The Spires Of Morning rose from the ground as would giant mountainous peaks to greet the dawn. Emalia and Colin stood on the stairs, Tamilyn having gone to quickly seek some sort of sale for some sort of item that Emalia nor Colin had some-sort-of seen. Emalia's heart grew so full at the mere sight of the temple, tears welled in her eyes as she stared upward. She was truly at a loss for what to do next. Even though going in (which Colin suggested) was the obvious choice, to whom would she go? She had set of on a journey with no idea of a destination other than the name of some far off temple.
Emalia had come to the realization that this would lead to the discovery of her own path and the directions to the Temple of Light, when a halfling boy bowed before her. Delighted at the little one, she bowed to him. Rose colored robes that were pleasant to the eye adorned him, though with his near 2-foot-tall stature, they seemed a little large. "Do you live here?" Emalia asked. She easily could have ascertained the information based on the myriad of beings clothed in similar garb, but for the sake of formalities, she obliged herself.
The halfling boy nodded and gestured to the temple, then to his obelisk. The answer was undeniable. "I'm looking for a place and need directions from someone. I thought I might find them here."
The boy wasted no time, drawing forth a pad of parchment and a quill. With practiced hand, he shot out a note, holding it to Emalia. It read, "What do you seek, Child?"
'Child?' Emalia thought. There were only two beings in the whole of the realms that referred to her as such. Jayden and Grobnak. It was a little disconcerting, but she pressed on, chalking the verbiage up to the fact that he was surrounded constantly with priests. "The Temple of Light. I am trying to find it, or even where to begin."
The quizzical gaze from the boy assured Emalia that she had mentioned a name unknown. The note shot up again, "There are many temples where you might seek Lathander's divine wisdom. Which one do you seek?" "I'm not really sure. I just know I need to get there."
At the sound of Colin's frustrated sigh, Emalia looked to him. Her attention went back to the small follower as another note was thrust into her line of sight. "The greatest temple of all lies within. Only by listening to The Voice within can one make such a journey." "What is 'The Voice?'"
Emalia was suddenly confused and rather embarrassed. She found herself biting her lip, as always, when she was on the verge of making some choice. In this instance, she was on the cusp of making for Westbridge to rethink her whole purpose, when another note was shown to her. "Do you seek renewal? Rebirth?" "Well, it is what The Apprentice would wish of me, isn't it?"
The boy, obviously knowing of whom she spoke, hastily penned another note: "I am here to guide you, but you must take the journey." "It is why I am here." "You," the next note read, "are not prepared."
From behind Emalia's shoulder, Colin's baritone voice offered up an objection. "Wait a minute... how is it you are here to guide her? How did you even know she would be here?"
A gaze clouded the young halfling's face as he pointed to a spot several feet from Emalia - clearly intimating that Colin was reading notes that were not meant for his eyes.
"I'm sure it was the doing of The Apprentice, Colin. He saved me in the ocean, too."
"Well, it was my thought that Tamilyn saved you. But at least she had a valid reason for knowing you would be there."
The boy pointed to the scars that ran over his face like a web and thrust a note toward Colin while Emalia stared to the ground. The two seemed to banter with one another, one using a voice, the other using a quill, both using swords. "A halfling that doesn't talk... that is your guide? Oh, no offense."
The halfling child held up another note, "He stands before you and blocks the way." Emalia glanced at Colin, obviously contemplating the same conclusion. She chewed at her lip nervously, and when the boy reached into his robe, Colin moved in front of her, putting his arm out protectively.
Emalia couldn't fathom what might have gotten into Colin. Here this hulking frame of a man had lept in front of her to protect her from a boy that seemed no more capable of harming a cat, let alone either of them. "He's a boy, Colin. He's obviously not going to hurt us."
As Colin lowered his arm, a note was thrust upward that both he and Emalia could see. "You have no Faith." "He doesn't need to believe as I do. I respect that." "See," Colin interjected, "and I respect her beliefs."
Without further baiting, the boy held up a note to only Emalia's eyes. As he held it up, he pointed to himself. "Nephesh." "I am Emalia, and this is Colin..." "This is ridiculous." Emalia watched as Colin threw his hands up and walked away. She lowered her eyes and looked back at the small boy.
"I'm sorry, perhaps the trip has him cranky. We did come a long way here, most of it he spent in the cargo hold. It's a long story." "He seeks to lead by following," Nephesh's note read. "No, that's not possible. He is only here by happenstance, nothing more." "It is your journey to make."
Emalia looked back at Colin, seeing him standing with his arms crossed, but much more composed. Was it possible that Colin had been sent as a test by The Apprentice to determine her Faith? Should she send him home? "What should I do?" "It is the path of a guide only to aid," the note detailed. "The journey is your own to make. Seek the wisdom of the Dawn." Nephesh looked at Colin for a moment and held up another note. "He needs to listen." Nodding, Emalia walked over to Colin and placed a hand on his arm. "Colin, do you think you could try, for me, to just... listen?" "I'm just wary of this person, that's all." "I'm not. You shouldn't be either." "I'm listening.. or reading, whatever."
Conceding that it was all she would be able to get, Emalia returned to Nephesh. The boy seemed to be somewhere else but before Emalia could question it, a sound like a thousand voices whispering in unison echoed in her mind. "YYOURRR FFAITHTHH ISS SSSTRONNNG, MMMORRTALL..." Emalia dropped to her knees, her hands reflexively going to her ears. She stared upward with reverent wonder on her face. Colin gripped her shoulders in worry, kneeling at her side, asking her what had happened - but Emalia only spoke, eyes welling with tears, that He had spoken to her. "Him."
Emalia rose to her feet, suddenly resolved to her course. She knew that she was meant to be here and knew there was a reason all these things were coming to pass. She knew most of all, what she was doing was right. Without any consultation with Colin, or any input from Tamilyn, Emalia agreed that they should stay in the Temple for the night.
Nephesh then offered a note to Colin which Emalia could see. "I can speak with the captains at port if you desire another cargo hold." At that moment, Emalia could see Colin's jaw tense. He looked in that instant that he was going to grab the tiny figure and dash the life from him. She could not explain it, and the fact was, Emalia had never seen the sort of anger that flashed over Colin like an arc of lightning.
Emalia watched contemplatively as Colin turned himself from the child. She looked back to see a note before her, "Your friend has no Faith. Those you once called kin know only Sin. Such is our path."
"Yes," Emalia began quietly, "I'm beginning to see that. I just wish he were different from all the rest. I would truly like to find a companion... but it looks ever more as though it is not to be."
With a reminder in the form of a note of her purpose for coming, Emalia took in her breath and buried her sorrows. It was time to let go of thoughts of companionship and love. For those things, she was fast deciding, never panned out. Faith, however, was going to find her a way on the path of life, and with or without anyone at her side - she was going to start walking.
The Master's Words
Nephesh awoke to the sound of scuffling feet. He'd overslept... again. Hadn't these humans ever heard of morning naps? They always wanted to wake at dawn and gather to worship. He understood the symbolic importance, but his body rebelled. It hadn't gotten any better during the past two winters, either. Why did they subject him to this torment?
Dragging himself from his bunk, the halfling boy lethargically donned the oversized pink robes the other priests had bequeathed him and joined the shuffle of feet to witness the rising sun. The sight filled him with awe, as it always did. The dramatic shapes of the clouds contrasting sharply with the colors of the dawn brought him - and all true Lathanderites - to his knees in worship. There were times he thought he could hear music when the day was still new.
He'd learned many things since Grobnak had sent him here. Once, he'd thought the orc a traitor to Jenova, but time had taught him differently. He missed the intelligence behind those eyes. Few could understand what drove that creature: Fear, Self-hatred, and a desire to become more than what he was. Nephesh was uncertain whether he should pity the beast or destroy it. The beast, however, had become his adoptive father... and liberator.
Time passed in meditation as Nephesh tended to the various chores he'd been assigned in the temple. It never ceased to amaze him how limited humans were: As a halfling, he could reach into smaller crevices than they. He got some of the more intriguing jobs as a result.
It was further into the day when he was called into the new Rector's personal study. He was expecting another reprimand from the old man for stealing something he hadn't - did everyone believe that that was the only thing halflings were good for? – but instead the old man had a message to deliver, in the form of an old scroll.
Nephesh stood by and silently listened to the aged priest prattle on about the destruction of the Realms and how the Jenovese were evil, and that it was against everything Lathander stood for, for nearly three hours before he was finally given the scroll containing his master's message. Gods, how he missed the kindly old woman who'd run the temple before; at least she had been one of the Faithful.
Unrolling the gilded vellum, Nephesh's brown eyes raced over Grobnak's hastily jotted script. It seemed a simple enough task: keep her on the path and beware the strangers she traveled with. Walking over to a censer, Nephesh threw the scroll into it, observing the cloud which suddenly billowed forth - in the likeness of the girl he sought: Emalia.
Dragging himself from his bunk, the halfling boy lethargically donned the oversized pink robes the other priests had bequeathed him and joined the shuffle of feet to witness the rising sun. The sight filled him with awe, as it always did. The dramatic shapes of the clouds contrasting sharply with the colors of the dawn brought him - and all true Lathanderites - to his knees in worship. There were times he thought he could hear music when the day was still new.
He'd learned many things since Grobnak had sent him here. Once, he'd thought the orc a traitor to Jenova, but time had taught him differently. He missed the intelligence behind those eyes. Few could understand what drove that creature: Fear, Self-hatred, and a desire to become more than what he was. Nephesh was uncertain whether he should pity the beast or destroy it. The beast, however, had become his adoptive father... and liberator.
Time passed in meditation as Nephesh tended to the various chores he'd been assigned in the temple. It never ceased to amaze him how limited humans were: As a halfling, he could reach into smaller crevices than they. He got some of the more intriguing jobs as a result.
It was further into the day when he was called into the new Rector's personal study. He was expecting another reprimand from the old man for stealing something he hadn't - did everyone believe that that was the only thing halflings were good for? – but instead the old man had a message to deliver, in the form of an old scroll.
Nephesh stood by and silently listened to the aged priest prattle on about the destruction of the Realms and how the Jenovese were evil, and that it was against everything Lathander stood for, for nearly three hours before he was finally given the scroll containing his master's message. Gods, how he missed the kindly old woman who'd run the temple before; at least she had been one of the Faithful.
Unrolling the gilded vellum, Nephesh's brown eyes raced over Grobnak's hastily jotted script. It seemed a simple enough task: keep her on the path and beware the strangers she traveled with. Walking over to a censer, Nephesh threw the scroll into it, observing the cloud which suddenly billowed forth - in the likeness of the girl he sought: Emalia.
The Spires of Morning
Emalia was happy to finally be back in the small cabin of the ship. Even though it had seemed like a long trip, it was soon enough to come to an end.
The next day and a half passed quickly and Emalia soon found herself staring at the gigantic walls that made the city of Waterdeep. She couldn't believe the myriad of people that bustled within and without the walls, carts, horses, guards, beggars, vendors, food, goods... colors and sounds were everywhere. She suddenly realized she was more than grateful to have people with her on this trip: she barely had the courage to step off of the docks.
Tamilyn finally finished her goodbyes, and lead both Emalia and Colin into the city. Emalia looked all around her, astounded at the magnitude of everything around her.
She wasn't disappointed when they stopped at last, in front of the temple devoted to Lathander.
The place was all that Tamilyn had said and more. Huge spires rose up from the ground and the multitude of buildings and priests left Emalia with her mouth, once again, agape. Never had she expected to find something so big. As she stood before it, she realized that she had no clue where to begin.
The next day and a half passed quickly and Emalia soon found herself staring at the gigantic walls that made the city of Waterdeep. She couldn't believe the myriad of people that bustled within and without the walls, carts, horses, guards, beggars, vendors, food, goods... colors and sounds were everywhere. She suddenly realized she was more than grateful to have people with her on this trip: she barely had the courage to step off of the docks.
Tamilyn finally finished her goodbyes, and lead both Emalia and Colin into the city. Emalia looked all around her, astounded at the magnitude of everything around her.
She wasn't disappointed when they stopped at last, in front of the temple devoted to Lathander.
The place was all that Tamilyn had said and more. Huge spires rose up from the ground and the multitude of buildings and priests left Emalia with her mouth, once again, agape. Never had she expected to find something so big. As she stood before it, she realized that she had no clue where to begin.
Port Llast
The day was at its end when the ship finally arrived at the docks in Port Llast. Emalia gathered her things and walked out onto the docks. She had no idea that it took so many people - men (very burly, suntanned, and grinning men), to sail a ship. With her pack on her back, she ducked her head and walked down the boarding plank and onto the dock. "Don't forget we leave in the morrow, lovely. 'For the sun comes up."
"Oh... I, appreciate that. I'll be back well before then."
The tanned sailor grinned down at her from the bow of the ship, showing a distinct lack of teeth. She turned away quickly and walked into the city, biting her lip. Here was the place where she bought lemonade for Hellstrom. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. No time to think of that. She was here to get provisions, then get back on the boat (hopefully avoiding any more leering) to get herself provisions.
Emalia walked into The Alliance Arms, the very place she had gotten the gift for Hellstrom. No one recognized her as she picked up a glass of water and downed it. "Do you sell food?" "Oh hon," said the wench, "we don't sell food here. We got farmers for that. Besides, sailors don't come in here for the food." "I see." "You know... you could get a job here if you're looking for one. I'm sure you'd make a lot of money for this place." "No... thank you."
"Oh... I, appreciate that. I'll be back well before then."
The tanned sailor grinned down at her from the bow of the ship, showing a distinct lack of teeth. She turned away quickly and walked into the city, biting her lip. Here was the place where she bought lemonade for Hellstrom. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. No time to think of that. She was here to get provisions, then get back on the boat (hopefully avoiding any more leering) to get herself provisions.
Emalia walked into The Alliance Arms, the very place she had gotten the gift for Hellstrom. No one recognized her as she picked up a glass of water and downed it. "Do you sell food?" "Oh hon," said the wench, "we don't sell food here. We got farmers for that. Besides, sailors don't come in here for the food." "I see." "You know... you could get a job here if you're looking for one. I'm sure you'd make a lot of money for this place." "No... thank you."
Treacherous Divination [WARNING: Graphic Content]
Some time had passed since Grobnak's encounter with Auril, and he'd felt remiss in his duties to The Apprentice as he'd ordered everyone to gather their things and put the search for the missing Sunite on hold. They'd had some intriguing findings, but no real leads as to Keldon's whereabouts. The encounter with the frigid goddess still plagued his thoughts, the words of her warning still echoing in his mind: You shall be betrayed. By who, and when? It seemed so long ago that it had happened.
He had performed the strongest divination spells that he knew, yet they yielded nothing of what was to come, save that the traitors would be from the church of Talos. That made no sense to him. Destroyers fighting against the Church? They were the strongest supporters of the Jenovese: they of all people sought the fall of the RoK the most. Still, it rang in his thoughts, and the Voice had remained strangely silent until tonight.
"Sseek yyourr counssell, Apposstlle. Thhe watterss of Rrebirthh, aand thhe bllood of tthe pplannet hholld thhe aansswerss youu sseek." The sinuous message from a thousand souls speaking at once rang from within his mind; images flashing in quick succession before his eyes. The divination ritual had been lain bare before him, yet another work of great magick given to him as a reward for his Faith. Quickly, Grobnak fell to his knees to offer praise to The Apprentice for this vision, and to ask for the Elder God's favor on the ritual to come. He would lay there, kneeling in prayer for hours to come, seeking the wisdom of the gods, and the power to do what needed to be done.
As Grobnak prayed, other Chosen of The Apprentice gathered together in the Haon'Dor forest, outside of a hamlet in the Elven Village. For hours they waited, listening to the soft gurgles of an elven infant, and occasionally the high-pitched whine as the child cried. There was no doubt as they waited: the child's life would be sacrificed for the greater good. There was no room for traitors in the Church. They, too, had heard The Voice. They knew what was needed. The child would not be forgotten by The Apprentice. When The Rebirth came, the child would once again be granted a chance at life. When that chance came, the child would be grateful for the fact that his doom didn't lie hanging over his head. Consoling themselves with this knowledge, the Chosen waited, patiently studying the residents of the village.
Others still gathered within the Jihad Compound, hearing the instructions of The Voice, preparing the ceremony for their Talosian leader. Silently at first, they lit the incense within the Chamber of Vows, then began chanting the arcane words called for in the ceremony. Three men left the room in three directions, still chanting the quiet dirge, only to return moments later. One bore an empty tub of silver; the other two plain chalices filled with fluid.
Night fell quickly on the infant's hamlet, and the Chosen acted quickly. Garbed in clothing enchanted to keep their movements silent and invisible, they crept upon the small home, their cracked and scarred faces shining dully in the moonlight. In one deft motion, the leader of the troupe dispelled the protective enchantments protecting the entrance, and snuck within. Another man, straggling behind the others, made silent gestures in the air, manipulating the Weave to prevent any noise from escaping the small home. The struggle was brief, and within only moments the elfin child had been procured. Again, the Chosen consoled themselves with the necessity of the task before them. After the Rebirth, this child would learn to be grateful.
After rising to his feet once more, Grobnak donned his priestly vestments and ventured out into the Chamber of Vows. All was prepared, as it always was when The Voice spoke these days. In some ways Grobnak missed the days when he had only The Voice for company, and others thought him mad. Still, solitude and prayer were privileges he had grown accustomed to, and he had no desire to give either of them up. Stepping heavily into the Chamber, Grobnak inhaled the Vapors, clearing his mind of all thought but that of his Faith, and his desire to see The Rebirth. Stepping before the small silver tub, he uttered the words that would begin the ceremony, "Vitalus donae, judas divinus torael!"
Their voices now threadbare whispers, the Chosen who had begun the chant hours ago stepped forward, the litany still fresh upon their lips. Another Chosen entered the Chamber from the south, the elfin child wailing as he cradled it in his arms before lowering it into the tub laying at the center of the room. Two others also stepped forward, dabbing viscous brown and black fluids on the child's limbs and forehead in the shape of arcanic runes before dumping the contents of their chalices entirely into the tub. The changes in the child were visible as his limbs blackened and the skin cracked in red welts wherever the fluid touched.
The chalice bearers left the room as the other Chosen continued their husky chant. Grobnak began the invocation as they came and went, several times over to empty their cups into the tub. Soon, the infant's screams were silenced as it was submerged and began to die. At the culmination of the ritual, as the child's heart beat its last, Grobnak looked down upon the pool, tears of self-loathing in his demonic eyes, to view those who would betray the nation of Jenova. There, flickering in the brown and black waves above the child's face, were the images of Violent and Wermidon bowing before Talos himself. Grobnak reeled in shock despite his mental preparations for the worst. A fellow Council member and leader of Talos' church! He could never have been prepared for such a devastating blow.
As if sensing Grobnak's presence through the passage of time, his deity seemed to smile at him through the images. Indeed, Grobnak almost felt as though, at the back of his mind, he heard a voice whispering of purging the weak among the Destroyers, though he wasn't certain. The images held before him, as each of the Chosen stepped forward to get their own look at the traitors. Then the images moved forward in time, granting their audience a vision of Wermidon taking a journey, another of Violent seeking him out, and still others of those who had Fallen from Salvation.
Sensing the fading power of the ritual, Grobnak turned a fleeting thought to Emalia and her whereabouts - and whether or not she, a Guardian, could really believe The Truth without betraying the Jenovese to the pressures of her old life. The images flickered and swirled, showing a hazy outline of the young girl on a ship headed toward what appeared to be the sun, accompanied by two others.
A final image appeared before the scene ended; an image of a rose-colored building surrounded by clergy garbed in similarly colored clothing. A Temple of Lathander. Was this the journey she had intended to make? Her image had been unclear. From this, Grobnak knew that any betrayal in Emalia's heart was not yet certain.
Yet she was being attended to by strangers. Grobnak frowned in thought. Action had to be taken.
The Chosen who had spent the past few hours performing and preparing the ritual were already dissembling. They also knew that steps had to be taken against this new threat, and were preparing to do so. Turning to one of his attendants, Grobnak whispered an order to her in a fervent hiss, "A contingent is to be sent to the Forest of Destruction at once! Send only those who follow both the Storm Lord and the RoK. More eyes are needed there."
Passing a small, rectangular ornament to the blistered woman, he continued, "See to it using my seal, Child. You must also return to my chambers within the hour for a message, to be delivered to Nephesh Vishara. His aid is needed in another matter." Grobnak thought of the small halfling slave he'd bought at the Westbridge Pawnshop a two years ago, and what had become of the mute Lathanderite. To think that Emalia was headed toward the very temple he'd sent the boy to only a year ago... . To give him such a boon, surely even Tymora was smiling upon him today.
He had performed the strongest divination spells that he knew, yet they yielded nothing of what was to come, save that the traitors would be from the church of Talos. That made no sense to him. Destroyers fighting against the Church? They were the strongest supporters of the Jenovese: they of all people sought the fall of the RoK the most. Still, it rang in his thoughts, and the Voice had remained strangely silent until tonight.
"Sseek yyourr counssell, Apposstlle. Thhe watterss of Rrebirthh, aand thhe bllood of tthe pplannet hholld thhe aansswerss youu sseek." The sinuous message from a thousand souls speaking at once rang from within his mind; images flashing in quick succession before his eyes. The divination ritual had been lain bare before him, yet another work of great magick given to him as a reward for his Faith. Quickly, Grobnak fell to his knees to offer praise to The Apprentice for this vision, and to ask for the Elder God's favor on the ritual to come. He would lay there, kneeling in prayer for hours to come, seeking the wisdom of the gods, and the power to do what needed to be done.
As Grobnak prayed, other Chosen of The Apprentice gathered together in the Haon'Dor forest, outside of a hamlet in the Elven Village. For hours they waited, listening to the soft gurgles of an elven infant, and occasionally the high-pitched whine as the child cried. There was no doubt as they waited: the child's life would be sacrificed for the greater good. There was no room for traitors in the Church. They, too, had heard The Voice. They knew what was needed. The child would not be forgotten by The Apprentice. When The Rebirth came, the child would once again be granted a chance at life. When that chance came, the child would be grateful for the fact that his doom didn't lie hanging over his head. Consoling themselves with this knowledge, the Chosen waited, patiently studying the residents of the village.
Others still gathered within the Jihad Compound, hearing the instructions of The Voice, preparing the ceremony for their Talosian leader. Silently at first, they lit the incense within the Chamber of Vows, then began chanting the arcane words called for in the ceremony. Three men left the room in three directions, still chanting the quiet dirge, only to return moments later. One bore an empty tub of silver; the other two plain chalices filled with fluid.
Night fell quickly on the infant's hamlet, and the Chosen acted quickly. Garbed in clothing enchanted to keep their movements silent and invisible, they crept upon the small home, their cracked and scarred faces shining dully in the moonlight. In one deft motion, the leader of the troupe dispelled the protective enchantments protecting the entrance, and snuck within. Another man, straggling behind the others, made silent gestures in the air, manipulating the Weave to prevent any noise from escaping the small home. The struggle was brief, and within only moments the elfin child had been procured. Again, the Chosen consoled themselves with the necessity of the task before them. After the Rebirth, this child would learn to be grateful.
After rising to his feet once more, Grobnak donned his priestly vestments and ventured out into the Chamber of Vows. All was prepared, as it always was when The Voice spoke these days. In some ways Grobnak missed the days when he had only The Voice for company, and others thought him mad. Still, solitude and prayer were privileges he had grown accustomed to, and he had no desire to give either of them up. Stepping heavily into the Chamber, Grobnak inhaled the Vapors, clearing his mind of all thought but that of his Faith, and his desire to see The Rebirth. Stepping before the small silver tub, he uttered the words that would begin the ceremony, "Vitalus donae, judas divinus torael!"
Their voices now threadbare whispers, the Chosen who had begun the chant hours ago stepped forward, the litany still fresh upon their lips. Another Chosen entered the Chamber from the south, the elfin child wailing as he cradled it in his arms before lowering it into the tub laying at the center of the room. Two others also stepped forward, dabbing viscous brown and black fluids on the child's limbs and forehead in the shape of arcanic runes before dumping the contents of their chalices entirely into the tub. The changes in the child were visible as his limbs blackened and the skin cracked in red welts wherever the fluid touched.
The chalice bearers left the room as the other Chosen continued their husky chant. Grobnak began the invocation as they came and went, several times over to empty their cups into the tub. Soon, the infant's screams were silenced as it was submerged and began to die. At the culmination of the ritual, as the child's heart beat its last, Grobnak looked down upon the pool, tears of self-loathing in his demonic eyes, to view those who would betray the nation of Jenova. There, flickering in the brown and black waves above the child's face, were the images of Violent and Wermidon bowing before Talos himself. Grobnak reeled in shock despite his mental preparations for the worst. A fellow Council member and leader of Talos' church! He could never have been prepared for such a devastating blow.
As if sensing Grobnak's presence through the passage of time, his deity seemed to smile at him through the images. Indeed, Grobnak almost felt as though, at the back of his mind, he heard a voice whispering of purging the weak among the Destroyers, though he wasn't certain. The images held before him, as each of the Chosen stepped forward to get their own look at the traitors. Then the images moved forward in time, granting their audience a vision of Wermidon taking a journey, another of Violent seeking him out, and still others of those who had Fallen from Salvation.
Sensing the fading power of the ritual, Grobnak turned a fleeting thought to Emalia and her whereabouts - and whether or not she, a Guardian, could really believe The Truth without betraying the Jenovese to the pressures of her old life. The images flickered and swirled, showing a hazy outline of the young girl on a ship headed toward what appeared to be the sun, accompanied by two others.
A final image appeared before the scene ended; an image of a rose-colored building surrounded by clergy garbed in similarly colored clothing. A Temple of Lathander. Was this the journey she had intended to make? Her image had been unclear. From this, Grobnak knew that any betrayal in Emalia's heart was not yet certain.
Yet she was being attended to by strangers. Grobnak frowned in thought. Action had to be taken.
The Chosen who had spent the past few hours performing and preparing the ritual were already dissembling. They also knew that steps had to be taken against this new threat, and were preparing to do so. Turning to one of his attendants, Grobnak whispered an order to her in a fervent hiss, "A contingent is to be sent to the Forest of Destruction at once! Send only those who follow both the Storm Lord and the RoK. More eyes are needed there."
Passing a small, rectangular ornament to the blistered woman, he continued, "See to it using my seal, Child. You must also return to my chambers within the hour for a message, to be delivered to Nephesh Vishara. His aid is needed in another matter." Grobnak thought of the small halfling slave he'd bought at the Westbridge Pawnshop a two years ago, and what had become of the mute Lathanderite. To think that Emalia was headed toward the very temple he'd sent the boy to only a year ago... . To give him such a boon, surely even Tymora was smiling upon him today.
Divide and Conquer
Throm rubbed the day old growth of stubble upon his chin thoughtfully. Taking the letter back from Jayden, he stood back from the pool glancing upwards in contemplation. 'On one hand, I can understand and respect a person's request for solitude. On the other hand however, this "if I live" part within the note does not sit well with me.' Flicking the letter with his index finger he put it carefully within his inner pocket. 'Usually I could count on my magic to locate those I wish to find, however if Hellstrom does not wish to be found I have no doubt he has taken measures to ensure that divination will not allow him to be followed.' Looking down to the resting man in the pool, he nodded as if in agreement. 'I agree with you Jayden, it would be most unwise of us to attempt to change the path which Emalia has chosen. Forcing our beliefs on her would only serve to drive her away from the Guardians, we have not the right to do so. However she too must be found, especially in light of events of more recent nature. Just because we won't be trying to change her mind, doesn't mean we can't keep an eye out for her whilst she holds the company of Jihad. Meanwhile, perhaps I can persuade you to join me in search of our Hellstrom?'
Murmuring a thanks to Jayden, he drew Taryn eastward into the library. After uttering a small incantation, a small lamp illuminated the darkened room giving both of them, light by which to see. In attempts to lighten the air, Throm allowed a small smile to escape his lips. 'That's it...once we get everyone back together no one is allowed to leave the clan hall.' Shrugging slightly he scratched the back of his head, turning to face his friend. 'Hellstrom has most likely retreated into the forests where he is most comfortable. Though the woods are not necessarily my most comfortable of areas, we shall begin our search for him there. Any words of wisdom as to where would be the best place to start?' Drawing a deep breath, Throm leaned upon the chair next to him.
'And then there is Emalia. Though there are no signs that she is in danger I fear it would be foolish of us not to keep tabs on her for the present time. I care not which deity she should choose to follow, however her safety is of course paramount. Can you find her trail and ensure her safety?'
Murmuring a thanks to Jayden, he drew Taryn eastward into the library. After uttering a small incantation, a small lamp illuminated the darkened room giving both of them, light by which to see. In attempts to lighten the air, Throm allowed a small smile to escape his lips. 'That's it...once we get everyone back together no one is allowed to leave the clan hall.' Shrugging slightly he scratched the back of his head, turning to face his friend. 'Hellstrom has most likely retreated into the forests where he is most comfortable. Though the woods are not necessarily my most comfortable of areas, we shall begin our search for him there. Any words of wisdom as to where would be the best place to start?' Drawing a deep breath, Throm leaned upon the chair next to him.
'And then there is Emalia. Though there are no signs that she is in danger I fear it would be foolish of us not to keep tabs on her for the present time. I care not which deity she should choose to follow, however her safety is of course paramount. Can you find her trail and ensure her safety?'
Night Thoughts
Emalia heard the door close as Colin left. She let out a small huff and pulled the covers up to her chin. She stared upward into the darkness, coming to several conclusions and wondering many things.
Colin had been by her side this whole time – even when she didn't want him there - he was. Part of her was quite irritated at his lack of trust in her - the way he followed her anyway even when she asked him not to - but still, he had come to save her.
The boat rocked in slow motion, lurching upward to rise over a swell, then dipping downward ever so slightly as it slipped to the other side. Soon they would be in Port Llast, the journey to begin, and both Colin and Tamilyn would be with her.
Perhaps it was time to realize who her true friends were - those that didn't hate her, or her choices... but those that stood by her even when they didn't agree (and didn't tell her not to talk about it), and those that continued standing by her while she followed foolish impulses in manners of love.
Already, the trip had proved to be enlightening. She had found a friend that respected her even with her choice, and discovered someone that had been right in front of her all along. Hopefully, the trip to Lathander would start her along to the Temple of Light.
With that thought, Emalia wondered about Grobnak and how he was doing. She sighed and closed her eyes, her thoughts melding into her dreams as she fell asleep.
Colin had been by her side this whole time – even when she didn't want him there - he was. Part of her was quite irritated at his lack of trust in her - the way he followed her anyway even when she asked him not to - but still, he had come to save her.
The boat rocked in slow motion, lurching upward to rise over a swell, then dipping downward ever so slightly as it slipped to the other side. Soon they would be in Port Llast, the journey to begin, and both Colin and Tamilyn would be with her.
Perhaps it was time to realize who her true friends were - those that didn't hate her, or her choices... but those that stood by her even when they didn't agree (and didn't tell her not to talk about it), and those that continued standing by her while she followed foolish impulses in manners of love.
Already, the trip had proved to be enlightening. She had found a friend that respected her even with her choice, and discovered someone that had been right in front of her all along. Hopefully, the trip to Lathander would start her along to the Temple of Light.
With that thought, Emalia wondered about Grobnak and how he was doing. She sighed and closed her eyes, her thoughts melding into her dreams as she fell asleep.
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