Re: Conversation at the Knight Camp

[Degren Brightforge]

Degren looks Timmean with honest regret before writing his note.

I'm afraid I cannot allow that. Pierre was very specific in his wishes. If he were ever to fall, his body is to be destroyed, and the ashes imbued within a sword. I forged him a new sword for when he came home. It seems it best that I forge it anew once more. But I know there are some of you who wish to say your farewells. It will take me some time to prepare the proper oils and herbs needed for the rituals. I can give you two days to pay your respects to him, but then I must do as he bid me. Though, these relics may cause some trouble.[Degren pulls the objects away, only to see them snap back to his body] it won't be the first time I've forged with magical items, but the last time I did it, I had the luck that magical item being impervious to heat.

Thank you, Timmean. If you can, tell the others that I'm regretful that this happened today. Ensure they are doing well, and send them here if they need my council. Ensure Malva isn't too hurt by this. She seems upset that no one mourned her death. Our deaths that night were  short lived, and in the midst of battle. There was precious little time to mourn. Also, ensure Gurok and Herr are well. The last I saw of them, they were recovering from an unfortunate door incident.

I'll do my best to calm my fellow Knights.  Auron is a man of instinct, and will cool quickly. Sky and Alaphin have not shown yet, but I would only worry about Sky's response. Alaphin is strong willed and open minded, he'll find it easier to understand than sky will. And Datura... be cautious of him. He and Pierre were growing  very close.  I saw the look in his eyes, and they were filled with hate. Guard the elves the most. I fear he will seek revenge.
 

[Silvos]

I see.. *walks away un-noticed*

[Datura Shinso]

Walking back and forth frantically, in the upper parts of the woods, Datura ponders the current situation. Thinking to himself, he can see the soft navy colour of the sky above him; the bright white of the snow beneath his feet. He closes his eyes, and draws a long, deep breath.
"This is wrong." He thinks to himself. "These are good people. These are people who want to protect this town. They're only doing what they believe beneficial to the people of Holdfast. Why can't they see that we're doing the same? These people deserve to be safe, they deserve protection; we can give it to them."
The air is crisp and a soft wind blows through his messy, black hair. Opening his eyes, he looks downwards to his own hands. Suddenly, as if every ounce of colour was leaked from his vision, everything goes monochrome; without colour.
"I can protect them. But... why should I? Why should any of us? Why do thy get to live while others die?" He asks himself with a growl of a whisper. "What it..." *twitch* "What if I make them pay?" What's stopping me from... showing them what happens when..." Datura shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. The colour returning to his vision. Rubbing the sudden headache out of his head, he glances around. Still alone, he sits on a nearby rock, out of site from the rest of the townspeople; his head held in his hands.
"No... We will handle this like civilized people." He thinks to himself. "Civililized... people."
Slowly opening his eyes, he looks upwards once again. The sky is now a seemingly lifeless grey once again. The veins in the whites of becoming festered with blood-red, almost stained glass-like veins.
"People..." he thinks to himself. "What... *twitch* people?"

[Zar/Herr]

Herr jogs out of the woods towards Malva as she leaves the camp, he walks with her.
"Hey, hold on now, what makes you think no one cared about your demise? Everyone knew you'd come back and that made it easier to bear but that certainly doesn't mean that no one was affected by it! Some more than others but it's not like they ENJOYED your death, like they did mine."
He pauses
"Do you understand the reputation you have in this town? How looked up to, you are? If you ever truly left, by death or just leaving, this town would have a difficult time getting over the loss."
His voice softens, attempting to calm her.
"You and a select few others would leave a void behind that would be difficult to fill; you're valuable and cared about whether you know it or not. The reason this is so dramatic is because SOME people are being over emotional and rash!"
He looks back at the distancing camp, they will soon be at the inn.
"Which is ironic" he mumbles.
"Do you believe me?" Herr asks with his hand on her shoulder.

[Timmean]

Timmean nods slowly as he reads Degren's note. "Ah... I see. I'm sorry, I was unaware of... well, of that request from Pierre. I have no intention of interfering with his last wish, but I must ask, are you certain it must be done so soon? When it... was done... Even Faerie spoke of how Pierre would return to this world. Teek looked into his spirit with her power and saw the same; he will return. There's much I still don't know about the passage beyond this life, and the journey back. Sometimes, it seems it can happen in a matter of hours. Other times, it can take days. But I do know that a person usually returns to their own body. If that body is destroyed, well..." He sighs and shakes his head, looking saddened, "Well, I'm not sure what would happen. I think it can still work, I think I've heard stories like that... but I'm not certain. It's why I suggested a Dwarven ritual: because the Dwarves give their own time to return. Pierre accepted this journey, this death, to make things right in this town. I do not want to see his return impeded by the destruction of his body."

He turns to Krond and nods for a moment; "That's quite alright; if you have things you must do, then go ahead. Before you go, I will say: the elves who attacked us have been judged. Faerie has found them guilty in this. You can learn the details later, but know that Faerie does care for humans, and when elves twist and manipulate the code as was done here... there are consequences. Their punishment is no small thing."

[Degren Brightforge]

Degren says his farewells to Krond, embracing him in a familiar handshake. To sky, he tries to call out. His lips move, but no sound escapes them. In frustration he pulls and yanks violently at the cord around his neck before sighing and grabbing a piece of paper.

To Timmean, he writes:
I mentioned earlier that I died on the same night Malva did, all those months ago. I came back to same night, but not to my body. I awoke, deep in the forest, freezing and unclothed. I found my way back to the field where my friends were standing. There, I saw my own body laying in the grass. It was a very unusual feeling, and granted me perspective on many things. I know first hand that Pierre doesn't need his body. And if he so chose, he could return anew.  Who knows? Maybe it will return his memory to him?

[Malva]

Malva, almost at the inn with Herr:

"I know people here care for me, but I'm not having any of their shit if they keep saying we're not mourning enough."

She opens the door to the inn (OOG: Moving my conversation there now)

[Degren Brightforge]

Degren quickly makes his way towards sky, grabbing him by his shining armor to force him to turn around. He jots his letter as he tries to catch his breath.

Sir Skyrius, I will warn you now. I cannot stop Ashir from. Leaving this town, but I can stop you. I will remind you that you've taken a vow to protect this town, and the people within it. I feel the loss and sting of Pierre's death just as keenly as you do. But I remember why he died. He died to uphold his vows, and ensure that this town survives. He did not forget it, and I won't let you sully his sacrifice by turning your back on the town and your brothers. Take time away if you need it, but return. That's an order. There is still one of those elvish bastards out there, unchecked and furious about the death of his friends. He will return, and we will be here to stop him.

And if I ever hear you speak like that again, I swear , upon my shield and vows, that I will beat you like an orcish drum. Do I make myself clear?

[Skyrius Ventus]

Before continuing, I stop and look at Degree straight in the eyes. My face, motionless. I am unsullied and unshaken by the note.
"I took vow upon vow while living here and even in the Empire. But if there's one thing I'm especially good at, it's vengeance," I stepped back from the knight before a tear trickled down my cheek.
"I am Skyrius Ventus, I hold many grudges and bear many sins," I mutter before taking off.

[Degren Brightforge]

Degren stares off at Sky as he runs through the woods. He shakes his head and spits. I need to go get very, very drunk. He thinks before heading back to the inn.

[Gurok]

A loud Knock Knock Knock is heard on the wood of a nearby tree.

[Gurok]

Gurok could be seen hiding unsucsessfully behind the tree from which the knock came.her face cannot be seen, for In her arms are approximately one hundred and thirty two small bunches of late autumn wildflowers. Each is bound with a strip of birch bark, on which is crudely carved- For Pierre Graver- May we never forget. She carefully lays them down surrounding his casket, and kneels down in front of him. She takes his cold hand in hers and bows her head. After a few moments, she hears Val's voice calling for attention from the tavern. She rises, and walks solomnly back to the in.

[Timmean]

As everyone stalks off toward the Inn, Timmean just stands, looking frustrated and dumbfounded at everything that just occurred. He lets out a long sigh, his head falling into his hands as he slumps onto the ground. After a minute or two, he lifts his face to stare at the space a few yards away, which appears empty to nearly anyone else.

"Teek... I'm sorry about all this. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to say. This isn't your fault... I thought it was over."

With that he just sits, staring at the ethereal form of the young girl, and watching to make sure Pierre's body remains safe.

[Lady Val]

A shadow emerges from the forest and Lady Val stands before Degin in the Knight's camp.

"Greetings Sir Degrin. I hear most of your Knights and Asher have run off before waiting for an explanation as to why Pierre died. Let me guess, they are planning on taking revenge against myself and the other Elves." She looks tired and irritable.

"Before you make any rash decisions I hoped to come here and answer any questions you had about our travels truthfully." She points to the enchanted ring on her finger.

[Lady Val]

OOG: Never mind I realized Degrin was in the INN My bad...

[Timmean]

Some time later Timmean shakes his head, then stands and walks toward the space he'd been staring at. Sitting down nearby, he shakes his head. "I can't, I... I'm not that skilled. But please, please, it'll be alright."

[Timmean]

Timmean blinks, looking suddenly surprised, and extends his hand toward nothingness.

[AD]

Timmean disappears.

[Timmean]

Some time later, Timmean re-appears in the same spot. He glances around and sighs, his gaze resting again on Pierre's still body. A moment later he turns, and walks the short distance toward the water circle. Kneeling down, the waves of magical energy brushing against his legs, he leans further forward and rests both hands in the magic. Concentrating, he focuses his thoughts on the field of magical energy, and the elemental plane beyond it.

My Lord, it is Timmean, your champion. Something has... happened. I must speak with you.

Taking a few deep breaths, Timmean continues to focus on the magic surrounding him. He quietly mutters "My essence blends with water," and disappears in a tiny splash.

[Degren Brightforge]

Walking back into the camp, Degren notes the faint and unusual ripples of the water. He considers it for a moment, but turns back to his task at hand. He removes his armor, places his sword and shield against a nearby tree, and changes into a set of more comfortable clothing. He takes a knee next to Pierre and slowly begins to remove his friend's armor, carefully laying it on a blanket. After a few hours, he's prepared the body with oils and special herbs. He grabs a nearby axe and begins chopping away at a tree, moving onto another after the first falls. By the end of the day, he's managed to build a special pyre, with a hardened stone collecting tray built into the bottom of the wooden structure. Tired, he sits back for the rest of the night, smoking and drinking from Pierre's wineskin, grimacing at the sour taste within. He does not sleep that night, keeping vigil over his fallen friend.

[Timmean]

About an hour has passed since Degren returned to the camp, when Timmean suddenly materialises from the water circle. Shaking his head slightly, he glances around the camp, looking to be sure everything is secure.

[Timmean]

Seeing that Degren is working around the camp, and that Pierre's body is well-guarded, Timmean nods slightly to himself and walks off towards the inn.

[Degren Brightforge]

After two days of vigil over the body of his fallen friend, Degren begins the somber task ahead of him. He silently mouths the words to a prayer , and lights the pyre beneath Pierre. Immediately, bright blue and gold flames rise, engulfing the body and sending the sweet smell of incense pouring into the air. For twelve hours the fire burns, reducing Pierre’s body into a perfect pile of silver ash. Degren carefully separates the surrounding charcoal from the stone container, and scrapes the remains into a small pouch. Without rest, he turns to the heated forge before him and throws several ingots into the fiery maw, heating them white hot before removing them. Hours pass as he repeats the process, time and time again, of folding the ash into the steel.
Finally, the blade begins to take shape. The folded steel sparks and flames with each hammer fall, bathing the cool night air in light. He works, using his friends memory to dictate the sword’s form. The speed, versatility, and finesse of Pierre fill Degrens mind , pushing him to work feverishly and without pause. He works into the dawn, adding sweeping and twisting details into the hilt.
By noon, Degren awakes from his trance, blinking his tired eyes at the Sun. Before him, sharpened and complete, sits a fine longsword. The long, thin blade, is ideal for thrusts and cuts. The balance, so close to the hilt, gives nearly perfect control. The straight T guard Is accented by a guarded ricasso, and is cast in polished silver. The simple leather grip is topped with golden fittings, and the pommel, a simple cork stopper design, transitions into a fine handguard.

Nodding, Degren thinks, a fine blade for a pansy like you, my friend.
With that, he sheaths the sword and places is on Pierre’s cot before finally crawling feebly into his own makeshift bed for some much needed rest.

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