This small patch of land is set away from Oleg’s but holds three freshly dug graves, each with a fieldstone marker.  The largest stone sits atop Moto’s grave.

Brother Bart walks out to the graves and acknowledges those who have assembled for Moto’s memorial.  Henry de le Maistre nods his permission to the priest from where he stands with Tib, Rikka, Oleg, Svetlana, Keston, Avoven and Borric.

Carrying Moto’s huge sword, Brother Bart steps forward until he stands by the right grave.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:44, Sat 28 May 2016.

I commend this young man into Pharasma’s care, and petion her servants to see him safely to his resting place.  Although he was only with us for a short while he should determination and character.  Long may his name be remembered.

With that he places the point of the sword onto the stone and summons his the power of his divine mistress.  You can almost see the  energy flowing into him, along his arms and through the blade and into the stone.  Slowly the sword sinks into the stone, making a permanent marker for the grave.  The stone seems to light up, although with a very faint glow, but when it fades the words ‘Here Lies Moto’ can clearly be seen.

However, even that short ceremony seems to have drained Brother Bart completely and he needs helping back to the Outpost to rest for a few hours, as the onlookers go about their own tasks.

Standing at a distance, the same distasteful look settled upon her face, she waited until no evident signs of people remained and took a step towards the row. One foot fell before the other until she slowed her arrival some few feet away and paused, looking first to the smaller markers and then back to the larger one. A short sword rested at her side next to it for only a fool would wander outside unarmed after what she had been told what had taken place here. She also carried her bow and a single arrow.

With a heavy sigh, she knelt to the ground, pulling off the glove of her left hand and placing it to the earth. "Usstan xunus naut zhaun dos, sargtlin dalharuk. " she spoke low, the words stringing together almost as a melody without song. "Jhal dos malaruth al lu'dos orn naut tlu zho'aminth." As she spoke, she removed her hand from the recently turned soul, reaching into her bag to pull a small bottle of some clear liquid. She placed a single drop to the tip of her arrow, lifting it with point down as she replaced the bottle to her pouch. "Xal dosst dro sevir natha p'obon pholor nindol tresk'ri 'zil zik 'zil l'mon'tu d'ussta b'luth'ol." the words are spoken reverently, turning the arrow as she reaches for a small piece of earth from the grave and sprinkles it over the arrow.

"Xal dosst linath tlu sundus phor l'har'dro." she lifted and placed the tip of the arrow to her forehead, closing her eyes a moment. "Xal dos tlu serus wun l'zha'linth d'nindyn vel'uss zhaunau dos." Then, reaching for the bow she had placed at her feet, she knocked the arrow and pulled back the string, lifting it high into the sky so that it would arch into the forest beyond. "Lu'xal dosst quortek ragar gre'as'anto wun l'z'hind ulu l'af'li"

The arrow arched across the sky, making it's way over the tree canopy until it was lost from sight. "Ragar gre'as'anto, sargtlin." the words dropping into even smoother, deeper tones as she returned her eyes to the marker, hers sad and perhaps, there was something akin to loneliness there in the silver depths. "Ol zhah natha feir zhennur ap'za taga usst."


_{ooc: The picture I use has the aforementioned look for anyone interested.}
This message was last edited by the player at 00:18, Sun 29 May 2016.

< Outpost

Though the light was waning, the young man left the safety of the outpost with a pick resting on one shoulder. He'd left all of his things back in the assigned towers, save for his precious symbol. It rested on his chest until he reached the location of the graves. There he stopped and brought the tool off of his shoulder, holding it up in front of him. Taking the holy symbol in one hand, he touched the wooden arrow to the tip of the pick and whispered to Erastil. A light grew on the tip of the tool, pouring through the metal like water until the head glowed like a torch. Satisfied that he would have light to work by, and promising that he would stop after it died instead of working through the night, he held it above his head to look at the entirety of the space. He saw that Aris'ta had decided to come visit and instead of saying anything, just inclined his head to her.

It seemed the spot he chose was arbitrary, but he used the lighted pick to mark the spot before pacing perpendicularly to the graves. He walked slowly, heel to toe, eyes on the ground in front of him as he silently counted. The distance measured couldn't have been more than thirty yards or so before he stopped and marked the ground again. Then he turned ninety degrees and repeated the same actions. Before long he'd marked out four points in a square around the graves. From there he began digging out a line in the ground with the pick, swinging the lighted tool in front of him as he moved backwards from one point to the other.

Aris'ta had performed similar actions for all the graves, though her words were shared only for the one she had fought for and seen perish. It caught her unaware when her eyes caught sight of the young man, but she was as inclined to keep her distance from him just as he seemed inclined to with her. The scowl deepened. Discomfort grew in her belly as she folded her arms over her chest defensively. Like it or not though, he captured her attention with his actions and though the smart thing to do would have been to head back and hide herself alone, he intrigued her. It was aggravating. Ari had never found herself desiring of company before. In the last few days she had her share to last a lifetime and yet, something in the camaraderie of the previous night left her feeling hollow. It was not a feeling she particularly enjoyed.

"Waela, waela ligrr, dos orn dro ulu kreth'el nindol." she muttered to herself with a shake of her head before she turned it sharply to look at him more openly. "What are you doing?" she asked, wincing at the bite in her own tone.