[GM: I forgot something else last night-- in the inn, at the point where the troll battle was over and you looked at the arms of the other knight, I meant to first describe some unsettled emotions Calais was feeling. :) Then tell you who it was. :) Ah, well, too bad there are no rewrites in real life. :) Calais would be picking up through the emotional link Paris' er... unsettled? feelings on realizing it was Ewen. :)]
[S: Well, yes. Definitely unsettled. Here he is, the one man in the world who finds her attractive -- getting his shoulder ripped to shreds and confronting monsters and rips-in-space with no advanced warning, no mental build-up. (_She_ hadn't known that he'd been pestering the Duke. _She_ thought he was still finishing up with whatever vintners do in the fall. That's what he'd said he had to do ... last time she was with him.) And she hadn't even realized he was there and injured. Unkind Murphy.]
In the Chamber of the Demon, the Mine of Gilliam.
As the room stopped its peculiar rumble, and the demon forms settled to stone and then rubble, Ewen turned this way and that in dimmer light. As Paris approached, she could see the front of his armor gleam through the torn surcoat in the reflected light from her sword, now glowing a steady white rather than its harsh blue. Around them, Mia and Pyotr and Lucas were rushing to the wounded. From behind the heavy faceplate of the helm came his familiar voice, muffled a bit by the metal. "Are you ok?" he asked, the worry in his voice escaping the helm.
[S: Paris' wound is still fairly massive at this point although all she had done was full move twice towards Ewen. You did not tell me if that would require a bleeding check. How much END does a full move with sword, armor, & shield take? Should she be bleeding and exhausted?]
[GM: 1 end per 5 inches of movement, because your strength is less than 25 you pay 1 end per turn, and if you are generating a DCV with your shield you use 4 per phase. You remind me of something else I dropped because the fight was over. You took an "impairing" wound in the chest--i.e., more than half your body, but not more than your body. The effect of an impairing chest wound is that you don't get post-segment 12 recoveries, so you will only recover end and stun when you stop and take a recovery. The duration is controlled by a 1d6 roll, but won't last more than a day. So, yes, you are tired and exhausted, and not feeling any better.]
[S: Oops.]
Paris shoved her visor up and smiled, doing her best to ignore the shaky feeling, residue of her recent exertions, she thought. Her voice was warm with gratitude but weaker in her own ears than she thought it should be, "I live -- in major part due to you, I've no doubt, dear friend. Thank you." Her armor told its own story. "And you? Did you take -- damage? These -- were a different experience -- than -- orcs, were they not?" She paused, unable to catch her breath.
"Good god," he said softly as he finally spotted the severity of her wound. "Sit down, here. Rest." He looked up and around the room as Hobbes went bounding by. "Healer!" he called over to the priests. He turned back to Paris. "Sit, please sit down." He too raised his visor, and his face seemed pale as he regarded her.
"They've -- work to do -- Ewen. I - I'll -- be all right." Paris suddenly realized that her last burst of energy was slipping away. "Rhori -- I don't see Rhori. Can you -- find him?" Her voice faded and, obediently, she slipped to the floor, unconscious again. [Paris never had a chance to see where Rhori went or to know that he was the one who solved the puzzle.]
"Healer!" Ewen's voice took on an urgent edge.
Things were all a bit frantic in the demon interior, now simply a cavern, as the healers tried to spread themselves amongst the injured. Mia chased Ewen away so he wouldn't interrupt her long spell, and the young knight then got pressed into helping break Rhori out of his stone prison. Pyotr moved over to Paris' body and cast his big spell as well. Paris was not going anywhere until she got a few more recoveries. [By the rules, she only had one -- not two. And getting to Ewen's demon used all she had; the one for armor would put her over.]
Thereafter
After the demon - there had been only one, despite appearances, the Party would heal. Then they'd gather up Roget's body, and perhaps answer any questions Mia and Ewen had about the situation -- that hadn't been answered in the trek to the mine (which was probably more preparing them for what to expect and what the clues were and our resulting plan). Anton noticed that when Paris' sword stopped angrily glowing blue - as it had been since the group and run into the inn until the demon died, his spells also seemed accessible again.
The group invited Ewen and his men, and Mia, back to "our" house for the night. Mia wanted to know what to report to the Duke. Paris basically told her everything -- but advised that such things as the Other Party's not realizing there was more to be dealt with and the fact of the demon should be part of a private report, not being the sort of thing that would make the general populace feel comfortable.
I figure the evening 'at home' is also where we discuss 'what's next' and determine that Mia will restore the InnKeep -- which leads to Rhori's protest. I'm rather hoping that Mia will take Rhori aside and come to a better understanding of why Rhori thinks this is wrong. I know that Paris will eventually take up the subject with Rhori, but Sunny should have first crack -- if she thinks Mia has grown up enough to consider such a thing.
Mia probably does the 'restore' sometime thereafter. The next morning? I don't know. Things were imprecise. Before which Rhori tells Calais and Paris where he's going and why -- and leaves town.
Next day/afternoon/whatever the Party accompanies Ewen & Mia, etc., back to Tauban to get armor repairs made.
Ewen & Paris
I suspect that the closest to a private conversation that Paris and Ewen will have will happen somewhen after Mia has asked for and gotten all the info she wants from Paris -- which would leave Paris free of immediate obligations and able to play catch-up with Ewen.
They were outside the small house. The lightning storm had passed, and the night was settling down for what few hours remained until dawn. There was a thick layer of dark clouds blocking the sky in all directions, but no rain. They should have slept, but both were too wound up.
The knot in Paris' throat loosened as Ewen bent to kiss her and she closed her eyes in something like painful gratitude. Why was it that she always expected time and distance to make some difference in how he thought about her? It was good to be alive and good to be held by him, to feel cherished by someone...
When the kiss ended, all sorts of words seemed to come rushing up. "I still can hardly believe that you are here!" she said. "Amazed as I was to see Mia, seeing you -- realizing it was you, Ewen, was - was as though there had been another magical rift, bringing friends instead of trolls. You -- could have knocked me over with a feather, I think, I was so amazed. Startled. Surprised. Joyful! Shocked. How - how did it come that you could get away? I guess I had no idea of how much or how little work there was at Fall in the barony. It never occurred to me that you could -- get away." She stopped babbling, realizing that that was what she'd been doing. Softly. "I am glad to see you."
He grinned back at her. "I had about a dozen things I had thought of doing when I saw you. Wasn't sure whether or not to surprise you, or what. Falling on my rear because I missed a block was not what I had intended as an entrance, I can assure you." He laughed a bit.
She cocked her head. "I didn't see that. I didn't get a good look at your device until it was all over -- and then -- I recognized the device and saw the damage to your pauldron at the same time. I - I hadn't had time for either to register during the fight." Paris felt decidedly uncomfortable making such an admission. Not to have known he was there, not to have known he was hurt: that hurt somewhere in that part of her that wanted to be the best she could be. She tried to put the guilt aside. It was done. He was here and ok. So many people had told her not to hold on to what could not be helped....
There was a little pause as he just looked toward her in the gloom. "As for the Barony. Well, all the grapes are in, there isn't much of a need to be out in the fields, just the occasional check. There's a lot of work to do for the vintners, getting things organized, but most are resting up and getting ready for winter. Still, this should be only a week or two, I assure you Paolo can keep things going that long without me." His grin was a flash of whiteness in the dim. "Probably do things quicker without me. Anyway, I'd been, well, pestering the Duke, so when this came up, he just.." It was quiet again. "I'm glad to see you again."
"I remember. At the falconing party. You'd said you intended to ask the Duke to let you adventure for him. I - I -- well," she smiled broadly, "I never dreamed it would bring you my way." Then a shadow passed over her face as she recalled what Mia had told her. But it had been Mia, not Ewen, who had been the bearer of such sobering news. Words that would lie heavy on her heart night after night. She knew. She shook her head, thrust the thought from her. Ewen did make her feel warm and wanted. She should do the same for him. Softly, "I am glad you are glad to see me," and she drew him close for another kiss.
"What news? What news of -- the princes? Has Princess Carline returned to Westmore? What of our classmates? Rod and Cordelia? Jules and Lorraine?"
He shook his head. "Haven't seen Rod or Cordelia since you did. No, Mia and a few others were the only ones that came back. I don't know what became of the Princess, but heard Mia's story about the Princes. There's a regular post run to Fort Carcassonne, they have the valley pretty well walled up at their end, so the orcs can't get through. I understand that some of the Duke's scouts, some of Miller's folk, I think, have slipped through into the valley. There are a lot of orcs there, mostly disorganized. It will be a while before that area is civilized again. I think those magic tricks you set up are the only way the Duke can communicate with the others." He stretched, carefully extending the sore shoulder. "There's talk of a spring campaign, but that is quite a ways away."
It was quiet again. "So, what happens next?" he asked gently.
"Next," the word came out flatly. Paris took a deep breath and felt the sadness that always came when she and Rhori were not in complete agreement. Like a crack through which an icy wind blows. "Next I should try to tell Mia what I think is necessary from my understanding of what Rhori is thinking. I will need him badly in our questing, I think, and having him upset does not help..." she shook her head. "I should not trouble you with our rough spots. So..."
"Hey, wait a minute," Ewen interrupted gently. "Rough spots? Can't be worse than having proper conversation with Lady Gryphon at dinner. Come on, tell me the problem, and we will outnumber it."
The image of Lady Gryphon rose in Paris' mind and she made a little sound somewhere between a giggle and a sob. "I always found Lady Gryphon as the one to go to when I hit rough spots, Ewen. She cared. About each and every one of us. All her scolds, all her rules were there for the purpose of helping us to be the best we could be. And," firmly Paris turned a want-to-be-sniffle into a gentle tease, "if it hadn't been for her discipline, we wouldn't have had as much time together as we had. I suppose I could have simply been turned over to the dance master alone." Paris stopped. "I'm avoiding the question, aren't I?"
She took a deep breath and let it out while he waited. "Part of the problem - problems - are - difficult to imagine 'outnumbering' - without becoming something I don't want to be. I don't know if I can even make you understand how my - comrades - feel about some things. Imagine that you had a nest of eggs. They mostly look alike, but each is different, mottled differently. They hatch: a motley group of fledglings, some a bit bigger or faster or more aggressive than others, but still, nestlings from the same nest. There's always one who's a bit out of it. Usually that one gets pecked, sometimes it manages to fit in. Sortof. But the others think it's strange, a bit ugly, definitely not the 'pick of the litter'. Imagine then their shock when that ugly one is taken away for a while and comes back, a swan to their duck, a falcon to their chicken. Will they like it any the better for not being what they thought it was? Will they follow it any more willingly because it is manifestly different? Will they even want to think it should be treated any differently than it was before? The answer is 'no' - and there's no real reason why the answer should be otherwise."
Ewen exclaimed, "We weren't that bad, were we? I mean, I remember Jules and the quintain ... oh." He stopped himself. "You were talking about your village mates. Not our class."
Paris could feel her face burning. "I never meant our class. In our class, the ugly duckling was thrust amongst the swans and, after a bit of adjustment, began to feel ... comfortable. Wanted, even." More firmly, "Companioned. Like I hadn't felt since before the Change."
"But my group of fledglings only does well, only defends its nest and members well, when it works together. But its distrust of any one of the others trying to 'rule the roost' is such that it has a great deal of trouble taking the time to learn to work together." Her voice took on a note of humour, "A little like those first attempts to frighten the hay bales from horseback. In our class. I am not a Sir Gryphon - so I don't get to set up the lessons. Without lessons, though, the risks are infinitely greater." She swallowed down the eager face of Simon as it floated unbidden to mind. "I find this frustrating. I want to pass on my training, to aid the development of teamwork that we found so effective. Somehow it seems I should be able to do this, that it shouldn't be a problem. But it is."
She could feel him nodding. "That's one of the lessons you missed, I guess. The second year you show up for class, Sir Gryphon just had us all put in a room. No one told us what to do. It was pretty frustrating, not knowing what rooms to put our stuff in. All the guards were under orders not to tell us anything. We missed lunch that day before a few of us started to get things organized. After that, they started the classes in leading. It was an object lesson, I guess." He shrugged. "Those of us who started organizing things weren't the oldest, or even the highest ranking. We just sort of started to lead, and the others started to follow."
Paris looked at him through the darkness. What does he think of me now, knowing how little of the 'lord' I can bring myself to be? She sighed and went on. "But that is not the real problem. I may simply be talking and talking just to not think about it."
"The Problem is that once again I have shaken Rhori's trust in me. And without that trust, without being able to understand and work together, I fear for the eventual outcome of our Quest. Rhori is a Guardian of Nature; I am a Guardian of Man. Prince William was right that very first night: we each hold a key that together can change Tara. I know how not working together can destroy our world. Once one Guardian tried to do something - the Quest end point - by himself. With only one key and not enough understanding. I don't know what we have to do to save the world, but I do know that, in the very least, it has to be a Key of Nature and a Key of Man working together."
"Rhori is no longer a simpleton. I can no longer guide him, get him to obey me, simply because he trusts me. He is now his own man, or as much his own as one can be, jumping from the mind of a child to the mind of a man in the space of a lark's song. I never had the right to force him to my will. I cannot let him force me to his will. Yet I fear that by living up to what I think I must be, rather than what he wants me to be, I risk unleashing upon the world a worse thing than what we've already experienced. I just don't know, don't understand enough - although he says his present understanding is sufficient. I am at a loss as to how to gain his trust when, lately, we differ so markedly on what seems 'right'."
She could feel him shake his head. "But if there are two Orders, two different ways of doing things, aren't you supposed to disagree on some things? Duke Evan says you should always have two trusted advisors who can't stand each other, so you hear both sides and can make a better decision. I don't think you need to agree on everything. Though I'm not sure he's no longer a simpleton."
She said, "His mind has been cured. He is still adjusting. It has not made him happier. But then, I knew it wouldn't." She paused, thoughtful. "I hadn't thought of it from the advisor angle. Prince William had told me to find my way between two different ways of looking at things. It hadn't occurred to me that the Orders were to provide two different ways of looking at things to the Royal House." Her voice took on a livelier sparkle. "Thank you so much, Ewen!" She paused. "I still don't like disagreeing with Rhori. But I will consider whether or no there is a purpose in such disagreement." She smiled. Just talking with Ewen seemed to lift weight from her shoulders. "Some of this thinking can be held for later times. We were talking about 'next'. And next," her voice grew soft, "I am going to kiss you." The kiss followed the words.
"Then," she smiled and put a hand on her chest, then, briefly, touched his shoulder, "we should plan to head back to Tauban to get our armor repaired. After Mia does whatever she has to do here. Then...." Her smile twisted a little and she looked away. "Then I suspect that we part ways again. Mia must be where the Royals have access to her. You - you will get her back to Westmore. Both Mia and Lucas, I guess. While I must lead my comrades to the farthest edge of Tara to find Temperance. All that is 'next'." She tried to smile. "The mundane 'next's that pull and tug at me." Paris laughed a little at the irony of words. "And I call it 'mundane'? When you arrived in the nick of time and everything! Like something magical."
He gave her a quick kiss. "See, I told you you were magic," and she could feel his grin in the darkness. "Still, a day or two is better than nothing. And the 'farthest edge of Tara' sounds like a long way. How long do you think you will be gone? Is there ... any chance you will be back by LongNight?"
[Note: LongNight is, of course, the winter solstice. There was always a celebration, get the family together for a festival of light to fight off the depression of the winter season. You imagine that there will be some kind of party in the palace. You can bet Lorraine is already planning her dress.]
Paris gave a delighted little laugh. "You twist my words, sir. Given that you have come to my rescue time and time again - and this time like a warrior out of the old lais - 'twould seem you have your own style of magic that you should not lay at my door." Neither wore armor and the Fall night had turned decidedly crisp in the wake of the storm. Paris found herself drawn closer to him than usual when they were not actually kissing. He makes me feel warm, she thought to herself. Softly, "This," she touched his arm. "You. Here. Even for this hour. Is far, far better than nothing. I want to remember this feeling for the rest of my journey."
"We've gone on other journeys longer than I think this trip to meet Temperance should take." She recited softly, "Where the water meets the land at the end of the end of the day." Suddenly she stiffened. "LongNight? We've been talking about extremes where Temperance is concerned. I do hope that the end of the end of the day isn't supposed to be a particular day. LongNight - or Midsummer's Eve. I want so to finish this quest soon. So that Tara need not suffer any longer than necessary." Depression swung down upon her again. Then she shook herself. "There I go again, borrowing trouble. I don't think this leg will take months, not the way the quest for Strength and Justice did. I hope to be back to Westmore for LongNight - and to see you there - if you," a note of teasing crept in, "are not yourself off questing then."
"Well then," he said, his voice warm and teasing right back. "On the off chance that you are not questing then, and I am not questing then, perhaps we ought to accompany each other to the LongNight Ball? Just in case, you understand." He held her close, warm in the cool air. "God, I'm glad I found you."
"I did not know I needed finding," her voice was a bit muffled so she tipped her head back to smile at him, "but I'm glad you are here. I - needed a bit of magic, Ewen-style, to lift my spirit."
"Of course you needed finding," he said softly. "You weren't here," he said as he squeezed her in his arms and kissed her.
"Next" copyright 2000 P.Shea & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.