Kattena: A Lady's Story

Night falls bringing relief from the summer heat, as the moons trek across the star speckled sky.  Strings of gaethzen orbs weave between the branches of towering trees, casting a soft glow on the forest floor below. Lengths of filmy grey mistsilk are draped across sturdy tables set in a half circle amongst the trees, cascading bouquets of rich champagne Lion's Mane irises and exquisite teal roses fill polished vases of hammered silver serving as centerpieces. An arch woven from olive branches serves as a backdrop for a small podium bearing the crest of the Paladin guild. A gentle breeze coaxes a melody from crystal chimes greeting guests as they arrive. 

As men and women filter in from all directions, an Elven Trader whispers a greeting and directs them to tables. Disgruntled looking hirelings carry trays of appetizers and glasses of wine, their furrowed brows and muttered complaints lost in the din of quiet conversation. 

A raven haired Elven woman slips into a seat next to an armored Paladin, batting him with is ponytail before giving the Trader a slight nod.  

"My benefactor tells me they are close," the Trader announces softly. "Please quiet down, we don't want her running off before she even gets here."

A few stifled giggles roll through the group as they fall silent, only the soft chimes and distant chirping of grasshoppers disturbing the peace. 

A Meeting of Great Helms (Courtesy of Synamon)

The sounds of clanging armor and scraping chairs fill the room, as somber looking paladins file in and take their seats around a heavy oak table laden with platters of pastries and steins of mead. The men and women shift uncomfortably in their seats as they gaze at one another, waiting from some one to begin.

“You all know why we are here, I suppose we should just get to it.” With a look of grim determination, a man stands and addresses his fellow guild members. “It is becoming a problem, and gives us all a bad name. Now, he has taken on a squire. Something must be done.”

“You would have him removed from the guild for forgetting to cover his mouth when he coughed,” a striking woman, dressed an elegant gown, begins. “Perhaps you are not the one to lead this meeting.”

“And you are? Where is your armor? You are barely a paladin.”

Laughing, the woman shakes her head and smoothes the bodice of her gown. “Armor does not make the paladin, heart does. You will never learn that lesson, which is another reason for someone else to lead.”