Ponderings of a New Wardrobe.

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Ponderings of a New Wardrobe.

Postby Lorsalian » Tue Aug 01, 2006 2:52 am

Lorsalian sat on the bunk in the secluded chamber he used as a base, pondering. Why is it I never seem to ponder when I'm happy, he thought idly, grinning. Maybe its that I never seem to have the time to ponder when I'm enjoying myself, he answered, mentally shrugging.

The room around him was where he came occasionally to replenish supplies from those he had cached there, or to spend a few nights safer than in the open wilderness, but quieter than in an inn. Next to the bed lay a heavy oak chest that contained his clothing and other adventuring gear. But he wasn't looking at the chest. His gaze was on the open wardrobe in the corner, where hung a magnificent suit of armor and weapons. Expertly adjusted to fit a half-elven frame, rather than that of their previous owner. Adriorn's frame.

Lor had shown him the way to his hiding place, of course, but hadn't expected to see him that day, much less with the large bundle that now hung before the half-elf.

Adriorn Darkcloak was retiring.

When the half-elf had protested, saying that he was far from gruel and a shawl, Adriorn would have nothing of it. He wasn't going to stop wandering – the habits of a lifetime did not die so easily. But he would leave the fight against the evil and injustice of the world to the younger. Lor had grinned at this, remembering the human might be barely older than he – yet somehow not subject to the physical or mental weight of those years as any other human would be. He never did tell me about that, Lor thought, back in the present, but that wasn't the time to ask. After a vain attempt by Lorsalian to change his mind, the human waved and turned out the door, a dark cloak that showed its years much more than its owner swirling before following him.

And so the pattern had gone for the last few months.

Azelrus, the impressionable young priestess who he'd recruited personally; seduced by the zeal of turning a corrupted soul back to the light, a former companion of the half-elf on The Mountain; now a dark form that was convinced pain was the only answer. His, hers, theirs – no difference to him. Lorsalian hoped her efforts wouldn't be as fruitless and possibly deadly as he feared, but he had only seen the corrupted soul wandering Waterdeep -- and not a sign of the priestess.

The paladin, late for the initial meeting because duty's held him to other tasks, had recently succumb to the horrors that he had conquered throughout the years – he stayed at the temple in Calimport, his polished steel tunic and blade as unseen as Areh was – his meals were brought daily up to his room.

And most recently, the gnomish mage among them had startled them all by announcing he was going away to study, and that traveling with them, while the source of many happy memories for all involved, was taking too much time from his studies. The consoling part of the farewell was Lorsalian attempting to picture Netonosel standing on a footstool next to a magical tome as big as he. But the amusement was temporary.

Blast it, cheer up, Lor! But he didn't have the will.

Of those who had stood on the volcano above the smolders of Bloodstone to discuss the future, only he and the barbarian remained, and the barbarian had been unseen for a year or more. Others had filled the roles left by those who had come before, but the now much older young elf still had difficulty with the idea of such drastic change for the worse.

Yes, we watched. Perhaps to others it seemed like there was nothing left of evil. Just crazy cryptic fisherwomen and grizzled mercenary innkeepers. And only one of those was evil. Could we have finally triumphed? He didn't believe that. There was something gathering. Wasn't there? Beluir. Priapurl. These happenings were not normal. Right?

Lorsalian slumped, his head in his hand. He had a wonderful vessel to travel the realms in, and a fine new crew. He'd much rather have the old hands to help him steer, though.
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Postby alendar » Tue Aug 01, 2006 10:30 pm

a fitting tribute... good job lor...

Alendar -= The Black Ash of the Phoenix =-
http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/GiantIT ... ipt?SK=244
Hador group-says 'Inames I think you are the only person on the mud who shouldn't talk about Cofen sucking'

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