"Your blade is a powerful blade my frind. As you grow in power, your ability to control it will increase until it is you who shape the blade to carry out your will instad of it controlling you. With strength of mind, even a bad tool can be used for the forces of good. But until then, let me know when you use it and I will run!" Lann chuckles.

He packs his gear, polishes his armour and gets ready to find Chlainn's remains. He will try to find the direction he travelled in the night before.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:33, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Usopi turns to Caith, first with an expression of sadness as he realizes that if his behavior toward Gat has been seen as dismissive by another human, how must it seem to the hound. He looks briefly toward his four legged companion, but his eyes are brought back to Caith with widening surprise as she says she tells him that she called on the help of Gatanades. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again as she continues. Slowly a smile is brought to his face.

When she finishes he chuckles lightly before replying, "You are right, I likely would not even know how to hear the words of other gods. I see how my actions have displayed derision toward Gat, and I will certainly make that up to him. However, the reason I hesitated was not out of disdain for my loyal friend, but because I feared what I might have done to him. Last night even my longest ally was a possible target for my wrath, which has perhaps been one of the heaviest impulses I hold the knowing of. None here have done wrong by me."

he pats the side of his leg to call Gat to him, and when the dog bounds over Usopi energetically scratches the space between Gat's ears, "As for wrongs done to my God, I can not see what insult might be found in seeking his aid in a time of need."

He begins to grin as she helps him pack his tent and shake the stone and sand from the canvas, "I do not know what the future holds for these lands, but I do know that should any men come north, soberly intoning the drivel I spouted last night, I will be there too stand in their path."



To Lann he furrows his brow in thought, "Perhaps Lann, but perhaps the power to control such a force may itself be the greater source of corruption."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:52, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

"You will become stronger as you learn. Haven't you just grown stronger recently? It doesn't make you corrupt. If we hold on to our values and keep a straight path, we will always stay true to ourselves! As for my narrow path, it is power."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:35, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Brannon nods sagely at Usopi's apology. "I think we can credit the blade rather than you... what we heard yesterday was not the Knight we have come to know. Still, we must be careful - we are trafficking in dark magics. The threat from whatever dark forces have their eye on Glissom is enough that I will take what help I can, but the danger of hunting monsters is that we become them..."

He finishes packing up, but pauses as he comes to his shovel. "Ser Venia - what is the convention for Ser Vacrolann? A burial or a pyre?"

Caith listens, then says "Gat's wounds were from claws, Usopi, nay a sword. Ye nay struck at him in blade's fury."

She glances sideways at Lann, but resists the urge to labor the point, and looks back to the knight as she offers "I am glad I have nay given offense where none was intended. I thank ye also for your promise of aid in time of war, though I hope to never have the need to call upon ye to make good on it."

Her only comment on the warlock's opinions on the nature of power is a politely skeptical look at the broad swathe of shattered stone and scorched earth around the campsite before she resumes helping break camp.

"Faster we're packed, the faster we can leave and look for what we can find of Ser Vacrolann to send off to his God proper like." she says in reassurance, and gathers her own belongings together.

She leaves a handful of tiny daisies gathered from the moor on the new sprung stone where her dagger landed, as she does not know what Gods, if any, the wild hill fey hold dear.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:07, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

For a moment Usopi’s fists clench in response to Lann’s words. The knight turns to glare at the shaman, ”After everything that has occurred you still speak of power with the same single minded foolishness?” he stands to his feet, ”And yet you do not see how its pursuit and capture might corrupt?! Our values?! Straight path!? You....”

The knight stops, looking at his balled fists, and turns away from Lann, forcing himself to breath deeply before he finally looks to Brannon and Caith, though the smile that speaking to Caith had brought back to him is gone once more.

”I suppose in the best case scenario we would gather his body, transport him to sacred ground, and bury him with his armor and sword.” he casts his eyes out past the three large rocks that were the front line of the trolls, ”More realistically I would say we burn whatever remains we may find, perhaps carrying them in a container of some kind, and sending it and his horse, armor and weaponry back to his family, once they can be found of course.”

”And Caith speaks the truth once again, the sooner we gather our things the sooner we may leave.”

Usopi walks over to Moralltach and carefully, slowly replaces it in the makeshift sheath he had created for it on the day he’d taken possession of it. He had thoughts on a custom sheath he would have made the next time he returned to a craftsman of sufficient skill, but for now it would simply carry it across his back.

”Gat, find Chlainn.” he said as he took the hound by the makeshift leash and set out to find any of the dead knight’s remains.

" Lets go and get off this moor before dark."

Gat led the way across the moor, stopping occasionally at certain points to orientate himself.

After 20 minutes or so he led them to a red ruin of scattered segments of maille, cracked bone and unidentifiable scattered scraps of flesh.

Aphails and Usopis keen eyes note no sign of the fallen knights shield, pack or other belongings...
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:12, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Lann decided that the knight does not understand that power is needed to defeat evil. He merely says," Without power you cannot defeat evil.  Faith without strength is meaningless."

With that he shoulders his pack, sheathes the shortsword, and straps the longsword to his pack and moves along. He has heard some warriors fight with two blades and hopes to learn that someday.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:10, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Lann weeps at the sight of Chlainn's mangled body.

He lays his bedroll on the ground and gently scoops the parts and places them on the bedroll. He then looks around to see if there are tracks to the lair of the monsters.

Falling that he hopes Gat can root the lair out.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:13, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Caith looks to the skies, perhaps seeking patience in the infinite space, then addresses  Lann in a voice devoid of emotion "Perhaps is is arrogant of me to correct an apprentice trained by the renowned witches of Clan Gar, but I think ye will find that strength without self-control is both feared and despised."

She does not look or speak to Lann again while the last preparations to leave are made, but spares a moment to speak with the again scowling knight and the Hearthwarden.

Her solemn tone is at odds with the impish glint in her eyes as she offers her own hard learned lesson of "An narrow path, in my own opinion, suits only a mind so narrow that it can nay admit to any flaw in it's thinking."

Caith shrugs and adds "...But it may be arrogant of me to say so." with a smile.

She nods in agreement with Alphail's wise words, and goes about the business of foraging food for the living while also searching for a dead man's corpse in silence, concentrating on the tasks at hand.

The scraps of maille, torn flesh and splintered bone draw a frown from her, followed by a long look at the sparse collection that Lann gathers so carefully.

The hedgewitch puts a hand to the weeping Lann's shoulder and says gently "Ye have reaped the harvest ye sowed. It is nay wise to linger here unless ye wish to see all of us dead."

Lann listens to the witch's words and nods. "You are not wrong my friend but I believe I have learnt more self control over time. We have to be powerful and yet have compassion."

Saying that he buried the knight's remains and erects a stone marker for him using one of the stone blocks he finds
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:33, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Brannon sighs, sadly. "Without his weapons or armour we have nought to return to his family."

He says a prayer over the burial, a little uncertainly, as he is not familiar with the rituals of the Hanged God. Hearthmother, I commend Sir Chlainn Vacrolann to you, and to the care of his beloved Gatanedes. Speed his way through the next life, and comfort those he left behind."

"Maybe we can search along the path. We might find some of his personal effects," Lann says to Brannon. "Looking at how the beasts were turned to stone by the sun, I doubt they will appear in the day."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:35, Thu 01 Aug 2019.

Caith nods in approval as Lann masters his grief and does what needs to be done.

A small consolation is offered to the Hearthwarden's point of inheritance law as she says "A horse is worth far more than both a maille coat or a fine blade. Mayhap his riding horse back in Hallowhall, and a piece of his sundered armour would appease his kin? After all, nay one can ride a blade to market."

She asks Usopi "Did Ser Vacrolann have a badge or sign of his clan? If ye nay know of one, then perhaps his initials would do. Quicker to carve letter in stone than elaborate heraldry."

The seiðkona gathers another handful of daisies and weaves a wreath of them to leave on the fallen knight's tiny grave, and pours a drop of the only strong spirit she has among her medical supplies, harsh in taste but powerful in effect into a hollow in the rock. It takes some patient work with her tinder box to coax a spark from it, but a tiny flame burns there as Brannon speaks the rite of the dead.

Caith stands by Alphail, hesitantly puts her hand in his, and leans close as she murmurs "It has been said by wise folk than I that knowledge gained at great cost stays with the student longer than any tutor's beating about the head can instill."

She is a tad less philosophical in tone when she concludes with a sly smile "Teaching, I reckon, is like politics, an art in learning to deal civilly with people ye'd rather behead for their insolence."

Aphail nods to Caith and says a simple prayer to Artia to tell the underworld that a great warrior was coming upon them and to make sure the honey mead was copious at the table of the dead.

He then delicately decouples his hand and with another nod begins to examine the area with Gat.

He turned towards others, " None of Chlainns possesions are here? Did the fae beasts take them do you think?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:20, Fri 02 Aug 2019.

Both Aphail and Gat discover that the scent trail of the moor fae is gone under the sun but Gat seems to pick up a faint trail leading away that possibly belonged to Chlainn.

Usopi drops to one knee before the grave, constructed, decorated, and consecrated by the others. ”I do not know of any sign he used. I believe his initials would serve well here.”

Then Usopi bows his head and mutters a general prayer to Gatanadese, that he might see his faithful servant to an eternal rest. Not being an ordained priest, or even having spent as much time observing services as he should, he does not know the accuracy of his words to tradition, but he is sure that the lord must value intent over form.

After a moment Usopi stands again, looking toward the others, ”Perhaps we might follow whatever scent Gat has found, though by the state of this site I do not know what more we might find. I am sure the horse would be sufficient for his kin if we instead wish to be on our way from this place.”

Nodding to Usopi Aphail crouched down and used the sacred dagger to inscribe Chlainns initials into the white stone.

" It is done.  I doubt we'll find much but if it won't cost us too much time it is best we have a look to see what else can be brought back for them."

It being decided the companions made their way slowly across the moor with Gat and Aphail occasionally finding signs or scents....after about five minutes or so they discovered Chlainns helm, pauldrons and gauntlets scattered in a line about 50m in length....

These were collected up and then a little further on his pack was found, further searching of the area did not locate anything else....but a sundered shield and his arbalest that had been crushed by some great weight...

OOC:

Contents of Chlainns pack:

Magic chalice 1 vino a day
Flint & Tinder
Multiple dice sets, cards
10 days food
4 torches
Horn
a silver phiale
silver drinking cup, 1 Slate Bracelet
 Selentine coin necklace
 10 arbalest quarrels

"Perhaps we can bring his effects back to his home someday. These are worth quite a lot," Lann says. He packs the gear away and takes the magic chalice to Chlain's grave. Commanding the chalice to fill with wine, Lann pours the contents before the grave of Chlainn as libation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:57, Fri 02 Aug 2019.

Usopi shrugs as Lann collects the items. When they return to Hallowhall they can carry the objects in the cart, but for now someone has to lug them around. It may be some time till they can be sent to his kin however, since first his family estate must be located.

"Then we are finished here. Let us leave these lands and be on with our task." Usopi says when it looks like Lann is finished.

"We can find his killers and kill them first if we want," Lann says.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:24, Fri 02 Aug 2019.

Caith says "Here, ye'll need this..." as she offers a unsheathed dagger to Lann, hilt first "...If ye truly wish to kill every creature who sent Ser Vacrolann to his death."

She calmly adds "I'd suggest ye cut your own throat with it, as I doubt a red thirst for vengeance is at ease with the compassion ye spoke of so readily this morning."

Her face is an expressionless mask, her tone dead as Ser Vacrolann as she explains to her most troublesome student "Perhaps ye wish to see more hill fey die for your greed? That is nay vengeance, and does no honour to the memory of the fallen. Nay to mention that it ill befits one who would learn to command the fey. They have long memories for an insult to their kind, even the ones who squabble among themselves for a shiny will rise as one to turn against such a master."

_{Edited for clarity.}
This message was last edited by the player at 04:38, Fri 02 Aug 2019.

"Indeed," Usopi mutters, "And how even would we do such? Gat and Aphail can not seem to track them, they must find cover for themselves entirely during the day lest they turn to stone, and we have no clues as to where they might cover. Shall we wander the moor aimlessly, or wait till the sun sets and summon another one with your ring? We do not have the time, and I certainly do not wish to repeat last night's experiences."

He pats Gat's side, thanking the dog for his work tracking Chlainn's things, "Brannon, any idea in which direction we aught to head for that town with the bisected livestock?"