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 Online Recap 20.09.2018

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Slynt
GM of Awesomeness
Slynt

Posts : 6072

PostSubject: Online Recap 20.09.2018   Thu 20 Sep 2018, 14:44

Tylendel is in the vault, looking into the Crow-king’s Mirror. He has just asked to see the Lady of Summer. He’s having a hangover, an aching crotch and a headache.

The mirror’s surface swirls, and reveals a shadowed glen which Tylendel quickly understands is somewhere in the Everspring Gardens. As Tylendel peers into the window, his eyes adjusting to the darkness around the glen, he sees a man in a tattered brown cloak shoveling dirt. At the man’s side lies a body wrapped in linen. Obviously sobbing, the man is out of sight from others on the Holy Hill, obscured by the neatly planted circles of trees and bushes. Tylendel bids the mirror show him the man’s face, and recognizes Syr Morton, a landless knight whom Eld had traveled with through the Midlands. Tylendel remembers Eld being quite angry with the fellow before they fled their imprisonment at Riverroad Keep, something to do with Syr Vermundo Imlia and his theft of Eld’s destrier, Black Star.

Tylendel paces out to the two Holy Harvesters standing guard. He orders one of them to go find Syr Gylian or Syr Bohumíl, to tell them that Syr Morton is digging a grave near Grandgate. One of them immediately runs off, the orders delivered clearly and insistently, and the other offers his services to Tylendel but he is already walking back into the vault, distracted. “Well done, mirror,” Tylendel tells the magical artifact in his hands.

Back in the vault, he sits down on a pile of monk robes and looks into the mirror again. “Show me Syr Nathyn Evett.” The mirror does not show him anything but its blank, black surface. After another question, a cloud of gray and white forms quickly in the mirror’s surface and before Tylendel has the chance to react a ghost-like apparition escapes the mirror, one hand stretched out toward Tylendel’s face. Ethereal icy pain rakes his cheek as the ghost-like mirror-thing touches him. It circles around and zips back into the mirror, disappearing into its black surface. Undeterred, Tylendel asks the mirror yet another question but it does not respond. “I guess you need to rest again,” he mutters and wraps the mirror back in the old monk robes.

He begins to focus on magically creating a blue woolen tunic with the Greyoak sigil, yellow woolen long hoses, and a pair of brown leather shoes - after all, he's invited to Duke Esmond for dinner, at Highwind Keep. With his sorcery, he transforms some of the monk robes of the vault into the clothes he envisions. "Here I am, supposed to feed the army, and what do you do, young Greyoak? Making yourself fine clothes. You're a peacock."

He walks back up the stairs, passing the one guard.
"Lock the doors again."
"Yes, my lord."

By the council door, Greyoak meets a Ziven soldier in leather. "Is anyone of the lords inside?"
"Yes, my lord. The honorable Karlon Rymés and the lord of the Arganhold are inside. Do you wish to have the door opened?"
"No, let them have their privacy."


Tylendel walks out of the building and up the stairs, where a Malion man and two Holy Harvesters stand guard. He goes to his chamber, where he puts the clothes, then returns outside, down the stairs, toward where he believes Syr Morton is digging a grave. On the way down, by a shrine, he meets a Thennely soldier. Tylendel says, "The north will howl again." The man nods.

Silent as only Tylendel can be, he passes an archer from Glanmar Hearth who does not even notice his nearby presence. He sneaks all the way up to the small glen, then says, "This is not how things are done here, Syr Morton."
Morton yelps, losing the shovel out of his hand. “W-who goes there?”
Tylendel pulls out Shadowbreaker, the blue light spilling out into the circular grove, banishing the shadows of branches where, Tylendel notes, leaves are growing.
"Where is the Lady of Summer?” Tylendel asks.
Syr Morton looks confused. “Who? What? What do you mean, like the saint?"
Tylendel looks at the cloth-wrapped body at Syr Morton’s feet. "Who is she?”
"Oh,” Syr Morton says, “Now I understand. This is the daughter of the Count of Goldhill. You see, back in the darkness of the Howling Mines, people began to venerate her. Calling her a saint. She did all she could for them. And... I fell in love with her. I have been at her side, all the way from the north, I've been at her side, every day and night, here on the Holy Hill. I was confident she would recover… She was not."
His eyes glint wet and blue in Tylendel's light.
“It was what she wanted, m’lord. Her last words. ‘Bury me in the gardens, my friend. And do not weep for me. I know what awaits, and it brings nothing but joy to my failing heart. It is meant to be this way’..."
Syr Morton convulses. "I know I was never the best, or most chivalrous knight. But please, let me grant her her last wish. I beg you, my lord."
He strokes the body's cloth-wrapped arm. "My love..."
"Step out of the pit," Tylendel says. Reluctantly, Morton does so, dragging his shovel along.
Tylendel walks to the grave, looks down into the hole, then begins casting a spell. He makes the soil push away below him, deepening the grave. "Take her shoulders," he tells a stunned Syr Morton.
"Thank you, my lord."

Once they have lowered her down, Tylendel releases the spell, and soil flows back to cover her. "Oh no...," Morton whimpers, then says a prayer to the Lost God Found.
After he has finished, the thanks Tylendel again, then Tylendel says, "Lady, let your spirit make this place a place of light and healing."
"No one,” Syr Morton says glumly, “especially me, would have ever thought Syr Morton of Rubenkettle would ever find true love. But I did, my lord. I did… So beautiful and so kind, always thinking of others. I had no choice but to respect her last wish. Will this be our secret?"
"No."
"I guess not."

They see and hear people approach.

"What's going on in there!" someone shouts.
"I bet it's Lord Greyoak,” someone else says.
Among them is Syr Comton who calls, "Greyoak?" It is clear the light spilling from the gardens is the light of Tylendel’s light-bringing artifact, which is becoming more and more known.
"In the clearing," Tylendel responds.
"You've spooked at least half the Holy Hill with that light coming from here," Comton says as he enters the clearing. He sees Morton digging.
"So...what are you digging for?"
"This is the grave of the lady of summer, the saint of the mines,” Tylendel responds.
"Who?"
"When the people took refuge in the Howling Mines, she was the one who cared for them, who gave them hope. Now the darkness has taken her."
"Ristina Goldhill,"
Syr Comton whispers.
"I think she belongs here,” Tylendel says.
"Well, yes, if you say so. You're the king on the hill."
Comton tells the soldiers there's nothing more to see. "Disperse."

Morton finishes closing the grave, then leaves them, bereft of words. "I had hoped we were done with the dying, at least for a while," Comton says.
"Until the Crow-king comes, I guess,” Tylendel replies.
"I guess we have to report this though?"
"Yes, I’ll look for Syr Gylian and Syr Bohumil."
"Camrey’s not here. He joined the Duke of Halinhaven down to the harbor."
"I'll speak to Syr Gylian then and let the rest of the lords know tomorrow morning."
"Very well. I'll go back to my post."

Tylendel walks back to the House of Martial Holies but he learns that Syr Gylian is off to the Temple of Summer with Syr Gombald Nobry and a squad of engineers, to bring something back to the Holy Hill.

Tylendel walks to Nemeth Hold, finding the remnants of the Company of Hope’s Beacon in the main chamber. Lovely Rust and Latica are playing Castle by the round table. When Lovely turns to talk to Tylendel, Latica moves a piece across the board. Florentyn is struggling with a poem or song, not getting it to work the way he wants to.
"I can take you to Hazel's tomb now,” Tylendel says.
Lovely turns back to his game with Latica, squinting at the board, scratching his head. "Your turn," Latica says, her voice oozing even while playing a board game.
"We are part of the army now,” Steelfingers informs Tylendel.
"Who’s your captain?” Tylendel asks.
“It’s a sergeant, actually,” Steelfingers replies, obviously not too well informed on the ranking hierarchy.
“There would be a captain around, too, most likely," Lovely Rust tells him over his shoulders.
“We're assigned to the 2nd Company, 11th squad,” Avira explains.
“That would be captain Ira. I wouldn't piss her off if I were you,” Tylendel says.
“A woman?” Vinal says incredulously.
“Don’t know about her, but our sergeant is a man named Doborím Straw. You know him?" she asks Tylendel.
"Not heard of him."

"We'll get the measure of him soon enough,” Lovely Rust says, “Still, these are Wardens. I guess they are reasonably disciplined.” He grins.
“More than you,” Latica adds. She gets out of her chair. "I'm hankering for something." She walks up to the cupboard, hips swaying, mesmerizing. Tylendel looks to see if Lovely cheats as well when Latica has her back turned, but he doesn't.
Florentyn gets up. "All right, I'm ready." He walks over to Tylendel. “I remember the first time I saw your face, looking down at me through a grill.”
“We've heard that before, you know,”
Lovely Rust mutters.
"Are you happy Syr Rhanmar Wick gave you the choice? That you became a Moonguard?" Tylendel wonders.
"I thank him every day, my lord. Sometimes I think about what it would have been like to languish in that cellar on the other side of the Great Plain all these years...I would have avoided much nerve-wracking terrors for sure, but I wouldn't be ... free. I guess I have you to thank as well. I hope that someday I can repay you."
"I have a feeling you will. Let’s go."

Vinal is aggravated that Avira leaves her porridge bowl on the table. He goes and puts it where it’s supposed to be, atop a stack of dirty bowls on the cupboard, grumbling. Then they’re all off.

Tylendel leads them up the temple. Darkness is falling through the hole in the sky, the silvery light dwindling. They walk up the hill in silence, then down to the tombs. Avira whispers, “What a creepy place this is”.
They stop in front of the steel wall with the inscription Tylendel forged with magic. Avira sobs; Lovely Rust shakes his head; Florentyn busily reads and writes down the epithet on the steel wall. Latica puts a hand on Tylendel's shoulder. “Beautiful words. Now I admire you just a little more.”
“She deserved more,”
Tylendel says. “I shouldn't have tasked her spirit to guard this room. That was wrong of me.”
Lovely raises an eyebrow. "You sayin' her spirit is here?"
“I… don't know. Braek killed her spirit, but I don't believe a spirit can be destroyed. Spirits will live on...somewhere. I hope...by the saints, how I hope...that Hazel's spirit is free, that I didn't chain her here..."
“Can't you undo it? Just in case?”
Avira asks.
“This tomb is unbreakable.”
Lovely puts her arm around Avira and tries to comfort her. “I'm sure he did what was best at the time.”
Tylendel swears that if there is a way to free her spirit - should it be entrapped with Braek - he will find that way. Tylendel leaves them to make their farewells, waiting for them in the dark hallway. A little while later, they appear.
Florentyn wonders if it is possible to explore the temple, it fascinates him. "Or is it off limits?"
Tylendel says he will probably get access. "Just stay out of the tombs on the outside."
"Well, I don't know many men who have more respect for that which is holy than me, so I think that will work just fine. Thank you. It's for research purposes, of course. You know, now that it's possible without being clobbered in the head by some wildman from the desert or those stinking hair-things… My story will become much more vivid if I can describe things properly."

“You should have been a fortnight later when I took down Camrey Castle. That was very vivid,” Tylendel says dryly.
“I can only imagine," Florentyn replies. “So it's true? You made the whole thing collapse?”
It might have been excessive, but the Black King was summoning Parafor.”
“Who minds excess?”
Latica says behind them, voice husky.
Outside again Tylendel asks the guards if Gylian has returned but they haven't seen him. The darkening skies leads Tylendel to believe it's around seven in the evening.

“The air is a little fresher up here,” Lovely comments, his tone of voice hinting at the understatement.
Tylendel asks Florentyn to go to the House of Martial Holies and tell Syr Gylian that "the Lady of Summer has been buried in the Everspring Gardens. I will explain more tomorrow.”
Florentyn goes off to do Tylendel’s bidding. The others go back to Nemeth Hold, thanking Tylendel for showing them the tomb. Latica sends him a lingering look before she leaves. Tylendel tells them he's off to his chamber to gather his thoughts.

In the chamber, Tylendel wants to rest for a few hours before going to Highwind Keep and the dinner with Duke Esmond Sollani he’s invited to.

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