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A Series of Mildly Inconvenient Events.

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Jamie Kilner
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PostPosted: Sat May 10, 2014 4:43 pm    Post subject: A Series of Mildly Inconvenient Events. Reply with quote

In the middle of the night, a large, statuesque silhouette appeared before the Sanctuary's gates. With a simple dagger, it pinned a parchment to one of the great wooden doors before dissolving back into the night as quickly as it had come. Come morning, the parchment would be discovered, covered in a familiar looping hand. The letter was addressed to one of the Scathachian Sisters.

It read:

"My Lady Sheryl,

"I apologize for making myself scarce, but I've been out, looking for the rest of the missing relics of Scathach scattered across the land. I've been frequenting local pubs and inns, listening to travelers, seeing if I could glean any information from them. After a time, with nary a sign of luck, I was about ready to give up.

"But then I met her. At first I was horrified as I looked upon a beast from the fiery depths of Hell itself, a creature of the great adversary, Satan, himself. I was tempted to strike at that very moment, to smite her with God's righteous wrath, but as she approached, she held held up her palm and in her other hand, an arrow?but not just any arrow, but an arrow decorated with runes familiar to your order.

"She claimed she had reason to suspect that it was from the quiver of your goddess, having heard that I was helping you seek out these relics. She said to me that if I was interested in more, to come to her manor, Ame Corrumpue. Then she left.

"Cautious, taking heed to bring as many holy symbols as I could to protect myself from her corruption, I went to her manor. It is a sinful place, full of lewd imagery and sexual perversion. It's filled to the brim with whores. But, desiring her information, I crossed myself, murmured a few prayers, and went in. When I met her in her gallery, she dismissed her whores and began to discuss the arrow she discovered.

"Apparently she has a sister she's been searching for for some time, lost to her years ago, and among her expeditions she discovered the arrow. She claimed it seemed to turn and point in a particular direction whenever she laid it down and demonstrated. At first I was worried it would point to your island like the Compass, but instead it pointed somewhere inland. Her theory was that it was possibly pointing to the quiver and the rest of the arrows therein. She then offered it to me, without a price. It seemed unusual behavior for a being such as her, and while suspicious, I took the arrow and left her den of sins as quickly as possible.

"So now I write you. I'm off to find the quiver and hope to be back to you as soon as the quest is finished. I caution you against following, for if this evil being knows this much, she may have tipped of your enemies, the priests of Bhaal, to the quiver's whereabouts.

"Stay true,
Sometimes the worst things in the world can feel so good....
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Sheryl Resendei
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2014 4:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The left top corner of the parchment looked as if it had been partially digested by a goat. Sheryl's fingers had toyed with that edge, rolling it between her fingers over and over as she reread Roland's note for the seventeenth time. She was sitting in the gardens to the rear of the Sanctuary and had been for some time now, quite honestly she'd not moved since she'd been given the letter that had arrived for her. The gentle sea breeze that moved over the fragrant herbs and floral blooms was lost on her. The scholarly Scathachian was not in the mood for her scrolls or books or tending to the medicinal gardens. Not since Roland's note.

As she sat on the straight marble bench, her back against the sun, she rolled the worn corner of the parchment once more, staring blankly across the courtyard. There were several things that bothered her about his correspondence. First, if he was on some official work for the Scathachian Temple, why had the note note been addressed to Isuelt (though she was secretly elated that Roland was so thoughtful as to inform her before Isuelt)? And while she knew that Sir Roland Gravois was more than capable of taking care of himself, she felt helpless in not being with him. What if he needed a translator? An expert in Scathachian lore and mythology? Or a companion at the very least? What if some terrible harm befell him and she was not there to aid him? What if that witch, that necromancer happened upon him? What if she was in pursuit of him? How could Roland watch his back and look for the relics at the same time if he were alone? And yet, was he truly alone? Who was this demoness who had offered her aid? An arrow from the fabled quiver of Scathach herself? Who would give up such a prize without expectation of payment? From Roland's description, she sounded as if she could be a succubus or worse, something evil out for his soul!

The parchment's corner was nearly worn to the threads; still, she continued her pondering.

And what of the Bhaalites who were sure to be sniffing about, perhaps closing in on the knight at this very moment? Could Roland survive and escape if he were completely outnumbered and surrounded by evils and magic most foul? How dare he run off and not tell her...not take her! Sheryl carefully clapped a hand to her mouth as she fought the fear rising in her. If something happened to the knight, she would never forgive herself. Something must be done. Her shoulders sank in a mournful exhale. He had told her not to follow...but what could she do? Every fiber in her muscles wanted to jump up and run after him, in search of him. And every instinct in her wanted to scream in the terror of what may befall him.

She was no fool. She knew that this man was contracted by Baron DeMuer to be Isuelt's knight. To be here at the Temple to help protect their Sanctuary and its priestesses. But she'd become extremely fond of Roland and through their lengthy discourses on philosophies, religions and culture, she'd come to crave his company on a daily basis. And there was no telling how long this quest for the Quiver would take...or even if he would return at all.

Sheryl, the stout scholar, the holy priestess, was beside herself with worry. And this was something she was not used to in the least. She felt as if her hair were on fire, as if her skin was two sizes too tight, as if her teeth would scream aloud if she opened her mouth. Her fingers still played upon her lips as she closed her eyes and prayed silently. "M?thair Sc?thach, le do thoil seo a threor? ridire maith ar ais go s?bh?ilte. Cuir cabhr? leis ina rompu agus ard? air thuas cont?irt. Cuir M?thair, a thabhairt ar ais chugam."

Sheryl sat for some time alone in the gardens until her shoulders felt a chill. The sun had set behind the roofline of the Sanctuary and she knew what she must do. She had to inform someone. She had to bring the note to Isuelt, fretfully worn corner and all. Isuelt would know what to do. The young priestess stood up, her light hair hanging in curls past her shoulders as she turned around and went inside, making her way to Isuelt's chamber.

*Mother Scathach, please guide this good knight back safely. Please aid him in his quest and raise him above danger. Please Mother, bring him back to me.
It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.
-Dolores Ibarruri

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
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PostPosted: Wed May 28, 2014 9:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Isuelt's raven eyebrow, had it been any higher, would have blended seamlessly into her hairline. "Sheryl..." She began with a heavy sigh as she pushed away the remains of her lunch and leaned back to more fully regard her Sister and her plea. Isuelt's tongue ran along her teeth slowly as she carefully chose her words, "...please understand that I realize how passionately you feel about this....topic." It was the pause before the word 'topic', or perhaps it was the way she put emphasis on the word that made Sheryl feel uneasy about the exuberance with which she had brought this news of Roland's private quest to her attention. Sheryl hoped that Isuelt had not seen through her veiled concern or feelings for the knight.

The Scathachian leader was reclined at the long farm-style table in the kitchens of the Sanctuary, the other priestesses (save Sheryl) had been dismissed shortly before Isuelt began her response to the young blonde's request to go in search of Roland. "Sheryl, I am not about to let you of all people go running on some wild goose chase." She looked at the young priestess to make sure her point was honed. "Roland is a knight of the Order of Saint Aldwin, who came to us on the highest recommendation from Baron Alain DeMuer. Do you not think he can take care of himself?" Another pause for poignancy's sake made Sheryl shift in place. "Do you not think that he could handle things before he came to us? Please tell me you do not think him in need of saving?"

"No, I just--"

"Then why go running off after him? You? Do you think I have forgotten who you are Rhiannon?" Isuelt purposefully used the Scathachian name that Sheryl had been donned with upon her initiation; the name that was so underused. "Sheryl, you are the only biological daughter of our High Priestess and I will be goddess damned if something happens to you under my watch. Got it? Got it?"

Sheryl nodded slowly. Isuelt was not fooling around. This was not the Isuelt that most of the city knew, this was the Isuelt that Sheryl knew as her toughest teacher and hardest critic....besides her own mother, that is.

"You are to stay within the confines of the Sanctuary, especially after your last sleeve of adventures with Sir Gravois." Isuelt's dark lashes narrowed at her younger counterpart. "I'm serious, Sheryl. Please."

"Yes, Deirfi?r," Sheryl used the term of respect for her elder and bowed slowly to Isuelt then turned to leave the kitchen.

Isuelt watched Sheryl's back, blonde curls springing against it, until she had turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. A heavy sigh followed as she then eyed the remnants of her lunch. Isuelt was no stranger to the yearn for adventure, nor the yearn for a man. Still, Sheryl was too young and naive in her opinion to go running off in some crazy direction and try to catch up to Roland. However, she questioned herself, wondering if she had been too hard on the girl. She had basically sentenced her to imprisonment within the walls here. She ran a hand through her dark hair, pondering. Isuelt finally nodded to herself, sure that she had made the right decision.

Sheryl, however, once she had rounded the corner, moved quickly to her room. There she packed a change of clothes, her chakrams and some money into a leather bag. She wasn't about to stand by and just let Roland toil through his quest alone. A quest that was for her goddess, after all. As she slipped out the side exit, toward the Temple, Sheryl smiled when the sun hit her face. She knew she had made the right decision.
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