As the last hours of the Thinnest Veil slip away, and the night finally breaks into dawn, a silhouette in the corner begins to fade. What once could have been seen is now only a soft chill in the air near the shrine to the Eldest.
And in the morning, the people of New Haven awaken to the bloodstained sand outside of what was once Ebrahim's cabin and make their way to the tavern for their breakfast, and as they do, the only sign that the lonely building might not have been empty is the hourglass on the shrine to Noktal, its sand falling gently. It continues like that as time goes on, and every ten minutes, the hourglass turns on its own, counting the seconds.
Ta'Lina enters the tavern later than normal the next morning. Such a hectic night! She approaches the Shrine she had placed in the tavern for the townspeople to use and starts to remove the burned out candels and put new ones in the basket. She tidies the Shrine and sets all to order for the new day. As she begins to kneel for her prayers she gasps and startles back, losing her balance and sitting hard on her tush. Blinking she watches the sand fall through Noktal's hour glass, now counting the hours after death instead of until... She wonders which spirit is visiting. Speaking softly, "Good spirit, I hope you may find some peace here." Rising and dusting herself off she knows she will need to make her devotions later...now she needs to fetch someone with soul speak...
Wren wanders up the stairs half asleep and in need of coffee. Seeing a startled Ta’Lina and the seated spirit of Ebrahim, she puts the pieces together in her head. Opposite the apparition, she performs her soul speak ritual and prepares to assume her usual role of dead people translator.
(Just type and assume I’m repeating what you type. If I want to jump in with a comment, I will)
As the autumnal breeze blows through their beloved hair, a familiar White Elf sashays in their usual manner across high town to the tavern. As they enter, they pause at the door looking to the shrine. They then move quietly and purposefully to the shrine and seat themselves on the floor facing the seemingly empty air. After a brief ritual, Alaniel offers a polite greeting in hushed tones and begins speaking and often listening quietly for a few hours. This happens every day for the next month, Alaniel, often breaking away from their lockstep by Torrin's side, makes their way to the tavern, sits at the shrine, performs the ritual and begins visiting. If there are ever others present other than Katesh, they politely wait until they are gone and then go.
Unable to sleep from all the memories and emotions of the previous day rushing through her head, Imrie left the tavern in Eudora's hands for the morning while she took some time to gather her thoughts. She aimlessly walked up the road and seeing Ta'Lina enter the tavern followed slowly after her.
Upon entering the tavern however, Imrie haulted in her tracks as her conflicting emotions began to swell. Instead of immediately approaching her sister with her usual enthusiastic greeting, Imrie slid into the corner, eyes dead set on the hourglass in the Noktal shrine, knowing that he was there. Anger and hostility flirted with compassion and sympathy in an intricate dance as the events of the night before vividly flashed through her mind. But the one thing in particular that she could not get out of her head was Katesh's look of horror and pain at the sight of Ebrahim's lifeless body on the ground.
Aleena was sitting in her usual spot, in the far back on a table. Her eyes squinting as furry built up in her body. Her glare was a cut through the air, it was harsh and never broke away from it's eagle glare at the source. Her brows narrowed harshly. Lifting herself to a stand, the wood creaked with every step. She didn't break her seething gaze as she walked purposefully with every single step. Harshly judging the very abomination that stood in that corner, the very essence of Ebraheim that caused all of their horror. She was fuming and shook with livid spirit, she can feel vapors rising in her body from the anger in her and fire was in her eyes... "YOU....." she spewed gritted in her teeth, pointing to the empty corner, "HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR PRESENCE HERE!!" Her voice echoed in rage for all to hear. "Joo MISERABLE CRETIN!! " She grabbed the nearest object in her hands, this alerted to anyone that if they were in her way, things are about to fly. A glass cup smashes in the direction of the hourglass and the empty area. "GET OUTTT!! You filthy MONSTERR!!! That troll, how DARE YOU!! You betrayed EVERYONE HERE!!!!" She looked about with great energy and took another glass discarded on a table and hurled it with all her might at the corner again ----SMASSSSH!!!--- Glass raptured in every direction as the corner was taking the priestess's fury. "EIGHT SHARDS! !!! EIGHT SHARDS WERE LOST THAT NIGHT!!!" she heaved and phanted in anger and wicked white hair off her face, before grabbing the next object, a heavy large bowl. Hurling at the corner over her shoulder to gain momentum. "I've ignored you for far too long!! Verdammt!!!" The heavy metallic bowl spun violently in it's direction but not hitting others. ---SMASSHSHH!!--- "BAPH IS DEAD BECAUSE WE WASTED ALL OF OUR ENERGY RIDDING THAT THING!!" She then rushged over to pick up her own pumpkin and lifted it above her, leaning back and threw it forward at that direction once more adding to the pile. The heavy gourd flew in the air with a whirl, pumpkin rupture up[on impact and with slobbering tendrils and juices flying in every direction haphazardly at the spirit. " You vindictive! WRATHFUL! INSIGNIFICANT CRETIN! JOO
Sohn einer Hündin!!!" she heaved infuriated . She points an accusatory index finger at the apparition shaking in rage at what was once Ebraheim. "I feel no pity against you! Pity you should give to everyone EVERYONE who gave their lives to that war! Pity you should give to the woman you tortured for blood before ze Blood Fae! Unleashing spiders! Locking Katesh in a prison! Turning against us and lying! Pity you should feel for my staff that will smash your life and crack it in half from the Justice of Light I shall inflict on you!!! " she drew closer to the source ignoring others. "You are the WORST THING that has ever happen in this TOWN! Never has anyone inflicted so much damage in all of ze history of ze Exiled Lands! If you DARE....DARE to show up in the flesh! I swearith by all the light and furry of my Eldest I WILL SEND YOU BACK!!" She heaved so much her shoulders shook, swallowing dryly and gazing at everyone. "My eldest is warm and kind! Her light does that, but she also BURNS!! Inil weeped that night for all of us! Seeing someone so Cold, Dark! Wrathful! Vindictive and absolutely Abhorrent to the Core of their Soulless heart! Turn against us at the moment of great need! Even a good loving mother, such as Inil, will not reward a child for poor behavior! " She glared at the apparition and huffed loudly, "You came to 'punish' us that night,...but now sir, it vill be I who shall be punishing you!!! " " In ze name of ze light I will not stand for your shit anymore! Begone you cretin! Stay away from everyone I love! I almost lost so many because of you!!!" Tears formed in her eyes in furry, swelling and remember every horrible second of that fight " Do not dare to show your blemming, carcus, putrid, turd-filled face of a farce before me ever again!! Verpiss dich! Geh zum Teufel !!! YOU COWARD! I will NEVER Forgive you! Stay in hell you rotten fiend-shit!" Taking her staff, she yelled out and stumped out of the way, doing an about-face and began to curse in all sorts of obscenities leaving the tavern. Taking the handle she yelled once more at that corner, " Arschloch!!!" The door slams hard behind her leaving the area.. ---SLAMM!!!--
((Some peeps asked for translations, here you go, whether your character knows Germaic or not, is up to you.)) Verdammt = Damnit.
Sohn einer Hündin = Son of a bitch. Verpiss dich = F*ck off. Geh zum Teufel = Go to hell. Arschloch = Asshole.
The spirit of the young man, looking almost dazed, remains focused on Wren, being one of the few things he can see clearly through the veil, thanks to her ritual. As objects fly at him, he flinches slightly, but after the door slams, he stands, and begins cleaning.
He slowly moves pieces of gourd away from the shrine, and starts wiping away any seeds and juices that got too close to the holy place where he sat. All the while, he turns to Wren, his voice quiet, "Who was that? Did they say anything?"
Katesh sits silently in the opposite corner of the tavern. She watches Aleena’s fury without speaking or even flinching. When the priestess finally leaves, she unfolds herself from her chair and begins seeing to the mess. She mends what she can with a simple cantrip. What can’t be fixed, she wraps in her skirt and disposes of outside.
The handsome bard's head popped out from the kitchen's curtains. The commotion had grabbed his attention, and he always felt compelled to care for Mother Tavern when she endured abuse (be it with broken class, or haunts). He raised a brow and watched the tail of Aleena's response. He whistled softly to himself, in a manner that conveyed he understood the context. Gossip traveled fast, but it traveled none-the-faster than from the lips and ears of bards. Once the priestess was done, Kannoth slid his oddly-agile-for-being-so-encumbered frame from the curtain, and stood straight and proud in his usual manner. He assessed the mess and the scene, and without commentary, he skipped over to help Katesh clean the mess. He even seemed to magically retrieve a broom from a nook. When one mess was cleaned, he turned his attention to the other. Mother Tavern was not a place for a "soft chill in the air." She was not a place for such cold; and the contrast of her spirit and provision couldn't have been any further drawn by the bodies that were murdered within her grasp the night before. Were one to be especially attentive, they would notice dried blood caked Kannoth's worn black leather boots. A blood stain or two also evidenced itself on the ruffles of his weathered cream colored shirt. Perhaps the bard had been up throughout a night carrying bodies instead of tunes. Turning his attention to the others, and looking to the cold corner for but a sobered second, Kannoth walked over to Mother Tavern's hearth, and stoked a fire so full and warm and bright it refuted the notion that cold was welcomed (physical or symbolic).
Percival had been seen very little since Sunday night, having wandered off towards the docks with a candle and his arms full of bottles. He passed Aleena on his way in, knowing better than to ask the source of her foul mood. He sat at the table nearest one set of doors, where he had last sat with Ebraheim, where he had begun to say goodbye. He hardly seemed to notice the cleaning, or anyone else in the tavern as he produced a stein and a chalice, pouring the last of a bottle of Stormcrest mead into both of them. The stein was silently slid across the table to an invisible friend. “I went out to forget, and sing, and perhaps find some sort of peace along the way. I got about... halfway through this bottle, and couldn’t do it any more.“ he took a small sip of the mead. “All the rest are in the lake.“
he intertwined his fingers, looking at the table, speaking to a spirit he was not sure was listening. “I don’t want to forget this. Or you. I need to remember exactly how this feels until I die, until I get to see you under the endless, starry sky. This... failure... is mine to bear, forever. I cannot shirk that burden.“
”There was something I meant to do, you know. Before you passed. I thought we would have more time, as we mortals are so inclined to think, but... well, once the executioners arrived, things moved so quickly.“
”I don’t sing often, but... you deserve a song. To hear, and to remember that you aren’t forgotten. The man you died as deserved no songs, no love, but there was a man within you, a man you could have been, who was so radiant that I could see his light within you sometimes. But... by the end, that light was dead. You killed it.“
”I do not know if I could truly have helped at all. If there was anything I could have said that might have made a difference, helped to break you free of your mind’s prison... I suppose we’ll never know, will we.”
Percival quaffed the rest of his glass, and began to sing quietly, mostly to himself. Halfway through, his voice began to shake as tears rolled down his cheeks.
”Oh, I bid farewell to the port and the land And I paddle away from New Haven’s white sands To search for my long ago forgotten friends To search for the place I hear all sailers end As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind I'll search without sleeping 'till peace I can find I fear not the weather, I fear not the sea I remember the fallen, do they think of me? When their bones in the ocean forever will be Plot a course thro' the night to a place I once knew To a place where my hope died along with my crew So I swallow my grief and face life's final test To find promise of peace and the solice of rest As the songs of the dead fill the space of my ears Their laughter like children, their beckoning cheers My heart longs to join them, sing songs of the sea I remember the fallen, do they think of me? When their bones in the ocean forever will be When at last before my ghostly shipmates I stand I shed a small tear for my home upon land Though their eyes speak of depths filled with struggle and strife Their smiles below say I don't owe them my life As the souls of the dead fill the space of my eyes And my boat listed over and tried to capsize. I'm this far from drowning, this far from the sea, I remember the living do they think of me? When my bones in the ocean forever will be. Now that I'm staring down at the darkest abyss I'm not sure what I want but I don't think it's this As my comrades call to stand fast and forge on I make sail for the dawn 'till the darkness has gone As the souls of the dead live for'er in my mind As I live all the years that they left me behind I'll stay on the shore but still gaze at the sea I remember the fallen and they think of me For our souls in the ocean together will be. I remember the fallen and they think of me, for our souls in the ocean together will... be.”
He wiped a sleeve across his eyes, and walks from the tavern, leaving an untouched glass on the table.
Kannoth watches Percival pass, noting the tears. ... however, there's never a good reason to waste a good drink. At least when it involved Kannoth. Once Percival was clear of the door, Kannoth snatched the untouched glass, smirked to himself, and downed it in full before returning to poke and prod the fireplace's logs.
Kordruk would enter the tavern via the side entrance as is typical for him, less people to deal with before food. once inside he looks around trying to piece together what happened the night before, he had been on watch and heard tales of the events but was still not sure that anything was real. Noting the small frame of his new sister Wren he strides with purpose before noticing all of the events around her and then the hourglass.
"Kannoth, may I have a word? Is mother Tavern hosting a unseen guest to day or did you throw things about?" He would say to the bard trying not to alert others in the Tavern as everyone seems to be in shock and just trying to find a way through this morning.
Kodruck catches Kannoth just as he returns to the cup he downed moments earlier, and peeks into its emptiness to ensure he didn't leave a sip of its deliciousness behind. He then waves excitedly at the dwarf, and with stag-like grace, he prances over to a neighboring table and sites besides the man. Kannoth neatly folds his legs one in the other, adjusts and fidgets with an assortment of leather straps, and then leans in so his obnoxiously loud voice doesn't carry. "You can hard a word and then some. I have many to give. Sometimes people say too many. But words are like cherries. Delicious. And cherries and my words are good for people. I once heard cherries could cure the gout." Kannoth looked around the tavern at Kodruck's note of unseen guests. "I wouldn't throw things about. Aleena was mad. It was her. Something about someone/spirit/ghost being here who doesn't deserve to be, after murdering the town. Wren is the better consult there. I don't talk to ghosts. Just lure them away from the tavern with candy, during the occasional thinning. I think it relates to what I've heard about Ebrahim sending a troll to murder New Haveners. Some of my good friends at that." He sighed for a moment, uncharacteristically sober. "I had to carry some of the bodies. It was not very fun." He then shakes his head, and returns to his usual sugary and caffeinated demeanor. "Mother Tavern doesn't discriminate who she serves. But she won't tolerate a cold draft. Especially when there's a warm sun outside and warmer drinks within."
"Thank you Kannoth. I will speak with someone about talking to the spirit that sits with us now."
Moving away from the Bard and towards the Shrine where so much has happen it appears, Kordruk would stop and look for a different speaker of the dead, what he needs to ask can not come from the lips of the little sister he needs to protect, Wren can not be his voice.
Wren translates each person in turn. She dodges objects thrown by Aleena, attempts to sing along with Percy, and describes the various events happening in the room.
“The one who was throwing things was Aleena. She’s angry and blames you for the shards lost and the final death of Baph. Percy is sad and wishes he could have done more to help. I’m also pretty sure he’s drunk again.”
Torben enters The Smoking Boar, its hearth alight with merrily dancing flames. His eyes are dark and sunken, and one of his legs is heavily bandaged. He supports himself with the broad shaft of his greataxe, helping maintain his slow gait towards his regular table. A steady shuffle alternated with the thump of iron banded wood against the tavern’s floor. He flicks his pack off of his shoulder with a casual twist of his wrist and the torn and singed canvas slides across the tabletop as the K’ojin drops down with an audible sigh.
He grabs a pitcher and sniffs before sliding it away. He waves over one of the staff and whispers something before handing them his horn mug. He leans against Mother Tavern, his eyes closed. To the world he could be asleep but for the tap, tap, tap, tap of his fingers against the worn oak table.
After a moment of thought, the dwarf would stride out of the tavern and across the sands to his cabin.
Returning a few minutes later leading the half sleeping form of the Zyvian. "Zy, I will get you coffee you go and move Wren on and start your Ritual, and thank you for getting up for this."
While she goes and starts her ritual to speak with the spirit, Kordruk would go and get 2 cups of coffee prepared just like Zyvian likes them. Once done he emerges and crosses the room, nodding at Torben as he does so. Once next to his sisters, hand one cup to Zyvian and set the other down on a table, turns to Wren," dear Wren I must ask you to step away so that I can ask the spirit a few questions, Zy has agreed to act as my voice in this matter. Please remove yourself from earshot."
As if on cue, Kannoth waves wildly to Wren. Two mugs seem full to the foamy brim besides his folded posture.
Ebrahim smiles just slight as Wren speaks to him, seemingly happy just to have someone to talk to.
"I understand Aleena's anger. Can you please apologize to the owner of this shrine? Ta'lina, I believe? I did not mean to cause a mess."
While Zyvian begins the ritual, his attention gets drawn to her as she becomes clearer to his sight.
Zyvian finishing her ritual, "Ok Kordruk, he is here and seems to be waiting on me to talk to him." Turning to Ebrahim, "Hello, my brother wishes to ask you a few things and I have agreed to speak between the two of you, is that ok?"
Kordruk not waiting for the spirit to respond, " Ebrahim, we did not know each other well and what I knew of you was not the best. That said where I come from people are allowed to answer for their crimes and not be murdered in the streets, I am here to ask you to answer a few things." Taking a deep breath and sitting down next to Zyvian, "You tried to use the innocent Rowan to attack Rothe, while I agree that he was a problem, I take issue with your use of a simple innocent soul like Rowan. There is so much that weighs on her soul in the past, why did you try and add to the burden? Why not ask someone that is less innocent, someone that could withstand the burden of taking a life? How do you answer Ebrahim?"