/bump till the morn and till I can edit my logs

/I numped myself!

nump'ed yourself? (raises eyebrows) oh really now..

 

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The expanse of Lyonesse spread out before Azaeli as she lowered herself to the grass and pulled a small bit of bread from the pouch at her hip. She chewed silently, reflecting on her confession with the Bishop the night before as the sun warmed her...


...the bishop seemed to straighten almost with pride as Azaeli confessed to him her grave crime. Her head was bowed, her face veiled to hide her reddened eyes, and so she did not see the flash of pleasure that shone in his eyes at this news.


"Then you have committed the worst sin imaginable in the eyes of the Almighty," his voice was steady and stern, and she imagined a hint of amusement. Azaeli suddenly found herself wishing she'd just spoken to Tobyas, who always had a kind word and a light tone. But hers was to grave a crime to rely on a friend... Bishop Elgen, on the other hand... But who was she to choose? She deserved no kindness for her actions.


"es, Your Grace," she said softly, hands clasped tightly in her lap. He raised a hand over her and began prayers of atonement in a voice that droned on with no compassion. When he finished, he passed out her penance.


"Those are the last words you shall utter for one week. You shall go to Lyonesse and dispose the scourge of ghostly farmers and townsfolk that plague the lakeside there. Use that time to reflect on you sin. Speak to no one."


...she looked down at the hillside and nibbled a bit of the bread. The apparitions seemed to appear as quickly as she could cut them down, and a few were beyond her skill to engage. A few times she'd been asked to raise a companion of those hunting the hamadryads to the north, and gotten strange looks when she offered nothing more than a smile and a head-shake in response to hunting invitations.


But those trials were nothing compared to her grief in the wrong she had committed. It may as well have been her own hand that slayed her sister. She wiped her face wit the back of her hand, finishing the small bit of bread, and drew out her sword, a ghostly farmer in her sights.

:::Just outside the east city gates, the purple-robed prophet speaks to the surrounding crowds upon makeshift pulpits:::


At the summits of Heaven,

the Immortal Creator weaps!

At Caligo Cadere

the Eternal Sleeper sleeps!

Borne flesh of deceit

from ilk of Darkness,

the begotten of Barfog, he shall harness!

The Antipater is borne,

the two womb bear at last!

So come the Cataclysm,

the reckoning of future's past!


:::A storm begins to brew over Cotswold, despite the earlier clear morning. Some jeer the madmen, some pay nary a mind, yet some stop to think to themselves:::

The vista around him rolled and boiled, and the stars shimmered in the sky, for here it was always night.


The world was laid out before him, and long had he studied it since his exile. When he returned he would be stronger than ever, no longer would he have to wear a mortal coil to live on earth.


He would once have smiled at this, but long ago his body became non-corporeal and it was rarer for him to have these petty human responses.


His sight wandered from his faithful servant for a moment, she was quite capable of looking after herself while he diverted his attention to another little creature. She was blonde and athletic in build, and more importantly her soul shone with a great purity and compassion. Lodged in it's side was the thorn of guilt, the tremendous guilt was eating at her, gnawing away at her from inside. It brought sorrow and pain to her soul.

He regarded her for a length of time, she was silent and promised no word to others for one week, meditating on her pain and sin. Azaeli Hammerfel was alone with her guilt, carrying the burden of her sister's death.


Originally he had chosen Lexi for his needs, but now he knew of her past it may be unwise to aggrivate another power. he knew that the world was a tangle of plots and forces, and he always stepped carefully in his dealings, honouring the strong and being merciless to those weaker powers who opposed him. Now he reconsidered it he had a better pawn for his Rebirth.


Azaeli would oppose him, he was certain. Apolexia would too, but she was a mere child. No, Azi was the most likely to intervene. He never considered himself evil, but he never shyed away from what must be done either. His power stretched out towards her, and he knew the human soul like no other save it's Creator. A few subtle manipulations over the next week would do the trick. He stung her with guilt, he lifted her feelings of Lexi to that first moment where they became sisters, and then let her imagination run upon her death. Death without confession, for Lexi didn't believe in the Nailed God, and so Azi would know her sister burnt in Hell for her rashness.


It was a very subtle and delicate process to stir a soul thus, but Arcalan's Master was working in his speciality in this. Where demons tried to posess and drive their victims, and failed, he needed only to work with what was already there. Azaeli fed her own grief, her own pain, he need only induce a little more and implant the single enduring theme..


Azaeli thought of the blade in Hecathia, the body in her mind reminded her of Apolexia, with her sister's scimitar impaling her... it should have been me... it should have been me...


Could he break this paladin's will, and turn her hand to self-slaughter? Time would tell, but already it was at the back of her mind.. to atone for her act, she must be with her sister, by the hand that slew Apolexia in rash deed, Azi's life must end.


He sat back satisfied that the process was underway. He would not concern himself with her oppositon, if she could be persuaded to commit suicide. His thought returned to his adoring disciple Arcalan, and he noted that he would have to work on Azaeli a little more in a day or two.


The Moon made waves as it passed across the horizon and he enjoyed the clouds swimming across the sky, obscuring the moon then darting away again like formless fish. He recalled seeing the world with human eyes, as he had with Pompin, and vowed it would be thus again soon.

Azi swallowed hard as she rested between fights, and almost cried out at the anguishing thought that had just crossed her mind. She had never considered that end before, it had never occurred to her to think that way..


Silent tears streamed down her face as she angered a ghostly farmer and readied her sword again. It was true though, it should have been her.. She swung her sword swiftly, cutting through the ghostly form, falling into the familiar rhythm. Swing, parry, parry, swing. Her mind was numb, her heart was heavy...

/bump cause Im awake and this'll take awhile

Jashen's reply finally arrived in the early morning. He indicated that he would meet Arcalan at Snowdonia Station if Lyn Barfog was her goal.

 

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Arcalan awoke in her room at the inn. She'd paid in advance much to the innkeeper's delight, and she knew she could not afford to wait much longer. She was thrilled by the early arrival of Jashen's reply, and ordered in a few additional comforts to make the journey more pleasent. The two bottles of wine she had packed were merely because Jashen was always kindly sharing his drink with others. It was only right to take a bottle as a present for him, and a second just in case.


When she had finished her extended toiletries she made her way outside and sent off a few letters to ensure League business ran smoothly, pre-paying the most common services the League used and ensuring a tip for those who tolerated any member being a little rowdy. She hired a fast horse and set out towards Snowdonia Station. It'd be quite a long ride, but she was content about it. She had brought a slim volume of poetics to read, in the Avalonian language which always made her nostalgic. She'd settle down to that tonight if she didn't reach the Station in time for sundown.

She thought of the next step in the rebirth, and of using Danidar to ensure she was blame free. She knew her master wanted her to hold off a little while longer, but she knew not why, for the workings of that immense mind were not for her to question.


She spurred the horse onward into the bright new day.