Healing Hands; The Early Bird - Jygust 30th-early MT (open)

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc could feel the amount of energy that was going into the battle. Little by little he was beginning to over extend himself. It was nothing more then shear willpower and the need not to see the boy die that kept weaving mongoose after mongoose. Every flicker he felt the limbs of his tree continue to weave white knight in mongoose armor.

The battle felt like music to the vetern of Pan’s Isle. Strikes of sword on shield, cries of death and victory, each motion and counter movement of the armies were a dance. Aye battle was glorious but it’s cost was horrid, and Torc began to understand what lay down the dark tunnel. It was the face of madness and death, few people saw it. Torc had seen it after the battle for Aveas. Thousands laid dead on the fields, carrion birds gourging themselves on the dead. Faces of soldiers looking up at you with dead eyes and bloody faces, for some it had made them break.

Torc’s father had been one of the soldiers in the last Orc War. In the end, the bloodshed had broken him. It was the realization that when Torc gazed upon the horror of Pan’s Isle, he had become broken as well. Except Torc had risen from the field, he had found peace and happiness in Brie. Though he had no one to love he believed in it so strong that it was a light in all battles. Everyone breaks from the face of death and madness, but few are strong enough to get up from their knees and move forward afterwards.

It was these things that Torc knew if the hawk continued there would be a falter in their step, but Torc’s believe in his determination would help it continue on.

And with that realization Torc forced himself to create mongooses faster, feeding them into the breach that the warrior had made. Realizing that sword was also magickal and that he had created his own living web between the people Torc sent his branch meant for the dark adhiel into the sword at the warriors side.

He hoped from a temporally attunement while the battle waged. Torc knew that for a permanent attunement a burn had to be set aside so that the subject’s true rune for his body, mind, and perhaps soul could be intertwine with the swords. However, bringing the magickal weapon into lattice of living connection would increase the effectiveness hopefully everything.

Torc listened to the sword and its song. After creating as many mongoose knights, Torc began to sing a counterpart to the swords song. It was to create harmony and balance between the two. To be joined temporary as the song was sung, but also to be apart of its rhythm, softly with each repeat of the song Torc redirected the thought branch held for the dark adhiel into the branch of the warrior. He felt it moving and going forward towards the sword. A small part of him wondered at what he sounded like in the tether, but thankfully as he made each mongoose he could pass on the exertion to direct them to the warrior, as they could then join the man in battle.

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

...the sword sang....a rousing cry of delight mixed with a hunger for the blood of the dark knights...it felt light yet powerful....it grasped the former legionnaire’s hand with a determined life of its own... as if it would not return to its sheathe until it had gorged on its enemies...

Trojans’ first blow was true and clean, cleaving through the dark knights neck and sending his head spinning off into the surrounding melee. A shrill wail of arose from those dark knights nearest, and they melted away from him, glancing fearfully at the glowing sword he clenched in his fist. They fell back before him quailing, and the white knights surged around him and pressed their new found advantage against their previously contentious and bothersome foe.

A few paces further on, stood a dark knight who towered over all the others. He wore a large snake shaped helm which shadowed his features, but not his dead eyes. The strange knight turned to face him. Trajan saw him, and saw the other seeing him.

“Leave this boy!” He challenged at full voice, “Leave him or I will drive you out!” Trajan brought his sword up before his eyes and glared at the snake-helmed figure around the blade. “By this blade I will destroy you if you do not quite this boy and leave him in peace!” With that Trajan thrust the weapon forward savagely, so that it’s glittering point was aimed directly at the as yet silent knights heart.

...the sword sang…

[Raevyn D`Altamooriana]

The feeling Raevyn felt was overwhelming. Never before had the young adhiel felt such a sensation such as this. Not even her previous meetings with the divine had filled her with as much energy as she felt flowing through herself at one time. That was perhaps the only reason that prevented her from jumping when she noticed the glow that her fingertips had taken on.

A smile parted her lips, a true genuine smile that was uncharacteristic of the often stoic killer. Her delight wasn't based on her own doings however. No it was the feeling she got from her goddess. A feeling of knowing that all was going to be well, and all was going to be right.

Raevyn also came to the understanding that there was nothing more that she herself could do with the boy, and that was just fine by her. Her faith in Anasati was absolute, as was her conviction. Raevyn placed her fingertips slightly over the boy's belly then she knelt down so that she could whisper silently into his ear.

"I know you can hear my voice," she started of with in a hushed manner that hopefully only he could hear.

"You... are dying. At this very moment you are taking what could very well be your last living breaths. "

"Those closest to you will mourn your loss at first. It will be brief, and soon you will be nothing but a memory to them."

"My Mother's love for you is strong. She will welcome you with welcoming arms..."

"Be not afraid to go to her. She will show you love, she will show you glory... If..."

"You will know her when she comes unto you. Then you must decide whether you wish to live..."

Raevyn's voice trailed off briefly before she continued.

"Or die."

The assassin rose to her feet once more. As she stood up and looked at the two closest to her, her customary smirk returned for a mere flicker. The dark adhiel wanted to desperately tell them that their efforts were efforts of futility. She wanted them to see that they were powerless to do anything for the child. She wanted them to know that their prayers to their petty gods were all in vain. Yet she refrained.

Raevyn denied herself that pleasure. She thought that by doing so would be to lessen the glory of her dark goddess. The moment was not hers to steal. The moment was Anasati's, and Raevyn believed that she would not disappoint.

[Talanwei Fortisse]

Two battles ensued in three different lenses of focus. In Torc’s eyes, mongooses, snakes and a pool of corruption and in Trajan’s a squadron of white nights under his command and a great black knight with a serpentine helmet. In Talanwei’s vision, the hawk flew through a dark tunnel of corruption with a great snake blocking its way. The reality was that three were attacking one source of poison, by their sheer numbers and the skill Torc had as a healer and the follower of Illuminatus’ connection to the Bright One, the battle should turn in favor of their fellowship. Yet, the Achadhiel knew enough of battle to understand a concentrated, powerful force was enough to handle sheer numbers. A balance of skill, endurance, and power would decide the day. Talanwei was not privy to the counsel Raevyn was keeping with Anasati. They could very well save the boys body and lose his soul. He was too absorbed in the flight of his hawk, so absorbed in fact that in some aspects, he was the hawk. This was natural; the energy that composed it was of him and his god. The clutched acorn was of Torc and the One though it did not have the unyielding, hard edge that most of his encounters with Dominicus had consisted of.

In fact, Torc differed from many followers of the One that he had interacted with. It was an unfair assumption his mind had made of them as a people. It was a prejudice that Shylah and Torc were swiftly dispelling. For the initial flicker a woman as compassionate as she and a man as willing to save a life, regardless of religion they believed could not be believers in the One. Believing in Illuminatus gave Talanwei the urge to search for truth, and to light the darkness that ignorance often cast. It ashamed him to realize that he had nearly trapped himself in the stereotyping he felt Oneists guilty of. Even as he felt this emotion, it was replaced with warmth and an invigorating pulse of strength. Torc had come to his aid and his strength flowed to the hawk. A powerful beat of his wings, the steel Talanwei envisioned as his talons that much sharper, that much more powerful.

"Thank you, thank you all."

Talanwei may have said it in the Tether, may have said it to Torc through their connection in the Aether he was not certain. An exultant ululating cry trumpeted from the throat of the hawk. The snake seemed to shudder, undulate slightly and with a hissed reply that was much too cryptic to Talanwei’s reckoning, moved aside to let him pass. What lay beyond the serpent? Darkness it seemed, deep and absolute.

Though it may not be kindness that drives you, you have my thanks.

Talanwei spoke to the serpent, his voice confident but warm. This beast likely wanted his failure more than his thanks but he gave them anyway. He wheeled in a tight circle to allow a bit of speed before proceeding. Gathering his defenses, bringing them up around himself like a cloak, Talanwei dove forward in the form of his hawk. He tried to allow room to wheel away from a snapping maw or a crushing coil of the snake. The follower of the Bright One felt that all of the experiences thus far would pale in comparison to entering that darkness. Trying to prepare himself for the most horrible sensation he would still likely be surprised. He would above all feel for where the seed of purity would do its best job of neutralizing the poison. Secondly, and closely so, he would try to preserve the integrity of his weave under almost assuredly harsh conditions it would be penetrating. As long as he could plant the seed, that was all he was aiming for.

All this, however, depended on how dangerous the darkness was. With a held breath, Talanwei attempted to dive in.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Torc redoubled his efforts to re-inforce the mongooses, directing them to the opening that Trajan had crested. He could feel the powers he exerted draining his resources ; it would not be posible to keep up such an effort for more than a short while. Yet, he succeeded, for the snakes began to retreat.

The branch he sent out towards the Warrior’s sword recoiled with shock at the touch of the weapon. Whatever Trajan held in his hand was of great power; a power directed with purposes, as if it were a sentient being. It was an exultant power... embodied in the song which Torc now heard clearly...not malevolent but nevertheless revelling in the carnage it was creating. It was clear that to try to compose a harmony that could co-exist with such a terrible song was one that would require much contemplation and effort; to try to do so in the midst of such a battle would be a great risk...

Trajan swung the singing sword towards the giant knight. The warrior blocked the blow but his own sword was ripped from his hand. Dead, unwavering eyes regarded Trajan and the knight stepped forward thrusting his own body into the tip of the singing sword. A loud piercing wail sang from the sword; a deathly, deadly, tolling sound...as if the soul it had taken was even darker than the sword’s own purpose.

The sword slipped out of the knight as his body folded to the floor. An oozing, oily black substance dripped from the point of the weapon, hissing and steaming as it hit the ground. Torc felt the drips create shockwaves throughout the aether, bristling the leaves on the branches of his tree.

A sibilant wave of sound spread across the remaining snake and they slithered off from the battlefiled, leaving only a few remaining pockets of fighting. The dead knight lay at Trajan’s feet, the face of the warrior still concealed beneath the snake helm.

In the tether, Raevyn placed her hand on the stricken boy and felt the warmth spread from her hand into his body. The tendrils of warmth spread into the aether, seeking...

The dark adhiel sensed contact. A small frightened soul trapped in a dark pit at the end of narrow tunnel. Help me. Please help me. The words were mournful, desperate. The boy raised his hands in supplication. Mother? Is it you Mother? I am frightened. Where am I Mother. Is it you? Raevyn felt the boys hands grab the warm tendrils of power that her goddess had granted her...


Whilst the flight past the snake was unnerving, the beast made no attempt to impede the progress of the hawk. As soon as the bird had passed, it slithered away into some hidden recess. Why the fearsome serpent had behaved in such a manner was still unclear.

Talanwei sensed another long tunnel and the hawk flew down it straight and true. After a short time, the darkness ahead began to soften marginally. The tunnel appeared to open out into a large cave. The cry of a young boy echoed around the cave that the hawk was approaching... Mother? Is it you Mother? I am frightened. Where am I Mother. Is it you?

When the hawk entered the cave, it would see a barren rock-festooned area. Chained to a tall erect stone in the middle of the cave was the young boy that lay dieing on the healer’s table. Close to the boy, the faint glowing outline of a hand hovered in the air.The boy reached out to grab the hand.

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Though the giant knight blocked his initial strike, it was at the cost of it’s weapon for the monsters sword spun away. Triumph rose in Trajans breast as he saw his foe disarmed before him. But before he had a chance to offer the creature amnesty it pushed it’s self forward onto his sword, the razor blade punched through the knights cuirass and into it’s chest, where it’s heart might have been, if it ever had one.

Suddenly the sword’s song turned from joyous to anguished becoming a piercing wail which was carried to every corner of the battlefield. An oddly sibilant sound answered, and the Dark Knights quit the field en masse, though a few units remained and had to be destroyed utterly, though Trajan was scarcely aware of the fact.

The dead knight collapsed soundlessly, his dead weight pulling his corpse off the blade which had stolen his life, but the sword wielder scarcely noticed that, neither the oily black substance which wasn’t blood that dripped from the sword.

Trajan was stunned. He had expected the Dark Knight to fight. Or at least to not throw himself onto the sword. But the creature had done just that, throwing himself onto the blade after only a token resistance. He had been bigger even than Trajan, if he’d have come to grips the Dark Knight could’ve made an accounting of himself. The former legionnaire couldn’t reconcile the creatures actions. Another aspect of what had happened which bothered him was that the creature had made not a sound during the entire encounter. Not in response to his challenge, not when their swords had struck, not when it had fallen on the sword and died. Morbidly fascinated, Trajan knelt and unwilling or unable to release the sword, he set his targ down and grappled to get the knights helm off. The unreasoning compulsion to see the departed’s features forced him on even though something in his mind warned that he didn’t really want to see..

[Torc Blackfoot]

As Torc moved branches and limbs of the tree in a furious motion, mongooses of light and healing took shape helping to form the reserve company. Torc could sense the golden mongooses running with furious energy into the breach that had been created by the soldier and his sword. In a way it was quite beautiful, a river a golden fur clad mongooses flowed into the breach. It was there that a crash of waves as it hit the dead black pool of vipers. Like ripples across the surface Torc saw the press of the mongooses killing and widening the breach with their lives, and even though there were nothing more then symbols of the energies that he created the carnage made him sick. Battle whether in the aether or tether had lost its glory and shine.

Torc had seen the fields and woods after many of battle in Aveas. The insanity and death people made for their own gain was beyond knowledge or understanding. Yet, even amongst all the carnage and insanity, a solider moved on to the next field of battle. Afterwards the idea of peace was profoundly grand. Boring and everyday life was a glory worth living, the smile of a child couldn’t replace the dead eyes of a fallen soldier, but it made more sense then any battle or fight Torc had been in.

Yet this battle was for a child’s smile, this battle held more meaning and right in it then anything done on the fields of Aveas, this was a battle worth fighting. And with such thoughts Torc sent a seeking vine towards the sword of power.

As Torc thoughts touched the sword, the shock of what it was and what its purpose, made the tendril pull back in surprise. The swords song drift through the winds of the aether and finally Torc heard its voice. At its base the deep notes of drums spoke of slashing, cleaving, and rendering flesh from bones. The fast squeal of flute told of hot sticky blood and thrusts of death. The notes mingled and bore with it a screams of death and lust. Yet the lust wasn’t bore on thoughts of women. Nay, the lust was still of flesh but of a darker and hunger manner. The sword and what ever sentience it had gained, loved the song of battle and sung it with expertise. It was not evil, but like a good man driven to battle lust, it wanted blood more then any of the simple things in life.

Torc disregarded the idea of joining with the sword. Battle lust would give them great energy, but it tended to taint the intelligence of people. Torc had seen both the Panlings and Oneists soldiers in the throws of Battle rage and lust. They only saw the next target or the next death. Every thrust was like a thrust of their hips, pushing forward forever to that cliff of ecstasy. Yet in their throws of passion, they would forget to keep themselves organized, they would forget the men beside them, they would forget to close up gaps. Nay the sword might give the mongooses its own battle lust, but in the end their would be little to no organized push to break the vipers.

So Torc brought back the vine and kept his concentration on the field of battle seeing the warrior face a serpent larger then any other. It was other quick but the aftermath sung throughout the aether. The death of the snake had brought with it a change in the song. No longer was the song just drums and flutes, the dark fury released by the death of the snake added the fury of string instruments to the music. The claim of death gave it such a force that the breeze of death, hate, and fury pulsated the very fabric of the aether. As its filth bristled through the leaves, Torc shivered at the contact.

Yet with the death of the Great Serpent, the black withering pool of vipers began to retreat down its snake hole. There were still a few pockets of fighting but Torc was able to ease up on his focus and allow the mongoose to leave those snakes retreating to take care of those that were still fighting.

The stress of the battle allowed Torc to began to think about the behavior of the poison. Even though the child had been poisoned, Torc’s magicks should have been strong enough to stop the poison and heal the child. Yet, it was almost as if the poison converted the boy’s own energy into more poison. Then there was the hole, he could understand the hole is the boy had been punctured by a poison dagger or arrow, but he was intact. Also, why did the poison retreat, It should be still fighting and flowing outward. Instead it had gone back down the hole.

A small memory of Torc in Master Benito’s office talking about the demon that Master Vittoriano and Torc had been connected too sprung to mind.

Could it be? Was it possible that the poison was also a medium for the demon to take control over hosts? It could explain the poison, a siphon spell interwoven with venom to spread and consume. If the original of the draining energy went to the Demon or entity in control then… Torc closed down his line of thinking, talk of demons never made anyone feel better about the situation. However, if there was an enemy at the other end of the tunnel and the hawk did deliver it, then it would began siphoning off the energy of the creature to heal the boy, or any other creature that the entity had poison.

Feeling better about the seed and possible side effects if the poison was connected to some evil creature, Torc reinforced his believe in his work. His mind directed the animals to kill off the last remaining vipers and throw their dead caress down the deep hole. Now all there was left was time to wait for the Hawk to return.

[Raevyn D`Altamooriana]

"I am here my child," Raevyn felt herself saying. The young priestess couldn't tell whether or not she had actually spoken the words out loud or not. Nor did she know if the others had heard her say anything. "Hurry take my hand, I will keep you safe from harm," again she couldn't tell if she had actually spoken the words or if she had just thought them.

Raevyn also felt herself close her hand as if she was clutching at the boys hands as he reached out for help. It was a strange sensation and Raevyn didn't quite know what to do. It felt like instinct or some force other than her own was guiding her actions. Raevyn called the boy by his name, and urged him to take her hand if he wanted to be safe, if he wanted to live.

As this happened her already strong belief in her goddess grew exponentially. For Raevyn truly was a child of Anasati, perhaps even since the day she was born into the world. This boy too, would sing her praises once he pulled through, and that brought a dark joy to Raevyn. All he had to do was to take hold.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The helmet lifted off the warrior with ease; it concealed not a man’s face but that of a reptile with bulging eyes and a forked tongue - now inert, drooping down the side of a scaly, green cheek. As he regarded the face of the cold-blooded snake warrior, the sword itched in Trajan’s hand and he could almost feel its pull, willing the warrior to take more lives. The warrior felt exultant, feeling a small part of the sword’s call. Yet, the combined might of the hedge-mage and mighty warrior had prevailed and their foes were in full retreat.

The sword sang…a plaintive song of regret that no more souls were there for the taking…

A mere flicker after the hawk entered the cave, the boy’s hand was clasped by the ghostly hand. The glow from the hand spread down the boy’s arm until it covered his whole body. The chain snapped and he was free; the link between Raevyn and the boy began to dissolve and the adhiel found herself being dragged back to the tether.

Raevyn felt exultant; she felt the thanks of her Goddess flow along her veins, envelop her body. She knew the child was safe; yet saved, for some purpose that her deity approved of. Perhaps some part of a wider plan.

The hawk hovered…

“Thank you”, said the boy to the fading hand as the rock pillar to which he was chained also began to fade. He glanced towards the hawk. “Oh, a bird. What a beautiful creature.” The boy reached out a hand as if inviting the hawk to perch on his outstretched palm. The room was becoming lighter, foggier and fading.

The boy was healing….the thought came to Torc and Trajan at the same time…he was saved…yet not just by their own actions…something had happened far away, down that dark tunnel…

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

The reptilian visage which the helmet revealed, with it's eyes bulging and tongue protruding obscenely, was disquieting. And the knowledge that the foe had been monster, not human, did little to dispel Trajans discomfort over how the fight had gone. The big knight had scarcely made any effort at all and had in the end thrown himself onto the young humans sword. Had the fight been a sham? A ruse to distract them from something else, somewhere else? What had happened down the tunnel through which the remnants of the dark knights had retreated?

The boy was healing. Trajan wasn't sure where the thought came from, but it was there, and he knew it to be true. He was glad to have saved the boy, or, because he realized he had done very little to actually facilitate the boys healing, glad to have helped. The boy would live. That was enough. The sword in his grasp still sang, though it's exultant tones had faded into a slow regret laced dirge, as if it were lamenting the absence of any other foes, any other lives to take. Trajan wiped the weapon on the dead knights tunic and then sheathed it slowly, regretfully, himself wishing that more of the enemy had tried to stand before him. The sword had made him feel invincible.

After he sheathed the weapon and took his hand away only with a supreme effort of will, he focused on his body back in the tether and willed himself to take his hand away from the mages shoulder, finding that a much easier endeavor than releasing the sword had been. It was over. Somehow, they had won. It was enough. Why then did he feel remorse for foes un-slain rather than elation over the boys recovery?

[Raevyn D`Altamooriana]

Raevyn smiled on the inside. She felt warm, and she felt accomplished. The feeling that she felt inside her felt as if it was coursing throughout her entire body, touching every part of her being. And it felt good. It felt right, like this was how it was supposed to be, like it had always been. The sensation was alien to the assassin, but it was a feeling that she knew that she wanted to feel again. That closeness to her deity that she had just felt, was perhaps the strongest feeling that the young adhiel had ever felt.

"It is done," Raevyn found herself saying to those around her and the child. This the adhiel knew, and could say with confidence. There was a cockiness in the tone of her voice. An arrogance that stemmed from knowing that she had played a part in the boys recovery. More so than that, it came from the knowledge that it was Anasati that had wanted to boy to live above all else. The part that Raevyn herself played, was merely that of messenger. She was the vessel in which her goddess worked her will.

After regaining herself for a moment, Raevyn then turned and walked over to the boy's sister. She knelt down to a knee and grabbed her by a hand. She looked up and reached up to caress the girl's hair.

"He will live." It was all that she would say to her. Raevyn wasn't one that was overly compassionate. Yet Raevyn felt compelled to let the girl know that her brother would indeed be well. After that she stood up. Her work here was done.

The priestess then stood up and gave a silent thanks to Anasati. She thanked her for for giving her a sign that she was there with Raevyn. She thanked her for showing her what to do, and for allowing her to be her deity's servant. After thanking Anasati, Raevyn looked down to the girl and spoke once more.

"It was the Mother's will," she said. "To the Mother you should give thanks to as well."

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc looked towards the battlefield feeling sick with the blood shed here. Even though it was all just a symbol for the battle over the body’s energies, it mirrored what had happened on Pan’s Isle.

Perhaps overlooking field, the sick feeling that Scipio and Zeke were out there somewhere came to Torc. A small tear began to form at the corner of Torc’s eye, he had buried them both on the fields of Aveas. Zeke, a half breed just like Torc, had his throat sliced open by a heathen arrow. While Scipio, some poor fool pulled from the streets to serve the lust for power by the Merchant council sought his glory and death by trying to stop one of the many charges by the centaurs. Torc remembered the long agonized shoveling of dirt and the carrying of his friends bodies. The battered and torn look of Scipio body, most of his bones had been broken by the hoofs of their enemy. Yet Torc could almost heard the young man’s laugh, as the wind blew pass him.

At least Zeke’s body looked calm, Torc had spilled healing energies into his friend doing his best to save the man’s life. He had healed the outer tissue fast, but in the end his friend drowned in his own blood. Memories flooded back of throwing dirt onto their faces as Torc buried them. In the end, he song a song of grace and peace and prayed for a mark that the One would take them. They were his friends and the savages of Aveas had killed them. He felt the burning rage towards the pagans of the isle, but an even deeper hatred for the Merchant Council, for it was their greed and not for the glory of the One that brought the death of his two friends.

Sadly Torc also knew that even though it had been greed that brought them here. The merchant council was less harsh overall then the ruling nobles. Still his hate of their greed, forced him away from the Mouth and onto Brie.

Torc felt his aetheral presence move, the tree roots slowly pulling its way down to the warrior that had helped him. Torc slowly moved placed a hand onto the man’s shoulder. Looking down at the snake like creature in armor, Torc spoke, “I fear my comrade that though we have won the battle, we have lost the war. Much like Aveas, we came to do battle and though we fought brave the cost was too high. Perhaps we can take comfort that the fight we gave bought the boy time, but in the end some else claims victory and we must melt back into the mists.” Torc could feel tears on his face for the lost of the boy. Though he had saved the boy’s life, someone else claimed him. Torc would have given the orphaned children a home, he would have found a Mother and Father that had lost their own children to heathen fires. Yet now that someone else had claimed the children he felt the darkness of their lost joy.

“Are you ready to leave, friend?” Torc asked Trajan.

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

"Yes." Trajan replied simply. "Let us go, I fear it is as you say, and our victory has turned to ash in our hands."

[Talanwei Fortisse]

Talanwei flew past the serpent and though he was wary of its fearsome jaws no attack came. The long tunnel stretched before him and a voice echoed along the walls, a plea to the boy’s mother from the sounds of it. The Achadhiel tried to coax more speed from his hawk. The unhindered flight brought him into a large cave bereft of all but rocks and a large pillar. The boy was chained to the top of the tall stone and reaching for him was a ghostly outline of a hand reaching for the child. Talanwei had no inherent knowledge regarding the nature of the offered hand and whilst he was gaining his bearings, the chance to speak was lost. The boy took the hand and deep in the Achadhiel’s subconscious a feeling of failure plucked at him. It was most definitely not the boy’s mother that took hold of him; it was something or someone else. Talanwei flew to the outstretched hand and alighted softly. The normally hard edged eyes of the bird of prey were warm and the hawk of light was brimming with the good intent that Talanwei held. He made the bird clamber up the boys arm to his shoulder. With a soft trilling in the animal’s throat it rubbed its head against his cheek.

Young one, you are safe. My name is Talanwei and I will be with you until you wake.

His words were kind and Talanwei let the weave start to unravel before the child. He attempted to infuse the young boy with the healing energy that Torc had given and that of his hawk of light. To Talanwei it could do nothing but speed his recovery. Feathers spun from gossamer threads of light would swirl around the boy in an almost protective fashion. The Achadhiel would try to evoke a feeling of warmth and companionship for the young boy. He had been through much this morningtide and nearly lost his life because of it.

Talanwei felt a subdued twinge of anger at whoever had the twisted mentality to poison a child. It was deplorable and the fact that the child could be lost to darkness was unsettling. He knew that none of his allies had dispelled the poison, it was likely the source itself that had relented. What would cause this? What could be gained from such a venture? A play for the boy’s soul seemed the only likely cause. False redemption could generate feelings of gratitude that could be bent to servitude to a god or goddess cunning enough to extend such "blessings". There was none he could accuse of this, so it was a rather impotent feeling of anger that he had to rein in.

Opening his eyes, the familiar surroundings of the Healing Hands came into focus. Talanwei heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his temple with his right hand. It was perhaps the deepest delving he had done into the Aether. The follower of Illuminatus had done his utmost to align his mind with the energies given him and visualization had assisted his weave immensely. He had to shake the feeling of wanting to stretch out wings and ruffle the feathers he had given to his hawk. Looking to Torc and Trajan he shook his head, with his lips pursed in am unsettled line. He did not trust what he had seen, not at all. His hand was still on the young boy and Talanwei watched him closely.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Trajan and Torc began their journey back to the tether with mixed feelings. They knew they had been instrumental in saving the boy’s life but both knew that other forces were at work within the boy...

They emerged back from the tether at the same time as the dark adhiel and saw her move and kneel beside the young girl. Raevyn felt exultant at the connection she had felt with her goddess. In response to the adhiel’s words, the little girl flung her arms around Raevyn’s neck and then ran over to her brother who was stirring on the healer’s table.

And yet...all was not over...the hawk remained in the once dark cave as the brightness grew and the little boy faded. Talanwei urged the hawk on and it alighted on the boy’s hand. A look of confusion spread across the boy’s face but Talanwei sensed a connection and poured his energy into the boy. And then Talanwei too was brought back to the material world, his hand still clasped to the little boy’s side.

Trajan felt the sword throbbing at his side; as his hand moved inadvertently to its hilt, he felt a new connection with the sword, perhaps the connection of comrades in battle, or perhaps something else.

Shylah moved over to the table to check on the little boy who was now semi-conscious. She gasped as she stared at the boy’s hands. On the palm of one hand was imprinted the shining outline of a bird, perhaps a hawk; on the other palm was the dark body of serpent.

The boy opened his eyes and his sister joined in Shylah’s gasping. Both eyes were the same blue that they had been before his ordeal but one was a bright shining blue and the other a deep, dark blue – almost black.

[Shylah Boyd]

Tiliting her head to the side, Shylah peered into the boy's eyes. She had never seen anything like it before. While the throbbing on her hand only increased in pain, it forced her concentration to become broken from his eyes and grab onto her hand with the other one. True, the boy seemed to have pulled through but there was no doubt in the young woman's mind that he was different.

"You are safe," she whispered to him in a soothing voice and then turned to his sister with a look of reassurance. There weren't any words that Shylah could form in her mind that she could say to the concerned child, so the look would just have to do for now. For the first time, Shylah was completely speechless and for a moment, frozen in place now realizing how cramped the exam room was.



(ooc: hello everyone....Shylah has finally returned )

[Talanwei Fortisse]

Shylah gasped and in the quiet room it made Talanwei start with unexpected noise. Standing beside the Achadhiel healer, the swordsman looked at the boys hands. The outlines of a serpent and a hawk shone clearly and when the boy opened his eyes, it became clear to the Achadhiel what had been done. One almost black, the other a brilliant blue as if to further show the dichotomy. It was more than likely that this boy would not be the same after this ordeal. It could end with two forces vying for dominance in the young Achadhiel’s soul. Depending on which force exerted more influence, it could mean much in the lives of both children. Noticing Shylah clasp her hand to the one that had been branded, Talanwei put his hand on her shoulder as she spoke to the girl.

"Are you all right?" asked Talanwei in Adhiel. He listened for her response and once she spoke he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, they would have time to talk afterwards.

"And you young one are safe. You are also quite blessed this day. How do you feel?" said Talanwei searching the boy’s eyes. Perhaps the boy would give words to his condition.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc felt tired, like every soldier after a long battle. The magickal battle had drained him of his vigor, while the emotional turmoil over saving the boy’s life and yet somehow losing the clarity of victory. Torc knew that his efforts hadn’t gone in vain, they had bought time for the needed cure, but it felt like being part of a tactical diversion. In the end he hadn’t been the answer, which was puzzling and frightening.

As they came out of the aether, Torc’s senses slowly came back to the tether, Torc’s hearing and sense of touch began to first come back. The itchy shirt, creaks in the boards and mumbling of people. The hand on his back from the warrior and his sword, how it felt strong but in an iron grip kind of way. The soft music of the aether began to take shape as voices and sounds of the room. The threads and glowing knots of the aether slowly began to merge into formless shapes. Then as details became clearer and the sense of the world around them sharper, Torc felt the lost of the great truth that came with come outing of the aether.

The world seemed so much lesser when compared. Torc wished that he could almost always live in the aether, but he also understand worldly desires. The touch of a woman, the light shining through the forest leaves as a buck step in front of you, the taste of a cold ale or feeling of a warm stew on a cold winter night. There were the smell of flowers and the feel of a bark as you decided to a rest under a tree on a sunny day.

Yet not all things were pleasant or joyful. The sight of a dark adhiel forcing a child to pray to her god, instigated Torc’s rage, a bestial fury and hate for the ink stain of a being came up. What pollution of the soul would such a creature be sprouting? How many souls has she already taken for her dark gods? How many of Torc’s friends on Pan’s Isle did she take? A dark frame of mind filled with vengeance for those lost came to him. The primal urge to strike the woman with his fist made one of them ball up. However, Torc might have muscle made lean from hard labor and lean meals, he was no shape to beat the woman to death as he wanted.

Blowing air hard through his nose, making a sound as if to dismiss the dark adhiel and her ways, he moved out of the door back to the waiting room. Torc needed a movement to calm himself and cleanse his mind of dark brooding thoughts. Aye, Torc couldn’t quite escape his feelings, but without the sight of the woman, he might be able to think clearly. Sitting down Torc began to take cleansing breaths and review the rune of tree in his mind, allowing his mind to empty of what he had just seen.

OOC: Welcome back Shylah!

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

Upon his return from the Aether, Trajan sensed an unquantifiable difference in his sword, and it troubled him. He could feel the sword despite the fact that his hands were tucked in his arms, crossed over his chest. It pulsed like a heartbeat. It was clear that something had changed, but the young human had no idea what it was. He remembered the song which had risen from no where when he had killed the serpent-knight. Remembered the feel of sadness at the lack of more lives to take, remembered the hunger of the sword. Or had it all been the sword? What was happening to him he wondered, and how much of it was to blame on the sword?

[Guido Cercatoro]

The little girl’s eyes glanced furiously between her brother and the others present in the room. “What have you done to him,” she murmured in a voice layered with fear. She shrugged off any attempts to comfort her and backed away towards the door of the room, clearly uncertain as to what had transpired. It was all too much for her to take in.

The boy levered himself up onto his elbows. He opened his mouth to speak but no words formed; only a few incoherent noises emanated from his vocal chords. He furrowed his brow in puzzlement.

“You’ve stolen his voice,” cried his sister. Her brother smiled. It was a golden smile that lit up the room; yet, at the same time those who saw it could not help feeling that it was a smile that was almost too perfect…

[Raevyn D`Altamooriana]

Satisfied with what she felt liked she accomplished, Raevyn was about to leave when she heard the girl's frantic cry. It caused her to turn to look at her and then to the boy. Raevyn noticed his smile as she neared them. It was a bit unsettling because she had never seen anyone smile in that manner before.

Raevyn the turn to look at the others. What had they done to him she also wondered. The priestess knew that what she had done would have had nothing to do with him losing his voice, so it had to be the work of the others. To make things worse, how could he help her spread the word of Anasati if he couldn't speak? This made Raevyn upset to say the least as she moved closer to the boy.

If the others were to try to get closer to him she would do what she could to prevent that from happening. Raevyn wanted to see what was wrong with him but knew that she wouldn't begin to know what the cause was or how to fix it. She was sure though that Torc and Talanwei as well ash Shylah, weren't going to get close enough to him to do more damage than they'd already done.

[Torc Blackfoot]

As Torc was finally starting to clear his mind of thoughts of anger and hate, the small girl began to shout. Torc stood up from the chair and went back to the small examination room. There in the doorway Torc saw the young girl, she was distraught, looking at her brother Torc knew the root of her confusion and pain.

Finally taking his eyes off the boy with a cold shiver down his spine, Torc squatted next to the girl. Ready to comfort, but also to fend off any small fists aimed at him. Torc felt bad enough that the girl was blocked from escape, but he owe this family something.

“Child, hush. Your brother is still there and alive. He was poisoned by someone, and that poison was very strong, he may not be able to temporary talk do to residue effects of the poison, or the healing energies that were used.” Torc wondered if the boy hadn’t become some kind of bipolar foci for dueling energies. Still he didn’t want to frighten the child. He needed to take off her mind about her brother.

“What’s your name child?” Torc waited for the girls reply. “My name is Torc Blackfoot, and I share my tent space with several other families. They all came from the World’s Mouth during the great purge, we have been living outside of town helping one another. It must be getting close to mid day meal, are you hungry?” Torc hoped and pray that the girl would began to focus on his voice, instead looking at her brother.

“You know I got a feeling that that the other girls there are helping with the cooking and fetching. Would you like to meet some of them?” Torc shot the male priest who had help him a look to get his attention. The man needed to stay and examine the boy, but Torc needed some help with the girl.

With any luck, this orphan could at least find a home. There were several families who had lost a child that would love to take her in, and if she didn’t want like them there were several other families with multiple children that she could join with.

[Shylah Boyd]

Shylah looked at Talanwei with a weak smile and nodded, "I will be fine, thank you."

Turning her attention back to the boy, Shylah stared at the dark adhiel woman standing before him very briefly before turning her back to them. Resting her hands atop of a nearby dresser containing linens and extra tabards, Shylah took in a deep breath trying her hardest to assure herself that nothing was amiss here. However, she knew damn good and well that something wasn't right.

Finally, the young woman spoke, her voice wavering slightly as she winced in pain, "This child needs rest."

Turning her attention back to the occupants of the exam room, she forced a smile all the while hiding her scorched hand beneath her sleeve, "Perhaps it will do all of us some good to move into the other room so he can gain the rest of his strength. I am sure the rest of you might need a moment to sit anyway."
Without waiting for a response, Shylah slipped passed Torn and the little girl, out into the hallway and waited patiently for everyone to make their exit.

[Trajan Constantine Aeneas]

When Shylah spoke, she jarred him from his brooding, but the respite was short. He did see the reason for the interruption, but that didn't mean he appreciated it. Repressing a surge of irrational anger, he followed her out of the room, and crossed to the farthest point from the room to find a nice quiet empty corner in which to think. Trajan was at war with himself, and suddenly he was afraid that he might be losing.

[Raevyn D`Altamooriana]

"Are you mad," Raevyn exclaimed at Torc's suggestion. Looks like she wasn't as done with the situation as she thought she was. "How foolish must you be to want to separate these two now when they need each other the most?" Her voice was a bit higher pitched than normal but it was far from outright confrontational. Even her stance remained calm and relaxed appearing.

"I am sorry but I will not stand for it. These two need to remain together right now for more than one reason," she said without going into further detail. "They both need to rest here. I'm sure the owner would not mind putting the two up at least for the night."

Raevyn turned to the sister but kept her distance. "He is correct about your brother's voice. Perhaps it is just from the poisoning and that time is all that will be needed for his voice to return." At least that's what Raevyn hoped. Again the fact that she needed him to be able to speak was the only thing the dark priestess was concerned about. If he couldn't talk, then he might as well be dead for all she cared.

"So I think it is best that you stay by your brother's side for now," Raevyn said to the girl in a voice that was meant to be reassuring to her. This was something else that Raevyn wasn't used to, pandering to the feelings of others. "When he's better, THEN you think about going with him," the killer said as she nodded towards Torc.

Raevyn wasn't consciously trying to outdo the man, but that seemed to be the case thus far. She felt it was her with the aide of Anasati that had saved the boy, not the foolish prayers of him and the others. Now she was telling him what she thought was best for the two siblings.

"I also do not think that being out in the dirt and filth is good for either of them," Raevyn said. "If they can not stay here I have the coin to put them up for at least tonight at the Inn where I am staying. There they can be fed and bathed. They will also be much safer at the inn than they would be out in the wild as you suggest," she said to Torc in a firm tone of voice. "Even you would agree with me on that point."