Chapter 2: Playing With Fire

[Grimbold]

Eyris nods, chewing food. "Yes, if I could, I would kill all these fedjers." She eats, using only her knife to spear morcels and eating them off the tip of the blade. He fork lies unused on the table.

[ManWithDoor]

Mongo nods along, then shakes his head sadly. "Cold hearts, cold world." He goes quiet, lost in his own thoughts.

[Vardaen]

You sit and chat and eat for a bit until a page arrives in the tent doorway. "Pardon me, but we are ready for you." He is looking at Mongo and company. He leads you across the camp to a small clearing among the rubble. There you see Tolan laid out on a bier, wood stacked under him. The Lord Commander stands there in his armor and full dress, rather imposing figure. "I was made away your companion fell in battle against the evil of this land. We can not allow good people to suffer, even after death, to the evils of this place. If you would like to say something before the service begins, now is the time." There is a cowled cleric of Junic kneeling before the funeral pyre ready to offer the litanies of Junil the Great Judge to Tolan for final rites.

[Grimbold]

Eyris walks over to the pyre. Life with her tribe was a hard life, and she had seen many relatives and other members of the tribe starve or die from some infection or getting killed by a wild beast. She had known Tolan for only a few weeks, but he had been a loyal companion and a good heart. She sighs. "Tolan, you were a brave companion. May you find rest now."

[ManWithDoor]

Mongo is not one to write a monologue or wax poetic. He is straightforward and blunt. His heart has been hardened since he was stolen from his people, and struggles still to open up to these people who he has fought with and lived with for a good deal of time. He is honest and caring, but distant enough to protect his heart from too much pain. He is friendly and boisterous, but talks nothing of his family or those he has lost.

But at this ceremony, different from his own tribe's but still reverent and powerful, that defense wavers for the first time. Not some wholesale change, but at least a start as he allows himself to mourn. He extends his hands at shoulder level, tightened into fists, palms up. "Tolan was broken of leg but not of spirit. Slew slavers, freed himself and others. He fought well, and died." He unfolds his hands, extending them as though releasing something. "His spirit is freed to return to his gods, free from the corruption of the land."

[Othniel]

Morwen sighs quietly and stares at the pyre. "I wish I'd been faster," is all she says.

[Vardaen]

The Icatian Priest then steps forward and begins the funeral rites of the Order of Lietbur and of Junil and Lugus. He is not orthodox in his preaching, and soon is talking about the Hand of Justice, and the cleansing fire of Junil the Hand of Justice. He evangelizes, rather harshly and you hear the others reply in trained manner. These men and women are devout, hard core fanatics to this sect of Icitan religion.

After nearly an hour of kneeling and hymns, and sermons on purity and righteousness the fire is brought forward and Tolan is set to the torch and the pyre is lit. He burns, his soul escaping into the afterlife as his body is purified, and will never rise as an undead.

As the service comes to an end, the Lord Commander looks to you, a look that says 'join me'.

[ManWithDoor]

Mongo moves away from where he was standing for the service, stomping one of his feet to work the feeling back into it after being stuck in one place for so long. To be honest he totally tuned out of the sermonizing, finding it stilted and boring. He is alert again following the Lord Commander. The man had a bit of crazy in his eyes, like the priest, and the barbarian was wary of him.

[Vardaen]

"A fine service," say the Lord Commander. "Now that we have dealt with the noble and the innocent. I would ask for your advice. Come." He leads you back through camp some until you reach a small area a short distance from the tents, blocked by the remains of several homes only partially burned out. There are two small cage each with a person in them. The first is a well muscled man, stripped of his clothing save for his undergarments. He has some small burns and marks on him, old scars, nothing new, and his left hand bears the ebony band of one of the faithful. He is bald, but his hair is growing back, now several days since his last shave. He looks broken and dejected. In the second cage is a young girl, no more than 10 years old. There is a striking resemblance from her to the man. She is dirty, clearly has been crying for days. Her dress is tattered and covered in filth, but it still covers her entire body. She is curled up in the fetal position on the bottom of her cage.

Fellsan Blademore, the Lord Commander, pauses a moment before the cages. He returns the salute from the guard posted to watch over the cages.

[ManWithDoor]

Mongo grunts at the marked prisoner. "Slavers threatened to sell us to vivisectionists of the Ebon Hand if we did not behave. Slavers with Ebon Hand killed and took many spider-people. And then attacked near village, and dead-men stood up and burned us." He spits on the ground, glaring at the tattooed man.

Seeing the young girl he looks confused, wondering why she is caged. He looks over at Eyris and Morwen, a questioning look in his eyes.