Corlith listens intently to Reya's tale, and to her pronouncement that she is proud to be a Hellrider.
"The Hellriders have an honourable history, and you should be proud to be a part of their number. And it seems during those times over a century ago Zariel was an ally to the people of Elturel", he says tactfully. "It is disconcerting that those responsible for the fall of Elturel now, are followers of Zariel. It seems she has properly fallen, and has ensured the city she once protected has fallen with her".
"You mentioned back in Thornvalley that you intended to find out what happened to Elturel and save it. That is truly a formidable quest. Candlekeep and this Sylvira Savikas that Fisk works for will really have to come up with the goods if you are to stand a chance", he adds contemplatively, looking across to Fisk as he mentions his patron.
Reed listens to Reya's story with great interest. Nothing beats a story around the campfire, though he does turn to look into the darkness at every rustle of leaves or crack of a twig.
"So, these Avernus fiends," Reed begins. "Do you think they hold a grudge? They live a long time, don't they? Sounds like they waited around until they could find a couple of people to pay off and now they're trying to take out the big cities again."
He looks off into the darkness, wondering again what a small cutthroat of a thief like him can do against demons and devils but then he smiles.
"Does anyone think these fiends have treasure hoards like dragons?"
Reed finally takes in his companions. They've been so busy since they all met, he really isn't sure he knows much about any of them other than Virro really, really likes fingers.
"What would you all do with a dragon's hoard?" he asks.
Corlith doesn't miss a beat when Reed asks what each of them would do with a Dragon's Horde.
"Gold means power and influence. I would use it to gain both in Baldur's Gate. You saw what the Vanthampur's did with a bit of gold behind them. Those in power are too often corrupt and with selfish ideals. Someone needs to gain control who has the interest of the populace at heart", he says matter of factly.
Reya smiles at Archie, the defiance in her eyes assuaged by her words. "I had the best mentors. Though the ones that had been to the other side from what I heard didn't like to share anything about it. Kept it close, you know? Sorry... that would sure have been helpful information now."
"Formidable quest indeed." Reya replies, her jaw becoming set as she takes in Corlith's words. "I do intend to find out. Do you?"
Fisk notices Corlith's look and the tieflings intent to get him engaged. He just takes another drink from his waterskin and stares into the fire.
"Grudge or not, we're getting Elturel back. Though I do wonder if there are other cultists in other cities that are doing the same thing that the Vanthampurs were doing. Which is also why we can't fail."
She looks contemplative at Reed's last question, "That kind of money? I have no idea." Fisk finally pipes up, "I do, I'd get out of service to Candlekeep and just live out my days in Little Calimshan without a care in the world."
"Dragons have hoards?" Roo says, scratching about, preening, and, weirdly enough, looking tired as darkness sets in. "I uhm..."
He pauses hsi preening and looks hard at the fire, keeping a respectable distance from it.
"I would use it to keep my people safe. That's how I wound up in Baldur's Gate to begin with. And I guess now i could use it to make Reed's people safe too."
Reed smiles over at Roo but looks disappointed at Reya’s lack of creativity.
”Definitely keep the village safe, and build new homes for Roo’s flock. But then, I think I’d really like to see elephants. Oh maybe we could get a few and race them through Baldur’s Gate.”
What Reya said does eventually sink in and he looks over at her again.
”So Zariel is real? Strong? How do we stop her then?”
"If she's a demon now I guess divine magics will be effective, though looking around I have no certainty that any of us have that much godly faith..." Archie's head movements betray her sight lingering on Video a little longer than the rest, his tendancy to collect digits of the dead being the furthest from a divine habit that she could possibly think of, "...Roo is your god one that has fought with demon kind before?" She inquires whilst pulling out her trusty book of god's and mosters that she stole from the ill fated boat inn back in Balder's gate.
“I am set on the path to Candlekeep to follow the Vanthampur trail of fiend worship and corruption. To see what this puzzle box is all about and make sure Baldur’s Gate is now safe”, Corlith replies to Reya.
”I do feel for you and the folk of Elturel, and if I can help I will, but Baldur’s Gate is my priority. Along with helping Archie. Maybe our goals will align though”, he adds.
He then looks to Reed, “Perhaps an elephant race track outside the city would be more likely if I come to power”.
Archie recoils a little with embarrassment at Corlith pointing out the obvious help that she needs, but instead of engaging with the 'what if's' of the plan to come in candlekeep she sidles up to Wilf a little bit and decides to engage him in conversation instead, "you ok old man? We both got knocked pretty severely back there I thought we might just lose you for a moment, you've kept to yourself a bit since then..." She trails off leaving more to be asked but waits for a response first.
When they settle down for the night, Wilfred pulls out a carving knife and a chunk of wood. He is just roughly carving out for now, perhaps making another doll.
He contemplates Reed's question. What would he do with a dragons hoard. He honestly never thought about it before. He chuckles a little at the thought of tiny Reed riding a elephant.
Wilfred smiles at Archie as she sits by him, although there is still a look of concern when the other voice comes out. "I'm okay. It'll take more than that to keep me down..." He continues to whittle for a moment, then stops. "It wasn't the fight. It was Reed's village. It reminded me of home. Cliffvine Vineyard. Fermentation has a certain scent, doesn't matter if it's ale or wine. Maybe that's what I would do with a dragons hoard, start a new vineyard. But Corlith has a good thought, someone really needs to clear out all the corruption here. Can't have the ruling class keep the working class down! Oww!." The knife skips and he pricks himself as he gets a little heated with what he talking about.
Archie winces and makes a sound like she's sucking air in through her teeth under the helm, before she gently prods him with a handful off magical healing, "would you restore your home? you said it burned down but you've not really spoken about it much, I don't mean to be rude or to pry but, well I mean... at one point I think you called me Sophia, I think it was Sophia, right? Sometimes it helps when people around you know, y'know?"
Wilfred chuckles and says "I caught that one. 'Restore Me'." The light laughter does not reach his eyes.
He sighs and puts down the wood and knife. He pulls his pack close to him and starts to rummage in it. "The vines were burned, you see. There were a few that could have survived, but the soil would all screwed up from the fire. The Brewers guild would have helped, if I asked. They are good people. But that place wasn't me home anymore." He stops and pulls out three wooden dolls from his pack. From what you can see, they look like they would have been very intricate designs on them. At least on the sections of them that weren't burned. He places them down one at a time, saying a name as he does. "Ronald. Sophia, Sogren. 13, 9, 7. They were in the house with my wife, Eliza. They knocked me out and tied me to a fence post. Then they lit the fires." He sighs. "You know who tied me up? A guard I thought would protect my family. Do you know who ordered him to do it, some noble who was trying to cut out the Brewers Guild." He looks down at the burned dolls, his face completely devoid of emotion. "There aren't many names left on the list..." He says quietly, almost like he's talking to the dolls.
Wilfred takes out the jug he got from Reed's dad, and takes a big swing. "This talk needs a drink."
Archie stays quiet, putting a hand on wilf's back, after a moment digesting the trauma that Wilf must have endured she nods as he downs some ale and clears her throat, whispering "that's too much loss and betrayal for one person. You're not alone. There's a reason I went out and tried to help people after I put on the suit, people needed someone to look up to, a protector that couldn't be bribed or corrupted, someone to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves... I didn't do a good job and I think I was mostly just trying to make use of my own shame and guilt, but it's something I still want to do, you can stand up for yourself Wilf, but I promise, I'll be standing right there with you." She removes her hand from his back and takes his ale, returning it a moment later afte she's had a little swing.
"Tell me about them, please... three kids must have been a handful" there's a quiet sadness to her distant voice within the armour, but she listens as intently as she possibly can.
Corlith respectfully keeps quiet allowing Wilfred the space to speak about his children, having listened to the tale of their fate and that of his wife.
He had had an inkling of what had happened, after picking up on so many clues and having the odd chat with Wilf. The older man had called him Ronald on at least one occasion.
But there was also the constant distraction of Ironmaiden's voice interspersed when Archie speaks. He was still in two minds whether to talk to her about it again, but the truth he couldn't escape was that a machine was killing a person, and he knew of no way to stop it happening. And he wasn't a philosopher capable of determining what sentience is.
Roo hears the question, begins to speak...and then decides to shut up and listen as Wilfred begins to answer questions. His friend has earned it, and so the little Gallus sits there and listens and wonders. It isn't so different from his connection to Fog' Horn, is it? That attachment, the love...though different between the species, he can at least identify the loss. So he remains quiet, and listens...and when it's his turn to speak, he speaks.
"Gallus never fought demonkind before." Roo says, not sounding as sure as usual. "Gallus is an indifferent god, in some ways. These demons are the residue of false idols. Gallus doesn't acknowledge them in any meaningful way because to do so is to give them legitimacy, which they do not have. We don't have demons in our cosmos. My people, I mean. I think I have buck said that this or that is good or evil, but we don't really have good or evil either. We just have life and death. Gallus is life, warmth and light that makes the grass and the plants grow and the bugs crawl and keeps the talons in the darkness. And Stryx is the darkness, the death that comes at you from where you cannot see. Because what is death, but the absence of life?
No, no battles with demons. That was what Fog' Horn was for, to fight the battles Gallus was too lofty to fight. And now...I suppose that's what I am here for, buck buh."
Reya draws out her blade, 'Well, for starters a really nice sword." But then she chuckles as she puts it away, "Elephants? Now that is not something I expected you to say, you'd have to train them not be scared of your ghosts." she smiles as she teases him.
Then gets a bit more serious, "Yeah, strong. Honestly? I don't know, maybe we can find more allies along the way? Strong ones?" She scratches her head, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the question.
She listens to Corlith and nods. How could she expect anything more? "I hope they do align. I would be sad to lose your companionship on this journey."
Before Wilfred really opens up, Fisk adds, "Yeah Thornvalley is beautiful. Little Calimsham isn't too shabby, but its not the rolling hills and beauty your home is Reed. And your people? I enjoyed chatting with the ones in the Community Hall." As Wilfred continues, he respectively gets quiet and solemn, but reaches out a hand for the jug if Wilf is willing to share.
Reya sits back and listens to Wilfred's story, she doesn't trust herself to talk as she hears the sorrow and pain in his voice as he recounts what happened to him and his family. She hasn't noticed the times he has stepped out and thinks, how has he kept it together so well? She was proud of the one they called Papa. As Archie pipes up and talks to him, she feels for the girl, impressed how she is supporting their friend. She furrows her brow as she thinks about the other voice that interjects random words... it wasn't getting worse she didn't think. But she was glad they were so close to Candlekeep.
She is surprised when Roo starts talking, actually coherently talking about his Gallus and how they viewed the world. "Your kind sound like ones I would like to know more of. Your ritual back at the house, when you invited Stryx in... is that going to be a conflict among your kind?" She smiles, the warmth of the fire and the comradery between them all making her feel more at home than she has since Elturel fell, "You fight with the best of them Roo, your Gallus would be proud. Fog'Horn would be very proud."
Reed sits very quietly for awhile after Wilfred speaks. He doesn't know how to absorb that much horror. Finally he manages to stand and place a hand on Wilfred and whispers "Your list is our list. But when it's done, our homes are your homes."
He then turns back to the fire, feeling very tired now.
Roo takes a moment to weigh his answer when asked about Stryx. He doesn't seem delighted to divulge that information.
"I have done something abominable." Is the only answer he offers. He starts to puff up when Reya says Fog' Horn would be proud...but he is quickly subdued, almost sullen looking as he seems to be in the midst of some internal reflection...
Wilfred takes a moment to compose himself. He will pass the jug to whomever wants some. He smiles sadly at Archie as she talks about her escapades when she put on the armor. To Reed, he will pay his hand and say. "Thanks, that means a lot. You have a beautiful home." He listens to Roo' talk, glad for the distraction.
When Roo' starts to get flustered, wilfred will start talking, after taking another swig of ale. "Having three kids isn't too bad. The biggest change is going to one. You are suddenly in charge of another life, it's crazy! Going from 1 to 2 almost as bad. Ronald was too young to be is any real help, but oh boy did he try to! Going from 2 to three isn't too bad. You have more of idea of what you are doing. Don't get me wrong, parts of it were pure chaos, but that's life." Wilfred stops for a moment and takes a swig of ale. "Sogren was my youngest. Little Soggy. He was my shadow. He wanted to learn every little bit of what I did. From caring for the vines to brewing the wine, he wanted to learn it all. I always thought he would take over forSophia, she was my little girl, my princess." He stops and chuckles to himself. "She hated when I would call her that. Thought they were spoiled and couldn't do anything on their own. Sophia was the opposite. She was a spitfire and could do anything she set her mind to. The heavens help you it you got on her bad side. But she was kind as well, always willing to help people. You actually remind me of her, Archie. Or at least, who she might have been..." Wilfred takes a quick pause to get another swig of ale. "Then there was Ronald, my oldest. Honestly, Corlith reminds me of him most. They could have been twins, except for the horns and stuff. He wanted to make a difference, help people. He wanted to join the Flamming Fist. And he was might good with a blade. Which I suppose isn't a surprise, considering he would rather practice with his wooden sword then do his chores. He didn't want to be a farmer, and that's okay. I just wanted them to be happy and healthy and... And safe." Wilfred stops and takes a deep pull from the jug. Then he just stares into the fire, his face completely emotionless.
Virro sits very silently as the stories go around the campfire. It is clear that he is listening. At times, a smile forms on his mouth. Or a look of a pout, when fingers are mentioned. When Wilf tells his story, his head bows low, he rubs his eyes, but then goes back to a stony stare. Each in turn he hears, sometimes showing a slight bit of emotion on his face, but mostly just stares into the flames, staying silent, his fingers arched. He takes his gloves off, setting them in his lap, he rubs the back of his hands, and waits, thinking, almost meditating. His shield, that he usually has seated on his lap he places face down beside him, he doesn’t even give it a glance or thought. The fire focuses his attention, almost as if he is seeing images in it.
When the eyes all come round to him, waiting expectantly, he clears his throat, actually putting his hand up to it. “Sorry. Beautiful… and tragic … tales all. I hope that you would all think of me as your friend. Because I am. Because, though all that we’ve come through… you are the closest relationships that I’ve ever had. I guess you… you would want to know about me? About my past? Well, okay then. Here goes.”
He takes a swig of water, then starts to speak, afraid to look anyone in the eye, just staring into the fire. “I wandered into Baldur’s Gate from Cloakwood. A feeling like there was something more for me there, poor as dirt, just looking to survive. The first place that took me in and gave me food and a job… was Taro’s house. He was an undertaker. Not a first choice for most I imagine. Most would have run screaming out of there at the things that I saw in the first week. But, it didn’’t bother me. I was cleaned up and dressed as a servant, made to assist during services, wipe away tears from a widow’s eyes, distract poor children who just lost their mother or father, assist in the dressing.. the preparation of bodies. Many fear death so much, but it is such a natural progression from life - I admit, I was fascinated in the art, in learning more about death. About what happens in those moments stretched from one point in time… to another. The crossover. The knowledge one gains going from one dominion, one world… into the next. It became all that I could think about. As I was proficient in these tasks, I was asked to help more and more in these preparations. And my fascination grew..but the next part. Ho. It is hard for me to tell you.”
He sits silent for a while, looking straight down, then into the fire again. He glances quickly at Reya, then at Corlith, and away. You can see that it is physically and emotionally difficult for him to say this, but he persists. But he is much slower in how he speaks and tells it. But it finally comes out.
“One day, a high elf was brought in, he had passed away under mysterious circumstances and we were to prepare his body for burial. This elf was practiced in the art of magic, a wizard of sorts apparently. It was rumored that he was manipulating magicks beyond his domain, that a powerful explosion had occurred that damaged his body. There were burn marks on the body, but they were odd, strange. I still don’t understand it even now. As I was preparing his body, I .. heard something. A voice that started to speak to me, in my mind.” He looks up quickly to see how this is received, then quickly looks back into the fire, and down at his hands. He continues. “I found, in a hidden interior pocket, a small amulet that had been missed. It was strange. It had a strange mark on it. The voice spoke to me from time to time, when I was still, when I was quiet. Also, when I was… preparing bodies. It seemed to know of this secret, hidden knowledge that I sought, the mysteries of the bridge between life and death. The hidden knowledge of those who have died, and how the living might access that.” He looks up pleadingly, looking at each of your faces, worried that he’ll see recrimination, fear, hatred…. “The possibility that such knowledge.. could be used to help friends, to help those he cares about….” He stops, looking down at his hands, rubbing the back of his right hand.
“The voice, told me of things. Secrets. Rumors, things that the dead may have known. Some. … I don’t know if they were true. But some things I believe are true. The voice has grown stronger, given me skills, abilities, things I’ve never even dreamed of….” He glances up, then back down at the fire. “He told me that my master, Taro, was a servant of. Wee Jas, worshiped Wee Jas. He helped me to.. escape from him. I pretended and picked my time.. walked away. I found all of you soon after at the Flaming Fists office. Now you know…”
Virro waits a few minutes, then gives an odd laugh. “What would I do with a Dragon’s hoard? I would study, at the finest universities, learn from the wisest scholars, search depths of knowledge unobtainable… and I would help those that needed help, and punish most severely those that need to be brought down. Wilfred I will help you finish your list. But not just burn the names off the list and pound their bodies into the ground, I will rip their souls apart for now and all eternity. If I had the power to do so. Archie, I would help to obtain the knowledge to be able to safely separate you from Ironmaiden if that is what you wished, I am fascinated with what is happening to you, but even moreso with the desire to help you through this. Reya, I would seek justice for what happened to the Hellriders and Elturel, to bring closure to that story, resurrection if possible. My Dragon’s hoard would be used for knowledge and righting of wrongs, justice and vengeance, though most would find my brand of justice distasteful…”. Virro stops there, seeming almost afraid to say anymore until he sees how his words were received, fearful of revulsion, yet a defiant look as he speaks his vision into being while staring into the fire.
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A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
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Corlith listens intently to Reya's tale, and to her pronouncement that she is proud to be a Hellrider.
"The Hellriders have an honourable history, and you should be proud to be a part of their number. And it seems during those times over a century ago Zariel was an ally to the people of Elturel", he says tactfully. "It is disconcerting that those responsible for the fall of Elturel now, are followers of Zariel. It seems she has properly fallen, and has ensured the city she once protected has fallen with her".
"You mentioned back in Thornvalley that you intended to find out what happened to Elturel and save it. That is truly a formidable quest. Candlekeep and this Sylvira Savikas that Fisk works for will really have to come up with the goods if you are to stand a chance", he adds contemplatively, looking across to Fisk as he mentions his patron.
Reed listens to Reya's story with great interest. Nothing beats a story around the campfire, though he does turn to look into the darkness at every rustle of leaves or crack of a twig.
"So, these Avernus fiends," Reed begins. "Do you think they hold a grudge? They live a long time, don't they? Sounds like they waited around until they could find a couple of people to pay off and now they're trying to take out the big cities again."
He looks off into the darkness, wondering again what a small cutthroat of a thief like him can do against demons and devils but then he smiles.
"Does anyone think these fiends have treasure hoards like dragons?"
Reed finally takes in his companions. They've been so busy since they all met, he really isn't sure he knows much about any of them other than Virro really, really likes fingers.
"What would you all do with a dragon's hoard?" he asks.
Corlith doesn't miss a beat when Reed asks what each of them would do with a Dragon's Horde.
"Gold means power and influence. I would use it to gain both in Baldur's Gate. You saw what the Vanthampur's did with a bit of gold behind them. Those in power are too often corrupt and with selfish ideals. Someone needs to gain control who has the interest of the populace at heart", he says matter of factly.
Reya smiles at Archie, the defiance in her eyes assuaged by her words. "I had the best mentors. Though the ones that had been to the other side from what I heard didn't like to share anything about it. Kept it close, you know? Sorry... that would sure have been helpful information now."
"Formidable quest indeed." Reya replies, her jaw becoming set as she takes in Corlith's words. "I do intend to find out. Do you?"
Fisk notices Corlith's look and the tieflings intent to get him engaged. He just takes another drink from his waterskin and stares into the fire.
"Grudge or not, we're getting Elturel back. Though I do wonder if there are other cultists in other cities that are doing the same thing that the Vanthampurs were doing. Which is also why we can't fail."
She looks contemplative at Reed's last question, "That kind of money? I have no idea." Fisk finally pipes up, "I do, I'd get out of service to Candlekeep and just live out my days in Little Calimshan without a care in the world."
"Dragons have hoards?" Roo says, scratching about, preening, and, weirdly enough, looking tired as darkness sets in. "I uhm..."
He pauses hsi preening and looks hard at the fire, keeping a respectable distance from it.
"I would use it to keep my people safe. That's how I wound up in Baldur's Gate to begin with. And I guess now i could use it to make Reed's people safe too."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Reed smiles over at Roo but looks disappointed at Reya’s lack of creativity.
”Definitely keep the village safe, and build new homes for Roo’s flock. But then, I think I’d really like to see elephants. Oh maybe we could get a few and race them through Baldur’s Gate.”
What Reya said does eventually sink in and he looks over at her again.
”So Zariel is real? Strong? How do we stop her then?”
"If she's a demon now I guess divine magics will be effective, though looking around I have no certainty that any of us have that much godly faith..." Archie's head movements betray her sight lingering on Video a little longer than the rest, his tendancy to collect digits of the dead being the furthest from a divine habit that she could possibly think of, "...Roo is your god one that has fought with demon kind before?" She inquires whilst pulling out her trusty book of god's and mosters that she stole from the ill fated boat inn back in Balder's gate.
“I am set on the path to Candlekeep to follow the Vanthampur trail of fiend worship and corruption. To see what this puzzle box is all about and make sure Baldur’s Gate is now safe”, Corlith replies to Reya.
”I do feel for you and the folk of Elturel, and if I can help I will, but Baldur’s Gate is my priority. Along with helping Archie. Maybe our goals will align though”, he adds.
He then looks to Reed, “Perhaps an elephant race track outside the city would be more likely if I come to power”.
Archie recoils a little with embarrassment at Corlith pointing out the obvious help that she needs, but instead of engaging with the 'what if's' of the plan to come in candlekeep she sidles up to Wilf a little bit and decides to engage him in conversation instead, "you ok old man? We both got knocked pretty severely back there I thought we might just lose you for a moment, you've kept to yourself a bit since then..." She trails off leaving more to be asked but waits for a response first.
When they settle down for the night, Wilfred pulls out a carving knife and a chunk of wood. He is just roughly carving out for now, perhaps making another doll.
He contemplates Reed's question. What would he do with a dragons hoard. He honestly never thought about it before. He chuckles a little at the thought of tiny Reed riding a elephant.
Wilfred smiles at Archie as she sits by him, although there is still a look of concern when the other voice comes out. "I'm okay. It'll take more than that to keep me down..." He continues to whittle for a moment, then stops. "It wasn't the fight. It was Reed's village. It reminded me of home. Cliffvine Vineyard. Fermentation has a certain scent, doesn't matter if it's ale or wine. Maybe that's what I would do with a dragons hoard, start a new vineyard. But Corlith has a good thought, someone really needs to clear out all the corruption here. Can't have the ruling class keep the working class down! Oww!." The knife skips and he pricks himself as he gets a little heated with what he talking about.
Archie winces and makes a sound like she's sucking air in through her teeth under the helm, before she gently prods him with a handful off magical healing, "would you restore your home? you said it burned down but you've not really spoken about it much, I don't mean to be rude or to pry but, well I mean... at one point I think you called me Sophia, I think it was Sophia, right? Sometimes it helps when people around you know, y'know?"
Wilfred chuckles and says "I caught that one. 'Restore Me'." The light laughter does not reach his eyes.
He sighs and puts down the wood and knife. He pulls his pack close to him and starts to rummage in it. "The vines were burned, you see. There were a few that could have survived, but the soil would all screwed up from the fire. The Brewers guild would have helped, if I asked. They are good people. But that place wasn't me home anymore." He stops and pulls out three wooden dolls from his pack. From what you can see, they look like they would have been very intricate designs on them. At least on the sections of them that weren't burned. He places them down one at a time, saying a name as he does. "Ronald. Sophia, Sogren. 13, 9, 7. They were in the house with my wife, Eliza. They knocked me out and tied me to a fence post. Then they lit the fires." He sighs. "You know who tied me up? A guard I thought would protect my family. Do you know who ordered him to do it, some noble who was trying to cut out the Brewers Guild." He looks down at the burned dolls, his face completely devoid of emotion. "There aren't many names left on the list..." He says quietly, almost like he's talking to the dolls.
Wilfred takes out the jug he got from Reed's dad, and takes a big swing. "This talk needs a drink."
Archie stays quiet, putting a hand on wilf's back, after a moment digesting the trauma that Wilf must have endured she nods as he downs some ale and clears her throat, whispering "that's too much loss and betrayal for one person. You're not alone. There's a reason I went out and tried to help people after I put on the suit, people needed someone to look up to, a protector that couldn't be bribed or corrupted, someone to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves... I didn't do a good job and I think I was mostly just trying to make use of my own shame and guilt, but it's something I still want to do, you can stand up for yourself Wilf, but I promise, I'll be standing right there with you." She removes her hand from his back and takes his ale, returning it a moment later afte she's had a little swing.
"Tell me about them, please... three kids must have been a handful" there's a quiet sadness to her distant voice within the armour, but she listens as intently as she possibly can.
Corlith respectfully keeps quiet allowing Wilfred the space to speak about his children, having listened to the tale of their fate and that of his wife.
He had had an inkling of what had happened, after picking up on so many clues and having the odd chat with Wilf. The older man had called him Ronald on at least one occasion.
But there was also the constant distraction of Ironmaiden's voice interspersed when Archie speaks. He was still in two minds whether to talk to her about it again, but the truth he couldn't escape was that a machine was killing a person, and he knew of no way to stop it happening. And he wasn't a philosopher capable of determining what sentience is.
Roo hears the question, begins to speak...and then decides to shut up and listen as Wilfred begins to answer questions. His friend has earned it, and so the little Gallus sits there and listens and wonders. It isn't so different from his connection to Fog' Horn, is it? That attachment, the love...though different between the species, he can at least identify the loss. So he remains quiet, and listens...and when it's his turn to speak, he speaks.
"Gallus never fought demonkind before." Roo says, not sounding as sure as usual. "Gallus is an indifferent god, in some ways. These demons are the residue of false idols. Gallus doesn't acknowledge them in any meaningful way because to do so is to give them legitimacy, which they do not have. We don't have demons in our cosmos. My people, I mean. I think I have buck said that this or that is good or evil, but we don't really have good or evil either. We just have life and death. Gallus is life, warmth and light that makes the grass and the plants grow and the bugs crawl and keeps the talons in the darkness. And Stryx is the darkness, the death that comes at you from where you cannot see. Because what is death, but the absence of life?
No, no battles with demons. That was what Fog' Horn was for, to fight the battles Gallus was too lofty to fight. And now...I suppose that's what I am here for, buck buh."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Reya draws out her blade, 'Well, for starters a really nice sword." But then she chuckles as she puts it away, "Elephants? Now that is not something I expected you to say, you'd have to train them not be scared of your ghosts." she smiles as she teases him.
Then gets a bit more serious, "Yeah, strong. Honestly? I don't know, maybe we can find more allies along the way? Strong ones?" She scratches her head, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the question.
She listens to Corlith and nods. How could she expect anything more? "I hope they do align. I would be sad to lose your companionship on this journey."
Before Wilfred really opens up, Fisk adds, "Yeah Thornvalley is beautiful. Little Calimsham isn't too shabby, but its not the rolling hills and beauty your home is Reed. And your people? I enjoyed chatting with the ones in the Community Hall." As Wilfred continues, he respectively gets quiet and solemn, but reaches out a hand for the jug if Wilf is willing to share.
Reya sits back and listens to Wilfred's story, she doesn't trust herself to talk as she hears the sorrow and pain in his voice as he recounts what happened to him and his family. She hasn't noticed the times he has stepped out and thinks, how has he kept it together so well? She was proud of the one they called Papa. As Archie pipes up and talks to him, she feels for the girl, impressed how she is supporting their friend. She furrows her brow as she thinks about the other voice that interjects random words... it wasn't getting worse she didn't think. But she was glad they were so close to Candlekeep.
She is surprised when Roo starts talking, actually coherently talking about his Gallus and how they viewed the world. "Your kind sound like ones I would like to know more of. Your ritual back at the house, when you invited Stryx in... is that going to be a conflict among your kind?" She smiles, the warmth of the fire and the comradery between them all making her feel more at home than she has since Elturel fell, "You fight with the best of them Roo, your Gallus would be proud. Fog'Horn would be very proud."
Reed sits very quietly for awhile after Wilfred speaks. He doesn't know how to absorb that much horror. Finally he manages to stand and place a hand on Wilfred and whispers "Your list is our list. But when it's done, our homes are your homes."
He then turns back to the fire, feeling very tired now.
Roo takes a moment to weigh his answer when asked about Stryx. He doesn't seem delighted to divulge that information.
"I have done something abominable." Is the only answer he offers. He starts to puff up when Reya says Fog' Horn would be proud...but he is quickly subdued, almost sullen looking as he seems to be in the midst of some internal reflection...
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Wilfred takes a moment to compose himself. He will pass the jug to whomever wants some. He smiles sadly at Archie as she talks about her escapades when she put on the armor. To Reed, he will pay his hand and say. "Thanks, that means a lot. You have a beautiful home." He listens to Roo' talk, glad for the distraction.
When Roo' starts to get flustered, wilfred will start talking, after taking another swig of ale. "Having three kids isn't too bad. The biggest change is going to one. You are suddenly in charge of another life, it's crazy! Going from 1 to 2 almost as bad. Ronald was too young to be is any real help, but oh boy did he try to! Going from 2 to three isn't too bad. You have more of idea of what you are doing. Don't get me wrong, parts of it were pure chaos, but that's life." Wilfred stops for a moment and takes a swig of ale. "Sogren was my youngest. Little Soggy. He was my shadow. He wanted to learn every little bit of what I did. From caring for the vines to brewing the wine, he wanted to learn it all. I always thought he would take over forSophia, she was my little girl, my princess." He stops and chuckles to himself. "She hated when I would call her that. Thought they were spoiled and couldn't do anything on their own. Sophia was the opposite. She was a spitfire and could do anything she set her mind to. The heavens help you it you got on her bad side. But she was kind as well, always willing to help people. You actually remind me of her, Archie. Or at least, who she might have been..." Wilfred takes a quick pause to get another swig of ale. "Then there was Ronald, my oldest. Honestly, Corlith reminds me of him most. They could have been twins, except for the horns and stuff. He wanted to make a difference, help people. He wanted to join the Flamming Fist. And he was might good with a blade. Which I suppose isn't a surprise, considering he would rather practice with his wooden sword then do his chores. He didn't want to be a farmer, and that's okay. I just wanted them to be happy and healthy and... And safe." Wilfred stops and takes a deep pull from the jug. Then he just stares into the fire, his face completely emotionless.
Virro sits very silently as the stories go around the campfire. It is clear that he is listening. At times, a smile forms on his mouth. Or a look of a pout, when fingers are mentioned. When Wilf tells his story, his head bows low, he rubs his eyes, but then goes back to a stony stare. Each in turn he hears, sometimes showing a slight bit of emotion on his face, but mostly just stares into the flames, staying silent, his fingers arched. He takes his gloves off, setting them in his lap, he rubs the back of his hands, and waits, thinking, almost meditating. His shield, that he usually has seated on his lap he places face down beside him, he doesn’t even give it a glance or thought. The fire focuses his attention, almost as if he is seeing images in it.
When the eyes all come round to him, waiting expectantly, he clears his throat, actually putting his hand up to it. “Sorry. Beautiful… and tragic … tales all. I hope that you would all think of me as your friend. Because I am. Because, though all that we’ve come through… you are the closest relationships that I’ve ever had. I guess you… you would want to know about me? About my past? Well, okay then. Here goes.”
He takes a swig of water, then starts to speak, afraid to look anyone in the eye, just staring into the fire. “I wandered into Baldur’s Gate from Cloakwood. A feeling like there was something more for me there, poor as dirt, just looking to survive. The first place that took me in and gave me food and a job… was Taro’s house. He was an undertaker. Not a first choice for most I imagine. Most would have run screaming out of there at the things that I saw in the first week. But, it didn’’t bother me. I was cleaned up and dressed as a servant, made to assist during services, wipe away tears from a widow’s eyes, distract poor children who just lost their mother or father, assist in the dressing.. the preparation of bodies. Many fear death so much, but it is such a natural progression from life - I admit, I was fascinated in the art, in learning more about death. About what happens in those moments stretched from one point in time… to another. The crossover. The knowledge one gains going from one dominion, one world… into the next. It became all that I could think about. As I was proficient in these tasks, I was asked to help more and more in these preparations. And my fascination grew..but the next part. Ho. It is hard for me to tell you.”
He sits silent for a while, looking straight down, then into the fire again. He glances quickly at Reya, then at Corlith, and away. You can see that it is physically and emotionally difficult for him to say this, but he persists. But he is much slower in how he speaks and tells it. But it finally comes out.
“One day, a high elf was brought in, he had passed away under mysterious circumstances and we were to prepare his body for burial. This elf was practiced in the art of magic, a wizard of sorts apparently. It was rumored that he was manipulating magicks beyond his domain, that a powerful explosion had occurred that damaged his body. There were burn marks on the body, but they were odd, strange. I still don’t understand it even now. As I was preparing his body, I .. heard something. A voice that started to speak to me, in my mind.” He looks up quickly to see how this is received, then quickly looks back into the fire, and down at his hands. He continues. “I found, in a hidden interior pocket, a small amulet that had been missed. It was strange. It had a strange mark on it. The voice spoke to me from time to time, when I was still, when I was quiet. Also, when I was… preparing bodies. It seemed to know of this secret, hidden knowledge that I sought, the mysteries of the bridge between life and death. The hidden knowledge of those who have died, and how the living might access that.” He looks up pleadingly, looking at each of your faces, worried that he’ll see recrimination, fear, hatred…. “The possibility that such knowledge.. could be used to help friends, to help those he cares about….” He stops, looking down at his hands, rubbing the back of his right hand.
“The voice, told me of things. Secrets. Rumors, things that the dead may have known. Some. … I don’t know if they were true. But some things I believe are true. The voice has grown stronger, given me skills, abilities, things I’ve never even dreamed of….” He glances up, then back down at the fire. “He told me that my master, Taro, was a servant of. Wee Jas, worshiped Wee Jas. He helped me to.. escape from him. I pretended and picked my time.. walked away. I found all of you soon after at the Flaming Fists office. Now you know…”
Virro waits a few minutes, then gives an odd laugh. “What would I do with a Dragon’s hoard? I would study, at the finest universities, learn from the wisest scholars, search depths of knowledge unobtainable… and I would help those that needed help, and punish most severely those that need to be brought down. Wilfred I will help you finish your list. But not just burn the names off the list and pound their bodies into the ground, I will rip their souls apart for now and all eternity. If I had the power to do so. Archie, I would help to obtain the knowledge to be able to safely separate you from Ironmaiden if that is what you wished, I am fascinated with what is happening to you, but even moreso with the desire to help you through this. Reya, I would seek justice for what happened to the Hellriders and Elturel, to bring closure to that story, resurrection if possible. My Dragon’s hoard would be used for knowledge and righting of wrongs, justice and vengeance, though most would find my brand of justice distasteful…”. Virro stops there, seeming almost afraid to say anymore until he sees how his words were received, fearful of revulsion, yet a defiant look as he speaks his vision into being while staring into the fire.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.