The Unbeating Heart - Chapter 7

The knight gently rests a hand on Slim's shoulder and nods towards the woods, "Let's go find the fiend then." He looks to the others and slips on his macabre helmet.
Thurgood looks to the halfling and to the burning pyre and points to the woods, "Let us be off to this temple you speak of Slim." He turns and starts walking towards the wood keeping himself busy by checking the straps on his armor.

Nkosi falls in step behind Thurgood. He seems distracted for a few moments, as though he's thinking about something else. He then tightens his robe (although the rest of the group likely doesn't feel a chill), and continues on.

Slim watches the pyre consume the bodies till the flames eat away the flesh, leaving only skeletal remains, then turns and follows the others. The anger and hatred in his eyes is chilling. You have sen this look before... It is the look of a man who has nothing to lose, nothing to lose because he has lost it all already...

Syn looks from the pyre to the party moving towards the woods. With one last silent prayer, she turns to follow the party. She notices Nkosi pulling his cloak tighter around himself.
"Nkosi are you OK? You seem to be cold." she asks.

"I am fine, thank you, Syn," Nkosi replies in an even tone. "The air of this region is much cooler than in my homeland." He doesn't meet her gaze, however.

And in a quieter tone, "Was everyone's neck checked?"
Looking back, Syn looks for Stephen to make sure he is coming.

"I believe so ... except my own, that is." He slows his pace and lowers his head to expose the back of his neck. "If you would, please?"

Syn nods to Nkosi and checks his neck (she sees nothing).
Turning to Slim, she asks "Is the road to the monks well paved? Also are there forests along the edge or does it go through fields? We might want to keep an eye out for more of the creatures that might be roaming the woods."

Slim looks at her his eyes red from his tears. "Much of this area survives by Logging. The road is well paved, Drakov saw to that. Butthe path to the monks leads through the woods, less a road than a game trail. The monks sought solitude for enlightenment. Or at least that is what they told us..." he says looking at the medalion he holds in his hand.

Stephan begins to follow the group when he realizes they're moving away into the woods, about 30 feet away. He still seems out of it, walking jerkily and blinking his eyes.

Syn walks over and places her hand on Slim's Shoulder. Gazing down at the medallion briefly, she says "Don't Worry, You are not alone. We are going to make those that destroyed the villiage pay for what they did."
Looking back at Stephen, a quick smile and a chuckle appears on Syn's lips.
Turning to Nkosi, "Nkosi, I think Stephen might need some help. It appears he is having the same reaction to the creature's lightning that I did. Do you think your healing arts would be able to help him regain control of his body? I have appeared to regain control of my body, but it is aches a little.."

Slim walks in silence...

Nkosi looks at her and says softly, "Healing arts? I regret I have not mastered any healing talents. I cannot aid Stephen."

Blushing slightly, Syn responses "I thought you had healing arts. Most of the people that I have met that follow a faith had the ablity to heal. I just assumed that you did to. I am sorry for assuming."

Nkosi says, "Apologies are unnecessary, Syn. Indeed, I view the fact that you believe my faith is so strong as a compliment."
He manages a slight smile, but it seems awkward, as though he doesn't do it often.
He adds, "My skills lie more in the arcane arts ... elemental magic, to be accurate. I am a little concerned that I used many of my magicks during the battle. I hope the remaining ones I have for the day will suffice."

Syn looks off in the woods and then slowly back to Nkosi and the rest of the group.
"You know, it might be a benefit to the group if we could let everyone know our strengths and maybe some of our weaknesses. It could help us out in combat. It could be something more of a formal introduction. What does everyone else think?"

Slim nods, "It would be in my best interest to know who i am working with."

Nkosi nods. "Yes, that is wise advice, Syn. Very well...
"I was born in Mudar, in the desert realm of Har'Akir. Do not be troubled if the name means little to you ... few indeed are those who have traveled through the Mists from my land.
"My father was a carpenter, and he was somewhat disappointed when my interests turned toward the magical arts -- an uncommon path in Mudar, to say the least. I seem to have a natural affinity for the elements -- Earth, to be precise. You may have noticed the earthern hand that grasped one of the creatures during the battle.
"In the course of my studies, I left Har'Akir and traveled through the Mists. Since then, I have spent much time in the southern regions, like Valachan. This is the furthest north I have ever traveled," he says, tightening his robe once more, "and I do not care for the climate.
"As for my talents, I know many spells, but I used a number of them during our battle. Normally, I would prefer to take the time to memorize more before heading toward the monastery, but I would rather use the advantage that the beautiful sun gives us now."

Syn smiled with a twinkle in her eye. "I have heard of those places in Tales told by some of the people from my village."
"I come from a land south of here. The land that I grew up in has trees of green like emeralds that cover rolling foothills. Sometimes when it is still and quiet you can almost feel the pulse of life. You can almost see a rabbit move across an open field. Hear the sounds of the wolves picking up the scent and setting out after the rabbit. Feel the brush of trees and bushes as the rabbit and wolves run down the path that nature has set out for them to follow. Hear the wind and leaves as you pass through them. And eventually hear the death thralls of the rabbit if it fails to get away or the frustrated cries of the wolves if they fall to catch the rabbit. The wild lands are a very rich and beautiful place if you know how to look at them."
"But, my favorite part is the city. The houses are all decorated with shutters the color of the blue lakes or the green trees. Everyone has a kind word for those they know and a bit of gossip to pass on. The days drift by on the lovely voices of the villagers. A sound that seems comparable to the angels talked of in stories. At night, we gather in our homes and tell stories into the wee hours. I remember many a chilling or humorous tale told around the fire with the sound of the wolves faintly being heard in the background as they hunted for the night. It was enough to take your breath away and make your heart race. But sleep would slowly set in and then morning would come bringing new possibilities and adventures and of course more stories when night fell."
"During the day, I was the dutiful daughter and helped my parents out in their shop. But at night, I was free to pursue my interests. Many a night I spent huddled around the fire listening to stories told by friends and family. When the stories ended, I would reluctantly go to my bed. But that wasn't the end of my night. As the house got silent, I would sneak down to the library and select one of the books from the shelf. Then just as quietly, I would sneak back to my room. With the moonlight streaming in through the cracks in my shutters and the flicker of the candle, I would read about marvelous places written in beautiful flowing script. My night would rudely end when the candle would burn itself out. I would then have no choice but to give into sleep and wait for the next time I would be able to hear a story or some piece of gossip or to be able to read some more in one of the books in the library."
"As I approached the age of apprenticeship, my late night habits were discovered. I had thought that I was going to loose one of the things that made me happy. The feelings of anger coming from my parents almost made me leave home and rush out into the wolf-infested woods in the middle of the night. A feeling of dread and hopelessness consumed me for the next couple of days. I walked around and tried to get every story or bit of gossip committed to memory. I ceased sneaking down to the library and reading the books. Instead I would softly recite what I had heard during the day to my shutters, the moon, and to the wolves, especially the wolves. I hoped that if they could hear my stories, a part of me could run free with them and live the life that I feared I was going to be denied."
"Then one night, my life changed. My parents were acting unusual. They had some customers that come into the shop and talked with them in hushed tones.
They would watch me and if I would look at them they would look away. I feared for the worse. Instead of looking forward to the dark and the stories, I was consumed with grief for the passing of the day into night.
Looking out my window, I caught a glimpse of a stranger clad in a dark cloak wearing a Gentleman's Hat. It almost seemed like he looked right at me before he reached out a gloved hand and knocked on our door. I sat in my room and choked back the tears that I could feel forming. I had heard stories of people that acted against what their parents had thought was proper for them. Strange doctors would show up. When morning came, the people would act exactly like their parents said they should. They were just a spark of the former flame. My parents called for me. I wiped my eyes and hoped that the tears wouldn't fall. With heavy steps and a lead heart, I walked from my room and went to my parents. They introduced to me to that dark clad stranger, but he never rendered his name. Looking back on the night, I never really looked at his face. I was told sit down on one of the footstools and listen. To my surprise, the night was filled with the most wonderful ballads and songs I had ever heard. The voice that sung them lifted my heart and wiped away the tears. I felt like I was lost in a dream.
I didn't realize that the voice had stopped singing until, I heard the Gentleman comment to my parents that I had a special voice and a unique talent and both should be nurtured. It was then that I realized part of the voice I had heard was mine mixing with that of the Gentleman's to form a beautiful harmony of words and feelings."
"The next day I started my training to improve my skills with my voice and my storytelling. On the side, I also learned some skills with a few weapons and some of the wizardly arts. Ambition has brought me to travel, so I can add to my skills and stories."
Syn finished with a flourish and a smile. "And here I am."
Adapting an air of secrecy, Syn lowered her voice "And on some nights when it is still and you can almost feel the pulse of the land around you, I softly sing to the wolves of my homeland, so I can run with them and let my family, friends and the Gentleman know that I still think of them. In my heart and soul, I know that somehow my songs will reach them."
Syn looked around at the group to see how everyone reacted to her story.

"I was born a slave," Slim starts out. "Oh they don't call us slaves. Too ugly a word, but slaves still."
Slim shifts, his eyes scanning the forest as they walk. The air still holds the scent of the pyre, a faint but constant reminder of what they had left behind.
"We mined the river valley, digging into the hard rocks that formed its banks. All of us were little folk. Gnomes, Dwarves, and Halflings, all of us sweating in the clausterphobic depths, hopping that the torches wouldnt go out leaving us at the mercy of the Dwellers." He clenches his hands. "I can still hear the screams from those lost to the darkness. And feel the weight of the pick, and the sting of the master's whip."
He lets out a anxious sigh, "I lost my parents when I was fifteen. The dwellers had destroyed the support beams to one of the tunnels and it had caved in, trapping the miners. With dwindling air, and fading light they could hear the Dwellers in the darkness where their torch light wouldnt reach. We could hear them on the otherside as we struggled to dig them out. Then the Master came. He told us to leave them. They were already dead he told us. And we left them there."
"Through the rock, through the soil we could hear their desperate prayers mingling with the sounds of our picks and shovels. They never begged, never pleaded. just waited huddled around their failing torch."
He lets out a sigh, a breath he hadn't realized he had held. "Then they started screaming. We just kept digging. What could we do?" He asked, as much to himself as to the others. "What could we do."
"Then one day Gondegal rescued us..." He shrugs. "And ever since then I've been working with him."

Stephan is still getting over the shock of the wand, and his speech is left somewhat crisp (just like the rest of him).
"I don't know where I was born, all I know is my first memories are of a country close to here called Sithicus. There is not much else to tell but for the fact that I am a Seeker of Knowledge."
"I'm sorry I cannot be more colorful than that."