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Author Topic: Reunion  (Read 33589 times)
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Talas Anthavin
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Human, Shendar, Shen-Kha'si


« Reply #15 on: August 12, 2005, 10:52:22 AM »

Ta'las nods to the elf.  "Thank you Lieofin.  We have travelled far the last few days, and we have slept fitfully at best, being only the three of us."

He glances off into the woods where Capher ran off and grimaces.  "That one is strange, though in his most lucid moments he is a good travelling companion.  Perhaps he is dangerous, though I fear he is most dangerous to himself."  Ta'las shrugs and looks back at the newcomers.

He smiles and opens his pack.  "I see that your friend is asleep, but have you two eaten?  I have enough to share for some time, if you wish.  Otherwise, I will accept your offer and rest."

Ta'las

Edited by: Talas Anthavin at: 8/12/05 15:30
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Capher
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« Reply #16 on: August 13, 2005, 02:03:22 AM »

Capher was soon joined by other wolves who lifted their muzzles to the moon and howled.  Capher felt safe amongst them, yet also very very alone.  He knew that he was not a wolf, but he suspected he was not human either.  Was he a demon in disguise.  Did he attack this Talia and her group of friends.  Was it him?  His visions told him that at one time he had turned into a demon and had killed...most viciously.  He ran farther into the woods away from the other wolves.  He needed to think and their howling distracted him.  He was missing something...something very important.

He soon came across a small brook and began to lap at the cool water.  He stared down in the water.  The moon was full and very bright.  It made the water like a mirror and he looked at himself.  He was unlike the other wolves; his fur was white, even a burnished white, silvery in color and it shone, like it was almost on fire.  He sat back upon his haunches and calmed himself.  

Soon his mind began to go into itself.  He went further back.  Images of the past few days fleetingly flew by.  Then came images of a ship, towns, of a desert, of companions, he focused on them one by one: Koldar, Knight of the Moonlight.  A man who fought evil.  But was his friend.  If Koldar fought evil, then he should have fought him, but the images were of comradrieship.  

Then came Terra; again the same feeling.  She was a warrior, but her soul had seen many atrocities and she seemed lost.  He felt as if he could help her.  

Then came Talia; a Shendar warrior, who carried something, something of great power, that she did not even know.  But, somehow he knew.  The vision of the sword holding back the fire, blazed into his mind.  Of course it is the sword.  Her sword carries much power, but her heart is even more powerful, for it is a kind heart; much like Ta'las's.

More images came unbidden into his mind, they came faster now.  A green looking female elf, a brownie, ret brownies, and then a large, fist sized green gem.  The gem held great power as well and Capher knew that he needed it.  Many battles were fought over that gem.  Still Capher thought I must go back farther.

His form changed and he was sitting with his robe on upon the dewey grass staring down at the water.  He continued his meditation as he stared at the mirror image of the moon.  Soon images again flooded his mind; images of clouds, mountains, land, seas, oceans, birds.  He realized he was flying.  He could fly?  Then another image began to form; an image of an immense castle, seeming to float on clouds high on top of a mountain peak.  He swooped down for a closer look and could see a man.  He came closer to that man and the man called him. "Capher, I need you. We have a job to do."

Capher wheeled and flew down to the parapet upon which the man stood.  Capher realized he was a huge bird of some sort he looked around himself and then...boom!  He ran into a dark wall, he felt himself tumbling down out of the sky.  He could hear the man call him, "Capher, I need you."   Then he heard another voice, "Capher, you shall not."

"I shall not what?" Capher asked as he righted himself and agian tried to get to the man.

"You and your Wizard will not prevail" The voice said darkly.

Capher flew toward the dark black wall. "I shall prevail!" Capher shouted defiantly and slammed against the black wall. It wavered just a bit, then strengthened.  Capher redoubled his efforts.  Somehow he knew if he could break through all of his questions would be answered.  He slammed into the wall again.  The wall wavered more.  He could hear the man's voice, call out, encouraging him.  "Yes Capher, you can do it."

A wall of fire appeared but Capher just flew right through it and slammed into the black wall, it wavered more and Capher saw it begin to tear.  That encouraged him more, though he was quite exhausted.  A wall of ice appeared and Capher broke his way through that and again slammed into the wall.  It tore, like a piece of fabric and Capher could see daylight beyond.  

He crashed again and again.  Each time whoever was trying to stop him, would throw things in his path; elements of weather, or creatures, even demons and unnamed things from the bottom of Coor's pit.  Capher tore through them all and continued to tear more of that black wall apart.  Huge chunks were now missing and Capher could feel himself becoming stronger each time a chunk would tear away and fall into nothingness.

Finally with one last effort he slammed into the wall.  A voice shrieked hollow as if it was in a far far cave. "No!"  And Capher broke through. The wall suddenly dissapaited and Capher found himself looking down upon the castle once again and the man was standing there calling him.  Capher felt like he was home.  He settled down and looked at the man.  The man's grey eyes were misted and he smiled. "Welcome back Capher."

Capher resumed his human form. "Thank you Master."

A wolf howled and Capher opened his eyes.  The moon had almost disappeared from the sky.  He looked around and noticed that he was back in human form.  But this time he knew who he was.  He was Capher, or the Storyteller, or The White Wolf, or many other names depending upon which culture or race you spoke to.  He was from a race that was born from the tree of Ava.  His parentage led him to the Adamant Dragons.  He was specifically chosen by Seyella, the Goddess of Destiny to help out one man, the man who watched over all of Caelereth to protect it from the evils that would rise once in a while.  That man was Talen, the Wizard of the White Tower.

Capher stood up, his robe was glowing and his eyes were alight with fire and tempered with wisdom.  He knew that the dark wall was just a part of his mind that had been blocked by another powerful wizard, Eckra, and he and his minions, demon or human, were the ones Capher and his friends must ultimately defeat.  If they should lose Caelereth would be plunged into darkness the world has not known since the time ot the War of the Chosen.   He slowly walked back to the camp and soon he was out of the woods and the camp was just a bit further on.  He felt the power of the one standing watch, an elven wizard, one with Quallian. Another ally? Capher thought as he continued toward the camp.

Capher.

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Garrek Driel
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« Reply #17 on: August 14, 2005, 07:27:22 AM »

It was a simple enough situation, really. With the gemstone carefully hidden away on his person, Garrek rode into Aer'Ylferian in all his shining colors, wearing his typical silver robes and maroon-trimmed cloak. Arriving there, he handed the mount into the care of a horse-keeper, and walked away just a few sans richer. Now, he makes his way quickly up the roadways, intentionally walking with a self-certain, careless stride of his human ancestry, not the light spring of an elf. Soon, he enters the structure, where he is met by the rather distraught elven woman.

"Get rid of that ego of yours, Garrek, or you'll have the whole forest down upon our heads!"

Garrek's natural response is to chuckle lightly, but instead he forces out a bellow of a laugh, and responds softly, "Certainly it will, m'lady, it will. But when that time comes, I will be leading them, and what have I to fear from those I lead?"

The elf responds with only a shake of the head, and draws out the blade that Melor deposited there. In a mix of amusement and amazement Garrek watches, uncertain as to exactly what she plans to do with it. "One of your fools dropped past here, told me to put this in your heart."

Garrek raises an eyebrow, and waits. Certainly she's not actually going to kill him with it. It is a human blade, and a well-made one at that. There is something else to it, something he can feel. Like a change in the air, or a light pressure on his skin, almost as if it is defying him ever-so-lightly. "Melor?"

"I don't know their names, and don't really care to. Take it quick before I decide it really is worth my time dimming the color of your robes."

"Why the hostility? That's not by any stretch natural for such a bright, young, pleasant Ylferrhim as yourself."

The elven woman turns to other business as Garrek takes the blade and admires it for a moment before tying it under his cloak with a loose fringe. It will be well hidden there, for most purposes, but also readily available. Heavy it is, but the human walk covers that rather nicely. "It's you, Garrek. I don't see how someone could possibly spend a moment with you and not walk away feeling angry. I invite you to leave."

With a bow, he leaves. Just his fortune, the bow doesn't reveal the blade. With a cheery smile, he walks to the temple. A few friends there could help him identify the mystery behind the itmes he now carries. Besides, someone could have been damaged by the demon, and would logically end up here. Elves are such helpful people.

Of course I have nothing against you personally, but I'm afraid I've told you more than is safe...

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Aueniteri
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« Reply #18 on: August 17, 2005, 06:47:22 AM »

'Teri stirs, disturbed by something, and opens her eyes. Lieofin should have awoken me for the final watch, she thinks, slightly disgruntled. With a light tug, she pulls herself part of the way out of her bedroll, wondering what it was that did awaken her. To be safe, she draws her sword in from her pack where she has lain it. Something, or someone, is missing. Gradually, it returns to her. The old man exploded, it seemed, and ran off wildly into the woods. They'd made Terra as comfortable as possible, and pretended to divide watches up between the three of them, although judging by the way she'd had to insist, she got the distinct feeling they'd never intended on putting her on a watch.

She smiled slowly. Yes, friends they were, even though she would have preferred a little more trust, she had, by some fault she blamed on her human ancestry, given them a distinct feeling that she might not be as dangerous as she pretended. Mostly, this assumption might have been due to her reaction to the old man's sudden outburst. Then again, it might have been also due to her expression regarding unwillingness to fight. Whatever it was, she should have been on watch now, not one of them.


-------------------
Silence! You could give your excuses until Injèrá hides her head from all Santharia, but it will never preserve your life.
I have so sworn...

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Morcaanan
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« Reply #19 on: August 17, 2005, 06:03:22 AM »

Jeharaid was shocked at what he had seen; a man who could change form? How could this be?

He stared after the strange figure as it walked away from the side of the stream, an odd purpose now in his gait. Morcaanan followed, filled with insatiable curiosity - a dangerous thing, curiosity is, for it had conquered his momentary fear of the wolves.

He hated wolves; they were like dogs, only more wild and fierce. The old man was moving slowly but would soon be out of sight, and the mercenary picked up his pace to follow.

A low growl to his right made him freeze in mid-stride. He looked around, and there, eyes glowing in the dark, a grey wolf looked at him with an unfriendly gaze. Cursing his stupidity, Morcaanan placed his hand on the hilt of sword and began to draw it, all thoughts of the old man pushed from his mind.

A second growl sounded behind him, and he began to tremble fearfully; two - no, three - no, more than that, they were starting to gather around him, some out of curiosity, others out of annoyance to his intrusion.

Fear welled up in his throat like bile; his hands shook and sweat stood out on his forehead. Why these dog-like creatures? Any other way to die; but not like this. Childhood nightmares flashed before his eyes, and he tried to swallow against the strange thickness in his throat.

'Go away' he projected out at the first wolf as if it could read his thoughts; 'just go away, I don't want to hurt you. Leave me be!'

A wolf knows not how to read minds - but it does know the scent of fear, and it growled all the more, its hackles raised and its teeth bared ferociously. The others of the pack soon began to snarl as well, sensing something wrong with this human.

By now, Jeharaid had cleared his sword from his sheath and held it with a trembling hand. Shaking badly, on the edge of tears in his unnatural terror, he took a step forward.

The first wolf snapped in warning and took a step forward, the others watching but refusing to move.

The will to survive beat very strong in Morcaanan, and he took yet another step.

Again the wolf snapped and stepped forward, making its point very clear: Don't move!

Morcaanan took one more, determined to do something about his situation, sending prayers skyward as he did so.

The wolf repeated his former gesture, now dangerously close to the man.

Like a frightened rabbit, Morcaanan's resolve snapped and he swung out with his sword. Blood and wolf gore spattered from his blade and with a dog-like shriek the wolf perished.

Morcaanan didn't even pause to see if he had killed it - he took to his heels, however useless the action and ran hard straight ahead, unwittingly going for the old man's camp.

He barely took three long strides before something bit into his leg; he screamed and swung around, his sword making a wild but effectual slash at three of the beasts, who howled and fell back, freeing Morcaanan to run again, not even realizing he is hurt.

But his sudden flight and the smell of blood, topped by the deaths of some of their packmates had set the whole group of animals flying after him. He had barely gone another dozen paces when a body hit him from behind and cast him to the ground. Shrieking and screaming, convinced he was about to die a horrible death, Jeharaid rolled over and stabbed up, struggled to his feet and merely swung in a wild fashion at the dark shapes with glowing eyes and hot breath, like some strange apparitions from the Netherworlds that had come to take him down with them into the depths.

His screams and cries mingled with howl of injured wolves rent the night air in a symphony of unnatural sounds produced by this strange battle - a battle he could not win alone.

Edited by: Morcaanan at: 8/16/05 22:08
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Your Neighborhood Friendly Dragonmaster
Capher
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« Reply #20 on: August 18, 2005, 12:18:22 AM »

Capher was about to step out of the woods when he heard the first snarl.  It did not worry him. probably some animal that my wolven brothers have caught  Then he heard more snarls and realized that the whole wolf pack was gathering.  That concerned him.  He turned around and pushed his mind out into the forest to see what he could see.

It was not far and he saw a figure of a man surrounded by his brothers.  They were snarling at him and the man was drawing a sword. Does not the fool realize that if he would show no fear they would back down and slink away!

Capher started running, just as the man did, he quickly changed form to run more easily in the dense woods. Why was a man in these woods, anyway?  What is his purpose?

Capher heard them attack and the man attacked as well.  He was good with that sword.  He killed or maimed several of his brothers.  But then one of him must have bit him, for the man screamed.  The pack was in a blood frenzy now.  Capher ran faster.  He realized as he almost came upon the man that a huge white wolf would not be the thing that man would want to see.  He stopped and changed form.  He was breathing a bit heavy from the exertion of running. His cloak was aglow with an eerie light emanating from it.

He found the man with some of his brothers on the man and the others ready to pounce.  He waved his hand and the ones attacking the man felt themselves flying through the air.  Capher gently put them on the ground.  "Stay!" He said in wolfish. You shall not harm this man.

The wolves sat down but they did leave. The elder one spoke. "He has killed many of our brethren and others have been cut.  They will not be able to hunt and will also die.  This man thing caused it. We demand justice!".  A chorus of howls joined his.

"No! I said you will not harm this man.  I can not give you justice but I can heal our brothers.  Come here, my brothers." Capher asked in a quiet voice.  Soon out of the darkness many came limping back.  Capher saw that some had wounds that were deep, others had limbs that were almost shorn off.  He shed tears. "This man was afraid.  He knows not our ways."

"Our ways? You hold man above us. We, who treated you as a brother. You are a traitor."

[i"]No, Ironbeard. I am no traitor. But man is one of Ava's creatures just as yourself.  And I am compelled by Seyella to save all creatures if I can. Unless they are evil.  Man thinks you are evil.  You kill their flocks and have even killed them."[/i]

They kill us. They trap us and kill our young. And you expect us to allow them to live! I say they must die!" Ironbeard said defiantly his yellow eyes narrowed.  He made a rush for the mans throat.  Capher just flicked his hand and Ironbeard slammed into an invisible wall and then was thrown back several hundered peds into the forest. I said no! And I mean it.  I will heal our brothers and then I want you all to leave so I can tend to this man."

Another wolf, much older and wiser than his brother Ironbeard spoke in a quiet voice.  He was given much respect. What White Wolf says is truth.  We must learn the ways of the man things.  They outnumber us and if we continue our ways, they will kill us all and then the wolves will have gone the way of White Wolf's ancestors.  And Ava will have lost some more of her children."

Ironbeard slinked back into the circle of wolves. Razorteeth, has spoken wisely.  I have spoken foolishly. I ask for packs forgiveness."

There is no need for that, my friend.  I know that one that died at the hand of this man was your one of your own. I grieve with and for you.  I just hope that my healing the rest can help with your grief."  Capher slowly went to each wolf, touched them and gashes closed, broken limbs healed, torn blood vessels closed and fur covered the wounds.  Soon all of the wounded and maimed were healed.  "Go now my brothers and grieve." Capher said sadly. The wolves silently and quickly disappeared into the night

Capher realized that the man had seen everything.  He probably did not know how to talk wolf, but he could probably guess that a something passed between the wolves and himself.  He could not hide the fact so he decided to just and try and help the man.  As Capher turned to the man he heard the howls of grief of his brothers in the distance.  He looked at the man, "Are you all right? You may put your sword away.  My name is Capher. Let me look at your wound."


Capher.

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Morcaanan
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« Reply #21 on: August 18, 2005, 01:46:22 AM »

To say Morcaanan was shocked would be a poor choice of words indeed, but there is very little in common tongues of Men that can be that descriptive. He had never directly seen such power put into action before, and the pain of his scratches and bite momentarily faded.

That this "Capher" could communicate with these beasts was obvious. He reflected that he was someone who could change his form - he had heard of only a few creatures in the world in legends capable of such things.

The man had introduced himself, and offered to tend his wound. Morcaanan attempted to gather his wayward thoughts through the haze of fading terror and surprise.

"M-M-Morcaanan" he offered weakly. He realized he was trembling and sucked in a breath. "How - " he cut the question short and tried to stand. "I-I, I mean, thank you." He felt a sharp pain where the wolfs teeth had sank in, but didn't think it was too serious. Nevertheless, he was little hesitant to let this stranger examine him, still unsure what he was facing; on the other hand, the man (or whatever he was) had saved his life, and could probably have killed him very easily if he had wanted to. Morcaanan relented and gestured at his leg, indicating that as the place of his real hurt.

Edited by: Morcaanan at: 8/17/05 17:48
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Your Neighborhood Friendly Dragonmaster
Aueniteri
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« Reply #22 on: August 18, 2005, 05:03:22 AM »

'Teri finally pulls herself to a full sitting position, and eventually stands. As she is making her sword and its sheath again part of her attire, a scream makes itself heard, even so far as to the camp. Quickly, she glances about, uncertain as to what the noise might have been. Two impulses tear at her now. One is the curiousity, the desire to discover what or who it might have been, the other a force of self-preservation. Gradually, after some serious arguing silently with herself, she concludes that she is safer with the group, and remains where she has stood, looking around at her companions and again in the direction the sound came from.

Lieofin is taking watch, or at least, he should have been taking watch, but the mage is focusing, delving into the icy depths of his power deeply enough that the sound brings him to the surface of his mind without his really knowing what happened. He simply raises a questioning glance at 'Teri, silently inquiring why she has arisen. 'Teri softly and quickly responds, in Styrash, "I must be off for a moment. I'll return."

Lieofin is about to ask more, but sudden implications in her manner inform him that it's probably something he doesn't want to know. After calculating the recent events, he acknowledges that it must have been 'Teri that awoke him, and takes to his post, carefully scanning not only with his physical senses, but with his oh'mod'hal, as well.

'Teri shakes her head as she steps out of the campsite. At least, she hadn't intended on leaving the camp, but there was no arguing now with the fact that she had just stepped out, and with that in mind, she may as well see what it was. She begins by walking quickly before she spots vaguely what must be the mingling of the tracks of a man and a wolf. Curious, she notes. How could a man and a wolf be following the same trail? Now, there is no satisfying her curiousity except with an answer, and she sets out running.

Soon, she slows her pace, a fear sinking slowly into her as she  realizes she has run mindlessly into unknown territory. Still, with each passing step, the situation grows even more interesting, and she continues until she spots something a short distance off. Blood and obvious chaos are the first things she notices, followed shortly by the old man that was at the camp, leaning over someone. She stops there, not daring to move further.


-------------------
Silence! You could give your excuses until Injèrá hides her head from all Santharia, but it will never preserve your life.
I have so sworn...

Edited by: Aueniteri at: 8/17/05 21:26
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Talas Anthavin
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« Reply #23 on: August 18, 2005, 11:37:22 AM »

Ta'las stirs and wakes, watching as the one called Auniteri walks out of the camp.  He was not sure, but he thinks he was awoken by shouting out in the forest.  The camp still looks to be in order - Lieofin is watching the camp, and the other lady still sleeps.  He does not wish to split up their group any further, but he fears for Capher, who still has not returned.  The Shendar grabs his sword and rises.

Ta'las nods at the elf and takes the same direction as Auniteri has, following her footprints in the soft earth beneath the trees.  He moves swiftly and quietly, until he reaches the place Auniteri has stopped.

"Greetings, Auniteri," he starts quietly.  "Have you seen where Capher...."  His voice trails off as he spots what has garnered the half-elf's attention.  He sighs, relieved that his friend is not injured.

His attention is drawn to many things in rapid succession.  It appears that Capher is tending to a stranger's wounds.  There is a dead wolf lying on the ground.  And his friend is glowing, as if surrounded by an aura of magic.  

"It seems I did not need to concern myself with my friend's well-being," he says quietly to Auniteri and sheaths his sword.  Ta'las sits on a fallen log and waits to see if his help is needed.

Ta'las

Edited by: Talas Anthavin at: 8/19/05 1:54
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Capher
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« Reply #24 on: August 19, 2005, 11:25:22 PM »

Capher leaned over. "Let me take a look at that leg. Morcaanan. Is that what you said your name was?"  Capher asked as he took a look at the deep wounds and strips of flesh that was tore by the wolf that lay dead not far from them.  Capher then realized his cloak was glowing, actually it was him but is just seemed like his cloak.  And he could see the man stare at him, almost afraid of him. I suppose I would be just a bit wild-eyed myself if I just saw what  happened.

Though Capher sympathized with the man he was not about to go into a long discussion of who and how he could do these things.  He just decided to do it and let the 'chips fall as they may' sort to speak of. And decided to become just the "old man" as Ta'las called him. The glow around him suddenly disappeared and soon they were cloaked in darkness except for a few stray rays of moonlight that trickled through the leafy boughs of the trees above them.  "This wound is more than I can handle. And I can not see to well in this darkness, even with a full moon.  I and some friends have a camp not to far from here.  Let me bandage this wound as best as I can," He reaches under his cloak and tears off a strip of cloth and quickly wraps the cloth around the wound. "That is about as good as I can do.  Here let me help you up and I will help you to the camp."  Capher looked around, sighed, "It is a good thing you are good with that sword and I came along.  Other wise those wolves would have tore you apart.  Actually I think they were more scared of you than you were of them and then I came along and they just seemed to sit and then took off.  Almost like they were thinking it over."  Capher chuckled.  "Funny how animals almost seem human sometimes, is it not?"  Capher asked as he held out his hand and arm to help Morcaanan up from off the ground.

Capher.

Edited by: Capher at: 8/19/05 15:26
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Aueniteri
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« Reply #25 on: August 20, 2005, 07:10:22 AM »

'Teri is startled slightly by the Shendar's appearance, and turns to half face him. Her brows furrow lightly as he speaks her name, and she starts to say something to correct him, but stops. Not like he could pronounce it right, even if he had heard it a hundred times. Humans have a hard time saying elven names naturally, and so, she decides, this should be no surprise. If she told him he'd said it wrong, he would probably come up with any of a hundred other ways to say her name, none of which were right. Finally, she does speak aloud, after glancing at the old man and finally turning her attention on the Shendar, "Please, just call me 'Teri." For some time, she is silent, watching as the old man goes somehow dimmer, at which point she realizes he must have been glowing, and bandaged the man. "I don't believe I know your name."

For a moment it seems rather humorous to her that she is standing off watching someone tend to another person while she simply stands off and watches, chatting idly with another by-stander, but not awkward, strangely enough. In this situation, at least. If called upon, she will help, but until then, everything seems under control.

Still, determined to prove her worth, which she decides she honestly has not yet done at all, she readies herself to assist the fellow in heading to camp as soon as they rise.


-------------------
Silence! You could give your excuses until Injèrá hides her head from all Santharia, but it will never preserve your life.
I have so sworn...

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Morcaanan
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« Reply #26 on: August 20, 2005, 07:00:22 AM »

Jeharaid winces as the bandage is place around his leg but is grateful nevertheless.

Still, he could see this old man was trying to soothe his fears and suspicions over, and did not feel very pleased with this. 'What is he hiding? Why?'

He stands, and as he does, another figure becomes visible - a woman, if he is not mistaken.

Nodding to her to acknowledge her presence (still too afraid to trust his own voice), he struggles with his small back to pull out a cleaning rag. He wipes his sword and then sheathes it, slinging the pack back onto his shoulder.

"Thank you" Morcaanan says, looking at neither person directly, a sense of humiliation creeping over him at needing this sort of help. Pride, mixed with a touch a vanity tug at him, and he is tempted to procure a limb from the ground as a rough cane - but ultimately decides against it. These people had and wanted to help him, and to give into his pride would be to insult them and humiliate himself further. He began walking toward the camp at Capher's direction, the old man one side, the woman on the other, each supporting an arm as they make their way along.

Edited by: Morcaanan at: 8/19/05 23:01
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« Reply #27 on: August 20, 2005, 01:37:22 PM »

Ta'las nods and smiles politely.  "Well met, 'Teri.  I am Ta'las."  There is a pause, after which he grins.  "I too notice my accent produces interesting alterations of names and words that are new to me."

He waits as Capher tends to the stranger, always probing the woods and listening for movement in the darkness.  He follows them back to camp, sword drawn, watching to be sure the wolves do not return.  The Shendar is curious about this stranger, but decides to say nothing until they reach the camp.  

As they enter the campsite, Ta'las sheaths his weapon.  Foremost in his mind is the transformation he has seen in his friend, but he turns his attention to the stranger instead.  Though wounded and alone, the man has accepted their aid with grace.

Ta’las walks around so the stranger can see him, and helps the others ease him onto a comfortable place to rest.  “We are fortunate to have met those we have, Capher.”  Then he nods at the man and offers his hand.  “Greetings, I am Ta’las, son of An’thavin.  Seyella smiles on all of us tonight, I think.”

Ta'las

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Morcaanan
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« Reply #28 on: August 21, 2005, 06:19:22 AM »

Morcaanan takes the Shedar's hand and nods. "Jeharaid Morcaanan" he replied. "Yes, it would seem higher powers are at work this night." He gave a Capher a flickering glance as he said this.

"Who is the leader amongst you?" he asked looking around, the question primarily focused at the Shendar man, though an answer from anyone would do. There was a woman asleep, and an elf off to the side. He glanced at the old man, then Ta'las, and then at the striking young woman who had helped him into the camp. There did not seem to be any obvious sign of leadership - and wondered if he should feel relaxed or concerned by this apparent lack of authority.



Edited by: Morcaanan at: 8/20/05 22:22
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« Reply #29 on: August 21, 2005, 07:48:22 AM »

'Teri thinks the question over well, but comes up empty-handed, so to speak. Each one of them obviously played a fairly important part, except possibly 'Teri herself, and a clear leader could not be decided. However, as it had been by Terra's initiative that three out of five of them came, 'Teri's eyes finally rested on the sleeping figure, but she said nothing.


-------------------
Silence! You could give your excuses until Injèrá hides her head from all Santharia, but it will never preserve your life.
I have so sworn...

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