Respite in the Vale

[Morcaanan]

A guard eventually becomes his shadow; when it happens he is not quite sure, but it is clear the dwarves are not going to allow him to wander everywhere on his own.

In the armoury, Garrek lies wrapped in thick cloak with everything covered but his feet, sticking out in an almost absurd fashion. 'Teri's pack and bloody sword remain next to it. There was no need to search Garrek - the dwarves already had, as the weight of the Heart in his pack reminds him.

Taking 'Teri's pack and her sword, he speaks to the dwarves for a moment. "I doubt he will be taken to Zeiphyr - time is too pressing for us. But at first light in the morning I would like to take him to woods - any woods - and have him buried there. His sister would want that least."

"You will have to be escorted out, and it may not be safe with orcs" one points out, the only capable of speaking Tharian.

"Still, I want every effort to be made; this feud may have ended in blood, but it cannot end without proper closure. Such things leave...holes." He looks pained as he says this, then glances back at the body. "Is there a room he can be put in? At least for the night, rather than here?"

With the dwarves help, Garrek is moved to a room very like the guest rooms of the visitors, and only a short walk away from them as well. Satisfied he has done what he can, he slips back to 'Teri.

She is asleep, or at least dozing, her eyes fluttering occasionally in her weariness. He sets the pack aside, mindful of the Heart within. Shedding his eben to avoid dirtying it, he proceeds to procure his cleaning equipment and tend 'Teri's sword, wiping away the drying blood and oiling the steel down.
As he works his mind wanders, back over the few days he has already been with the others once more. He felt at first something of a straggler - now he has the Heart in his possession, the stone they have been pursuing from the start, more or less.

He briefly wonders how much the Heart might be worth to some people...people had died for it already, Garrek included it would seem. And what about his mercenaries? He had had more than one at the entrance to the Vale...where were they? Garrek knew how to spend money, that was certain.

How much was that stone worth? It had involved every race to some degree: man, elf, dwarf, halfling and Brownie. Not to mention Dragon, if the stories about Capher were all true.

Opening his pack, he gingerly removes the Heart and stares at it, running his fingers over the surface in a curious inquiry, as if the stone would speak to him somehow. Being a foreigner, his Santharian history was not very strong, and what he knew about it had only been gathered in the councils he had been fortunate enough to be present at.
The green stone glittered and remained silent, as if defying his internal questions. Frustrated, he resolves to speak to Capher and get the full story at the soonest possible moment.

He had rested the sword against 'Teri's bunk - as he replaces the stone in his pack his elbow bumps it, and it clatters to the stone floor, startling him and waking 'Teri. She stares at him, blushing as if guilty of something.

Feeling clumsy, he picks the sword up and sets it aside. "I've done what I can..." He trails off. The colour is high in her cheeks, and in her hasty movement the cloak is only just enough to cover her. Kneeling next to her bunk, he instinctively reaches out a hand, tracing the lines of her cheek with a finger.

"Aueniteri" he whispers. For a brief moment his restraint falls away, and he cups her face with both hands and kisses her.

[Aueniteri]

Without hesitation, she returns in kind, taking hold of his arms gently with her hands. When the kisses end, she smiles at him, softly at first, then slightly pained. The fantasies of her dreams have washed away with the reality of his presence, and as well, the shock that kept her from understanding the true extent of her pain has gone with it. Her breathing is brief and shallow, not only to keep pace with her hammering heart, but in order to avoid inducing any motion of the chest and sides, as much as possible. Large bruises on her right side rim where the breastplate had set; everything across the upper half of her chest is sore, and breathing, though possible, is uncomfortable - due to the bruises on the surface, she hopes.

A yawn tries to fight its way through the shallow inhalation, but is stopped short long before it reaches its zenith by a strangled cry from Aueniteri's throat, and her breathing is forced back to shallow breaths, only now a little more fast-paced. When Morcaanan begins to react, she cannot help but smile, and holds onto his arm, changing the subject quickly - what troubles him for what is on her mind.

"Morcaanan, I dreamed about you, and everything... just, everything we've done, everything you've done for me. Thank you. Some day we'll get over all this, and then maybe we can- ... maybe, I can, put... away my sword, forever. I would like that. Don't you think so? Only..."

She does her best to gently draw him toward her, and kisses him again. There are no more words left in her; those she had were dismembered and dreamy at best, nonsensical at worst. However, there is a message she is trying to convey, and ultimately, this seems the best way.

[Morcaanan]

They kiss, again, then again and again. The cloak has fallen away, and in order to be near her better he instinctively climbs into the berth with her, his hand drops down, grazing her chest and the bruises there.

The resulting flinch reminds him of her injuries, and when she tries to yawn it is replaced by a cry, bringing him back to the reality of the circumstances that put them here in the first place. His hand starts away.

She grabs his arm and begins to talk, and he listens - hopeful and relieved.

"...put...away my sword forever..."

Would he like that? It's the first time he has seriously considered it in years. Until 'Teri he had had no rhyme or reason for laying his sword down. But now...yes, he would like that. When this was over.

When she kisses him again he draws close, though gently. He rests his head next to her, eye to eye and whispers to her.
"When this is over...I want you to come with me." He presses a finger to her lips, giving her no chance to answer. "That's just what I want. You don't have to answer. But for the first time, I have something to look forward to." He stifles his own yawn, then swings off the bunk to head for his own; he does not want to take advantage of her, after the downswing of killing Garrek, and her injuries are obviously paining her.

[Capher]

As Capher waited for Ken to speak he noticed Tulpje on his shoulder. "Excuse me Ken, but before you begin to speak can I take Tulpje and put her on my shoulder. I wish to speak to her, but not until I have heard from your my friend," Capher said smiling at Ken as he gently lifted Tulpje off of his shoulder and onto his. "Now where were we? I rememeber I asked you what you had seen while you were with our friends the dwarves."

[Kenriil]

"...that it would make much sense. Ho, yes; about the dwarves. Oh, what did I see, what did I see. A lot of things, I guess. These people really like metals and rocks; especially shiny pretty metals and rocks. I got into a place where there were some really fancy things and a lot of papers and tablets with a lot of drawings; I can remember some of them, but I'm not sure what they mean. Just like a lot of lines and shapes and stuff; a couple of maps. There was lots of gold, here and there, in this and that. If you took all the gold in their statues and stuff, you could probably... make... great food... with aj'nuvic... from Bardavos... all to... princess..."

As Ken lies on his bed, looking at the ceiling, his eyes slowly close as he talks, and his sentences become disjointed nonsense; soon, he is as asleep as he could ever be, muttering about this and that, but nothing that would make sense to anyone who spoke any comprehensible language.

[Capher]

Everyone had settled down for the night, even Ken, who was still mumbling in his sleep. Capher wondered what would Ken do if he could not speak? Go crazy or invent some other type of language; probably with his fingers as they seemed to twitch almost as fast he talked when he was speaking, Capher had observed.

He could even hear the the almost negligable breathing of Tulpje who was curled up in one of the folds of his tunic on his shoulder, near his ear.  Capher looked around the stone cavern where his companion's were sleeping. He turned his head and gave an envious smile at Morcanaan and Teri as they cuddled together; some for warmth, but mostly Capher thought, for love: an emotion he never quite understood though he has been around human and lived as a human for almost a milennia now.

Capher knew that soon his time to sleep was drawing near and soon he will lie next to his kind, never realizing his true dream, but on the other hand if he had, he would have died a very very long time ago and would have never seen the wondrous work of these, Ava's last children, yet the most prolific, inventive, loving and believing race that he had ever had the fortunate opportunity to ever meet, talk, interact and watch. 

They were in a way just like baby birds or even dragons squabbling, pushing and shoving each other out of the way just to get the juciest piece of worm or meat, in the case of dragons.  The human's piece of meat was land. Somehow as ridiculous as it seemed to Capher, the more land one human or another owned gave him claim to own the people on that land as well. What Capher had puzzled over for as long as he could remember was why?

Everyone knew that no one really owned the land. The land, owned itself, or if you want, the true owner would be Ava. The races were given permission by her to use the land as they saw fit: The Elves thought of themselves as the protector of the land, which was part of her dream and therefore they protected her dream as well; but the Elven kind were few, though they lived longer, they just did not produce as many children. Humans it seemed were quite prolific in that area.

Capher had to smile at that thought.

Wars were in actuallity the battle over something that could never be attained, unless you counted your victories by how many people of all of the races as your own property to do as you wish. Then, that is where the true trouble lies with the human race. Capher could never understand how come some humans had to have complete control over others? Does not each human have the right to live as they please?

He remembered asking that question to Talon when he and him used to talk about human behavior. Talon would smile and answered his question with a question which used to irriate Capher to no end but it also made him think. Capher he would say, "In theory every human, for that fact every race, should be able to live as they please. But think about this; take for instance the Losh-Oc. Their way of life would be to eat humans as they think of them as delicacies as do the trolls for that matter. Should they be allowed to live as they please?

Capher thought for a moment and then shook his head no. "No, I suppose not. But if the humans would not encroach upon the Losh-Oc or Troll's territory then they would be left alone."

Talon chuckled, "Would they? Do you really believe that?" He asked.

Capher thought of the Losh-Oc's bloodthirsty nature. It was in their makeup to hate other races, they even hated their own! How would such a race behave themselves to stay in their own territory, especially if they spied their favorite meal just across the fence, sort of. "I suppose not. I had not really thought of it as you put it Talon. But humans are different, are they not?

Talon shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately Capher, the answer is yes and no. Remember humankind are like the water, they flow and ebb just like the seas. There are some who naturally obey the rules that they know are written upon them from their first day of inception from Ava herself, then their are others who do not know the difference and allow their circumstances to dictate how they will live, those are the most complicated and then their are those who decide to ingnore the rules and head toward Coor's path. They have their own sets of rules as well, just the opposite of those who follow the rules of Ava, they choose the rules of Coor. Just as Ava and Coor are opposite, so are these.

"The ones who naturally obey Ava's rules and the ones who decide to choose Coor's path or rules if you like. I prefer path than rules. Those two groups of humans and to some extent the other races, are rare, the ones who's path's are dictated by their circumstances are the greater in number and they are the ones that the other two paths fight over. Whoever persuades the most to follow their path...wins."

Capher thought much on that and after several years of living among the humans came back to Talon and asked, "Win what?"

Talon shrugged his shoulders and gave Capher a rueful smile, "That my friend is a question that will be pondered by all until the time Ava wakes up, however before you ask what I know you to be thinking. Ava's path is the correct path, I know that from my heart and I have seen it applied correctly by all the races and have seen the results, as so have you: Peace, joy, understanding, prosperity, love, and many other good things come out of it. Coor's path and those who follow it bring; death, misery, pain, suffering, bondage and many other things which are not good for the land or the races. So, Capher it is for those who are undecided that we fight for, even if they should happen to choose Coor's path in their future, we still must fight for them while they are undecided or else there will be nothing but Chaos and that is when Coor wins and the Dream of Ava looses."

Talon's eyes widenend in surprise. "I think I just answered the question," he said as he began mumbling to himself the same discussion. Capher knew that when he started doing those things Talon was lost to all until he came out of his thoughts, sometimes for...decades!

Capher flew away, became a human agent for the forces of Ava and thought of the discussion himself, when he had time.  Now, here he was fighting again against one who definately had chosen Coor's path and those he has corrupted or has chosen to go along with him for their own means and understanding. Capher could see in his companion's the ones whose path's were written on their hearts by Ava, and those who were the undecided and in this group the undecided were still deciding.

Finally, Capher had to get up and talk to the Gornegron. He rose, being careful not to wake Tulpje unless she wanted to be awake and talk, which would not be that bad, he thought.

He went to the entrance of their caveran and was immediately met by two burly dwarvern guards. He asked if and when the Gornegron wakes that to tell him that Capher would like to speak to him.

The guards nodded yes and one went off in search to tell another, return to his post, while the other relayed Capher's message to the Gornegron.

Capher paced the floor some and then lied back down, interlacing his fingers behind his head for a pillow and stared at the ceiling.

[Talas Anthavin]

Harrek Ironarm still sat in the council chamber, pondering the events of the evening and their possible meaning for the Tenthrum.  It is obvious that events beyond even his reckoning were set into motion - he was neither a sage nor a prophet - but his Denirim's response to their visitors told him enough.  For some months now, the Orcs had become much more of a problem.  Though the Orcs were active only at night, they had attacked a few of the Dwarven sentry points to the north.  Darkness had crept back into the world.  He shakes his head - there is no use in such thoughts - they did nothing but sap one's will and courage.

He looks up sharply when he hears the scrape of footsteps on stone as someone approaches the council chamber.  One of his warriors enters and bows when he sees his Gornegron.  "Milord, I apologise for the lateness of my call, but one of our guests wishes to speak with you when you wake.  Shall I tell him you will visit him in the morning?"

Harrek shakes his head.  "There is no need - I will not rest tonight."  He rises from his stone chair and follows the guard to Capher's room.  When he arrives, he knocks quietly on the door and enters.

"You are up late, Storyteller," he says, in his quiet, resonant Dwarven accent.  He notices the hobbit and the Brownie are asleep.  "Let us speak elsewhere, so your companions can sleep."

[Capher]

Capher did not expect Harrek Ironarm, the Gornegron, so soon and to have him come to him.

"You are up late, Storyteller," Harrek tells him in his deep voice.

"It is hard to sleep when your mind does not allow it. I see that you too are awake as well," Capher said.

Harrek looks at Capher's sleeping companions and then speaks softly. "Let us speak elsewhere, so your companions can sleep."

Capher nods his head, stands up and then he gently takes Tulpje off of his shoulder and places her on Ken's shoulder before he follows Harrek out of their sleeping chamber. "Where would you like to speak, Harrek Ironarm?" Capher asked.

[Talas Anthavin]

Harrek glances at Capher and wonders what knowledge and wisdom he possesses.  The Storyteller seems to be just an old man - Harrek does not feel intimidated by nor fearful of him - and yet his Denirim swears that this human has power beyond their reckoning.  Perhaps it is as his father used to say: "those who wield true power rarely feel the need to display it, but prefer to walk humbly and only in exceptional circumstances will they resort to its use."

"We should speak in the council chamber.  It is guarded by powerful magic that protects against scrying."

Without another word, he leads Capher to the council chamber, his footfalls surprisingly light on the cavern floor.  When they arrive, there is a tray with a pitcher of water and a couple of mugs.  The Goregron pours a mug for each of them, hands one to Capher and takes a drink.

"Please sit if you wish," he says, motioning to one of the benches, and then takes his seat.  "What is it that keeps you awake at this hour?"

[Capher]

Capher follows Harrek silently to the coucil chambers where he notices a pitcher of water and two mugs on a stone table near where Harrek's chair was.  Harrek sat, poured himself and Capher a mug of water and gave one mug to Capher. He tells Capher that he may sit if he wishes. Capher takes the cup and at first begins to pace the floor then he sits, he takes a sip of the water and was surprisingly pleased at its fresh taste. He was going to ask, but he knew that Harrek was waiting on him.  Capher stared into the water and could see infinitism in it as he gathered his thoughts. Finally he raised his head and looked into Harrek's eyes who was studying him.

Capher absentmindedly twirled the mug in his hands as he spoke. "In our first meeting you asked me what this evil I spoke of was and why I needed Kurik's Anvil? I was hesitant to answer completely, as this evil has many ears. Before your ire rises Harrek hear me out," Capher said quickly.

Harrek nodded for Capher to continue, though his eyes still flared a bit.

"I do not know how much you know of your lore, but I am going to assume you know more than most, except perhaps your Denrim. What I am about to tell you, you may or may not believe however for Sarvonia's sake, yea, Caelereth's sake I ask you to think before you speak after I have told you what I am about to say."

Capher emptied his mug in one long draught and then repoured himself another before continuing. His thoughts were a jumble and that was something that concerned him, for usually his thoughts and mind were as a steel trap, focused and ready to be used at his command. However, ever since Eckra had somehow entered his mind he had lost much of what he had commanded before. He knew from the Elven poem and now the Denirim's tome about the "Spring of Ximax" that he needed to find and face the Stone of Magic that lies deep within the center of Ximax itself. Capher had not wanted to go there before he went in search of the Anvil, but now it seemed it was destined to be.

Capher once again raised his head and stared into Harrek's eyes. As he spoke Capher weaved, as much as he dared, a spell that would allow Harrek's mind and eyes to see beyond the years, back into the past, farther back than many ancestors of his, back to the time of legend, back to the time of the War of the Chosen.

"The evil I speak of is Eckra the Cruel. He and his army of orcs had enslaved your ancestors here in the Rimmering's Ring, along with Ma'ashaarom the Red," Capher's spell showed Harrek the enslavement, the cruelty that the orcs under the command of Eckra and Ma'asharom had done to his ancestors, "This evil has arisen again. How? I do not know. I just know it has and it has begun to do what it was stopped before by all those who opposed them, including your ancestors."

"This evil was brought to my attention by the one who finally destroyed the last of the Black Mages, at least his power, and that was the Wizard of the White Tower," Capher's spell showed the magical battle between Ma'asharom and Ethan Hawke. The powers that were unleashed was incomprehensible to one who had never seen such magic that Capher's spell allowed Harrek to see, "Ma'asharom was so berifit of his magic that when your ancestors and those he had enslaved back in the Rimmering's Ring began to rise up against him he could not fight back and eventually he was killed. Ethan was taken by me to another place. His son Talon now is the Wizard of the White Tower and it was he who told me about Eckra rising again,"

Capher let the spell slowly dissapate so as not to upset Harrek's mind too much and too fast.

"Talon asked me to seek out those who could help me find three talismans that were needed to defeat Eckra and his armies; Thalambath's Heart, Kurik's Anvil, and the Sword of Fury. The companions I found have helped me find and recover one of them, Thalambath's Heart, but not without cost, as we lost several dear friends in the process, and those who are left and those who have joined, have been attacked, on the outside and inside, including myself. Now we are in search of Kurik's Anvil. Your Denirim has told us where we must go in search of finding it, but before we can go my companions here and I have to rejoin our companions in the Vale of the Brownies. However the only way to the Vale has been destroyed. The stone bridge has been broken, shattered and now there is no way to the Vale until the bridge can be repaired, if it can ever be. So, I was wondering if the Tenthrum has another way to the Vale and if you would not mind showing it to us? If not, then we will have to find another way into the Vale."

Capher finally stopped speaking, drinking absentmindedly from his mug, searching Harrek's eyes, hoping that what he told and showed him had not completely frightened the Dwarven leader.

[Talas Anthavin]

The Gornegron's eyes widen as Capher's spell takes effect, and he sees and even hears the past of his ancestors.  Harrek has heard of this through tales told by the elders, and even read some it - all dwarves know something of their ancient history, which they guard and keep dear.  However, to have those stories come to life before him shocks Harrek, and thought he is not held by any spell, the images grip his heart so he is unable to temporarily move.  The dark days of Eckra and Ma'asharom, his ancestor's enslavement, and finally their release hold Harrek in thrall.  He holds back tears as he witnesses the terrors and cruelties inflicted upon his race by the orcs.

Once the images fade, Harrek, who has been leaning forward, gripping the armrests of his stone chair, sits back and wipes sweat away from his brow.  "This should not be," he says hoarsely.  This room is protected by rune magic - our most powerful magic."  He looks up at Capher with awe, and though he stands before an old man, he sees more clearly the power the Storyteller wields.  "It must be as the Denirim has said."

Harrek licks his lips.  "This must not be allowed to happen.  Do you understand?  You must succeed."

The Gornegron rises and stands before Capher.  "Until a moment ago, I was still uncertain about your intent and purpose.  But I see that you are indeed the Storyteller.  Tomorrow, your group must leave as soon as you wake.  You may take the rarely travelled northwest passage, which will take you underground to the northern edge of the Vale.  Few, even of my kind or the Brownies know of this way."

He pauses a moment to consider how the group will find their way though.  The passage is tortuous and exits in many directions - there are few among the Dwarves who would even be able to make their way, let alone a group with no experience at travelling underground.  "You will need a guide, Storyteller, otherwise I fear you would lose your way.  I will send Brenna Stonetracer, the young Dwarf who brought you here, to guide you."

Then, he dares to rest his hand on Capher's forearm.  All signs of fear and reticence are now replaced with a grim conviction.  "The orcs have only just begun to plague us - they are nothing more than a nuisance right now.  But if you feel this evil is rising, the Tenthrum not fail to defend themselves."  This time, our hammers and shields will be ready, he thinks.

[Capher]

"This must not be allowed to happen.  Do you understand?  You must succeed."

The conviction behind Harrek's voice was thunderous and Capher understood. He allowed Harrek to continue to speak even as the images that had been placed before him slowly faded, but Capher did not think would ever fade to the point where the Gornegron would ever let his guard down again; for his peoples and races sake.

 "Until a moment ago, I was still uncertain about your intent and purpose.  But I see that you are indeed the Storyteller.  Tomorrow, your group must leave as soon as you wake.  You may take the rarely travelled northwest passage, which will take you underground to the northern edge of the Vale.  Few, even of my kind or the Brownies know of this way."

Capher almost yellped for joy. There was another way to the Vale! And tomorrow they will be with their friends once again. He wondered how Talia and Terra had done with their healing? How Ta'las was doing, and how he and Lady Terra will continue once she is healed. Perhaps their relationship will strengthen, be more mature, or it may fade to the wayside as Terra once again becomes one of the fiercest warriors that Santharia had ever known...The Sophronian female warriors were without equal, at least in Capher's eyes, and he supposed some would disagree with him.

Harrek is thinking as well then he speaks. "You will need a guide, Storyteller, otherwise I fear you would lose your way.  I will send Brenna Stonetracer, the young Dwarf who brought you here, to guide you."

Capher nods his approval. He liked and admired the young Dwarven woman. And then Harrek did something that Capher thought he rarely did to strangers he touched Caphers arm and with much conviction in his voice spoke. The orcs have only just begun to plague us - they are nothing more than a nuisance right now.  But if you feel this evil is rising, the Tenthrum not fail to defend themselves."

Capher rested his hand upon Harrek's and gave him a genuine warm smile. "In times past the Tenthrum were not ready, were surprised and if they had not been I have no doubt that Ma'asherom would have had a harder time enslaving you even with the help of the Losh-Oc. I also have no doubt that the Tenthrum have chosen a wise and powerful leader who will not allow such a thing to take place again without a fight! But, beware, Eckra has powers that have not been seen since the War of the Chosen and though I do not know how, he seems to have even grown more powerful. To reach inside one's mind and control them is not even a power I possess, yet he has done so ever since he has discovered my Master's plans to thwart him. However do not concern yourself about this, Talon has him preoccupied for the moment and I give you my solemn promise that I will find these talisman's and defeat Eckra once and for all or die trying! I assume you will do the same."

Capher turned to leave, then turned back. "Just a thought, but it might be a good idea to use your message service, your bats, and tell the other tribes to begin to prepare and to tell the tribe that hold the key to Kurik's anvil that we will be on our way, after a short side trip which must be taken, to ask them for the whereabouts of the Anvil. I would appreciate it," Capher asked, as he gave a slight bow to Harrek, "Until the morrow then. I believe I can get a couple of hours of rest now before we leave. I thank you for your kindness you have shown to me and my companions," Capher added.


 

[Talas Anthavin]

"Thank you, Storyteller.  I will warn our brothers and sisters, and the Gornegron of the Zuirkmire will be told of your coming.  However, I will tell him to speak of it to no one.  The fewer who know of your quest, the less likely it is that information can be used against you."

He returns Capher's bow.  "Good night, Storyteller."  He then rises and follows Capher to the guest room.  Once Capher is inside, Harrek makes his way to his own bedchamber, his mind full of what must be done in the coming weeks.

[Aueniteri]

Slowly, 'Teri's eyes open, and she looks listlessly and confusedly at the room around her before the memories start to trickle in. She tries to sit, and sharp pain over her entire chest brings back further memories. Sitting upright, the cover drops from her upper body - and as she frantically draws it back, she remembers nearly everything. Carefully, she retrieves her piece of underwear that last night Morcaanan had absent-mindedly set aside, and begins to wrap it around herself again, stifling a cry of pain at the first attempt. Eventually, she manages to make herself at least somewhat decent with it, leaving it more loose than she is used to.

Still sitting on her bed, she sorts through the clothing in her pack, biting her lip against the pain of leaning over. Finally, she draws out a full-length green dress, and sighs. It won't be the best thing for most of what she expects to have to do in the near future, but it will be much easier on her upper body than a normal blouse if she keeps it loosely fastened - that, and she doesn't have a normal blouse anymore. For a long time, she simply sits there, looking at the dress before attempting to put it on. When she finally succeeds, she is exhausted, but victorious, and finishes by tightening the lacing across the piece's chest, but only just enough to hold it in place.

Finally, her sword, and she is ready to go. She can already hear others just outside of her view, and recognizes the voices, she being the last one to arise. After long, serious thought, she simply slides the blade into the sheathe, and attaches the sheathe to her pack. It is nearly impossible to use it effectively in a dress anyway, if one was really intent on staying alive.

Then, slowly, painfully, she stands, and lifts her pack, suddenly realizing how futile it would be to try and wear it on her back. Her battered body would never take the weight now, and she simply carries it in her hands as she steps out to find where everyone has gathered.

[Morcaanan]

Jeharaid assumed he was up first. He had curled up on a seemingly random bunk and nodded off once he was satisfied that 'Teri was actually resting; he had not even bothered to remove his sword belt, and now the hilt of his weapon was digging painfully into his side.

Something else was digging into his other ribs - his pack, and more specifically the Heart. He had slept on it to make sure it did not acquire limbs and run away. He had a somewhat sneaking suspicion that something would happen to it if he did not maintain constantly in contact with it. To reassure himself he opened the satchel and eyed the green stone.

"You're quite a lot of trouble, my little friend" he muttered at it, closing the pack and slinging it onto his shoulder. He noticed now that he had picked the same room as the Halfling. Not wanting to arouse the endless stream of babble at this time in the morning - if indeed it was early morning as it felt - he tiptoed out into the passage and cast around for the nearest dwarf.

"Is the Wo-...Is the Storyteller awake?" he asked, rubbing his bloodshot eyes and trying to lay down a rough set of plans in his mind for the day, with the hope that Capher could offer some insight.

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