Misdirection

"Do you remember that time in the infirmary..?"

"That halfling, what was his name?"

"So annoying, and then I gave him that box that was WAY out of his range..."

"I didn't know such a little person could make such a big mess!"

"He deserved it."

"Goodness, and then Lady Annael came in to see what the fuss was and I panicked. You blamed it right on his friend with such a straight face, and she believed you!"

“She always did, it is my open and honest nature.”

The women dissolve into laughter, linking arms as they stroll down the street.  The Elven woman slows her pace, gazing at her companion appraisingly as the Empath wipes a tear from her eye. "We really need to do this more often, Sonjaa. We do not see nearly enough of you."

The Human flushes slightly, still charmingly easy to fluster after all this time.  "I know, m’Lady.  ‘Tis like we say this every time we get together, and then something always..."

A sudden clamor rises to break the early morning quiet, warning bells and shouting coming from the general direction of the western gate.

"Right on cue," the Elf mutters.

Pebbles and Splinters, continued

“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.

* * * * * *

Pebbles and Splinters

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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.
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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.”

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.”

Sticks and Stones

The rhythmic hammering of shaping steel echos through the forge as two humans work the slowly yielding metal.  The larger, older human lands blow after blow, while the younger, less stout man holds the piece in place with a set of heavy tongs.  The work pauses as the albredine rings on both of their hands flash briefly with an inner light.  An outside voice imposes itself upon both their thoughts, “Gents, could use a hand here, it’s getting ugly faster than the Half Pint Inn on ‘Tog appreciation night.”

 Snorting loudly Samsaren quickly hangs his forging hammer on the wall. “Send a thought to our friend about a gate, I’ve a beacon.”  Eckan nods quickly, his thumb lingering a moment on his ring, before he starts buckling on armor.  Samsaren grabs his shield, fastening the weapon harness as he steps out of the forging society.

 Reaching into his longcoat he pulls forth a ruby red crystal shard.  Raising it the shard skyward, it flashes into a beam of red light that slowly fades from view.  Moments later a red-gold fountain erupts, as a moongate appears before the men.  Stepping through, the warriors find themselves just inside the Western gate of Crossing.

 Nodding a quick thank you to the Magi, Samsaren turns to the gate guard. “Open the gate.”  The guard pales before stammering, “B-b-b-ut,m’lord, the monsters!”  Sighing, Samsaren launches himself up the stairs to the battlements,  uncoiling a heavy rope as he ascends the steps three at a time.  Tossing the loop over one of protrusions he launches himself over the wall.  Eckan meanwhile grins at the guard, “Gee thanks, get him all wound up BEFORE a fight!” before chasing off after his patron, using the rope to descend.

Lending out a Squire

High above the west gate of Shard, two figures stand close together, gazing over the parapets as the sun sets over the Wyvern mountain range. Sighing contentedly, the shorter of the pair snuggles in closer and her companion tightens his arm around her waist in response. As much as she enjoys the rush of the hunt, this quiet time together is something she treasures. "What's on your mind?" he asked, brushing his lips against her ear.

She shivers slightly and smiles, twisting around in his arms to lean against the wall and look up at him through the dark veil of her eyelashes. "What makes you say that?"

Chuckling softly, he tilts her chin upward with his knuckle. "Dearest, I know you. There's -always- something. Now, what's on your mind?"

She flashes a crooked grin at him, marveling for the thousandth time at having finally found a partner as direct and unflinching as she. "Eckan," she replies after a moment.

He arches an eyebrow at her in surprise. "Thinking of trading me in for a younger model, then?"

She smirks and gives his chest an affectionate shove. "Yes, you absolutely bore me to tears and I feel like I could do better." His grey eyes crinkling in amusement, he pulls her even closer in a tight hug and then releases her, leaning back to gaze into her eyes patiently. "No, you lovely fool," she continues. "I was thinking about that offhand comment at that badge quest thing the other night, about sending Eckan off for some additional training. Protecting someone, Mistanna perhaps, like we mentioned. I think it would do him some good to be around...well, people, and she is more tolerable than most. It would be good for him."

"I don't disagree," Samsaren begins thoughtfully. "The lad has always been a bit...skittish around people. Spending all his time in the field is great for his martial skills, but you're right, rounding him out a bit isn't a bad idea. Would you mind making the arrangements? You're better at finding the proper words for such."

She reaches up and gives his carefully arranged ponytail a playful tug, drawing an amused chuckle from him. "Paperwork? Hmph. I suppose I could be persuaded..." Suddenly he leans in and captures her lips with his, and whatever she was about to say is lost in the night air.

---

The next day in Rivercrossings, an Elven Trader glances at a pressed sheet of pale blue paper before sealing it with a blob of dark purple tinted wax stamped with a lily and sending it off with a courier.

"Mistanna,

I hope this letter finds you well. Straight to the point, we have been giving the matter of Eckan some thought, and we feel it would round out his training to have some practical experience in a more social setting. Martially, the boy is quite capable, but he suffers a bit with anxiety in some situations and could use a bit of polish. With your experience and good nature, we think you would be perfect if you are willing to take him on as a bodyguard. As he is still Samsaren's squire, you naturally would not need to provide a salary. Consider it more of a temporary fostering. Mull it over, and let us know.

~S"

The Fete of Banishment

“Our Goal will be killing one thousand Undead.”  Leucius’ words seem to echo as the small group moves through the mist into a black granite stairway.  At the fore, leading the group into the darkness steps a tall, powerfully built Paladin.  Pavise shield held firmly in his hand and jaalmin longcoat hiding the promise of the heaviest of armor underneath, Samsaren strides forward, eyes alert for resistance from the undead.  Moving gracefully at his side is a beautiful blue-black haired Elven woman, her violet eyes eyes catching every movement in the shadows.

  Traveling behind the Paladin is a second elf, her auburn hair carefully tucked into a helmet, and the hint of a giggle stirring behind mirth filled eyes.  Bringing up, and protecting the group's rear is another Paladin.  Slightly smaller in stature and height, the other human moves carefully, constantly checking behind the group, expression as serious as the grip on his spetum.

  As the group moves down a second stairwell inside the Temple the light from the hidden door above beings to rapidly fade.  Gently, the lead Paladin calls behind him “Eckan”, prompting the second Paladin to trace a complicated glyph in the air.  After a brief moment and nothing happening, Eckan looks dejected.  With a glance carrying only the barest hint of reproach the older Paladin traces the same pattern murmuring quietly “daily prayers lad” as a series of orbs of light spring into existence and settle into a revolving pattern around him.

Patron and Squire, Forging Again (Courtesy of Samsaren)

A steady summer rain falls on the cobblestones, giving everything a slick shine in the torchlight.  The flames of the torches themselves gutter and spit in protest as the weather slowly turns worse.  Clad in a rain-soaked cloak, an older Paladin approaches the Forging Society Building, exposed bits of armor gleaming wetly in the limited light.

Heading deeper into the forge, guided by the unmistakable sound of hammer on steel, the Paladin arrives finally in one of the forges.  A quick glance around the gaethzen lit room shows a rack thoughtfully set near the forges heat for drying wet clothes.  With a grateful sigh the man, now very much the younger of the two in spite of his own hard earned age, sets his cloak to dry.  “Thanks,” he says, turning to the smith.

“Oh sure, I had a feeling you’d drop by, we’re due as it were”, Samsaren replies with a smile, turning the piece over on the anvil with his tongs.  A few careful pounds to finish shaping the metal, and he dunks the piece into the quenching tub, which gives an evil hiss and sets the water bubbling briefly.  “I take it you got my note then?”

Samsaren and his squire (Courtesy of Samsaren)

The heavy rhythmic ringing of forge hammers echo dully as an older human warrior stands in a side room of a smithy examining his armor. As he runs roughened hands across his shield, noting the wear and tear of battle, another human strides into the room. Plate clad, with honey hair still tussled from a helmet the new arrival is clearly fresh from the field.

“Looking a little worse for wear Sir, what dinged up the armor this time,” asks the new arrival as he sets his helmet down and looks carefully at the pavise shield currently under repair.

With a deep sigh the older human adjusts the grip on his forging hammer, “Its Sam, just plain old Sam, Eckan.” Glancing up from his work he gives the young man a wry smile, “When I took you on as a squire, that was the deal, remember?”

Chuckling, Samsaren runs his free hand across a dent in the shield, “To answer your question, this dent is an Arkarm’s khuj, and I’m fairly sure this one is from his helmeted head.”

Clearing his throat, he lays his tools down before turning to the other Paladin. “The reason I called you in was to pass along warning. It looks like War is coming to our lands again, and I wanted to make sure you’re prepared.Spare weapons, or shields,” he says sparing a quick glance at the anvil for emphasis. “If you need it, just hollar.”

Resting his hands on his belt Eckan looks thoughtful for a moment, “What about the Militias, I understand the Therengians are offering assistance”.

Samsaren gives a quick nod. “I’ve heard the same, and the folks in Zoluren are gearing up as well. More interesting to me is the Arkarm’s have offered to lend assistance. I’m sure there’s a price, but as long as its reasonable, well, they ARE a formidable force.”

Eckan gazes at Samsaren on the verge of disbelief, “But Sam, I thought you fought them, not…”

Sam sighs, “Oh yes, I stand against them. I don’t hunt them indiscriminately, its not my way, but if they look to cause trouble I’ll take up arms against them. That, however, is also my point, they’re potent enough that it requires a great deal of effort of some of the more powerful folks around to put a dent in them. I’d really not want a force like that opening another front when I’m fully engaged against Alret and his ilk.”

“I understand your point, though I’m betting that you get some resistance on that theory,” Eckan says, nodding slowly. “I shall prepare myself for the troubles ahead.”

Samsaren smiles, nodding to Eckan, “Good. You’re welcome to fight at my side when things come to a head, the faster we can end things, the less the land and people suffer under the burden of conflict.”

Samsaren picks his tools back up, and begins to examine the shield again, “Until then however, don’t neglect your studies. And if you can spare a moment, Pray. We can use all the help we can get.”

Nodding to the forge, Samsaren smiles briefly, “Say, mind stoking the fire? Once I finish this, we’ll take a look at your gear as well.” The Paladins then settle into the work of forging, and the clear ringing sound of a hammer upon steel again fills the room.