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Ortlindegal Profile
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Registered: 11-2007
Location: Where weak are killed & eaten.
Posts: 327
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A Gift


Far far away from the chaos that churned Avendel, the village of Bodkin was enjoying a mild and peaceful spring night.

Within Braweann's family cottage they hear a sudden gust of wind moving the tree branches outside. Moments later thare is a rap at the door along with the muffled caw of a raven. If the door is opened they will find the entryway empty aside from small basket containing a bottle and envelope.

The bottle is slender and long necked with a crystal stopper. It contains what they will later identify as very fine absinthe.

The envelope which is addressed to Braweann contains a small note which reads:

Sutharan was head of the spire so tall,
Very powerful but ever so small,
Braweann killed him one day,
Now the sisters all say,
She's a bit widdershin after all.

Congratulations and love,
~H+C




   

---
"Opiferque Per Orbem Dicor"
4/29/2013, 4:19 pm Link to this post Send Email to Ortlindegal   Send PM to Ortlindegal
 
The Wids Profile
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Registered: 07-2012
Posts: 337
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Re: A Gift


Still flush with the victory's aftermath yet wearied from protecting Avendel's commonfolk from disaster and quelling the slaadi's efforts to boil up into the streets and inflict further bloodshed, Braweann took advantage of an evening lull and slipped away from the city. She emerged from the shifting shadows of Bodkin's looming woodlands, hoping that all was yet well with her village and her family. But when Siubhan greeted her at the door and thrust the basket into her face with an accusing eye, that hope promptly sank.

"H and C...damn yuir eyes, Hester an' Cefdnir! Listen, Ma, I can explain the whole o' this...."

Wary of rousing the neighbors with yet another loud argument, the two held their tongues until they had wandered well into the surrounding forest. And then, screeching and snapping and snarling at each other in their ancestral dialect, they grew very loud indeed.

"...Ma, I have not gone Widdershins! Sure I amnae above fightin' an' destroyin' an' mayhap killin' in defense o' my ideals, but I am yet a fair league from boilin' babes for their fat! I swear on Modron's teats tha' this is true...!"

"Nae, Ma...nae, ye're not listenin' to me! I dinnae kill Sutharan! Aye, I fought him. Aye, I scored his wee gnarled hide with a clutch o' Flame Arrows an' Missile Storms an' what....mayhap some Firebrands an' a Fireball spell or two, an' I did touch his body an' set him ablaze at least twice. But Sutharan doomed himself by castin' the legendary Hellball spell! It was a suicide, Ma! A rash an' desperate suicide! Besides, I may have been lingerin' at Avalloch's door a' the time...oh, Ma! Ma, donnae weep! I returned to vigor, did I?"

"...well, it wasnae my idea, Ma. I wanted to turn him into a tree an' leave him so for a thoosan' years! It would be a fittin' penance, ken? Not pure pragmatic, but fittin'...nae...nae! Once more, Ma, he felled himself...."

"...Ma...o' course he did! Ma, o' course he did. Golems, Ma...golems an' ley seekers, some lesser Librarians...what manner o' question is that, Ma? Aye...aye, but I was defendin' myself an' my friends an' fellows, not to mention tha' the fate of Aolyth was...what was that? Aye...I did, but we only killt a few Librarians...oh, pure well. So mayhap it was nearer to...well, twenty or thirty Librarians...Ma, there is nae need for such scaldin' words!"

"...Ma, it was wholly justified! We can strike peace wi' the Tuatha noo! We returned their god to them! Sutharan was thievin' the god's power for his ain gain, he was warpin' the ley lines until they were near to breakin'...can ye imagine a world withoot magic, Ma? Aye...because the Library would steal the whole o' magic for themselves be why! Besides, Sutharan called me a whore an' ensnared me with a Black Tentacles spell, so I was more than a touch miffed with him...."

"Nae, Ma, I amnae a bluidy anarch! I am a rebel, a patriot for our kith an'...what is the word? Ach...I fight for freedom, Ma! My witchery is thick with Chaos magic, so when the rulin' class turns to...Ma, would ye pick the wax from yuir ears an' listen to me? Ma...put doon the spoon, Ma! Ma, donnae ye dare hit me wi' that spoon! If ye have any touch o' yyyap! Why did ye hit me wi' that spoon? I am nae wee bairn anymore...!"

Storming out of the forest with damp eyes and the scarlet blush of anger crossing her freckled cheeks, Braweann clutched the basket with a steely grip, spitting another one of her hallmark strings of curses. "Blasted...damnable...ill-witted...when I next lay eyes on the two o' ye, I shall bewitch yuir garb with a stink that ne'er washes oot! This draught had pure well better be nocht shy o' liquid bliss after that spittin' wroth...."



Last edited by The Wids, 4/30/2013, 12:16 am
4/29/2013, 11:46 pm Link to this post Send Email to The Wids   Send PM to The Wids Blog
 


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