In need of half a drunkard - Nether's Gate, Jyg 30 TT

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

“Same story, different page.” Trajan thought as he stepped into the dim interior of his second tavern of the day. The tall human could taste the irony in his throat, it stuck there tenaciously, and for a few flickers stole away his breath. Trajan imagined that he could nearly feel the flickers passing, melting as if in an inferno, running into burns and marks. And even as all this transpired the drunken Halfling sang on. Raining brew and lyric upon those around him with equal disregard for their desire or feeling on the matter. Trajan hoped that the man wasn’t so soused to be useless, if he was so drunk, Trajan had a plan remedying that in short order.

[Guido Cercatoro]

As Craghley, Draydis and Trajan approached the singing halfling, they managed to ascertain that the song appeared to involve the exploits of a well-endowed young lady, a well-endowed donkey and …well, the rest was fortunately a bit of a blur….

Although Craghley’s shout startled the drunken mage, he managed to stay balanced on the chair. However, a good portion of the mug of ale swished over the side of the glass splashing on the new arrival’s face and neck.

Baltimus gave Craghley a reproachful look. “Now the good folk here will never hear the end of the song.”

“Perhaps as well,” muttered the well-dressed achadhiel with a rueful smile.

“This is my assist…er, my good friend, Angelo,” explained Baltimus, gesturing with his mug towards the braided achadhiel.” The young fellow gave a stiff formal bow, as if he was in some kingly court rather than a brothel-come-tavern.

“I am honoured to make your acquaintance,” he stated in an equally formal tone, turning in turn to each of the three newcomers.

“Well, I suppose we can find a private room,” said the mage disconsolately. “Mortal peril is after all, the only true reason for interrupting a fellow when he is drinking such fine ale.” The halfling had a twinkle in his eye and turned to the barmaid. “A tray of ales please for me and my friends and perhaps we might use the small side room next to the kitchen.”

Without waiting for a reply, the Halfling clambered unsteadily down form the stool, grabbed Angelo’s arm and propelled him in the direction of the room. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can drink more ale.”

The side room proved to be small and dingy with no window. It contained a few battered chairs, a large table and a ragged, smelly rug. Several mugs with dregs of ale were scattered around the room. Once they had entered, Baltimus directed a querulous eyebrow towards Craghley. “Introductions are in order, before we start.” He stared intently at Draydis.

[Craghley]

Although Craghley’s shout startled the drunken mage, he managed to stay balanced on the chair. However, a good portion of the mug of ale swished over the side of the glass splashing on the new arrival’s face and neck.

"A greeting in your typical style, Baltimus. Least I didnae have tae catch ye this time..."

Craghley took his scarf from the sporran (he had long since given up wearing the kilt save for special occasions, but still wore the badger purse on his hip) and wiped his face down. He'd have to get a decent napkin sometime. And some new clothes.
He gave Angelo a nod in return to the new fellow's eloquent introduction. "Likewise," responded Craghley, and left it at that. "Craghley Donovan at yer service."

"Song reminds me o ane back hame," Craghley said on their way to the side room. "Only she were named Peggy, an' et were a horse..."

Once inside he cast an impassive glance across the room and chose a suitably clean chair. Craghley had but a small misgiving for including Angelo - the halfling was just that, a halfling. Outward appearances were misleading for they could have a piercing intellect unburdened by the cynicism and melancholy which plagued humanity. If Baltimus thought it prudent to send Angelo away then surely he would. As it was Baltimus seemed to have sobered considerably now, which was certainly a good thing. Craghley gave Trajan and Draydis an expectant look for them to, as Baltimus had urged, give names and identities.

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

Dray followed the others into the private room. He stood at the side of the room where an eye could be kept on the door.

"Angelo, Baltimus, thank you for your willingness to meet with us. I am Draydis Quinn D'Anorre, commander of the Emerald Guard and champion of the Mother."

He gave a slight bow to the mage and his assistant.

With that, Dray cast his eyes to Craghley. This was Craghley's time to speak, as he seemed to know this halfling fellow. Draydis was here merely for support in whatever way he was needed...

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Almost immediately Trajan was forced to reevaluation his opinion of the Halfling. His initial reaction to the man had been to write him off as a incongruously loud drunkard. The sheer volume of sound the Halfling managed to generate boggled the young humans mind, it didn’t seem possible for a being that small to produce so much noise. That aside, he was forced to concede that not only was Baltimus practical, intent and blunt almost to the point of physical harm, he was also not nearly as drunk as he appeared. “And ultimately,” Trajan mused, “a citizen of Seledrine, like…. the other.” It bothered Trajan greatly that he could not recall the mans name so recently after they had quit company. He decided to ask Craghley at a more opportune time. “I have to wonder if that whole city was lush, or maybe,” he conceded after a thought intruded on his musings, “maybe it was the loss of their city and their place out of time that is responsible for that.”

At any rate, Trajans new estimation of the halfling was greatly increased over the one he had so lately held, though he did count himself extremely lucky to have avoided the shower of ale which Craghley had endured. But it seemed not to have upset the achadheil overmuch, matter of fact it seemed to be par for the course, and almost what Craghley had expected. Even so, it wasn’t how Trajan would wish to be greeted. Trajan, like Craghley was uncertain about the inclusion of the overdressed, too pretty fop Angelo. Though the blonde achadheil didn’t appear to be pleased with or approve of Baltimus’ actions, he didn’t seem to feel that way about anyone. Trajan resolved to watch him carefully. Not because the man appeared particularly dangerous, he bore no overt weapon, though Trajan still scrutinized him for signs of a covert one., but rather because he had all the signs of a being a humorless man. And Trajan didn’t trust humorless folk.

The room the Halfling lead them too was small, dingy and windowless. It stank of stale ale and other things Trajan tried not to think about all the while breathing through his mouth. This however did little to remedy the situation as the room had the sort of smell that one could taste. After Draydis introduced himself, Trajan borrowed a page from Anglo’s book and bowed, opening his arms in a sweeping and non-threatening gesture meant to convey that he was unarmed and intended no harm as he greeted the mage and his ‘friend’.

“Greetings Grandfather,” he called the Halfling by the honorific he had used as a child as with the other Seledrine he had spoken too, knowing that they were deserving of the title despite their appearances. “My name is Trajan Aeneas, I am both Sword and Shield and also a Hunter. I need your help, or I shall shortly also be Dead.” When Trajan finished speaking, he rose from his bow and dropped into the stance called ‘parade rest’ his hands at the small of his back, grasping one another with his legs slightly more than shoulder length apart. It was all he could do to keep from touching the sheath of the sword he wore, wanting it’s reassurance, but he resisted the urge with a great exertion of will and waited.

[Guido Cercatoro]

As Draydis spoke, the halfling mage screwed his eyes up in concentration and moved over to stand beside the Commander.

“Commander of the Emerald Guard and Champion of the Mother are you? Well you certainly like titles." The halfling spoke with irony but there was a clear underlying respect in his voice. "You bear a heavy burden for your service.” He murmured the last few words scarcely audibly and only Draydis would catch their full intent.

Trajan could detect no hidden weapon on the achadhiel youth who merely folded his arms and stood to one side of Baltimus. Indeed, the youth betrayed no sign of aggression or ill-intent. He appeared simply distracted, as though his mind was elsewhere rather than on what was happening in the room.

Baltimus appeared unimpressed with Trajan’s bow, responding with a snort. However, Angelo nodded in response as if he appreciated the gesture, taking it for a serious formal greeting. After Trajan had spoken, Baltimus let out a long sigh.

“Sword, shield, hunter and soon to be dead, are we? It almost rivals one who is champion and commander.” He laughed loudly darting a quick glance at Draydis.

“Well, I am the Great Imbiber of Ale; Grand Owner of the Vanishing Tower and Grieving Loser of Odif. And my friend here.” He pointed one thumb towards Angelo. “Is simply Lost”. Angelo shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Now, Catcher of Falling Halflings,” the mage continued, turning to Craghley. “How may I be of assistance?”

[Craghley]

Craghley returned Draydis' nod with one of his own. But when it came to his turn to speak Craghley did not have a feeble joke at the ready.

"Greetings, Lo- ... Angelo. But Baltimus, you lost Odif?" he mumbled, frowning. Then shaking his head, Craghley continued "I'm sorry, I didnae ken. Should time allow, I will stay a few burns tae speak of it if ye wish. But Seth told us ye can help fight a certain magic. Some dark craitur kens Trajan and my own name. We are tae fecht this... this thing, whate'er it be, tonicht at the fair. Trajan was told by another spirit, but a fair 'un, that's wha he must dae an he sought me oot on her - Blackbird's - advice. Draydis was likewise called by the Mother, an here we all are."

Craghley leaned back in the chair and wiped his face wearily. His mind was starting to blur at the very edges and the musty stink of the rug was unusually sharp. Something about the room, perhaps, was toying with his illness. Growing up in the smoke-choked rude little houses of Islay Craghley should barely notice a dingy little room like this, but... oh well. He looked to Angelo and wondered for the first time if the adhiel, too, was a remnant from the past. So he leaned forward focused once more on Baltimus and with his hands clasped upon his knees.

"Hae ye heard o Laewin afore? We slay her - it," (he had difficulty thinking of Laewin as a small girl, because they would be killing it or be meeting a horrible demise at its' hands, and he had seen the alien hunger it truly was with the Mohter's gift of the Wyrd) "Or are slain by it, this eve. I get the feelin' it depends largely on whether we can fecht the magic it wields. Laewin needs but the name o its' victim and it can control them body and soul with a song. Dae ye reckon ye can help us?"

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

Dray did not have anything to add to Craghley's words. He stood silent and only nodded in agreement with what was spoken.

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Like Draydis, Trajan didn't see where as he had anything of value to add. Besides which, Craghley was their resident Drunken Halfling Expert, as born out by his understanding of what, or who Odif was. Therefore, Trajan too held his silence, and simply stood, watching everyone intently and trying not to fidgit as the burns passed.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The jovial mage’s face hardened at the mention of Laewin. For a few flickers he remained silent and then he let out a deep sigh.

“That is a name I hoped I would never hear again,” he began, flopping his plump body down on the nearest chair. He motioned with a hand for those present to take a seat.

“As some of you no doubt know, may years ago there was a town here named Selderine – the precursor of Pax. It was a haven for refugees who fled from a battle with great beasts who wished to destroy them. They founded a community here, defended themselves with a mighty shield and lived in peace for a while.” He paused running one hand down his beard, a wistful look playing over his features.

“One day a little girl arrived. She charmed the people of the town. She loved playing games. Her name was Laewin.”

“The elders and mages of the town were so engrossed in the fight against the beasts that they had no time to question the nature of this girl, even though many suspected she was not what she claimed to be.” Baltimus shook his head and a small tear dropped from the corner of his eyes. “When they did turn their attention to her, it was too late. Her games had caused the death of over twenty citizens of the town.”

“She is no small girl but an ancient evil spirit. Laewin is her human side but she has another side – an evil monstrous thing that claims the souls of those she entices. She captures their names and then their very essence.”

“The great rune mages of Selderine knew that the only way to combat this evil was to make a great weapon that drew its power from the dark forces of nature. They created the weapon; the very weapon that Trajan bears. And they succeeded, for the weapon sorely injured Laewin and she fled into the mountains.”

Baltimus directed a grim look at Trajan. “Yet there was a heavy price to pay. The warrior that attuned himself to the sword found himself consumed by its insatiable lust for death. And the sword itself is a thing of evil. Yet it is the only protection against her that I know of.”

“And one other thing you must know. I created the sword. I am its father and its mother. It sings to me in my dreams. It longs to take my soul.”

[Craghley]

"All things change."

Craghley said this almost without thinking. He could not accept as immutable fate that to defeat Laewin a man would have to become something likewise evil. Trajan did not seem the type to relish such a doom either. There must be redemption, especially for the things they would do tonight. Donovan's voice turned clear and strong.

"There must be a way to break such a curse that the blade inflicts. The darkness of nature, that which most of us fear and loathe, is as much the Mothers' domain as the other. There must be a way to break the curse, or break the blade - if She sees fit, I cannot envisage that the creation of any single mortal, least of all ane of her realm, could defy Her will."

Craghley's faith was clearing his mind - it was firm, but not a violent zeal. A resolute conviction enforcing his will. Trajan would not likely turn away even now, if all he had spoken before was the truth. Craghley knew it was his duty to help Trajan in the coming battle... which included, it appeared now, the ensuing struggle with the sword. What was needed was Trajan's own resolve in this matter.
Craghley turned a slightly frowned gaze in his direction now.

"Is your resolve still intact? I can promise no escape from the blade, for that would rely upon the Mother and your self. I can only promise my assistance. And that goes to you as well, Baltimus. Still, it is quite a curse. Think deeply upon it, Trajan. Your future is in even greater danger now."

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Trajan listened intently to the things being said, or left unsaid, within the room, considering. Baltimus' offerings about Laewin were nothing that the Other hadn't told them, excepting the information regarding the sword, it's creation and it's nature, never to mention the fate of it's wielder. The halfling said that the blade channeled the darker aspects of nature, and that it was evil thereby, consuming it's wielder in bloodlust and carnage. For his part, Trajan found that hard to believe. He had never felt anything buy reassurance and peace when wielding the blade, and he had never done so in anger. He was even sure that it's use by the ghostly legionnaire in their combat could not be chalked up to maliciousness, for he had been simply trying to discharge a duty, the horns of the same compulsion Trajan himself now felt. He had spent three months with the sword, in training, in meditation and introspection, and he had felt no such leanings from the sword. Even so, it might be true, the weapon could be duplicitous if it were indeed such a thing of magic as the halfling implied it to be.

But Trajan remembered. He recalled the battle with the undead at the falls those months gone, feeling the sword drawing darkness from the poor corpses flesh. He remembered its soothing reassurance of his myriad hurts in the months since. And most of all he recalled the manner in which the blade had reacted when he had wielded it (at the weapons own urging no less) against the Dark Knights in the Aether earlier this very day. Remembered the sound that had arisen when he had struck down their Champion and broke them. The sword had done good Works. Maybe it acted in accordance with it's wielded. The thought was comforting and would have been possibly uplifting if Trajan had taken a flicker to examine it, but he pushed it aside even as it passed through his mind.

For, of course none of it mattered. The swords nature was irrelevant, as was what it might do to him afterward, all that mattered was that he find a way to bond himself to the blade before Laewin showed up so that he might destroy her. He had a task to complete, a duty to discharge, and the last shred of the man known as Trajan Aeneas depended on his adherence to duty. He had lost his God, he had thereby also lost the Legion, and further his arms and armor and identity. True he had gained friends like Talanwei and Shylah (who was it was fair to say more than a friend), but the man he had been was no more. Excepting this last thing. It was all he had. Was his resolve still intact? Craghley wondered. A hard, humorless grin appeared on Trajans face as he looked up from his contemplations to meet the eyes of everyone in the room who would do so, only once that was done did he speak.

"Indeed." he began, letting the word hang on the wind like a prayer. "Indeed friend Craghley my resolve has not wavered for one moment since I first met the creature Laewin those long months ago. This sword has been my charge, my gift and burden since it was given to me by the shade of a slain comrade in arms, and I will bear it forward to whatever fate awaits us. As for my future, until Laewin is destroyed, she made to account for the evil she has done to Pax and also to Selderine, I have no such thing. I have pledged everything I am to this one task, this one singular moment, and unless I am victorious my life is end anyway, even should the creature fail to steal my life from me," the young human shook his head then, at a loss for further words and shrugged. "I thank you for your help, and Draydis as well, for what you've done so far and what you may yet do." Here he paused again and bowed once more to Baltimus. "And you as well, Grandfather," he said as he rose "but I have need of still more from you, and I seek one further boon from my companions." He paused and looked once more about the room, his eyes at last alighting upon the Halfling.

"From you Grandfather," he said grimly, "I need to know how to bind this sword to myself for Laewin's destruction. And it's name, for I have felt these long months that the blade has been in my care, that it lacks such, but I dared not rechristen it, feeling it was already called before. This is the last thing I will ask of you." Not waiting for an answer, Trajan turned his gaze to Draydis and Craghley by turns as he addressed them. "From you two I must extract one further pledge, in addition to those you have already made to me. I would ask, nay insist, that you swear by your Goddess and whatever else may bind you. Should we win through, should Laewin be destroyed, even in that moment should you detect that things go as Baltimus predicts, that the sword turns me to dark pursuits, that you should use all your resources to kill me. For I will not suffer to live as a tool of darkness and misery, I will not become what I have sought to destroy." Trajans jaw was set in determination, and the fierce light of his resolve shone forth from his eyes like it hadn't ever before. He had made his descisions, his peace (such as it could be) and he would not be swayed from them. If Craghley and Draydis would not comply, then Trajan feared he would have to slip from them and face Laewin alone, and in so doing doubtlessly die along with her. "Which," he mused coldly as he waited for Baltimus, and Craghley and Draydis to speak, "may be the only way it can be, and though I don't want to die, if that is what must be then..." . Light and love and Darkness and rage and all things superfluous had been pushed out of him in that moment. All that remained, was the desire, the need, the all consuming hunger to see Laewin brought to account and made to repay her evils in her hearts blood.

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

Draydis listened intently to each as they spoke. The battle they would face this night was indeed one of great importance, and one that would require them to work perfectly together in concert.

"The Mother told me of this battle. I know that with faith, we shall be victorious. I have seen it before, and I know we will see it this night. Trajan, I believe that the spirit of one's heart cannot be broken by any magic, beast, or event...no matter how horrible. Your determination is clear, and that speaks volumes of the character of your very being. Though I have no question that you can overcome the power of that blade, you have my word that I will abide by your request should it come to that. I will make it quick and painless."

He thought about his own changes, and how he had embraced and accepted them, even though he knew that it would forever change how the world treated him. The commander was eager for the battle for two reasons...he wanted to feel the power of his new form and how it would aid him in combat, and more importantly, he was excited about the opportunity to bring Trajan to the Mother's faithful.

"What can you tell us of the wolf that travels with her? The Mother has told me of a dark wolf that comes this night."

[Craghley]

Craghley nodded.

"I swear by the Mother, I will heed Her voice and listen tae my faith in this matter. That's the best ye shall get frae me, Trajan. But I will no allow ye tae harm an innocent if it comes tae that... I think I ken wha ye'd prefer me tae dae if that danger should arise."

That situation seemed unlikely. But it paid to be prepared.

"Baltimus, leaving the sword fer now, is there a way tae resist Laewin's magic? I do no want tae be turned on my fellows."

[Guido Cercatoro]

As Baltimus listened to the words of the three companions, a gloomy look settled on his face. When they had finished speaking, he replied in a measured tone.

“I can help you to fully attune to the blade,” he began, addressing his remarks directly to Trajan. “This will give you the best chance of defeating Laewin. However, such an attuning will leave you at the mercy of the dark forces it contains. The only salvation would be to destroy the blade before it consumes you. I do not know how to do this but there is one who may – the spirit of the mountain. I can only suggest that you visit the spirit’s cross if you succeed in killing her.”

“There is a second option,” he continued uncertainly. “I sense that you are already partially attuned to the blade – to have become so, you must have used it in both tether and aether. It may be that this partial attunement is sufficient to use the blade but not complete enough for it to consume you. There is a risk that you may not be able to defeat Laewin but it will enhance your chance of survival if you remain partially attuned.”

“You must make the choice. I can advise you no more.”

“And I will join you in your fight,” interjected Angelo, “for this foul spirit has killed those I love.”

“As for the wolf, well, this troubles me,” continued Baltimus, turning to Draydis. “There is, indeed, a wolf that prowls this town at night. The Wolf of the Dark. Yet, it is not a part of Laewin. It is something else entirely – a manifestation of the spirit of the Land. It is not evil in the sense that Laewin is but it is equally if not more dangerous, for it is an instrument of revenge for the wrong done to this place. Perhaps it is your destiny to face this wolf; or perhaps you speak of something else entirely. I do not know, I am afraid.”

“The best way to resist Laewin’s magic is not to give her your name in the first place,” sighed the Halfling. “Those of you who have done so will find it difficult to resist. But I may be of help. My powers have dwindled, yet I was once the greatest rune mage in Selderine. If you each give me an object that you hold dearly, I will inscribe a rune of protection that will delay the impact of her powers.”

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Things were coming faster now. Revelations and oaths thickened the air and information scented it like perfume. Much had been gained by this venture, and much stood yet to be gained. And still Trajan wondered if any of it would be enough when the time came. As it was want to do in times of stress or discomfort, the young humans hand found it's way to the hilt of his sword. The weapon fight his hand as if it had been forged to it, and he remembered the ease with which the weapon responded to him, how easy it was to fight, and kill with. That the last thought was alien to his personality didn't occur to Trajan, but that he dearly loved the sword did. It was his dearest possession, the only thing that had survived with him his exodus from the Pax Honestus and his break with Dominicus.

“I have no choice.” He said in response to Baltimus' options. “I have been charged twice with Laewins destruction, once by the ghost who gave me the sword, and once again by the Spirit of the Mountain that you mention.” Once more, Trajan looked around at those assembled, at last locking his eyes on Baltimus own. “She is evil, and even if it is the last thing that I do in this life, I must see her destroyed. Please, give me what I need to do the job.” Trajan looked away then and spoke the last of his thoughts in little more than a whisper. ”You should understand best of all I would think. Didn't she destroy Selderine?"

"As for your magic helping me resist her,” Trajan continued, his voice stronger, “All I have is this sword. And you're magic already permeates it doesn't it? Let the sword be my protection, as it will be her destruction.”

At last the former legionnaire turned to acknowledge Angelo. “Understand,” he said to the achadheil, “those of us who are already vested in this are in it for all or nothing. Either the creature is destroyed or we are. Can you handle that? If not, stay here and pray to whatever gods you may that we succeed.”

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

Dray focuses his thoughts for a moment on the wolf. "The Mother told me that the Wolf of the Dark brooks no competitor and that this night brings danger. The land is sick, and it keeps the Mother from being here in Her full glory. Perhaps if the wolf of the dark dies, then the land will be better."

Dray remembered the tree that he saw when he first arrived. "Since I first arrived here, I have personally seen the land dying. The Mother has called to me to end the problem. Tonight is the night for that battle."

He removed his bow from his back. His father had given it to him many years ago. It was the weapon he first learned to use, and the weapon that had killed many enemies. He also felt the hard leather armor that had once belonged to the Hunter...the very being that had enabled him to take his present form. Both were valuable possessions, but not the most valuable.

"I have not given my name to Laewin, but just in case my name is spoken during the battle, I'd appreciate your protections. If they would help against the wolf in any way, that would be best, as I feel that creature is my target during the fight. As for possessions, everything I carry is valuable in one way or another. My weapons have their own purposes and memories. My armor was a gift from the Mother. But, they are mere possessions. My greatest possession is my spirit and my faith...and that came from my family. My body is covered in tattoos of stripes and runes that my father and mother drew. When I see them, I am reminded of their love, kindness, and teachings. Though it may sound silly, that visual reminder of them is my greatest possession."

Draydis remembered his recent conversation with Ulder...

"Some may criticize me for how I appear...even more so now. But, they fail to understand my true nature and beliefs. If they truly knew me, they would understand."

He shrugged.

"If you could add a rune to those that cover my body already, then I would be honored. The ones I wear now are not magical, but are valuable all the same. They are ancient adhiel runes that remind me of the values I was taught by my family....honor, trust, faith, compassion, duty, friendship, justice..."

[Craghley]

“As for the wolf, well, this troubles me,” continued Baltimus, turning to Draydis. “There is, indeed, a wolf that prowls this town at night. The Wolf of the Dark. Yet, it is not a part of Laewin. It is something else entirely – a manifestation of the spirit of the Land. It is not evil in the sense that Laewin is but it is equally if not more dangerous, for it is an instrument of revenge for the wrong done to this place. Perhaps it is your destiny to face this wolf; or perhaps you speak of something else entirely. I do not know, I am afraid.”

"How can that be, Baltimus? Seth told us Laewin and Falven were ane and the same. Unless there are twa beasts... I wouldnae wish tae strike at the spirit o' this place."

Trajan looked away then and spoke the last of his thoughts in little more than a whisper. ”You should understand best of all I would think. Didn't she destroy Selderine?"

"Twasn't her... just her." Craghley softly replied. "Destruction rode on the back of an army which came. A horde won against the spirit of the land."

He fished into his sporran and brought forth a curious item for magical enchantment.

"This is my fathers' pipe. I ne'er use it, but it is precious tae me. He never let it from his presence until I left home, and he gave it tae me. He didnae use it either..."
Craghley extended the pipe towards Baltimus.
"Furthermore, it was a wager in a game I had wi' Laewin. Though I lost, I talked her into giving it back. She did so of her own will... wish she would do as much fer me name."

He was listening for Angelo's reply while thinking about Draydis' wish. The true appearance of the General might seriously throw Trajan off guard. Truth to tell, Craghley had been a little taken aback just at the appearance of his hand. But he hoped to see the General's face, if only to remove those wriggling little doubts in his gut...

[Guido Cercatoro]

It was Angelo who responded first to Trajan’s words.

“The death of this thing means as much to me as you,” the achadhiel replied. “I like Baltimus, appear to have journeyed across the seas of time from Selderine. Here, I have nothing; save perhaps a fake sister - but that is another matter entirely. Yet in the past, I had a brother. He took up the sword to fight this thing, whilst I lay sick in my bed. I was the elder, it should have been me. And he was consumed by it; I will not take the sword you carry, for I fear it. But my sword, talents and life are at your disposal.”

The achadhiel removed a golden clip from his hair and handed it to the mage. “This is the only token I have of my brother.”

Baltimus thought long and hard as he digested the comments of those present. Spreading his hands wide, he turned to Draydis. “I fear that it is no simple thing to dispose of this wolf of the dark. It is an aspect of the spirit of the land. The spirit must be healed or sent back to sleep before the land may be healed. The Mother’s plans are not something i am aware of but she would surely wish to heal this land; perhaps your encounter with the wolf is part of her design. In truth, I do not know, I cannot help you. All I can say is that the wolf is usually seen in the company of a young girl who is a second aspect of the spirit. Find her and you will find the wolf. Yet, I feel that defeating Laewin is the most urgent of your tasks. The wolf of the dark has nothing to do with Laewin although her bestial aspect, Falven, might be thought of as a beast akin to a wolf. Perhaps there are two girls and two wolves; the girl and the wolf of the dark and Laewin and Falven.”

The halfling paused for a flicker, a frown crossing his face. “It is curious how the two pairs mirror each other. Chance? Or is there something more?” He shook his head, spreading his hands wide as if to indicate that he could resolve the puzzle no further.

Baltimus fixed his eyes on Draydis as the general removed his bow and spoke of his body. “I would be honoured to add a rune to those you have.” The mage inclined his head in repect.

Baltimus took the pipe from Craghley and turned it over carefully in his hands. “If this has been in her hands, then there may be a trace of her presence here which might help me to fashion a powerful ward.”
“I must deal with you all alone, for it takes much concentration for me these days, in my dotage.” He laughed. "If you would all leave me here and return to the inn, i will first deal with the pipe, then Angelo, Draydis and finally Trajan.”

(OOC: if you all assent to this plan, i will deal with all the separate meetings simultaneously in one post even though they will technically take place sequentially)

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

Draydis listens carefully as the mage speaks. "The Mother has tasked me with healing the land. I was told the that Wolf of the Dark brooks no competitor. I thought at first that the Mother was referring to me as the competitor, but perhaps you are right in there being two wolves. Unfortunately we lack the time to figure this out in any other way than upon the battlefield."

He smiled as the mage agreed to place a rune upon his body. Draydis knew that this would require the mage to see his true appearance, but something told the commander that Baltimus already knew of his change...

"I agree to your request." Draydis did as Baltimus requested and allowed him to perform his rituals with nobody else present. He was actually glad for the request, as it allowed him to keep his true appearance from the others for now. In time, Dray hoped that he could reveal himself to everybody around him without them being fearful. Perhaps helping to save the town and its people would give him a solid step in that direction.

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

“The Wolf of the Dark... is partner to Raven as Falven is to Laewin.” Trajan said, very softly as Baltimus finished speaking on the matter. “I have seen them together in a... a vision. Raven recognized this sword.” The young human brushed his fingers across the cross piece in a nearly tender gesture as he spoke, “She said that I had been touched by the One, and that her doggy, I gather she meant this Wolf, did not like that, and she seemed surprised that the sword had found it's way to my stewardship.” He paused for a moment, staring at the floor, trying to remember what else the mysterious little girl had had to say.

“She said that Laewin and Falven should not be in Pax. And that I had to use the sword.” He looked to Craghley as he concluded. “She told me that you might assist me. That you had seen into Laewin, and knew something of her. It was Raven that told me that Laewin had given you your pipe back.” Trajan paused then to look once more at everyone assembled. “She said that when Laewin returns this evening that the sword will aid me in hunting her down. She said that the sword will hear her coming.”

“It shall be as you say Grandfather.” Trajan answered the mage. “I will go out and seek meditation in the interim.” The young human bowed to the halfling then, and upon rising swiftly exited the room, going to seek some quiet that he might meditate, for he had much he needed to consider. “Trajan my lad,” he thought to himself, repeating once again his fathers admonishment, “what have you gotten yourself into?” In all honesty, he did not know. It seemed so far beyond him. Something from a bard's tale. An ancient evil threatening a city which stood where an ancient predecessor, destroyed by the same evil had once stood. And a hero, Trajans mouth quirked into a sardonic little grin at himself when the thought crossed his mind, and his companions riding out against it.

It was ludicrous. He was no hero. He was just doing what he had to. Maybe it was right, but if everyone was right about the sword, maybe it was wrong. But it was the only thing to do. He knew that. And it was that knowledge which drove him to walk the razors edge with the sword, to risk his soul. A risk which it seemed Angelo might know more of than he had let on. He would have to speak to the achadheil given the chance. If Trajan could find any pocket of quiet, he would settle down in it and meditate on these and other things, not the least of which was the face of Shylah Boyd, for he wanted her fixed in his head when he faced Laewin. He didn't want that dark little girl to be the only thing on his mind if he was going to die, which he was now thrice as likely to do. Whether by Laewin, or the sword or his companions, it seemed that Trajan's chances of surviving the night were rapidly dwindling.

OOC: Obviously, I'm on board.

[Craghley]

"I, too, agree," said Craghley. Then to the others: "I will be downstairs afterwards, for someone best fill Baltimus' place in his absence lest the Gate go out of business," he finished, more to himself than any other. A feeble joke was in his very nature, and it shone out all the brighter at the wrong time and especially in the wrong company. "You're welcome tae join me, but I'm nae half the company of our friend."

[Guido Cercatoro]

When Draydis, Trajan and Craghley left the room, Angelo stayed behind. Clearly, the achadhiel acted as some sort of assistant to the halfling.


Craghley was soon summoned back to the room and found the halfling turning over the pipe in his hands, his face covered by a perplexed frown. “There is something strange about this pipe,” he began in a haltering tone. Then he shrugged and handed back the pipe to its owner. If Craghley inspected the pipe, he would find two symbols ingrained into its surface.

“I cannot decipher the nature of the strangeness. Perhaps it is simply because it has been in Laewin’s possession. In any event, I have placed a small protective spell on this pipe. It should offer you some minor protection against any attempt she makes to control you through her knowledge of your name. Rub your fingers over the symbols and clasp it in your hand if you feel her try to take control of your mind.”

Draydis was the next to be summoned to the room. As the commander predicted, Baltimus made no mention of the adhiel’s strange appearance. “To inscribe a rune on your body is a delicate matter,” stated the halfling. “It will be better if you are..” The halfling’s voice was calm and reassuring and Draydis felt lighted-headed, sleepy, floating....

“There that’s done it.” Draydis felt his shoulder being shaken as he woke from his reverie. Baltimus was standing next to him. A pair of small runes were inscribed into Draydis’ lower left forearm.
“These should offer some protection,” ventured Baltimus. “However, your main advantage is that she does not know your name. Keep it that way.”

The halfling looked tired when Trajan finally entered the room. Baltimus gingerly took hold of the blade and placed it so that Trajan held the blade horizontally in both hands. Then, the halfling grasped the blade in both hands. “This may not be pleasant,” he murmured, more to himself than Trajan. “Please, close your eyes and do not let go.”

Trajan heard the halfling intone a few indecipherable phrases. At first, the ex-soldier felt nothing other than a trickle of warm energy. Then, just as he might have hoped than Baltimus’s warning was unnecessary, a sharp pain spread from his hands; they burned where they touched the sword. It was a dark, fiery pain. Yet beneath it was something even more unpleasant: an inhuman song of joy emitted from the sword. Every instinct told Trajan to drop the sword and yet he clung on.

After an agonising length of time, the pains subsided. When Trajan opened his eyes he would see an exhausted halfling standing there, eyes full of pain and sorrow.

“It is done, leave now. And do not bring the sword back to me.”

Trajan felt the sword sing. It sang for Baltimus’s soul.

The companions would find the inn much as they had left it: packed with those preparing for the festival.

(OOC: unless you want to talk amongst yourselves we can finish here given we have already moved on to the preparation thread)

[Craghley]

"May be," said Craghley. "'T'was not magical to the best of my, nor my father's, experience. Never did tell me where he got it." Of course, he'd often mused that Derwent told him little about his mother. But several well-preserved wooden goods had decorated their home which he knew were her belongings. Well, he could do no more than muse.
"But I'm sure yours is the first magic as has touched it. I am grateful it is so."

"My thanks, teacher. Did I tell ye I've sent a letter home tae me father? Now with this - tomorrow, I shall thank ye properly. I'd like tae promise as much, but wha could ken what shall happen? Goodbye."

Craghley left.


(OOC: yep, fin for me)

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Craghley and Draydis both preceded him back into the small dank room. And both returned, not noticeably changed, but whatever Baltimus had been about had assuredly been accomplished. As soon as Trajan saw the now familiarly shrouded figure of Draydis depart the room, he rose and wended his way through the crush of the inns clientèle, heading unerringly towards whatever waited.

Baltimus looked tired when he finally got into the room, the sound of revelry and the smell of booze coming with him in like perfume. As the door closed behind him, Trajan approached the venerable halfling. He wasn't afraid of the man, yet his pace was measured, almost tentative. Ever since the events of the past morningtide, “Had it been that recently?” Trajan wondered silently as he crossed the short distance to where the last Rune Mage of Selderine waited, the sword had felt more alive.

It pulsed in it's sheathe, and it felt even more natural in his hand than it ever had. And now, with it hanging naked in his grasp, Trajan could feel it pulling. It wanted to be used. Wanted to feel the resistance of armor and flesh give way beneath a thrust, to taste blood, to slide through flesh in a long slash, wetting the ground in it's passing. The sword wanted... no he himself Trajan Aeneas, wanted... ”I need him.” He thought as the urge to take the little man's heart-blood became nigh insatiable. “He has something I need, knowledge I can't get anywhere else.” And still the sword thirsted, to taste the blood. To drink it, lap it with his tongue, pull the essence of the creature known as Baltimus deep into his gullet. But even as he nearly failed, even as Trajan almost gave it what it wanted, he mastered the impulse, and stayed his treacherous hand, even as Baltimus, unaware, took hold of the weapons blade and laid it flat across Trajan's open and upturned palms.

“This may be unpleasant,” the mage said, even as he grasped the blade with his own two hands. “Please, close your eyes,” and as Trajan complied with the request, he finished “and do not let go.” In the newly total darkness, Trajans other senses sharpened, as is wont to happen. The smell of stale beer was thick, nigh overpowering, and the darkness suddenly seemed cloying. Through it all, he could hear Baltimus speaking, though none of the words were intelligible, or even made sense by themselves. Whatever he was saying, couldn't tell it from gibberish.

For long flickers, he felt nothing more than a slight warmness winding itself about his hands and forearms. Then all at once the faint warmth turned into searing heat. What had a flicker before felt like waves of warm water working up his arms suddenly became red hot fetters which peeled through his skin to sear the flesh beneath and melt through to the bone. The phantom flames spread up from his hands, which boiled where they touched the sword. It was a dark pain, raw and scalding. But beneath that, through the haze of agony, cut an inhuman song of joy which shot through his core like an arrow. Every instinct which feared fire, every self-preservative urge which eschewed pain, every shred of Trajan Aeneas which recalled faith in a higher power told him to drop the sword, to run as far and as fast as he could and never look back. And yet he clung to the blade with a grip not unlike the steel from which the weapon was forged, with a tenacity he hadn't known he'd possessed. He could not let go the sword. Even when his anguished moans brought on one of his intense coughing fits, not even when the pain from his hands drove him to his knees so hard that the crack of bone on wood reverberated through the small room could he relinquish his grip. And slowly, but irresistibly, those parts of him which reveled in the pain, which recalled gleefully the moments when the spell born smoke of the dwarves at the lake nearly asphyxiated him, which remembered the feeling of killing that snake headed knight in the aether, which had heard the Song, overwhelmed him, until he found that his embrace was not one of desperation, but one of tenderness, and the he did not want to release the sword.

At last, after who knew how long, the pain subsided, and a part of Trajan, a much larger part than he cared to admit, didn't want it to go, and when the sword whispered to him in his mind, rejoiced that not all was lost. The former soldier came back to himself to find that he was laying on his side on the floor. When he at last forced his eyes open, he saw Baltimus, now towering over him. His eyes brimming with anguish and sorrow. Loosing his hands from their place on the sword, Trajan pushed himself to his knees and wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth, the sour taste of his own vomit was heavy on his tongue. He needed a drink.

“It is done,” Baltimus said, his voice thick with some unknowable emotion or maybe just exhaustion. “leave now. And do not bring the sword back to me.” Trajan became aware then that the sword was singing, it's voice utterly inhuman, the chorus alien, but evocative and irresistible. The sword wanted Baltimus soul now more than ever. Using a nearby table to aid him, Trajan staggered to his feet. It took him three tries to sheathe the sword, and even that did not stop it's song. The former soldier did not trust himself to speak, or to restrain himself should he touch the sword again, so he did neither. He simply turned and made his way drunkenly to the door never once looking back.

OOC: Fin for me as well