Whom the gods would destroy...

1. Whom the gods would destroy...

   #1

   ...they first make mad
   
   Adan and Kyrian
   
   Gray, pregnant clouds jostled for position overhead, as Kyrian and Adan ascended and descended the craggy hills north and west of Jantir’s steamy harbors.  It had been five days since they had left the city proper, and two days since the pair left behind the backwater of Syree’s Well, where they  had helped a local barkeep with his beast-weed problem* at the behest of Halnoli the half-elven mage, and in return received lodgings and ample rations from the appreciative proprietor, one Lothon of the Once-Proud Goose.
   
   The two were now nearing the bawn of a vast forested land, the edges of those dark, gloomy domains which the Hellschwerts and Von Hellens called their own. These ancient, baronial castles and estates, had been given after the Last War to the nobles of the First Empire, long before the city of Jantir would appear on any maps. Ancient lands these were, full of dark secrets and bloody betrayals.
   
   A sense of quiet, familiar gloom overtook Adan as he glanced at the gnarled oaks and silver elms around him, while Kyrian seemed likewise lost in thought, and only the patter-and-click of Herald’s hooves and the occasional call of a south-bound loon overhead, could be heard.
   
   A gentle noise from Herald made Kyrian look up at his mount, as he walked along-side the prized stallion. The horse suddenly seemed reluctant to continue, though no obvious disturbance could be ascertained by the two adventurers.
   
   Just ahead of them lay an old road, a path men once called Theubold’s Trail, which snaked through the deep woods and bogs for miles, eventually emerging on the border of the Hellschwerts Lands proper.
   
   It was the Hour of the Lady, almost dusk, and all was quiet around them.
   
   At that moment the two spotted the body of a figure, curdled in a fetal position on the ground, beside some irregular boulders. The man lying before them was obviously dead.
   
   The two examined the body, and quickly determined that no physical wound could be seen on the flesh. A look of dread in the man’s still open eyes hinted at a more sinister end, and another oddity—the man’s ears were plugged with some kind of wax-like substance. A simple dagger in one clutched hand, and a curled up scroll, devoid of any writing, lay beside the figure.
   
   
   
   
   *slaughtering several ravenous, weed-maddened boars and bears in thre process.

2. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #2

   "Poor soul" Kyrian closed the man's wide-open frightened eyes, and examined the dagger and scroll he bore. "It appears as if he went to confront something, determined yet far outmatched. And the wax - is if he meant to ward himself against a siren, banshee or xantippean shrew; a spell he most likely cast from the parchment, to no avail. Be on your guard, Adan, this night may be far from over."
   
   He stood up, flicked a stray strand of hair from his face, and gave the woods a piercing gaze; the shadows and curling mist seemed to stare back at him, with fetid malice.

3. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #3

   Kneeling to bless the flesh of the fallen man, Adan's hand drifted down to touch him at the neck, at the shoulders, and thrice on the sternum, in the star of Trigu, before he spoke in the ancient tongue of the church, a blessing for the fallen. '"Requiem aeternam dona ei, Trigu, et perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Trigu, eleison."
   
   As his hand came up from the clammy flesh, taking in the wax, the dagger, and the scroll, Adan frowned, straightening entirely. "You're right. This stinks of magic." Looking down, the once-paladin, once-guardsman nudges the body with his toe. "Warded against sound, but he still got taken. The question, then, must become: Did what he ward against catch him, and defeat him despite his precautions, or was it another? In any case, it had not interest in his flesh, which is disturbing. A natural beast would have been attempting to defend itself or sate it's hunger, and there would be injuries."
   
   For a moment, he presses his lips together, a brief prayer to his Lord and Master drifting through his mind. "We have some courses before us, friend. It will be luck to build even a cairn for him, in this wood, though something must be done.  There are rumors of the Banshee, and here..." Adan swallows deeply, the shot of fear that shivers down his spine quelled forcefully, though consciously. "Here we begin to approach the area that yet may be the demense of my nemesis. Its end, even should it cost me my life, is everything. I cannot permit anything else to kill me before I destroy it. We are far, however, from the stronghold of the Holy Swordswoman, and her power in these swamps is not impressive. Prudence, then, speaks that we should retreat some miles, and await the coming of the sun. Valor dictates that we should hunt and destroy his killer. What think you, Kyrian?"
   

4. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #4

   "We are only worth as much as what we bring into the world, I say, and receding at the sight of danger will not add to our value, neither to valor. Though I will make one concession to prudence: foolishly dying to no benefit would keep us from any further heroics, with a great degree of certainty. I say, let our caution be profound, and once we know more, the time of decision between a course palatable to bards and a tactical withdrawal will come."
   
   He did not shout a challenge to the woods, nor strike a pose, but relaxed instead, letting his sight wander over the surroundings, his ears catch the whisperings of the bods, the scent flow freely through his nose; then, there was the sixth sense native to all felines, and it stirred in this place. Emptying his mind of thought, Kyrian let it unfold and roam free, his whiskers twitching.

5. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #5

   With a grim nod, Adan lit tinder, setting flame to the coals within the small firebox he had acquired. Hidden, with only a trickle of air, they would burn cool but long, enough, he hoped, to carry thrugh the night, enough to hasten the lighting of one of the oil-soaked torches, should it prove to be needed. Enough, too, to slice and soften a tallow candle and cloth, enough to make plugs for the ears alike to the slain wizards, and to offer the same to the feline knight that was his companion. 
   
   With a deep breath, he drew his awareness back inwards, to the tiny light of the Lord that he had felt as he had spoken with the bishop, though it had been so long ago. Once, his Lord had let him feel the malevolance, the darkness that blotted at the holy light, yet the darkness that had once grown within had swallowed all that light from his eyes. It would have served well as warning. But now, he could only grasp that light within, and trust in his Lord. This was the right way of things. Trust in Trigu, and ask nothing of Him, but permit him to use you.
   
   Prepared now, Adan frowned at the corpse, before picking up a few, fist sized stones, looking at the other questioningly. Did they have the time to build a caern? 

6. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #6

   Building a cairn for the dead stranger did not take long, as the raw materials, rocks as it were, littered the forest's edge in abundance.
   
   Both men were silent now, and Kyrian was still peering into the woods when Adan rose with a sigh to stretch his creaky knees. The Triguan now held aloft a firebox, its wan light casting flickering shadows. It was not yet dark, but night was drawing ever nearer.
   
   Kyrian sensed no unusual scents from the forest. No sound came now. Animal noises one took for granted--the chirp of a cricket, the low call of the nightjar waking, the scurrying of a squirrel from branch to branch, could not be heard. Yet Kyrian's superior senses could feel a presence--something. Something malevolent, cold, and wanton.
   
   His concentration was interrupted once more by Herald, who now stomped his hooves nervously upon the damp earth, and looked to Kyrian for reassurance. Herald had sensed the same presence as his rider.
   
   Theubold's Trail lay before them, beckoning them into its gloom.
   
                             -------------------------------------------------------------------------
   
   
   She came silently upon the evening breeze, a nigh-invisible silhouette of death against a gray-streaked canvas. Sensing warm ones near, she moved faster now, driven by an unquenchable rage for the living. Drawing closer, she at last spied her marks, two men and a mount.
   
   She despised the four-legged beasts. They usually sensed her approach long before their riders, and were too fast in their escapes, for even her grave-given celerity.
   
   A cold white light burned deep within her at that moment as she recognized one of the figures in the clearing. No, not a man at all. Her hour of salvation was at hand.

7. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #7

   A figure sits slumped in a high-backed velvet chair festooned with carved ravens, facing a granite fireplace.  He slowly reaches down and gently places his hand directly into the low, green flames. As the fire licks the flesh of his hand, the man smiles wanly but betrays no pain or discomfort.  A child enters the vast hall and approaches the figure. “My cousin comes, young one”, the man says softly, jostling the youth’s sandy locks. “He comes with cats and doppelgangers, but he comes. And when he arrives, we will begin.”

8. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #8

   "To arms, Adan!" Kyrian hissed. "Solitude has been denied us..."
   
   With an almost melodic note, he freed his sword from its resting place, and laid his left hand upon Herald to calm him. "I know, friend trusty, it is here - but it's not us who should be scared."
   
   He scanned the forest's shadows for a telltale sign of yon eerie presence; then, tired of waiting, he brazenly bared his teeth and green fire flickered in his eyes. "Show yourself, beast, for I wish to lay thee to rest, enchant with a steel lullaby and a luxurious cairn!"
   
   

9. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

   #9

   With a single gesture, Adan plunged his oiled torch into the fire box, planting it into the ground with shortly after. Fire, he suspected, would be of value, should the foe prove to be one of the exmortui, as he expected.
   
   With a second motion, the brief blade he carried was freed from it's sheath - The Great Bow he had fashioned of his stave would be of little consequence here, he expected. And then, rather than boasting or taunting, his voice arose in hymnal, as Kyrian's died from its threat.
   
   "
   Domine Deus meus in te speravi salvum me fac ex omnibus persequentibus me et libera me/
   Nequando rapiat ut leo animam meam dum non est qui redimat neque qui salvum faciat/
   Tu autem Domine susceptor meus es gloria mea et exaltans caput meum/
   Domini est salus et super populum tuum benedictio tua/
   "
   A hymn of salvation in battle. Tiny, perhaps, but the faith in his Lord must be all. Yes.

10. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #10

    Is that you casting something, pray tell? prayer, bless, sanctuary? other? Just wondering

11. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #11

    As Adan's  prayer subsided a voice could be heard suddenly.
    
    "Beast?" an angry voice, an otherwordly voice, yet somehow familiar. "You call me BEAST? You who are beast yourself?" The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
    
    Then silence once more, as the shadows danced along the edges of the trees from Adan's impromptu firebox.
    
    Again a voice, now softer and sibilant, from somewhere in the trees.
    
    “Kyrian, my brave and honorable knight, do you not recognize the presence of your charge? It is I, Swanhild of Lowangen, the one you could not save. Will you save me now? Will you give your life for mine? I am so cold and so lonley.”
    
    “I have waited a long time. Do not make me wait any longer.”
    
    “I need your help, Kyrian. Will you abandon me a second time?”
    
    The voice began to grow louder now--shriller.
    
    Peering intently, neither Kyrian nor Adan could find the voice's source. Herald was now quite agitated and urged Kyrian with his wet nose to mount and ride.
    
    "Brave, brave Kyrian. Come to me now, mark my rose with your dew"
    
    

12. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #12

    "Saint Alis, come to us in our time of need."
    
    Only barely able to hear the sound of the voice through the thick plugs of tallow in his ears, there is little that Adan can do except shift his stance slightly, as his eyes continue to shift through the woods. Still, he can tell that there is at least some form of parley, though from the behavior of the horse, it is still with a dread creature. Once again, his lips form the verses of the hymnals, though now his voice is silent, even as he mouths the same song that he had once sung to a band of Verbeeg.
    
    Yet, he concentrated hard, clearing his mind and trying his best to remember the light of the Lord Trigu that was once in him, to let the darkness without make itself known, at least in direction.
    
    (Edit, OOC: Yes, I'm trying to Detect Evil. No, I don't expect it to work OOCly. ICly, the light of hope always shines.)

13. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #13

    It was then he recognized the moonlit glade, though it was bathed in torchlight and blood as he strode through it the last time; likewise, it became clear as day who the haunt was. Silently, he laid his hand upon Adan's shoulder.
    "I witnessed yon fateful day...."
    
    But a short journey through these woods it was that would carry Swanhild to Aalya's white spire, where the Windchanters raised their voices in honor of the eternal voyager, highest muse and zephyr dancer; to become one of them she was.
    But few and meek were the bandits that dared to charge their entourage, though the knights were a pair, and so were the squires, one of them of Swanhild's blood. An one-sided slaughter later, the brigands were headed for the woods again, only - one of them had made off with a thing precious.
    
    "Have you ever felt the heat of the hunt, Adan? Fire running through your veins, and the moon's light a siren call, the scent of fear and blood flooding your nostrils? I had to give chase..." That he wished to endear himself and his bravado demanded no less, that he left unvoiced.
    
    As from a tale, he had returned triumphant, bearing a bandit's scalp and his bounty - yet he found himself in a darker narrative, for amongst the corpses of the second brigand band lay strewn those of the squires, solely sir Berengar stood, besieged. There, under the elder oak, there was the cairn of highwayman heads he had raised, but it was but a gesture of defiance and wrath; Swanhild lay dead; though she was his charge and thus forbidden, he had loved her from afar, with the pasion of a thousand suns. Then, she was gone - all for the sake of a...
    
    "Come forth Swanhild, please." From his saddlebag, he fished a piece of waxed cloth, and from it, a fabric silken, light and tranparent, as if not of this world, of the purest white. "I still hold your scarf, I brought it back, my lady."

14. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #14

    Appearing now for the first time, Swanhild of Lowangen, the one-time priestess of Aayla the Wind, hovered a mere foot from the ground, forty yards away from Kyrian and Adan, down Theubold’s Path.
    
    If she was once beautiful, only Kyrian could say, for now all semblance of her elven heritage was gone, in its place, a wicked, skeletal visage, angular and fierce, stark-white orbs for eyes, and gossamer threads, undulating on the evening breeze like asps, where luxurious, golden locks once shone.
    
    She floated toward the pair, though floated was a poor choice of word for her unnatural speed. Where fine linen and silken robes once clung to voluptuous curves, now mummy-like shreds and tatters fluttered on the wind, clinging to a corporeal mass of questionable composition, and certainly no flesh or bone.
    
    “My scarf, dear knight.  You kept it all this time. Was it to remind you of me?”
    “Come then, wrap the scarf around me” she almost cooed now, as she neared Kyrian.
    
    “Let us embrace, as we could not when I was yet among the living. And all wrongs will be forgiven.”
    
    With that, she opened wide her spindly arms, and grinned the grin of the dead.
    
    She was upon them now, and Adan felt the bile well up inside him, as the nearly unbearable stench of undeath assaulted his nostrils.  Herald reared in defiance tinged with fear, but held his ground. The Banshee ignored both Herald and Adan. She only had eyes for her knight.
    
    You’re free to act or attack. If you attack, we’ll roll initiative. Kyrian is also free to hug her if he wants  :P
    

15. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #15

    Was there anything of Swanhild left? How come she had wandered back there, from consecrated soil where they had buried her? What would make her cease her haunt? Conundrums, one more relevant than the other.
    
    Without threat, he stepped towards her desiccated frame, the green flame of his eyes meeting the chill white of hers. Unwavering, he advanced towards the haunt, the freezing wind that had picked up from nowhere running through his mane. In his arms, he held but the scarf, the very one she was supposed to wear upon becoming one of the priesthood in full, woven of moonlight, gossamer and captured wind.
    
    Tender, yet determined, he laid the scarf around the skeletal shoulders. "May Luna's goodwill keep thee" he spoke as he took her bony head and kissed her upon the brow, with salubrious energy flowing from his hands.
    
    (OOC: I cast Protection from Evil - on >her

16. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #16

    To Kyrian's query, the other knight does not respond, at least not at the moment. Had he ever...? Well, not such a hunt, perhaps, as the feline made suggestion at. But then, there was the other. Even now, focused as he was upon his prayers and upon the situation at hand, his strike ready, but held, he felt that absence, a phantom limb despite the wholeness of his body. It would be for later, perhaps, to try to let Kyrian understand, though it would likely be pointless.
    
    Before the bile rises in his throat, Adan's shield arm dips to the phial of holy water he had managed to obtain from the bishop, his body tense. There is little he can do here except pray, and give his companion the chance to send this thing to the world beyond the non-violent way. "Sancta Alis, custos nos..." he murmured, before adding for good measure, "Gwyn, komme ich nach Heim, ein Weise oder ein anders." One way, or another, this thing would be done tonight, here.  His crystal blue eyes focused upon the scene before him, waiting for the slightest sign of wilting from Kyrian.

17. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #17

    Death's Warm Embrace
    
    Silence.
    
    All was silent as Kyrian gently, nay lovingly, kissed the apparition's brow. It felt like kissing frozen stone. As he held the former priestess, her scarf now wrapped about her wispy form, Adan looked upon the embrace with great unease.
    
    Silence.
    
    Kyrian felt as if a thousand needles of ice were stabbing his organs as he touched his former love, yet he held firm, remained nearly still, and began to work his magic without sound, even as his mind seemed to numb. Swanhild now suddenly retreated a few yards, tearing herself away form the knight's embrace. Whether or not Kyrian's spell had any effect or not, no one could be sure, least of all Kyrian.
    
    The Banshee seemed to hover in confusion for a moment, her swirling, transparent, scarf only adding to her grotesque and hideous appearence.
    
    Mr. Kyrian, need a d20 roll please
    
    

18. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #18

    Elsewhere But Not Far
    
    At first Kadarin merely felt a jolt then a blunt impact, and some pain, but nothing unbearable, and more importantly nothing seemed to be broken. He remained motionless for a moment, simply staring at his surroundings, still in considerable shock.
    
    It appeared that he had landed with a thud, in a rather large, heretofore undisturbed patch of Lamb's Ear.
    
    A moment later another thud, but this one to his head, and rather sharp and painful, sent stars spinning in Kadarin's brain. It took several seconds for the mage to realize that Mouse (thank the gods he was so small!) had also landed in the same thicket, but a few seconds later, and with his foot catching Kadarin squarely in the forehead.
    
    There they lay side by side staring at each other in confusion, when Kadarin spotted another figure. This figure was not as lucky as Kadarin and Mouse had been.
    
    
    The wizard's body-guard was impaled upon a pine tree, approximately ten feet off the ground. It seemed that every limb (and neck) was pierced by a lance-like branch. He looked like a macabre string-puppet, a thrall to the great pine that embraced him. Blood stained the tree, and trickled down lazily, slowed as it was by the pine's oozing sap.
    
    As Kadarin stared upon this tragedy, still trying to get his own bearings, he wished he had never experimented with that purchased potion, his latest spell, and the [Talon Trails] item. This was all surreal. Moments ago, he had been in his innroom, telling Mouse to carefully add the nightshade powder to the mixture. Now, he was in some eerily silent, forest. It was cold and getting dark quickly.

19. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #19

    Rolled 1d20 : 4, total 4

20. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #20

    "Dujeck's talents would be best applied here, " said Kadarin as he looked at his former bodyguard. 
    
    "I wonder where we are? I would not have anticipated this outcome, much less that it would be tremendously far."
    
    Kadarin spared mouse the chore of salvage, and went over to poor Delsordo.  Not the finest specimen of humanity, but he didn't deserve this.
    
    In any case, Kadarin looked at how to get him down from his perch, looking like the victim of some immense shrike.
    
    "Can you find an area of soft earth to bury poor Delsordo? Can't leave him up here for the crows." Kadarin looked about for Delsordo's sword - it may serve to sever the branch that held up the unfortunate henchman.
    
    
    
    
    
    

21. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #21

    Swanhild's Lament
    
    Swanhild hovered for several long agonizing moments then finally they could hear her voice.
    
    “I remember now. When the bandits attacked, you—“ her voice sounded less like that of an apparition and more like that of a woman now, unless that was just some trick she played on one’s ears, Adan was not sure.
    
    “You gave chase to return me *this* she continued fingering her scarf, “My honorable knight”
    
    “I—I was raped, and my brother---another long pause—those foul animals burned him ALIVE!”
    
    As her voice rose anew, Adan tensed slightly, but Kyrian remained unafraid, listening to his former muse speak, and looking intently into those stark-white pools she had for eyes, with patience and without contempt.
    
    Was this the work of Kyrian’s magic? Neither man could be sure.
    
    “I know now, why the Wind Mistress saw fit to return me from my grave as the monster you see before you. It was to take revenge, sweet revenge.  But I could not scour the world searching for these pigs. Only so far I can come from my grave-site. To the edge of Theubold’s Path, and no further. It was not all that far from here, where they—they…”
    
    “And now, Aayla has brought you to me. You have not betrayed me, you have returned, as loyal to honor and duty as ever. I onced loved you Kyrian. But no longer can I feel---anything. Except Hate.”
    
    Another excruciating pause, as Swanhild rose off the ground, and higher into the evening air.
    
    “FIND them Kyrian!  Find every last one of those filthy animals! Send them my regards, as you cut them down! And maybe then the Wind Mistress will release me from this state, and I can sail upon the winds with Her again!”
    
    “Take my revenge for me, and for my brother, and for your own men! Do what I cannot!”
    
    With that she suddenly began retreating into the forest, facing Kyrian, as dead leaves swirled around her form. She moved slowly now, savoring the cat-knight’s face, as if drinking it into her own form.
    
    Adan was taken aback. He was not sure what was happening here. The Banshee’s words made no sense without context. Truth be told, not much seemed to make sense to the former paladin, as he silently witnessed this bizarre exchange. He was not sure how long ago this tragedy had coccured, but finding random bandits? No these were the words of a mad-spirit. More surprising still  was that the Banshee did not keen,  did not let out that infamous HOWL creatures of her ilk were known for, nor did she attack.
    
    Was *Love* at work here? Or more mysterious forces?
    
    
    

22. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #22

    Kadarin & Mouse
    
    Several hours later, it was already dark, just as Kadarin and Mouse finished burying Delsordo. The forest began to buzz with a cacophany of night-noises. It was cold now, cold enough to make Mouse chatter his teeth, as he stared at Kadarin for direction. The pair were both dressed lightly, and had no provisions to speak of...
    
    All around them was deep, primal forest, though before night came fully, Kadarin could spy a path, not far from where Mouse and him landed  unceremoniously.
    
    A wolf's howl sounded suddenly, long, haunting and drawn out.
    
    As Mouse shivered, Kadarin was about to say something, when he could suddenly hear familair sounds from the path, not animal sounds this time, but the speech of men. He could see flickering torch-light in the gloom. It seemed travellers were makng their way down the forest path.
    
    Perhaps if they still had been digging, whoever walked the path would hear them as well. But as it was, Kadarin and Mouse merely stood silently, and heard the men before they were heard in turn. Very little could be seen in the dark.
    
    Why would anyone travel a forest by night, Mouse thought, as he again looked to Kadarin for direction.
    
    

23. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #23

    Well, Kyrian. Though Adan continued to hold the phial, he slid his his blade back into the sheath. Perhaps there were many things that he did not understand here. But he heard the plea of the spirit, and he knew that it was a knight being given a task. It would be up to the other to accept or deny the task from the ex-maiden, but these were the borders of his ancestral lands. It would be his duty to assist, if for no other reason then to clear them of the dangerous banshee's presence. Perhaps, however, she could be persuaded to wait more patiently and less fatally, though that would also have to wait until Kyrian had made his decisions. 

24. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #24

    To her retreating frame, he bowed, then returned his gaze to her. "You never left my custody, Swanhild, and my oath binds me, to do as you ask; but I would promise likewise none-the-less, for your sake. You shall find peace amongst the clouds, free to return once the wheel has turned, to a new life, unblemished. And if the gods will so, we shall meet once more."
    
    They stood still for what seemed to be ages, whipped by a sudden chill wind, the scintillating stars igniting a determined fire in his eyes. He knelt in silence, bowed to her, then stood, and turned to the other knight.
    "What has been done cannot be unmade, but it can be remedied. Come, Adan. We both have shadows to hunt, within and without, and the sooner we water this land with blood it lusted for so long, the less wrongs will grow from it."

25. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #25

    "These lands have felt the touch of the sanguine rain for centuries, Kyrian. Sometimes, I think that this is all that it knows to drink from. But, our duties call us indeed. Let us be on our way to execute them." Shaking his head with the sorrow of the land, the Hellschwert knight gathered up his firebox and torch, looking to Kyrian a moment.
    
    "I see no injuries, at least none of the sort that I can treat. There are fortifying brews, but that shall wait until make camp. Let us be on the way - I am anxious to meet with my sister and father." One of which the knight looked forwards to in joy, the other in dread.  To that end, one boot after another lifted and fell.

26. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #26

    Kadarin whispered to mouse, "Just hide - but take care to be silent."
    
    He had considered taking Delsordo's clothing to ward off the cold but reconsidered it.  Mouse had developed a close bond with his fellow mute Delsordo.  No, he had taken what little wealth the mute carried as well as his weapons.    Kadarin was not a believer in grave goods and from what he saw of the fate of clerics, not a great believer in gods either.
    
    In any case, Kadarin stood quietly and listened, searching for some clue as to the identities of those that approached.  In his hand he put some rosepetals..
    
    

27. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #27

    "The Von Hellens have their Dew-Marked Rose, and the Hellschwerts their 'Unrivaled'. They--"
    
    'They are ancient clans with madness, madness of the most dire sort, flowing in their veins, that is what THEY are"
    
    "Mind your tongue, voices carry in darkness."
    
    'What Rot! Voices do not carry any faster in darkness! Wives tales!"
    
    "Which clan will we fight for, then? Lokknar's or Alair's?"
    
    "Whichever pays us most coin, naturally."
    
    some silence, then...
    
    "They say a Banshee haunts this wood, yet we travel by night. Ripe for the picking, we are"
    
    "Maybe you are, I'll slay any spirit that dares haunt me. Besides, we need make haste as you know."
    
    
    Kadarin and Mouse crouched in Lamb's Ear and listened. Hiding in a forest at night was no difficult task. The voices were of two human men by the sounds of it. Kadarin could hear the occassional clank of armor, and an occassional snort of a horse. The pair were obviously walking their mounts, not daring to ride in darkness.

28. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #28

    Kyrian and Adan
    
    Though no injury seemed to mark Kyrian, Adan kept an eye on the knight as the pair travelled. Kyrian was distant and unnaturally queit. A few times, Adan even noticed the knight shudder, as if some cold current of ice-water, had suddenly spilled into his veins. Adan left Kyrian to his thoughts. The knight had embraced death and lived. Few could claim the same.
    
    Adan lifted his firebox to peer ahead into the gloom, and once more shadows danced upon the darknening wood. The two were slowly making their way down Theubold's Path.
    
    As Adan neared his home, his thoughts turned to his family once more. He had missed much these last few years he surmised, if the Hellschwerts were now in some death-fued with the Von Hellens. Once he remembered, the two clans were on the best of terms, ruling their neighboring lands with noble cause, equally known for their storied valor and familial lore (and the occasional streak of madness)
    
    Adan's thouhts were interrupted when he spied another body upon the ground up ahead. He let out a long sigh. Another body, this one sitting slumped beside a tree. A look of utter and unspeakable terror upon the man's face--a sellsowrd by the looks of him--hinted at his untimely end, though not as much as the dried blood around his ears did. The corpse wore chainmail, and a spear was propped up against the tree next to him.
    
    

29. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #29

    "Another." Adan simply shook his head, his expression grim as he viewed the corpse before him, noting the foreign make of his mail, the strange heraldry. "Things must be dire indeed, if the sell-swords have begun to swarm. There must be much wrong." Kneeling next to the man, the young nobleman began the brief ritual of last rights, commending his soul unto the next world. But here, in the night, there was not the time to bury him. Not properly, anyway.
    
    Rising from the fallen man's corpse, he looked over to Kyrian. "We will need to rest soon, ere dawn comes. We are not too distant from a huntsman's lodge that my family once maintained, though I know not what shape it may be in now, or even if it is still ours to claim. We may hazard to rest there, for it is a long journey yet to the nearest of my kinsman's liege man's home, and the way is exceedingly difficult. With luck, there may even be some hard stores there, as well."

30. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #30

    Hunting Lodge
    
    The foliage muffled the hoot of the owls. Various other night noises accompanied Adan and Kyrian on the trail. After several hours, Adan paused and lifted his firebox into the darkness, looking left then right from the trail. It was past midnight now, and as the path went on, the forest grew thicker and denser around it.
    
    Determined to press on despite the darkness, hours passed, and finally Adan and Kyrian came to a halt. Adan once more surveyed the dark forest around them, as best he could.
    
    “This way now”, he spoke, and these were the first words spoken between them in hours. For the first time since they had entered the vast wood, they veered off of Theubold’s Path into the forest proper. The very first streaks of gray pierced through the inky blackness. Dawn had not yet arrived, but was being heralded.
    
    Finally came the light. The two travelers and Kyrian’s mount had slogged through several miles of pine, oak, and elm, crunching needles and leaves underfoot, to at last come upon a raised hillock, sparsely wooded, from where Adan could gaze upon the Hellschwert’s once-favored hunting lodge, an impressive, octagonal keep of granite and timber, old and draped with lichen.
    
    A cold, morning breeze picked up, chasing away white mist.
    
    Beside the great lodge stood stables and nearby, hound kennels. No baying or snorting to be heard. All quiet.

31. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #31

    All quiet was a good sign, at least here. Adan's eyes darted across the structure, taking in its current shape, and the shape of memories that were layered here. Rhys's 17th birthday, his coming of age hunt with both the Dukes in attendance. His own first hunt, his sister laughing at him as she had taken a boar, and he, nothing. His first captain, laughing and smoking on leave. No, now was not the time for this. After a moments thought, he pointed towards the nearest side of the building. "There, the main entryway. It seems unoccupied, and this place is a part of my ancestral lands. We should enter by the front gate."
    
    So saying, the Hellschwert scion began to walk up towards the front gate, brazenly intending to open the door, and walk on in, using the concealed key that was, in his memory, left behind a loose stone in the rear wall of the stables.

32. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #32

    "There must indeed be something amiss in these lands to leave such a fine piece of real estate unmanned, uninhabited, unkept." Kyrian was used to other conditions in Jantir, where men would plot and war over a choice site in a better district, even though it was perchance thirty paces across.
    As Adan unlocked, Kyrian marched inside, and led Herald to where the stables had to be. "You will require a steed as well, Adan - what kind of lord returns to his land on foot? A lance, and banner as well perchance; so browse the keep for something fitting, and Herald will bear you should you fail to procure a worthy stallion."
    
    Of the saddle he relieved the charger and gave him ample fodder while he brushed him clean of the dust of the road. Finally, the steed was calming down from their encounter, and so was he. A blanket he threw over the mount's back, and headed off, to rejoin Adan.
    
    Upon entering the main hall across the courtyard, he was greeted by dusty rural splendor, all polished wood, furs and hunting trophies, intermingled with stern faces gazing down from paintings on the walls. From what he could discern, there was an assembly of war spoils and cultural artifacts spanning centuries and a good expanse of the continent, most likely brought here from adventurous endeavors and campaigns.
    
    "Ah, the abode of nobles with a lineage long and meticulously noted, tied to the ancestral land with bonds almost supernatural; so much unlike the court, indeed." He grinned as he recalled a few choice encounters with upstart nobles, so full of themselves and aloof despite having risen out of the commoner throngs just yesterday. "Their manners might not have been decent, but at least their fencing was on par, and purses full." He took in the feeling of the place, then turned to Adan once more: "I'd welcome if you told me of your family and history, while I aid you in relieving yourself of that armor."

33. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #33

    As he drifted down the main hall, lighting lamps as he went, Adan merely shook his head. "I am a penetant, not a lord. Had justice been done, not mercy granted, my head would decorate the walls of Landeel Castle proper."
    
    His face as stern as the portraits above as he looked back at them, at his ancestors, then shook his head, and began to walk towards a statue in the center of the main hall. Tall and marble, it detailed not a man, but a woman, a warrior, adorned in armor, a long blade at her side, her visage strong and noble, yet strangely angelic. Dipping, he pressed his lips to the ground at the feet of the statue, before rising, and beginning to polish the dust from it, with a soft cloth retrieved from a near by cabinet. "With the Holy Lady, our story begins. Before Jantir was even six mud huts gathered in a ring by a river, she journeyed here, bearing a sword, said to be crafted by the rhin themselves. But in those days, this land was held not by men, but by a great devil, though his aspects are lost to history. The Lady Alis slew the devil, and here, with her men, she built her stronghold, and bore children. We have been building her mountain ever since." A gesture to a portrait upon the wall. "Lutz, conquerer of Skyrim." Another gesture. "Sorn, who went to Nehpala and beyond in his adventures."  Pointing not to one portrait, but to four, one of which was another stern woman, "Charl, Layalyn, Erik, and Noah, against whom the Jantiri laid siege for a century and a half." Another, to the far edge of the hall, a newer portrait. "My father, Rhys. Stern, but merciful. Of the five heirs he had remaining when I left, I am but the fourth.  Two elder brothers, and two sisters, one elder, one younger."
    
    The statue polished, the devotional completed, he shook his head. "They say the land is torn by war, it would be wisest to check the rooms before retiring to them. We may yet have need of steel."

34. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #34

    Upstairs they drifted, walking the silent halls, and examining rooms. Moth-ridden tapestries depicting everything from knights battling demons to children receiving holy blessings to bear hunts, adorned the walls.
    
    As Kyrian pushed open a bedroom door, a voice came from within. The room featured an impressive canopy bed with netting, an oval, oaken table, and several fine chairs. Some mirrors hung in places here and there, each one more baroque than the last, a nightstand, a copper tub for bathing, and not much else.
    
    From a small fireplace not far from the bed, an eerie greenish flame, offered some light but little heat.
    
    “Well here is something you just don’t see any more these days”, came the languorous voice from the bedroom Kyrian had just opened. Adan came up behind the knight to look within.
    
    “A Von Hellen and a Hellschwert, St. Alys be blessed. Come to share a spirited hunt, no doubt. Cats are usually found in the household of the Von Hellen. We prefer hunting hounds here in Landeel, do we not, Adan?”
    
    The voice belonged to Denhane Hellschwert.  An uncle of Adan’s on his mother’s side. Adan immediately recognized the man’s sleepy voice, and the top of his head. A long sandy-colored pony tail, hung from a high-backed chair of velvet, adorned with tiny iron ravens.
    
    The man was facing a window, and did not turn to greet the pair, but merely continued staring out, the back of his head the only thing visible from the entrance.
    
    “I knew that you were on your way here nephew, but I do not know why. Sorcery is a mixed sack of goods, I find. Don’t you agree?”
    
    Still Denhane did not rise or even turn his chair.
    
    "There’s a boy here somewhere”, Denhane mumbled. “Where ever did he go?  If you find him, he will bring you meat, cheese, and wine. He will look after your horses too. Whatever else you may need.”
    
    "His name is Erund, my sister Losamund’s boy. Aptly named is he not? I find myself sending him on errands constantly. If you find him, flog him for me, won’t you? An insolent child he is, not a good assistant for an aging wizard.”
    
    With that Denhane grew silent, and continued his window vigil.
    

35. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #35

    "Uncle Denhane." Adan's voice was level, even slightly friendly as he spoke to the man, his mind running through what he remembered of the man. Unbalanced, perhaps, would have been the best way to describe him.
    
    "Hounds and felines, each their place and time." Adan shrugged, his mail jingling as he looked through the room, not quite entirely at ease as he did so. "I fear my studies have left me little time for the sorcerous arts, however, so that I will have to take your word about it, as always."
    
    Taking a single step towards the window, looking out as well, though not stepping closer to his uncle, nor to that cold green flame that glowed in the fireplace, "We do hunt, though it is less spirited, and more a hunt for spirits. I seem to have left behind some unfinished business, before I was sent away."

36. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #36

    "Yes, well, that." Denhane mumbled as if uninterested.
    
    "Lyle is still alive, Adan. I am sure he misses you. Your sister is being held captive by the Von Hellens currently. No easy task that was for them, let me tell you. She killed a few before they bagged her, good ol' Gwyn!"
    
    The man paused, as if to catch his breath. From where Adan was standing, he could hear the weakness in his uncle's voice. He was old to be sure, but sounded particularly raspy, as if speech, or even drawing a new breath, caused him discomfort.
    
    "Where to begin, Adan. Where to begin....Perhaps I should begin at the end, for that is where we all find ourselves now. At the end."
    
    “Half of our respective clans are dead and buried--or worse--and the feud rages on. The remaining Von Hellens along with their liegemen and retinue siege Brightblade Keep. The Hellschwerts remain behind their granite walls. Your lord-father is dead, burned alive by the bastard-duke Von Hellen. Your lady-mother Alair has fled the bloody pogrom, blessed be her name, but your twin Gwyn, that hellion, is said to still be alive. Lyle is alive as I mentioned, but has grown madder since your last visit, if that be possible.”
    
    “They say a few champions of the Von Hellen’s yet remain, beside Lokkner, Hegvolt of the Dew-Marked Rose yet lives, still loyal to his demon-loving duke and--- ”
    
    "Oh yes, Kyrian of the Dew-Marked Rose!" Denhane's voice rose ever-so-slightly. "Demon-loving I called your grand duke. If my words insult you, I would understand. But truth be told, your duke has been tainted by demons--malignant forces which even I do not yet fully comprehend. Though---he is no better than our own rabble. Once, there was no man or elf, as noble in heart and spirit as Lokkner. Now..." Denhane trailed off.
    
    The whole time, the man remained motionless, only his pony-tail bobbing as he spoke.
    
    "Do not come much closer, Adan" he redirected his voice toward his nephew, still sounding casual. "You'll catch a horrible chill by the window. Those d**n fires--no heat, all sickly, green light.
    
    Finally remembering the last thing Adan said, Denhane added with finality. "If its spirits you are after, there is a troublesome banshee that keeps killing the sell-swords we sent for, ours and the Von Hellen's men as well. At least she has no biases-heh. Haunting Theubold's Path she is. Perhaps you can hunt her down."

37. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #37

    "Gwyn!" The one word that Adan manages is a strangled, gasping yelp, a noise somewhere between feral panic, rage, and terror. Though the unusual bond between himself and his twin was poorly understood outside the immediate family, and occasionally rumored to be magical in nature, it was little more than ineffable closeness. And that struck at him now.
    
    It would be long moments before the still bemailed knight fully recovered, enough to look at his uncle, and query, "And of Aron? Of Thea? Live they yet?" 

38. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #38

    "They yet live, Adan. They yet live." He paused as if considering wheher or not to say something more, then----"Do not fear overmuch, my nephew", his uncle's voice suddenly sounded softer and more caring, "They will not kill her. Not yet anyway. She is too important. You have time." With that, Denhane stirred, then made a strange, indeterminbale noise.
    
    
    "But where are your manners? Find Erund, give our guest here some food and drink. Let it not be said we Hellschwerts have forgotten the laws of hospitality. Break bread and crush salt with the brave knight. And leave me. I grow tired now, and it won't be long..."

39. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #39

    At that moment, a youth bearing the general family resemblance, appeared in the doorway. Eleven, maybe twelve, a serious looking boy with sandy locks like his uncle Denhane. He was one of the sons of Losamund, half-sister to Lady Alair, as he himself explained. His brothers and sisters had been taken by the Von Hellen vassal--Emmeraut, the Giant's Son--after the huge warrior and his men had successfully sieged Losamund's Hall in the Von Hellen name, a minor Hellschwert estate in southern Landeel.
    
    Denhane would speak no more, but the boy proved talkative.
    
    "I have been with Uncle Denhane here, since they destroyed our home, Uncle Adan. I am hoping to learn magic from him. My sword alone won't do i fear, in exacting my revenge. Do you go to Ashe Keep? Verlyn still holds out. Tough old bastard. His walls remain intact, and he swore to nunc' when we saw him, that if he had one hundred able men, he'd march on the Mad Duke's castle himself!"
    
    "Do you wish food? There is aplenty here. Wine in the cellars too. Barrels upon barrels. I can fetch one. And weapons, uncle! Spears, bows, swords..."
    
    The only time young Erund queited down was whenever he caught glimpse of Kyrian in the doorway. He had heard of the homo felis in his studies, and had seen elves before. But never such a warrior as this. An aura of glory seemed to hang upon the knight's shoulders like a garland. And Denhane had mentioned he was of the Dew-Marked Rose. A Von Hellen man! Erund was confused and wondered to himself, why his uncle Adan wold consort with the enemy.
    
    Adan allowed his half-nephew to speak his mind, and Kyrian stood listening as well, still trying to comprehend the words of Denhane. Demon-loving Duke? Kyrian's patron, the Grand Duke Lokkner, was the epitome of a knight, and more than that, one of the few men Kyrian truly admired.
    
    This was no feud which they were about to walk in on, they thought as they listened. This was a bloody war!

40. Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

    #40

    Meanwhile
    
    Morning came finally to the woods, birds chirping happily, and Kadarin and Mouse rose to stretch their legs. Their choice seemed simple at first. A single snaking trail, well-trodden, judging by the previous night's noises, lay a few dozen feet away from their bushy night's camouflage. Peering through some trees in the opposite direction however, allowed Kadarin to see something he had no way of seeing during the night.
    
    Apparently the two had spent the night on some incline in the forest, a raised forest-ridge, and looking below, away from the trail they had focused on previosuly, Kadarin could now see a rather grim structure amidst an overgrown estate of some kind. A granite and timber keep, complete with stables, and what looked like kennels to the side. The latter was empty of dogs, but a horse's whinny could suddenly be heard from the former.
    
    Kadarin stared, but no movement or other sound could be heard. It was as if the whole place was abandoned, except for the one horse apparently, though Kadarin could not see the creature at this angle. Lichen fought for living space with ivy everywhere he looked.
    
    A mere three-hundred yards away or so, though getting there through the brush would prove tiresome, he knew.

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