Birthright Tuornen Chapter Four

[ewancummins]

THE CLEARING

Cormac scoops a handful of dried berries from his pouch, rushing to Dietric's side as he chants and fills them with potent magical energy.

"Here, lad," he says, putting into the man's mouth and helping him to swallow it. He watches for the wound to close, nodding in satisfaction, and stands up to survey the battlefield. In a moment, as the adrenaline slows, it comes bubbling out of him in triumphant, vibrant laughter. "AYE LADS! THA'S A VICTORY FOR YER HOMES!" He roars. "AN' WE'RE NAE GONNA STOP TILL THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"

With that he sees to the wounded, directing those that are still standing to help with looting the bodies. He sends the poachers to go run down the horses that bolted.

A panting, ragged cheer answers Cormac’s words.
The poachers swiftly go to catch the fleeing horses.
Dietric mumbles and chews the enchanted berry. His bleeding stops, but he remains hurt. The ex-bandit falls asleep

The two woodcutters lift their bloodstained axes in salute to Cormac.
The older one, with peach fuzz on his chin, smiles broadly. He puffs out his chest. "I told you we could fight."
A little less loudly, "Thanks for taking us on."

His companion just stares at the two wargs that fell to their axes, one of which he and his friend killed without aid.
"Wow!"

[steveflam]

"Lad, it looks like tha guards 'o' the city are 'ere. Makes yer wunner who's protectin' tha people 'o' the city, dont it? I might be , well me, but I'd know me job an do it. An look, Clyde be dancin like 'e' only knows how! Bwahhahahaah!" Torthur leads Reese through the crowd to Clyde and grins. "Ye done good, Clyde. I gots ye somethin, me friend."

The dwarf shows the bear a familiar sight, that of a jar of honey! He smiles affectionately at the bear and opens it, handing it to his ursine friend. Scratches him affectionately behind the ear before turning his attention to the food he and Reese have. "Lad, let's sit." They do.

Between mouthfuls of chicken he speaks to the lad. "So, ye serve this Roald. Ye be knowin much about fightin', lad?"

[RocEter]

THE CLEARING

Cormac scoops a handful of dried berries from his pouch, rushing to Dietric's side as he chants and fills them with potent magical energy.

"Here, lad," he says, putting into the man's mouth and helping him to swallow it. He watches for the wound to close, nodding in satisfaction, and stands up to survey the battlefield. In a moment, as the adrenaline slows, it comes bubbling out of him in triumphant, vibrant laughter. "AYE LADS! THA'S A VICTORY FOR YER HOMES!" He roars. "AN' WE'RE NAE GONNA STOP TILL THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"

With that he sees to the wounded, directing those that are still standing to help with looting the bodies. He sends the poachers to go run down the horses that bolted.

A panting, ragged cheer answers Cormac’s words.
The poachers swiftly go to catch the fleeing horses.
Dietric mumbles and chews the enchanted berry. His bleeding stops, but he remains hurt. The ex-bandit falls asleep

The two woodcutters lift their bloodstained axes in salute to Cormac.
The older one, with peach fuzz on his chin, smiles broadly. He puffs out his chest. "I told you we could fight."
A little less loudly, "Thanks for taking us on."

His companion just stares at the two wargs that fell to their axes, one of which he and his friend killed without aid.
"Wow!"

The Clearing

Wiping the blood off his long knife on his pant leg, Foerde sheathes the knife and moves to the sleeping Dietric. Kneeling he places his hands begins chanting a prayer of powerful healing magic.

After healing Dietric he stands and moves to next seriously injured member of their party and preforms the same miracle on them. "My abilities in the divine arts of healing are limited but I have done what I can for today." He says.

[Adam]

Cormac nods. "I think they'll be alrigh' enough to get where we're goin', long as there's no more surprises."

He looks around for a moment, pondering, before unhooking his hand axe from his belt. "Let's get what we can tha's useful from this lot an' then be on our way. But before we leave..." He stoops, snatching a handful of one of the goblins' hair and lifting until the neck is taught. With a grim look, he drops the hatchet onto the thing's neck, severing it. "Let's leave these rats a message they'll unnerstan'," he mutters, snatching up one of the goblin spears. He jabs the butt into the ground and impales the head on the point. He nods in grim satisfaction at his handiwork.

[ewancummins]

CITY OF HAES,
CATHEDRAL OF HAELYN


That afternoon, before the young ruler and his party head north towards Croakers' Norge, the funeral is held.

Red-robed priests chant prayers as they prepare to lower the mortal remains of Duke Gilgaed into a vault below the cathedral of Haeyln. Copious amounts of sweet incense fail to complete mask the clammy odor of decay that seeps from the elaborately carved rosewood casket. Duke Gilgead goes to his eternal rest without a public viewing of his face or a lengthy lying in state. But his death mask has been made and given to his son Devlin, handed over by the Archprelate at the conclusion of the somber rites of burial. The casket thunks softly against the floor of the vault. The stone lid of the tomb scrapes shut; the people begin to file out of the cathedral, silent and slow.

Outside, a fresh spring rainstorm washes the city streets clean…



END OF THE CHAPTER