Hangin' with the cuz
Perrato awoke early in the morning, glancing out the window of his little room to see that the dawn mists were already being burned away by the newly-risen sun. The day promised to be hot.
Perrato cast his mind back to last night's dinner. He had been delighted that he had encountered his cousin Dominique--another devotee of Vagrani and one of his fellow acolytes back at the Vedian monastery. Over a simple dinner of roasted quail, spring greens, and a bottle of warm Vedian red, the two clerics had spoken of their travels and experiences in the service of Vagrani. Dominique had indicated that his path lay westward, where he had felt a divine calling to lend his skills and devotion to the folk of the Leaflock forest. Cousin Dom had been traveling with a group of adventurers, but their paths were diverging. Thus, he had elected to return west in the company of a ranger and a bard.
Perrato had then told his own story--a story involving his passing through the hamlet of Gorse on a mission of healing. Apparently, the orcish activity in the hilly regions along Paldor's marches had been virtually unprecedented this spring--only a few greybeards could recall such virulent raiding and pillaging within the past forty or fifty years. Perrato had been engaged in healing some of the ravages that had been visited upon the villages and farmers in the region, as well as helping the ragtag units of Paldorian militia take down some of the orcish raiding parties. During his stay in Gorse, however, the Palonish cleric had been tapped to travel to the Fortress of the Sword, where he was to meet with one of the former commander of the Fortress--a Captain Garlings. Garlings was to travel to Borderton to reinforce that town, and needed a cleric to deal with some issue involving an escaped prisoner and the potential for arson. Upon arriving in town with Garlings and his men, however, it seemed that the arsonist had been apprehended and that, with the exception of the loss of the Pilgrims' Rest, no real damage to the town had occurred. Thus, Garlings had withdrawn his claim on Perrato's Vagranian oath to travel and offer succor to others--essentially leaving Perrato at liberty to do what he chose.
After hearing this story, Dominique poured more wine for both men. Dinner had been taken in the little room in the rectory that Perrato had been accorded as a Mithran cleric, and the setting sun slanted through the room's windows, spilling its rich ruby light across the simple wooden table that held the plates and glasses. Dominique smiled, and then requested that his cousin consider traveling with a certain group of adventurers. "Consider, my cousin. You are free to wander for now, and I feel a strong pull back to the forests--trees and water figure prominently in my dreams, and I awake with the familiar pull to the west that tells me Mithras and Vagrani desire my presence there. But you...you have been called eastward, and I think it no coincidence that we have met here, kith and kin to one another, at a crossroads of sort. I urge you...join with these friends of mine. They are in need of some guidance, but they are valiant and brave. They seek the whereabouts of a caravan that has apparently been waylaid. While much of their motivation stems from the desire for gold, there is a core of honor amongst them."
Perrato had indicated that he would consider this possibility, and the talk turned to friends and family far away in Vedia--memories and stories kindled by another bottle of wine. Thus the evening had grown into night, and Perrato said goodbye--not without a tinge of sadness--to his cousin.
The Palonish priest now sits, watching the long shadows of morning shorten almost imperceptibly, and considers his decision.