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    1. TheWizardLizard 10 yrs ago

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Carver awoke from his dream with a start. He rubbed his face, blinked his eyes, confirmed in his mind that he was indeed awake, that yes, this was real and what he'd just seen had been fantasy. There was a picture emblazoned on his arm, a strange symbol he couldn't recognize from any of his learning. That was from the dream, but if that was still there, then...?

There was something else, too, a sensation that had stuck with him. Weightlessness. Alula.

Wherever the girl was, Carver prayed she was safe.

There was a sight he wasn't quite prepared for. There was a child curled up next to him, fast asleep, a small, frail thing who obviously hadn't slept in a bed in a long while. He wondered for a moment where the child had come from, and then concluded that it didn't matter. Perhaps he was another survivor, perhaps he was an urchin. What mattered now was that he was clearly alone, and tired, and had come to Carver seeking protection.

The paladin lifted his blanket and spread it over the child, taking great care not to wake him. When the time came for his watch, Carver stepped outside the tent dressed in the plain linen clothes he'd been wearing under his armor yesterday. He took up position where he could see the sunrise peeking over the horizon, planted his sword at his feet, and spent a time contemplating her wisdom and beauty in silence.

The silence was broken a great while later, when the rest of the party began to awaken. He was content to leave them to their morning rituals until the gnome came to sit next to him. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The knight smiled softly. "She is. She loves each of us, you know. That is why she blesses us with her radiance. We are all children of the sun."
@TheWizardLizard Are you in an unoccupied tent?


Probably, if there are any of those still left.
Shit's now slightly more fucked.

Greg's now half therapist, half disgruntled neighbor. "Look, it's not your fault your father left, now could you KEEP IT DOWN?"
Greg's head snapped up. He put his hands over his ears, wincing, as three voices filled his head all at once, screaming louder than any others.

He bristled with fury, the word freak burned into his brain. He brimmed with anger, violence, and then fear, indignation, someone was trying to calm things down -

Greg let out a breath, gasping. Someone was on the ground, pinned to the ground, the word they hated being shouted into their ear. Impotence, anger, frustration...
A fourth voice entered the uproar, quieter at first and growing louder. Greg recognized this one as the scared boy, out of his element. Casper.

Have to help, friend facedown, crushed for his kindness, not to choose is a choice.

Greg ground his teeth as the impact filled the ground. Someone had gotten tossed.

Greg breathed, in and out, forcing his heartrate to calm. He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich sitting on a plate on his new bedside table, his appetite drained. The first three voices faded back to join the usual tumult, but the fourth remained, only growing louder if anything.

Not strong enough for strength, harmed, hurt, hit, judge, jury, and executioner, undeserving.

The voice carried on in that self-flagellating manner. Despite his best efforts, Greg began to gain a modicum of understanding for the boy, so long had the voice been present. That was unusual - it generally took him at least a few days before his 'regulars' started telling him more about themselves. His name was Casper. He was strong, stronger than he thought he should be. He was terribly frightened, and terribly alone, and terribly... terribly... close.

In a daze, Greg stepped out of his room, forgetting to lock it behind him. He walked down the hall, his eyes opening and closing and not really seeing anything.

what if he's not there what if he's scared of me what if he doesn't want me what if they don't like me

There he was, just down the hall. Greg slumped against a wall as the boy knocked on the door in front of him a few times. "He's not in," Greg called out after the third or fourth knock. "He's not in, and you were very brave and very strong and did a very good thing and just please, please QUIET DOWN."
Aaaand Carver's in the tent! Goodnight, paladin!

Also, Spoopy, I feel obligated to tell you that if Carver finds out Arastoph is lying to him to try and swindle him, Carver's gonna try to kill him. Like, I don't want to kill Arastoph, he's a really neat character, but I can't really think of any way I can spin it so that Carver doesn't try to kill him for that. So, you know, warning. Might want to dial back on conning the resident Powder Keg of Justice.
Carver watched Separ enter his tent. The man was generous in his defense of Carver, but ultimately, misguided. It had not been his responsibility to defend the village, nor Kelvin's, nor Vis's. When Carver put on the armor, he swore an oath - he made the defense of all things good and peaceful his responsibility forevermore.

The refugee's words were compelling, however. Truly, the man had lost much, endured much, and he deserved to be heard out at the least.

"If you do take responsibility," said the refugee, "I do expect reparations. Safe passage to other towns. The lives of people are not insurable, but I expect at least the compensation for everything I've lost. I'm a merchant who had a pretty penny to his name. I've lost a lot. This would mean paying off a large monetary debt, however long it takes."

Without him even realizing it, Carver's upper lip curled into an expression of disgust at the words. "So that's it, then? Money." The paladin rounded on the man, hands clenching into fists. "You speak of money when homes are gutted and pillaged. You speak of money when innocents are slaughtered, women defiled, children burned. You've borne witness to carnage indescribable, and yet you have words for your fortune?!"

The knight was shouting now, the full weight of his fury bearing down on the man. "What I failed was beyond sums and figures. The peaceful life that was taken from those villagers was worth more than all the coin you could ever put your hands on. I will live in penance for this failure and for many others, but I will not spend my days recompensing a miser his 'pretty penny.'"

Carver turned to walk towards his tent. Almost as an after-thought, he yanked his coinpurse from his side and tossed it over to the man. "There. Ten coins, all the money to my name. Take it, if you value it so greatly. I do not care for its stink."

With that, the paladin entered the tent, still bristling with indignation.
Uh-oh, Arastoph brought up the 'M' word. To a paladin. When people are dying left and right.

Probably shoulda quit while he was ahead, there.
Well technically Wizardlizard everyone isnt assembled yet, Alula needs to wait for everyone to fall asleep to keep from having a murder party.

(but celestial bodies will soon be reunited)


Fixt.

(can't wait)
Carver nodded to the half elf. "Your offer is a generous one, and I appreciate it. I will take the last watch, for I see best during sunrise. When your watch draws to a close, wake up Separ. Separ will have to wake up Kelvin. Kelvin will have to wake up..." The paladin glanced around the assembled party. A child, a refugee, a witch, and a wide-eyed gnome. "... Me. I'll take a double watch, it'll be no trouble."

The party was sore, tired, frightened and generally worn down, but they were alive, and they were together, which was more than the knight could have hoped for. At least, most of them were - Alula, the very girl he'd sworn to protect, was still missing. Part of Carver wanted to go look for her, but he knew it wouldn't be safe, and that it wouldn't be what she wanted - she'd seemed pretty insistent on being alone at night. His efforts were better spend on those he had eyes on - what they needed now was to rest and recover their strength - their next moved could be planned in the morning.

“Carver, do you – or do you not – feel responsible for the failure in preventing the destruction of Ravenwood and of all its citizens?”

The refugee's words, the one who'd tried to get a rise out of him earlier. Carver held the man's gaze. His home had been burned to ashes, everyone he'd ever known put to the sword. If he wanted to take it out on the man who should've prevented it, that was more than his right.

"Yes. Your village is burned, all those people dead, because I was not wise or fast or strong enough to stop it. On my head was the task, and on my head lay the blame."
Carver sheathed his bloody blade and regarded the corpse coolly. "Look favorably upon him," he whispered. "All men deserve a kind voice in their judgement."

His commendation of the fallen concluded, the Paladin turned to the others. "Right. Now does seem like an excellent time to make an exit. I'll follow your lead, friend, if you say you know the way."

The knight began to jog lightly in the direction the man had pointed. "Alula!" he shouted, every so often. "Half-elf! Kelvin! Are you out there? We're leaving, come find us!"

It occured to him that this may incur further enemy attention, but it struck the knight as the balance of two paths. He couldn't leave his friends alone to fend for themselves in the woods, nor could he risk the safety of the others by searching for them. With luck, they'd solve his dilemma and come find him.
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