask of ye.
Would ye be so gracious enough to lend me thy brush? It seems that I
have misplaced mine."
Christian
"Of course, Lord Clavel. I have a spare in fact and would be deeply
honored to give one to your Lordship." The young man moves quickly
to his horse and from his saddlebags brings out two brushes. He gives
the newest of the two to Clavel with a deep bow.
Clavel
Clavel brushing his mount near by, calls out to Darrin and Eralinad,
"There is no need to eat any of that hardtack, friends. Put that away.
We shall take it as a slight if ye don't join us. Master Darrin has
more than enough to provide for all." Clavel gives Darrin a quick
meaningful look, 'Do not accept their food', and continues with a
beaming smile, "And I am sure he shall open a few bottles of Tabek's
finest to celibrate our good fortune in meeting thee all."
Giving his horse a final slap, Clavel walks over to the campfire
and nods to Agrardon. "A most beautiful ballad, Milady."
Turning toward her husband, he bows his head slightly and says, "An
honour to meet thy acquaintance, Milord. So, thou art peacemakers and
protectors. A very noble profession." Clavel nods slowly and takes
a seat nearby.
"Thou probably look at me with contempt as a follower of the Wargod."
Clavel looks into the blazing fire and continues with a sad expression.
'Tis a common misconception that Tempus's followers do nothing but
create havoc. We have several factions in the Church. Tempus, being God
to All warriors, good and evil, sponsors all who are loyal to him and
follow his few and simple tenets. Those of us who follow the path of
Good do not wreak destruction upon the innocent and feeble. We respect
the peace as long as it is in the interest of Good. We aid the Cause,
the way that we were trained for it. Most often in open battle. I hope
ye understand." Clavel's expression darkness as he drifts off into
memories best kept hidden from the fainthearted.
Methos
"Clavel is right. It would be an insult to Master Darrin if you do not
accept our hospitality, especially since you are providing us with such
good company and reinforcement." Methos gives each member of the group
a slight glance.
"Make yourselves comfortable. I will go take care of the horses."
Methos stands up and moves in the direction of the horses. He begins
to remove the saddles and bridles of each of the horses, secure them,
and then make sure there is enough feed for each. After all is complete,
he will return.
"A fine tune. It is times such as this that I miss my heritage. Tell
me, Fiowyn and Uneldur, how did you learn such skills in music and in
song? I would much like to learn these skills, and would be honored if
you would be my teacher. One cannot live by the sword alone."
Fiowyn
Grinning the elf says, "We can teach you many songs, but do you have
a pleasant singing voice, or can you play an instrument. Uneldur and
I can show you more after dinner."
Craelan
Craelan sees to his own horse upon stopping for the night. Once done
he partakes of the meal and the minor chatting. " Perhaps after we sup,
Calador you would take first watch with me?" After which he listens
intently to Clavels talk of gods.
" I too fight with honor and harm no good soul, yet I do so because of
my own morals and code. I believe not in any god, nor do I believe my
actions should be controlled by one. I believe myself a good fighter, yet
that is not due to any god given gifts, but to hard work and a lifetime
of training. To live boldly and to die a hero. "
With that Craelan sits and listens to the others for a while then goes
on watch. Later he can be seen talking to Methos and Andrew, yet nothing
is heard.
Clavel
Clavel nods slowly, looking into the depths of the blaze. "I TOO, live
by my OWN morals. It seems that ye perceive things wrongly. I have
CHOSEN my god and am NOT controlled by Him. I have been fortunate to
find a brotherhood within my church with similar beliefs.
Together, united we confront our goals. A god's power lies within his
followers, so he is not free to do just anything that he pleases, for
fear of losing his flock. Though, if we wish to attain godly granted
powers we must respect certain tenets. Being the chaotic god that
Tempus is, he has few."
Looking across the fire at Craelan, the flames dancing in his eyes,
Clavel says seriously, "I too, am a warrior and have trained hard. The
mages here have done so as well." Clavel looks over at Andrew. He then
looks back and continues. "If not physically, mentally. There is not
much of a difference. Both ways are time consuming, requiring dedication
and sacrifice."
"One's fighting skills can be enhanced with Tempus's aid. 'Tis not
ignoble to do so. It so happens that Tempus doesn't discriminate his
followers for their beliefs. He is patron to all. And those warriors
that belong to his flock, gain certain privileges. They are taught
by the most experienced of soldiers to wield a weapon and eventually
master it. And are instructed in the art of military strategy and battle
tactics. His priests are even bestowed with powers. Amongst these is
the precious power of healing, most coveted by the warrior." Clavel
throws a log onto the fire.
While stoking the fire, he adds, "And his followers have the right to
ask his priests for such healing."
Methos
"That is fascinating. And what are the tenets the followers of Tempus
must obey? Is it similar to the chivalric code followed by knights?
And does Tempus' followers only consist of warriors, and not priests,
and magi or thieves?"
Log now catching on fire, Clavel sets aside the branch used to stoke the
blaze and answers Methos' questions with pleasure.
"Tempus does not set such a rigid code of conduct. But it's more the
rule than the exception, for each church order to have its own codex of
rules. One chooses the brotherhood that best suits him. Not all follow
the code of chivalry. I joined the Brotherhood of Righteous Swords. We
are still a small group, but we are growing slowly and surely. We wish
to continue expanding our ranks so that we may one day fulfill our Quest."
"As for thy second question, my elven friend, all gods have their own
priests. So, yes. There are certainly priests amongst the ranks. We
carry His voice and wield His lethal fist." Clavel slams his spiked fist
into a nearby log, crushing it into pieces. Slightly embarassed, he
excuses himself, "Ye must forgive my fervor. We warrior priests take
much pride in the central role that we play."
Tossing the smashed log onto the fire, Clavel continues to explain.
"Tempus is patron to the Warrior. But He is God of Battle first and
foremost. Thus, His temples offer sanctuary to the battle weary and
instruct the art of warfare to ALL persons who wish it, but they must
be first deemed worthy by a priest and not all are sponsored for such
rigorous schooling." Clavel shrugs. "Not all are battle worthy."
Uncorking a wineskin, he takes a small sip. Content with the taste, he
offers it to Methos. Clearing his voice, he continues. "Melee and
missile combat are the prime objectives of the training, but the use of
magical and clerical spells are a part of battle too. Thus, there is
definitely a need for specialized battle training for these classes, as
well as for a few others. However this is specialized training as most
of these specialty fighters do not follow Tempus. But they are trained
to interact with us in a manner that will further everyone's battle
skill."
As Dinner is ready.
Eralinad calls out that for any who wish to eat, Darrin and he have
prepared a decent meal, as decent as one can have in the wilderness.
Darrin stands up, prepared to serve up a plate to whoever desires, and
it is Christian who appears first.
Christian grins and says, "Smells good father. Better fare than we've
had in some time. So tell me, squire, " he addresses Darrin. "I am
curious to these tenets. Perhaps you can tell us of them more
specifically?"
Darrin looks quickly towards Clavel, as he stammers, "I am ... am
still learning."
"You do not know, then?" Christian says smugly. "I would think it the
first thing you would want to know. And I wonder that you did not
take care of your Lord's horse when we came to rest here. I have
squired for both my parents for many years and have learned many things.
Such as..." he trails off and stepping lightly over to Clavel, he
places the plate he holds in front of Clavel and bowing formerly, he
says, "Lord Clavel, your meal, sir. I would not like to take you from
your meal, but I do so desire to hear of your tenets, Milord, so that
I might decide better if this is a faith that I would follow."
In the background, Darrin stands fuming as he glares at Christian's
back. Uneldur steps forward with an empty plate, but Darrin doesn't
even see him, his hand clenched tightly about the serving tool.
Zeptha admonishes him, "Have you lost all your manners, Darrin." She
grabs a smaller spoon and comes quickly to the fire and serves Uneldur
and all else who wait for food, while Darrin looks angrily at both Zeptha
and Christian.
You all notice that Agrardon and Eralinad look on worry etched in their
features.
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