_________________
Andrew Fryar: Cordor's Folk Hero
Bobrin: Eccentric Avenging Executioner
Lyle Torrowfire: Retired badass
Marigold Cobcruncher: Perceptive Priestess

With a swollen cheek, a hurting jaw and a shield still kept close to her side Maera was gripped by new grief as Sarah locked the gates. Her pain had nothing to do with the now closed doors, her eyes held back tears of a different nature. Her mind had gone back to her dead mother and the gruesome look of her slain father’s body. She felt sick, tired, hungry and above all else depressed. What was she going to live for now?

She looked around at the others, ragged, hurting as she was. No, no one knew her pain. The dumb, ugly Bruton had even had time to entertain thoughts of going back to slay the gigantic skull-helmed creature that had fancied the orc blood in his veins.

Maera felt alone in a sea of children. Where were the days she knew how to smile, laugh and sing with her friends and the people of the Dales? Everything had turned into a nightmare over the span of a few days and she had no way of escaping it. Her heart felt as if it would die of heartbreak or fear. Though considerably more calm now her hand shook with the memory of her terror.

She placed a hand to her stinging cheek and waited to see what trials awaited her. Unshed tears gave her green eyes a glossy look. She had held them in so long she didn’t know how to release the tension again. They had seen so much death and blood she truly felt…

…innocent no longer.

The flames shot out of Isaac's hands, battering the large goblin along with Raven's frosty spell and Bruton's sword thrust. They even licked at Bruton, eating away at him as well as the goblin, though that was not Isaac's intention. Still, he could not take that all into account: fire had just erupted from his hands! He had to remind himself, "I dont know how to do bloody magic!," over and over, but it changed nothing. The bolt of frost, and now the burning hands... that's all it could be. It was arcane, and flashy, and... magic.

........................................................

As the gates closed behind him Isaac felt neither secure nor open. Their was a neutrality in the change from being in a deep, dark cave filled with goblinoids to the quiet openness of the forest in Caraigh. It was hard to describe the feeling. John got it, as did Bruton, but the girls didn't seem to understand.

Out of the frying pan and into the oven... he had heard his mom say that before. It didn't sound good.

John's eyes darted around the outside world, as the lock on the gate clicked shut he knew the same dread as he had in the goblin caves, he was trapped again. Wither this entrapment was a product of hostile actions, was still yet to be seen, but he didn't trust the girl. He didn't trust the goblin skulls on the pole near the gate. He didn't trust the ruins of the village nearby, nor the tower he could see in the distance. John was a product of a dangerous life, a life of abuse, constant danger, and unfair treatment. He, perhaps more then the rest, knew that grown-ups could not be trusted completely, and so he held his bow tightly in one arm, ready to fight should he need to. His mind wandered back to earlier in the caves.

John had many oppertunties to run and get out himself, perhaps leaving the children to their fate. He believed he could easily avoid the goblins, though his biggest fear by far was what to do outside the cave. Unlike many of the children he was born in a city, he knew his city like the back of his hand. He was at home in cramped quarters, and the bustle of the people. Outside, he was not. He had no idea where to start. All he could do was look around. The world outside scared him even more then the threat of being eaten, even more then the goblins, and even more now then any adult. The dark, the cramped area's, this was his element. The tree's, the wide sky's, animals and other threats. These where not his element.

As the door to the cottage began to open John nodded to himself. This, people possibly being of harm to him. This was his element, this he could deal with. This he could do alone, and needed nobody else. He held his bow tighter with new courage. When this was all over, and he was older. He would return to these caves, he promised himself, and like the heroes in the stories he heard, he'd kill that damned goblin for ever thinking to harm him.

Freedom! Open air! Woods! Not the woods Bruton knew however. He thought back a few moments and was wary. It took five of them to kill a goblin. Here, though, stood a girl who not only would have had to have killed some goblins, but left no corpses behind. This didn't slip Bruton's notice. Everything leaves a corpse, after all, but all that remained was a dusty ash. This was not right, and it sure as the hells was not natural. Regardless, only the other boys seemed to get that something about the new comer was... off. "I guess this is how damsels get into distress." he muttered as the girls kept up with the new comer. As they trudged towards the mysterious house, Bruton tried to keep his mind off of the eerie feeling that was shaking him and in doing so his mind began to race.

It went to dark thoughts. He had killed. Only a few goblin corpses fell to him, but he had killed. This was not something his mother's bedside tales had prepared him for. The rush of adrenaline was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time. These hadn't been mindless cattle, these were creatures with a degree of intelligence. Goblins could speak, they did speak, even the injured one he had to silence was speaking right up until he got behind it with the sword they had taken and snuffed out the last of his life's breath. These images haunted his mind, replaying in the back of it. It spoke to the feral side of him, the Orc blood coursing through his veins. This caused him to shake his head, as if to throw the thought from his mind. At least they had survived. However unlikely the odds, they had managed to survive. And that would be enough, for now.

Raven felt as if she could not even focus her eyes; the air smelled so much better in the forest, though, than it had in the dark confines of the cavern. She took deep breaths of it, but the smell of the woods, though a different wood than she was familiar with, made her think of her mother, and that hurt deeply. She knew her mother must be dead, or she would not have been captured. Only over her mother's dead body would her princess be taken.

The boys thought she trusted this little girl; it wasn't so much that she did-- she too had been startled by the girl's stillness, and wondered how she stood unharmed and calm in the same caverns which had nearly been the death of her and all her other young companions-- but that she WANTED to trust her. She wanted the grandmother to be good and not something scary, and the stew that was promised to be real stew, and the hearthfire to be a place of safety. Powerful wishing can make a weary child trusting, despite evidence to the contrary. But, still she was terrified.

Was this over, now? Now ahead only lies a journey back to her father in Cordor (he must be worried sick!), or so she is hoping beyond hope.

Impressed with Maera for what appeared to Raven to be steely nerves, and an ability to frighten a goblin, she stayed close to the young half-elven, though she loved every single one of those boys that had helped her to live through that cave, simply because they had all survived it together; all had fought and all had survived. It made her love every child in that cave with her.

For her own part, she was thankful her pixie Trielle was with her still, and surprised that her magic had been so helpful, though not as surprised as Isaac--for he didn't seem to know he had any abilities til his fear and stress brought them out--and in spades! Fire from his hands! Raven had shown a few small abilities that her parents commented on, so she was a bit more self-aware. Only she hadn't known she could send frozen energy to hurt something, or to make an electric shock that did the same. That was new. She only hoped she would live to see the days when her father would send her to the Monolith to learn more. She choked and teared a bit, thinking of her father, wondering if he knew what had happened along their journey to her beautiful mum.

Brun'hul's nose wheezed a bit when she breathed in, and then she snorted. The cottage of her and Billy's saviors was dark and uninviting. The atmosphere and circumstance worried the human boy more than it did the orc-blood. She squatted unsteady, breathing heavily through he mouth now.

Since the two had left the goblin cave and were picked up by Sarah and her grandmother, the hours had been passively tense. There was a low sense of trouble something, but Brun found herself distracted by an illusion of strength she'd been deprived with since birth. It didn't matter if it was comparative strength, since the goblins were dying and Billy was suffering a broken arm. SHE was living, and she survived. The old clan in Caraigh would be embarrassed to know they had been so wrong, and that flawed assurance fueled her.

She wheezed again, and Billy fell his head, nervously. She was beside the chair he huddled in, staring at the door. Sarah was home, and the new kids had arrived.

_________________
Andrew Fryar: Cordor's Folk Hero
Bobrin: Eccentric Avenging Executioner
Lyle Torrowfire: Retired badass
Marigold Cobcruncher: Perceptive Priestess

*John stared at the dwarf with a hard look on his face. The lad from south cordor, brought up on the dirty streets of that city, had taken his fair share of beltings from people, as well as abuse. One more, at the hands of a surely dwarf, would be nothing to him. He didn't regret his choice to try and kill the dwarf, citing that to not resist captivity would be worse still. He would not be taken easily. The boy was already sporting a concusion from the first blow to his head after attempting to shoot the dwarf at point blank range (God knows how he missed), and he knew more abuse was to come. John's concern for his following children was suprising to him most of all, they had rescued him from the cellar, and he felt beholden to them. He didn't like this feeling, but welcomed the uncustomed comaradiery. He knew however that once this debt was paid, he would start thinking of himself once more, and only himself. For now however, he needed them still, as he had in the goblin caves.*

Isaac reeled from his blow to the chest. His fire, which had so deterred the goblins, had done little to even attract the dwarfs notice. What stood before them was a true warrior, acclimated to the situation he was in. No matter what the children would try, it didn't seem to work against him. But to survive a goblin cave, only to wind up in the home of a disembodied mage was one thingl; to survive that challenge and live to see a dwarf prepared to enslave you was another. His mother had always told him that if something happened once, it was unlikely it would ever happen again. If it happened a second time, it was sure to happen a third...as Isaac saw it, the fates foresaw something better than a smelly dwarf and slavery in his future.

Maera felt exhausted. Her adrenaline level was finally plummeting to a halt and she finally started feeling the immense strain it had brought to her. She looked around at the other children and only felt a void of loneliness in her stomach. She couldn’t rely on anyone, they were just as puny and helpless as she was and her heart ached for the sight of her father then shattered at the thought of his corpse, littering the muddy ground beside their camp.

Her mind was slowly ceasing to function, it was too much for it to grasp and hold on to. Soon enough she became driven by instinct alone, she no longer cared what came out of her mouth, or went in it for that matter, so long as it seemed to satisfy the necessities of the moment. When food was brought to them, she reacted like any starved animal would and stuffed the apple turnovers down her throat with little care.

Although the pain in her stomach ceased, her heart was close to giving in. Everything in this situation seemed wrong, and as to confirm her forming suspicions, John came down and told them of the blood trail he had seen on the house’s next level. All of her hope died with this revelation, she had wanted to hard to believe they were finally safe and that she could rest.

Being allowed out of the house came as a brief relief but the impossibility of going out weighed heavily on her being. She wanted to leave and leave fast, with powers given by food she could run again.

Being turned into a rat came as a painful punishment. She could feel the smell of dirt under her whiskers and see the immensity of the hound before them through beady little eyes. Panic gripped her and she tried to run, to somewhere, anywhere, even attempting to jump too high for a small mouse and fall captive to the mighty hound. As the beast caught her she felt the terror of certainty of death, but she was released, only to remain petrified by the shock of continued life.

The hound wasn’t a hound at all, but Sarah’s grandmother, and Sarah wasn’t a little girl, but an old powerful sorcerer named Argyle. There was no reason left in the world for Maera when a dwarf came to the house and was freely invited only to present himself as a slave trader. Half of her wanted to just go along with whatever he said, half was still too shocked to be alive to not take any further risk at all.

Her falling Morningstar was useless against him, none of them could harm the sturdy dwarf who had fallen the old woman and chased away the illusionary form of Argyle. With blood seeping from her mouth and a tooth in her hand, Maera was defeated and crumbled next to a tree. She couldn’t fight this battle any more, her hands were too small and too sore to keep holding on.

So she let go and abandoned herself to despair. She was at the mercy of the dwarf.

Every inch and even millimeter of fight went out of Raven when she heard the sound of that belt and saw the dwarf unharmed and angry by all their attempts to stop him. She had been sure that together, they could knock him down and get away. But seeing the other children knocked down, bloodied, bruised, and battered, and that her rallying cries had made her the focus of his wrath, she broke. She threw herself to the ground behind the stone well, crouched into as small a ball as possible, her arms protectively over her head, and braced herself.

She could hear the other children pleading on her behalf, but now she knew it was her turn to get hit.

_________________
Andrew Fryar: Cordor's Folk Hero
Bobrin: Eccentric Avenging Executioner
Lyle Torrowfire: Retired badass
Marigold Cobcruncher: Perceptive Priestess

This was to be the end. Nine years of life, all to go into some deep pit and most likely get blasted by some sorcerers trap. Not like Isaac had much of a choice. On one side was the dwarf waiting in the tree, watching all the children as they carefully went about his ordered task. The other side....Argyle. The mage had taken dark interest in Isaac, even going so far as to pursue the dwarf and purchase him, along with Raven and Maera. They were to be... consorts... or something; he hadn't a clue what that meant. And it had something to do with Isaac, who's head was going to be hollowed out for the sorcerer to take over his body....

It was either the dwarf or the sorcerer. His life wasn't assured either way, but taking the dwarf was a whole lot better than living with his soul cast away. He decided to dig.

And Maera was never to be trusted again. She had been so eager to go with the mage. The very same mage that would take his body and keep her and Raven for slaves. That was unforgivable, even to the small child with a dying flame of innocence flickering down.

It had been a long night for Raven. She'd fallen asleep, though the rest was all too brief, holding a half-orc child's hand, and with Isaac's hand on her back. They were huddled together like the frightened rabbits they were.

Her hope had been leeching out of her slowly but surely, bleeding out of her with every blow the children received, with every attempt to free themselves shattered. It was . . . hopeless.

She was furious with Maera for being so quick to sidle up to the mage who wanted to use Isaac's body to house his own brain, and then use both the girls to be wives of sort--she wasn't sure exactly what all that meant, but she knew she was too young to be a wife and too hateful of this mage to be content with him in any respect. She understood Maera's fear, that is for certain, and even her instinct for self-preservation, which she too felt kicking like a little rat in a trap, but it seemed cowardly to her. Not that she felt much braver. It seemed she and Maera took turns being completely despondent and the "brave one." It was an odd dynamic, and even stranger that she had enough energy to notice it. But then, when your brain is being fed near-constant adrenaline, a lot of things run through it, even if you're tied up and sitting around doing nothing-- perhaps especially if so.

She had taken up her little dagger to assist with the digging, though her hands were unaccustomed to any hard work and she was doing a miserable job of it. Still, she wasn't going to be shot by that dwarf's crossbow; not if she had any breath left in her body to do something about it.

She agreed with Isaac: better the dwarf than the mage. At least the dwarf wanted them in tact while the mage was going to do away with Isaac's brain--and thus Isaac. But it still wasn't a good choice. Not a good choice at all.

However, since there was nothing she could do at the moment, and since the physical labor of digging felt better than doing nothing and thinking madly while stuck still, she was grateful for the moment that she was alive, that the other children were alive, and that they were still together.

She did not know how long that would last. And her tears fell in the dirt as they were digging.

Maera was exhausted, she’d barely had a moment’s rest since the night that changed her fate. She couldn’t think, everything hurt, the world was becoming a big haze. The only thing she could see was the immediate benefit of anything. The mage seemed kinder than the dwarf, she was convinced he could be persuaded to just let them go. It was a fool’s hope, but that was all that she carried. She could even serve him for a while – not as a wife, the concept didn’t even stick to her- but as a servant, and do whatever it was they did.

Her mind hurt thinking about it, so she stopped. She held onto a thread of loyalty to the mage because she believed he was their salvation, however improbable. Although ever muscle in her body rebelled against the thought of digging to get to his laboratory she did dig. There was nothing else to do, and stopping meant death.

The earth gave way eventually and they pulled the trap door up. There was nothing certain to see below from where she was looking, just a big void of nothingness and uncertainty, much like this entire experience. All she wanted to do was drop into the pit and break her neck and have all this agony over and done with, but fear stopped her once again.

The expectations and actions were simple, and Brun'hul decided not to question them. The smack to her face still stung, and her lip swelled further, but she could not help but be vocal, even if no one fully understood. For her, it was strange to be around humans. The children seemed to accept her more than her tribe and other, older humans. It was stranger still to see one just like her, but on the other side. He was raised as a human, with humans, and spoke well. She avoided him more than the others.

Raven and Billy had been her two favorites so far, though she was too distracted to think of them as she continued to dig. What would be in the trapdoor she didn't know, but the expectations were simple and she knew for certain she did not want to get hit again.

_________________
Andrew Fryar: Cordor's Folk Hero
Bobrin: Eccentric Avenging Executioner
Lyle Torrowfire: Retired badass
Marigold Cobcruncher: Perceptive Priestess

Raven--!

Thud.

That was it. The grasp of what seemed like death was instant as the negative energy coursed through her, and then stripped her of life's verve. Or so she thought. The earlier events were crystal clear and painfully sharp. The zombies, the shattering glass, the mind-numbing daze, and the brightness of lights and piles of gold. And then the palpable darkness in the dreaded environ.

Brun'hul laid on the ground, scarcely breathing. Though the pitiful half orc did not want to admit it, the unnatural feel of the place she was in was frightening. It was the nightmare, born from maddening circumstance and uncertain fear.

She did not look up. Not from lack of ability, but from sheer reluctance to see anything around her.

_________________

"The world takes and takes, even things that aren't offered. Finally, it gave us something back; I wish he was here to share it with me."

Isaac awoke in the new place while under a dazed stupor. He looked around for anything familiar. It was so clear. Everyone was there. John, Bruton, Maera, Bil-...Wait...No Billy. Everyone was there except Billy, and of course the mephit, Wallace, was nowhere to be seen. But even odder....was the fact that Brun and Raven were there plain as day. He thought to himself:

"They are dead. They can't be here.. where is here?"

He jumped at the constant pounding of thunder. He saw nothing but black around him, and felt nothing as if darkness was all there was to feel.



What had happened? It was all a blur.. they had entered the compound, and met up with Argyle, who seemed as useless as ever. He told them to find his brain, and to bring Sasha, his kitty, to it to be destroyed. Also, to bring the undead to the celestial cage, so that they too would be destroyed. Isaac had no clue what an undead was past the stories, but he wasnt interested in finding out.

They descended through the compoud, coming upon a zombie, and leading it down another floor where it disintegrated under the gaze of a celestial avenger. The giant bear headed creature treated the children with kindness, sharing with them a want to be freed. He assured them he would do away with Argyle if they could only free him from his magical prison; he also shared with them that the "kitty" was a skinned panther that was none too happy...

They descended further, until they came upon a mephit. He claimed to serve the master. Little did Isaac know at that point that he was the master, and that the creature would serve him as the "new" Argyle. Isaac, not a stupid child, took to this chance quickly, and sent Wallace to his bidding.

Down into the depths of the earth the little children descended. They came upon a series of halls... and eventually.. Sasha....

"Lead her to the Master's brain, Wallace!" Screamed Isaac. The Mephit, ever eager to please, flew off into the central chamber, trapping the poor panther there. Isaac and the crew then moved to find the way to release the Celestial: he had told them of some crystalline orb to be destroyed. Wallace lead them to the study, where the crystal ball was held, and after some deliberation, Brun leaped to destroy the offending sphere.

They ventured back outside the study into the face of Argyle. The mage was none too happy to hear a Celestial was charging down his stairs, but what could he do about it? He was just an illusion. The Celestial ran up and did away with him much like his wife had a day earlier, and then dealt with the trapped Sasha, until moving to the room where Argyle's brain waited in suspension...

...But nothing went as planned...The illusion, powerful now in the near proximity to its source, dismissed the Celestial and turned to the children. In a fit of desperation, Isaac called to Wallace for an answer to their problem; how were they to stop him? He told them simply to break open the glass...Easier said that done... Raven charged, and was struck down by Argyle. Brun loped up fiercely before she too was taken down in a blur of spells. Two sat dead then, and with a final comment from the mage, one which Isaac barely heard, the rest fell down into a deep slumber....

_________________
Nysor Shorshanis: A squirrel in his own right
Solrend Inignus: The Kossuthian cleric who is "hot, but not in that way"
Adin Twitterleaf: Crazy elven trickster.
Isaac Kley: Young gimp of a sorcerer.

"I am dead," was the first thought through Raven's head as she opened her eyes to see nothing but intense blackness. But were all the children dead, and still together? She sensed them all near. What had happened? Where was she?

Her mother had always told her that she had her father's temper, and that it'd be the death of her, and so it seemed to be; for she foolishly had tried to run past the powerful mage to destroy the huge vial which stored his brain, and then, the horrible crushing feeling, as if very life was being squeezed out (apparently, this was indeed the case)--though it was mercifully quick--and then, nothing. But now, this. What--is--this?

She tried to open her eyes wider as if it would help her see, but only jumped as she was startled by the loud noise of the thunder around her.

For now, she had had enough. She lied back down and closed her eyes in the darkness, thinking that there was nothing left to do but sleep.

_________________

This was all so odd...

First, being in Argyle's dream, only to find that you're stuck on a dark day 30 or so years in the past. A short time before Argyle's "death" even. Not only that, you found Wallace... but a Wallace that did not know a cruel master. All he knew was of the masters glory, and what he planned to do. It was time to kill a dark necromancer, and this was to be the site of the battle.

Wallace told the children to find Argyle about recruitment, and off he went to find his wife, Diedre. The children came upon Argyle, fully armored, and carrying a sort of bewildering might. This Argyle had a powerful goodly aura around him, and talked kindly. It was... odd... but you spoke with him. You told him about the "current" Argyle, and what he planned to do to you all. Strangely enough, this younger Argyle believed you, and ventured to help you...

...there was little help to be found in the current Argyles dream. And as he slew his wife, who he had dragged into the dream along with the children, and turned to the kids, all hope seemed to vanish... Yet Argyle offered something. Life. For the two who had died and for those who still remained. Something had possibly awoken in him. Maybe a bit of his old self had gotten to him. It didn't matter: you didn't trust him, and you went along with his words because you had no other choice.

You escaped the so called "Dreamscape" you went about the task Argyle had set you to. You brought Wallace to you, who once again called you the master, and ventured to find a scroll, sea salt, and a jar. You gathered these key items and returned to Argyles brain, ready to summon forth a familiar Celestial to bring back your friends.

After much deliberation and anxiety, you set Argyle to the task of reading the summoning scroll, though he had little luck. You yourself had to summon a celestial to do your bidding! It was wonderful! Brun'hul and Raven rose weakly, and some happiness found its way to your clouded heart. But there was still the mage, watching patiently...

"Ill kill him!" the celestial roared! "..Wait," was all you could say in response. He had helped you, and brought you this far. And he had promised to do away with the oppressive dwarf. You couldn't just let him die. The rest of the children agreed, and even though John had scurried off, you set about a new task. You... rather unceremoniously, gathered the mage's floating brain into the salted jar, and set about the compound to the surface. Mage brain in hand, Celestial in tow, and a radiance flowing from a magical sword Billy had located and given to Bruton, you made your way back to the rope, and back to the clear air of the surface. And as you looked up through the opening, some sort of peace came back to you; despite the dwarf, despite the deaths, despite your loss...

Innocence was lost. You knew that when the Celestial had spoke: "This is something for grown ups to handle, child," and all you could respond was: "Ive no childhood left in me."

_________________
Nysor Shorshanis: A squirrel in his own right
Solrend Inignus: The Kossuthian cleric who is "hot, but not in that way"
Adin Twitterleaf: Crazy elven trickster.
Isaac Kley: Young gimp of a sorcerer.

It was good to be alive again, along with Brun, but it was even better to be with all of her friends, in her own body again, looking up to what seemed like a good prospect. They were toting along Argyle's brain, something she tried not to think about, but Raven was confident now that Argyle would be able to help them get rid of the dwarf-slaver, and help them along their way home.

Home-- what startled her about the other children was that some of them did not have a home to go back to, or that they did not want to return home. The concept of other children living in such circumstances that they don't want to go back there was a brand new one to Raven, who had always had a nice home and good parents, and had had nothing significantly go wrong in her life until the fateful day her mother was struck down on their way to take some goods to sell in Bendir Dale and she was taken by the goblins.

Since then, it had been a nightmare, but one in which she hoped to awaken--at home, safe, in her own bed.

To find other children who did not want to go back home was shocking to her. She wondered if her father would let her bring them all back home with her. John was a human, and he didn't want go back home. Brun was a half-orc, along with Bruton, and she didn't want to go home either. She wanted to be able to have her father provide for them all once they got out of all of this and got home. She would have to try.

Once they got out of all of this, that is. She looked up the long hole to the beach above. It starts here. She took a deep breath, and climbed.

_________________

_________________

The wind whipped through Raven's dark black hair and she closed her eyes, enjoying the cool seabreeze against her face as she stood on the deck of Maiden's Virtue, a ship that would forever serve as her salvation in her young and impressionable mind. It was zipping her and the other children to Cordor, where she would soon be home-- HOME!-- a place she feared she'd never see again, and to her father's open arms. She could not wait.

What was more surprising to her was that all of the children had made it as well, and that they had done so well. The one loss they had suffered though was sore to her heart, and she still cried about it when she thought of it-- how Bruton had part of his brain sucked out by that horrible Squidface captain of the slaver boat, and that he would never, never be the same. Captain Melody said that they were going to a temple, and they would try to help the boy, but she was not too hopeful.

She remember with tears how Bruton was always so protective of she and the other girls, and how he always tried to cheer her up when she was afraid or upset. She wondered now if he'd even be able to talk, but his eyes followed her whenever she moved around him and spoke to him, holding his hand.

They had made it, and they were heading home. Well, to her home at least. Some of the other children had opted to become part of Captain Melody's crew, including Maera and John. It seemed Isaac and Brun were thinking about it too, although she dearly wanted them to stay with her and her father once returned to the safety of Cordor.

If she had more of an adventurous spirit in her, she might have joined the crew too. But all she wanted right now was to be home, to be safe, and to be a child again-- to get back her former life.

She didn't know if it was really possible, but she wanted to try. She wondered if someone had been able to find and raise her mother, or if it was just going to be her and her father now. She bit her lip, trying not to think about her mother and that loss--for she dared not hope her mother was alive after that goblin attack.

But for now, she'd had a bath, she'd had several meals, she'd had a place to sleep and sleep she did, and she was heading home. At the moment, it was enough.

_________________

The gulls cried lightly in the night air as Isaac looked out past the bow of the Maiden's Virtue to his first view of Cordor. He would stay with Raven there for a time, he thought; get his mind straight, and then perhaps take Captain Medley up on her offer.

His home in Longsaddle was a distant memory, and the sight of his dead mother was all but wiped from his memory. Too much had happened...

..and before he even knew it, years had passed. The goblins, and Argyle, and the dwarf: all gone. He knew Cordor like it had been his lifelong home, and he was a sailor with a mouth among the best of them, when he chose to use it. Otherwise, he was quiet, with a leisurely, pleased smile across his face.



What more could he want? He has life. Sure, he had a permanent limp as well, and an abnormal fear of goblins and dwarves, but all people have their problems.

Isaac Kley

This young man wears a slight smile at all times across his pale face. He isn't anything special: he looks normal, and he keeps to himself. He sure can talk fast when he's pushed though.

Hes often seen with a Mephit, Wallace, whom he considers to be one of his few true companions, among those who lived the same tragedy he did. He doesn't like talking about his fears, or his condition, but... who knows? He may just tell quite a tale if you ask.

He used to a youngling with a spark of the Arcane... and, boy, has that spark grown!

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Nysor Shorshanis: A squirrel in his own right
Solrend Inignus: The Kossuthian cleric who is "hot, but not in that way"
Adin Twitterleaf: Crazy elven trickster.
Isaac Kley: Young gimp of a sorcerer.

She wasn't sure where Isaac was, but knew he'd find her at the pier where the Maiden Virtue was docked in about an hour--well, less time now. She had hurried to Cordor, her now-fully-grown, though still youthful, legs carrying her at a rapid pace to the cart drivers and into the city, a purse full of more gold than she'd seen put together at once (her father did well, but he kept most of his coin in a bank)--thanks to John, of course. A hasty decision indicated she'd need money fast and Isaac had already left to tell her father that they were going to set sail with the Maiden, and in an hour's time, no less!

She was both surprised and touched that John had given her gold, and what seemed to her a large amount of it! She knew John was very much into tangibles; he was not prone to any displays of affection and seemed to have no innate ability for sentimentality. But gold, gold was a language that she knew John spoke, and so she was especially touched by his generosity. Of course, he tried to hide it away a bit, making a joke that she should spend it on some tight-fitting leggings, but she knew that he meant well by it.

It was so wonderful to see her friends again; the only ones not there were Bruton and Maera. Raven noted John still bore a grudge against Maera. And Billy-- Billy, with his permanently-maimed arm-- he had surprisingly turned into a womanizer, it seemed! The thought was a bit laughable to her, having known him as a sweet and shy child, but she noticed he still had a sweetness to him. That was probably what made him so effective a flirt now--he had some subtlety and sweetness; altogether a more sneaky and dangerous type of flirt. Brun was still Brun, and Raven was delighted by it. She loved Brun as a sister. Some might find it odd-- this small and delicate sorceress with an enormously messy half-orc who was strong as an ox-- but it didn't matter; they didn't know what they had all endured together. It made a bond that was not only strong, but deep. And then there was her Isaac. Wallace, as usual, had embarrassed her to pieces blurting out that she and Isaac had "sucked face," so now the other children-- well, no longer children-- the other friends, knew that they were still sweet on each other. It was odd; she hoped Isaac didn't mind, but she felt the same love for him as she did for all the other children-- bah, that mistake again! She loved all of her friends. She was in love with all of the boys, and loved the girls as her sisters, though everyone bore some grief or animosity for Maera. But Raven forgave; she understood the fear that had made Maera just a bit too willing to abandon them to save her own skin. She could not bear the same grudge for Mae as John or some of the others.

She overheard John and Billy (well, it wasn't as if they were trying to be subtle); when they were all gathering items and preparing to board within an hour, Billy asked John if "he had the girl," --in other words, if he was going to make sure that Raven had what she needed and made it aboard all right. And John answered that "despite his daydreams, Isaac has her," but that he'd make sure she was safe and got what she needed for the trip. She didn't know how to feel about that. She didn't wish to be considered Isaac's property, despite that she loved him. She was young-- was her fate to be set for her already? She resolved to stay true to herself and her heart, and to continue to love her friends, and see how all unfolded.

In the meantime-- she was at her house, and went inside to tell her father and gather a few items before she had to rush back to Uhm and board the ship.

"Da?" She called as she went inside. She found her father, sitting at the table, some bread and a mug of ale in front of him. His huge black beard turned upward in a smile to her, which eased her worry that he would be upset at her leaving-- for Isaac had gone on before to talk with him.

"Raven, is it true? You're leaving with the Maiden's Virtue? Isaac just left here."

"If it's all right with you, Da-- I-- my friends are all there, and the Captain is a very good woman, very honest and true, and sails around to try and help people."

"I just--I never thought you had it in you!"

"What do you mean?" Raven looked surprised, and a little worried.

Her father got a broad grin, however. "I was afraid you'd stay here locked inside this house the rest of your life-- never to leave these doors 'less you had Isaac leading you out!"

Raven's porcelain face, a picture of tragic beauty, looked grief-stricken. "I--" she started and stopped, as she so often did, so often finding a hole instead of where her courage used to be.

"No, no, it's good, my lil bird. I WANT you to go. I WANT you to be free of--" her father stopped, looking at her stricken face. "No, ya little fool, I don't mean I want to be rid of you! It's just I want you to be happy. I want you to find your courage again. I think this'll be good for you. And you'll be among friends-- a reputable ship and captain, Isaac'll be there to watch out for you-- this is a GOOD thing!" He paused and added, "But of course I'll miss you; but you'll be back to see your old man, I'm sure of it! All of ya-- and we'll have a huge fine meal together, eh?" He was putting on his own brave face at his lil bird leaving the nest.

"I love you, Da," Raven flew into his huge, strong arms, muscled as they were from his work at the forge, and he cradled her lovingly.

"I love you, too, lil bird. You be a good girl, now, and have a good time, eh?" he wiped a tear discreetly away as it travelled into his beard. "Go get yer stuff together-- come on, I'll help ya pack."

"John gave me money to get some supplies!"

"He did, did he?" Her dad looked impressed. "Run off and go buy what he told ya to get then, and I'll pack yer bag here. Come back and get yer bag, and I'll walk ya back to the cart-driver. --Hey" He stopped and looked at her. "Yer'll write me, yeah? Let me know yer safe?"

"Of course, Da." She smiled and wiped her own tear.

"Then get going, yer going t'be late!" He grinned at her from ear to ear, and she rushed out the door, purse in hand, to buy what she needed for her new adventure into the unknown-- though this time, she hoped it would be more on her own terms.

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Isaac found himself in quite the predicament. Despite being hasted, and walking... well, limping.. as fast as he could to Cordor, speedily talking to Raven's father to persuade him to let her go with the crew, and proceeding to speed walk back, he still wasn't going to make it within the hour!

"...Comon Isaac...You need to get there. You just cant let her go off alone like that!" He practically started to get to a normal man's running speed, which was quite the accomplishment for the long injured mage. He walked, and walked, and walked, but Uhm was still a great distance away: "Shouldn't have tried to save a few coins by skipping the boats...Valkur, speed my way..."

Then he stopped. There was no way to reach it in time.

Not walking.

Last reports of Isaac in the frontier placed him flying across the terrain, sparks shooting off his body in an arcane fit. His words and body seemed to blur together as he ran despite his injury, whisking out spell components to further haste and strengthen himself for the journey. And after what seemed an eternity to him, he stood before the docks in Uhm.

"Rawlins, I damn double-timed it here," He started as his practiced speech fell away to a sailors broken jargon, producing his well worn staff and leaning on it for a breath. His body produced a frantic magical aura, the young sorcerers inner power venting away from his tired body. "Ya know I can't row. Lemme get in tha' boat, and well get on're way."

Rawlins simply looked him up and down. "Competent mage indeed. Get yer ass on that boat. We hafta discuss that coin ya owe me."

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Nysor Shorshanis: A squirrel in his own right
Solrend Inignus: The Kossuthian cleric who is "hot, but not in that way"
Adin Twitterleaf: Crazy elven trickster.
Isaac Kley: Young gimp of a sorcerer.

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I keels u with my axe!

"Do ye know where the Holy-Flamin' Frost-brand Gronk-slayin' Vorpal Hammer o' woundin' an' returnin' an' Shootin'-Lightnin'-out-yer-bum is?"

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Get Ready for It
Forum lurker.

Raven made it back to the ship in time, but just barely. She had a small bag full of what seemed to make sense to bring along-- a nightgown, a hairbrush and other hygiene-related niceities, a few changes of clothes, as many bandages and other useful items as she could stuff in, a book or two, the box she always kept her keepsakes in-- all right, so it was a small bag, but it was stuffed to the seams, and a bit heavy. She blushed as Rawlins threw it into the rowboat with a grimace and a comment.

Once aboard the Maiden's Virtue again, she stood with her bag, peering over the edge. She caught John looking at her with a peculiar expression once she was aboard, and then watched as he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck in his usual gesture, and then just went about his business. She looked around for Isaac, but didn't see him yet.

"Brun? Where's Isaac?" she asked the half-orc, but she must have been speaking too quietly because she wasn't heard by the half-orc as she heaved about the ship, getting ready to leave the pier. Finally, she spotted him-- Rawlins and he were rowing up quickly, the last of the crew coming aboard. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing him. "He made it," she said under her breath. "Thank the gods."

She smiled at him radiantly as he came aboard, and nodded a thanks to Rawlins.

The captain started hollering orders for raising the anchor, and she realized with a sudden burst of excitement that they were on their way.

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