“Hurry Brother, I need your help.”
The thought, brought through the albredine ring network, carries its own weight in pain and focused anger, spurring the Ranger’s stride. A startled guard barely manages to remove himself from the oncoming Ranger’s path as Maltris runs swiftly through the city gates towards his brother. Onlookers and passersby flinch away as the armed woodsman dashes by, his fully grown wolf hot on his heels.
Running to the end of the block where Mazrian and Kaelie’s home still shows the damage of recent battle, he pauses briefly, taking in the war preparations of his family. Trotting up to Samsaren they clasp forearms firmly before the Paladin hands over a waterskin. Taking a deep draught the Ranger nods, muttering “Thanks.” Glancing around briefly he turns his gaze back to the older Paladin. “So, what did I miss?”
Sighing briefly, Samsaren nods to his Squire who is paired with Khaelyn preparing their equipment. “They took another shot at the folks here. Khaelyn and Eckan handled it, though the house took the worst of it. More to point however, I suspect Mazrian decided to try to bring this to a rapid close and went off alone. His location cannot be found magicly, so I’m leaning towards something a bit more...predictable.” The Paladin nods respectfully towards the wolf seated at Maltris’ side. “Kaelie has a few items of his clothing, recently worn. Up for a hunt?”
Maltris nods. “Certainly, though trying to lead all of you will slow things down a great deal, especially if we’re trying to track at the same time.” The Elf squints a moment, thinking. “Though, there’s no reason why I need to limit myself to my own resources.” Closing his eyes briefly in thought, he then takes the shirt from Kaelie, tearing it in half. “Meet me at the Northern Gate,” the Ranger says, taking off without waiting for a response.
* * * * * *
Showing posts with label Mazrian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mazrian. Show all posts
Pebbles and Splinters
****************************************************************************
Authors Note:
The following is a bit of a labor of love. It follows the Sticks and Stones stories, so please be sure to read those first.
Secondly, I owe a huge thank you to the players behind Sendithu and Eckan. Between (major) editing, working as sounding boards, and generally putting up with my nonsense to get this to paper, from the heart - Thank you.
****************************************************************************
As the evening sun splashes against the battlements of the wall around Shard, a powerfully built Human and a stunning Elven beauty walk slowly down the road. Speaking softly to each other, they arrive at the Rose. Stepping forward the Paladin opens the door carefully, giving his companion a gentle smile. Trailing her fingers affectionately along his arm, the raven-haired Elf whispers a kind word before stepping inside the building.
As the pair enter, the Paladin nods to another Human standing just inside. Greeting him simply with a nod and a bass rumble of “Squire” the pair cross the oddly empty and quiet common room, heading towards the proprietor standing behind the bar.
Approaching the Publican, Samsaren gives the man a friendly nod before hefting an overfull gem pouch onto the counter. The Publican pauses before objecting, “Milord, that is far too much.”
Samsaren smiles softly before gently wrapping the man’s hand around the pouch. “Nonsense. You closed the entire bar for my friends and I to have a quiet gathering. Besides, I believe I heard mention of a child or grandchild, a wedding, and whatnot.” Gently patting the man’s hand on the pouch he continues, “Now I believe it’s a catered wedding, with an open bar.” Astounded, the man stammers another protest before being overwhelmed by a warm smile from Sendithu.
Violet eyes filled with amusement, Sendithu murmurs gently to the fellow, “He is stubborn and he has made up his mind. Now would be the time to just say ‘thank you’.” Giving the Publican a nod, Sendithu heads to the back room where the muffled sounds of merriment resound. Samsaren watches her go, before giving the man’s hand a final pat, “Oh...I also arranged with my partner, Zaherli, she will be in town for a short while and will make sure you get the best value for those. Take advantage.” Stepping away, the Paladin heads towards his Squire who is standing guard at the Inn’s door.
Stepping forward, Eckan clasps Samsaren in a solid forearm grip, turning slightly, Samsaren nods to the far door, “Who’s already arrived?”
Eckan glances at the door briefly, “Your..erm, our brother arrived just a few ago, with our guildmate, Kattena. Mistanna, Khaelyn and I arrived first by moongate from the Crossing. Sure beats walking, boss.” Samsaren chuckles, nodding, as Eckan continues, “Our dearest sister came through another gate a bit after us, but I haven’t heard from or seen Etherian.”
Authors Note:
The following is a bit of a labor of love. It follows the Sticks and Stones stories, so please be sure to read those first.
Secondly, I owe a huge thank you to the players behind Sendithu and Eckan. Between (major) editing, working as sounding boards, and generally putting up with my nonsense to get this to paper, from the heart - Thank you.
****************************************************************************
As the evening sun splashes against the battlements of the wall around Shard, a powerfully built Human and a stunning Elven beauty walk slowly down the road. Speaking softly to each other, they arrive at the Rose. Stepping forward the Paladin opens the door carefully, giving his companion a gentle smile. Trailing her fingers affectionately along his arm, the raven-haired Elf whispers a kind word before stepping inside the building.
As the pair enter, the Paladin nods to another Human standing just inside. Greeting him simply with a nod and a bass rumble of “Squire” the pair cross the oddly empty and quiet common room, heading towards the proprietor standing behind the bar.
Approaching the Publican, Samsaren gives the man a friendly nod before hefting an overfull gem pouch onto the counter. The Publican pauses before objecting, “Milord, that is far too much.”
Samsaren smiles softly before gently wrapping the man’s hand around the pouch. “Nonsense. You closed the entire bar for my friends and I to have a quiet gathering. Besides, I believe I heard mention of a child or grandchild, a wedding, and whatnot.” Gently patting the man’s hand on the pouch he continues, “Now I believe it’s a catered wedding, with an open bar.” Astounded, the man stammers another protest before being overwhelmed by a warm smile from Sendithu.
Violet eyes filled with amusement, Sendithu murmurs gently to the fellow, “He is stubborn and he has made up his mind. Now would be the time to just say ‘thank you’.” Giving the Publican a nod, Sendithu heads to the back room where the muffled sounds of merriment resound. Samsaren watches her go, before giving the man’s hand a final pat, “Oh...I also arranged with my partner, Zaherli, she will be in town for a short while and will make sure you get the best value for those. Take advantage.” Stepping away, the Paladin heads towards his Squire who is standing guard at the Inn’s door.
Stepping forward, Eckan clasps Samsaren in a solid forearm grip, turning slightly, Samsaren nods to the far door, “Who’s already arrived?”
Eckan glances at the door briefly, “Your..erm, our brother arrived just a few ago, with our guildmate, Kattena. Mistanna, Khaelyn and I arrived first by moongate from the Crossing. Sure beats walking, boss.” Samsaren chuckles, nodding, as Eckan continues, “Our dearest sister came through another gate a bit after us, but I haven’t heard from or seen Etherian.”
A Warrior's Hands
She slips into the smoky room, pausing a moment to lean on the doorway and admire for perhaps the thousandth time the strange beauty of the scene before her. Amidst the soot-stained tools and crackling flames, a tall Human toils tirelessly at a well-used anvil. Despite the heat and strenuous work, his silver-streaked hair is neatly tied back in an impeccable ponytail which brushes his muscular shoulders as he works, moving back and forth between anvil and forge fires with well-rehearsed movements. As he finishes the piece he is currently mending, she can resist temptation no longer and quickly crosses the room, slipping her arms around his waist and planting a series of soft kisses along the side of his neck.
He shivers slightly, almost dropping the freshly repaired tool. "I need to put a bell on you. Hello, beloved." Samsaren reaches for Sendithu, drawing her close for an embrace and then releases her with a wince, eyeing his clothes critically. "I should get cleaned up before I ruin that dress."
The Elven woman laughs softly and gives his ponytail an affectionate tug. "Ruin it, arn sanbabest, I do not care. I will buy another, it is just a dress." With complete disregard for the scattered bits of metal littering the area, she seats herself atop the anvil, crossing her legs and arranging the plum-tinted firesilk neatly around her. "So, just getting started or wrapping things up for the day?"
He grins at her, taking a moment to appreciate the view. "I could be persuaded either way. What's on your agenda today?"
"I had not decided yet." She shifts slightly, picking at a non-existent piece of lint on her dress.
Samsaren smiles at her, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips across her knuckles just to make her blush. It always works, and they share an amused grin. He stretches, rolling his shoulders, before methodically taking out his forging tools one by one and carefully inspecting each for any sign of damage. Sendithu pulls a small ball of yarn out of her cloak pocket and casually begins knitting, humming quietly to herself. They work in comfortable silence for a time, her knitting needles clicking in time to his wire brush as he repairs his tools, until he glances over and notices that her work has gone awry and she doesn't seem to be paying attention to it. "Something on your mind?"
He shivers slightly, almost dropping the freshly repaired tool. "I need to put a bell on you. Hello, beloved." Samsaren reaches for Sendithu, drawing her close for an embrace and then releases her with a wince, eyeing his clothes critically. "I should get cleaned up before I ruin that dress."
The Elven woman laughs softly and gives his ponytail an affectionate tug. "Ruin it, arn sanbabest, I do not care. I will buy another, it is just a dress." With complete disregard for the scattered bits of metal littering the area, she seats herself atop the anvil, crossing her legs and arranging the plum-tinted firesilk neatly around her. "So, just getting started or wrapping things up for the day?"
He grins at her, taking a moment to appreciate the view. "I could be persuaded either way. What's on your agenda today?"
"I had not decided yet." She shifts slightly, picking at a non-existent piece of lint on her dress.
Samsaren smiles at her, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips across her knuckles just to make her blush. It always works, and they share an amused grin. He stretches, rolling his shoulders, before methodically taking out his forging tools one by one and carefully inspecting each for any sign of damage. Sendithu pulls a small ball of yarn out of her cloak pocket and casually begins knitting, humming quietly to herself. They work in comfortable silence for a time, her knitting needles clicking in time to his wire brush as he repairs his tools, until he glances over and notices that her work has gone awry and she doesn't seem to be paying attention to it. "Something on your mind?"
Sticks and Stones, Continued
Moving swiftly, longbow held close to his body, Maltris continued to backtrack the incoming forces. Staying to the shadows and cover of the wilderness, the Elf keeps a wary eye on the slowly tapering advance. After some time, and a few close calls the Ranger finally arrives at the source.
Well away from the city, hidden deep in the woods a large ritual circle glows with a sullen inner light. Moving carefully around the clearing, Maltris examines the runes from afar, sticking to the cover lest the caster or casters return. As a careful, but distant examination yields little result, the Elf carefully notches an arrow, preparing to move closer.
Before he can move closer, a feminine voice behind him asks in Ilithic “Runes are dull, any thoughts?” Leaping in the air in surprise, Maltris lands with an oath on his lips, arrow half drawn in his bow. Casually pushing the arrow aside with the her blade, Sendithu looks past Maltris to another unnoticed Elven figure. “Jumpy, isn’t he?”.
Clad in nightmare black leathers, and hidden in a shadowsilk cloak, longbow in hand, the second Ranger glances at the pair “To be fair, I imagine we managed to slip up on him.” Eyes shifting to the clearing he points a gloved hand before shifting deeper into cover. “We’ve company.”
Well away from the city, hidden deep in the woods a large ritual circle glows with a sullen inner light. Moving carefully around the clearing, Maltris examines the runes from afar, sticking to the cover lest the caster or casters return. As a careful, but distant examination yields little result, the Elf carefully notches an arrow, preparing to move closer.
Before he can move closer, a feminine voice behind him asks in Ilithic “Runes are dull, any thoughts?” Leaping in the air in surprise, Maltris lands with an oath on his lips, arrow half drawn in his bow. Casually pushing the arrow aside with the her blade, Sendithu looks past Maltris to another unnoticed Elven figure. “Jumpy, isn’t he?”.
Clad in nightmare black leathers, and hidden in a shadowsilk cloak, longbow in hand, the second Ranger glances at the pair “To be fair, I imagine we managed to slip up on him.” Eyes shifting to the clearing he points a gloved hand before shifting deeper into cover. “We’ve company.”
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