Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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CloudDancing
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Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

A well-used scroll case is delivered to the Song of the Morning, Beregost, then placed into the hands of the parish priest.
Dear Father Richart,

I finally had the time to sit down and record the events that happened after the encounter with the spirit who appeared in the Song last week. After you and I, and she spoke, I took the fastest wagon I could to the Gate and then headed into the Cloakwood proper.

It was just on the outskirts I spoke to a farmwife who was out feeding her chickens. She had seen elder Mrs. Pyrelle and her son enter a week before. They had claimed they knew a secret trail into a safe place in the wood to gather rare herbs. So I followed assuming they meant to take the closest trail that comes out beside the Friendly Arm Inn. Not soon after this choice, I found myself in a rough camp with a hastily built cage. I approached the camp and found the dead body of Mrs. Pyrelle, mutilated and missing her heart, not whole as I saw her in apparition.

Then I heard whimpering and found goods in a few large gathering baskets. Before I could determine the source of the weak cries, I was beset upon by kobolds or what seemed to be Kolbolds. I stood my ground and the fight was won, but no without a cost in the store of my scrolls.

As I saw to the whimpering sound, I found an emaciated boy inside the cage of wood. But as I pried at the wood with my sword, the most appalling thing happened. The blood from the Kolbolds pooled up and they seemed to be laughing at me, as faces bubbled across the surface and formed up into a great black shadow. It's mouth dripped of blood.

And then it called to me to come fight it.

So I chose to ignore it and free the boy, then ordered Carridan to run fast as he could toward the Gate and to the farmhouses, and tell them to get the Ducal Guard or the Flaming Fist.

Unsure, I cried out to Lathander to bless this ground and guide me. I blocked it from chasing the child and raised my sword. Then I first tried to parlay with the creature, to consecrate the ground we stood upon first before we fought. It did not fall for my attempt to put Mrs. Pyrelle to rest before I might loose my life. It told me there that it served the "Lord of Murder" and it would tear my heart out for a sacrifice as well.

I cried out to Lathander again and then ran for one of the baskets, knocking it over, and grabbed a scroll of blessing I had seen earlier. It attacked me then, I took grievous injuries where my breastplate did not cover. But my resolve did not fail and I was able to heal myself, taking one more blow that nearly killed me, before I uttered the blessing to consecrate myself and the earth around me.

The blinding holy light threw the Shadow back and dazed it. And Father, then I did run away, most shamefully. I ran away from the creature, ran till the pain caused me to walk, and I found Carridan in the bushes, sick from running himself. Together we limped to the farm woman's home and told them to take their children and hide.

We made our way finally to the Ducal Estate and told the guard to bewary, for we were sure we were being chased. And as I spoke and bled, the great Shadow-thing crested the hill behind us and attacked again. He was of the Light and was better armed and better trained than I. Together we drove it back, the better blade of the guard banished it back to blood, and then into nothingness.

As I told you I left the boy with the guard and went back to get his mother's body for only half the mission was done. I wrapped her in my cloak, and tied her into a bundle. Then I beat and broke into the ground the rough bloody altar the Kolbolds had made for these unholy sacrifices. In doing so I found a blade buried into the ground as it's base; a blade of greenish steel and strange runes and designs unlike I have ever laid eyes upon. I took it up and as you know I brought it to you first after I had seen to the boy and his mother. And when I did look to the back of the chapel, the spirit was gone.

Though you pronounced it not infused with evil, it's true origin and the look of the sword tore at my heart's sense of the Light. I took it up to the Gate and brought it to a priestess of Selune' well known for her temple near Candlekeep; the Temple of Ruhel. She agreed with your approximation of the blade; it being a blade forged by the denizens of a hellish plane. However she also saw my point of view, that how could I, a servant of the Light, wield a blade forged by demonic forces and inscribed with it's infernal designs?

So we made an agreement. She would lock the sword away and together we would find a way to destroy it. And in turn she helped me find proper plate for a fair price to protect me for when the time comes again I needed to fight the darkness.

Please forgive me if it seems impertinent to work outside of the Song of the Morning. I like to think that He sent me on this mission and that he is guiding my heart, testing me even, to see if I can withstand temptation. Most of all, I believe the Dawnbringer is guiding me into the paths of those who can help me or those whom I can help.

Sir Holbretch sense his best regards!

By the Faith and the Light,

Squire Caine Kross

PS. You can tell the quartermaster to pass my armor order on to the next deserving person.
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

“You can't fight the Earthmother's ways, cousin”
The young Caine glared across the room of many beds each jammed close together in the attic's eaves. She took up the linen binder and wrapped it tight around her chest wincing at the prickles of pain. “I can't fight with these things getting in the way.” She flung her gangly muscled arms at her cousin's ample bosom in frustration.

“Cousin, what you are doing is not healthy. What about your babies? How will they eat?”

“Not going to have any,” the taller girl grumbled and tossed on a half-length tunic of rosy hue over a pair of slouchy gold leggings a little too big for her legs and a pair of knee-high well-oiled brown leather boots that slightly turned up at the toe. She then slid on a pale saffron wool vest and laced it up the front. Unlike her cousin's tight bodice, it was long at the waist and lacked flowered embroidery. Her cousin, Sylvas tugged at the tall blond's arm and pulled her to sit next to her on the cot.

“Cousin, you say the worst things some times. The Gods will surely hear you and make your ill-thought out wishes come true! Now hold still while I fix your hair.”

“I want it down and combed out like the Knight Errant we saw riding his warhorse into town last night.”

“You know it will just get in your face. You want those Knights to see you neat and bright-eyed don't you?”
Her petite cousin, black of hair and small of hand, reached into her pocket and brought out a silk ribbon of rosy red and then grasped a wood comb lovingly carved by their grandfather. With five swift swipes she has tamed the blond mass of silky strands into a gentle top-knot that framed her cousin's earnest face. The rest flowed down all the way to her flattish bottom.

“This will do fine. This is my day, today. I just know it. One of the Knights will surely pick me. I am the strongest after all.”

Her gentle cousin ran the comb down through her long locks a few more times, “You know, you'd make the family just as happy if you stayed here with us and worked in the dairy.”

The blond girl, turned her head to the attic window that looked out on to the rolling green fields of Beregost and the grazing cows.

“No Sylvas, I am convicted this is what the Lightbringer wishes of me. I'll not spend my life beholden to the whims of a cow or up to my neck in mewling babes and a sour mate.”

“You say that like it is a bad thing. Do you not remember what puts food on our table and who works those fields to make the food?” Her cousin crossed her arms and turned the blond girl to face her completely, “do not forget where you come from, cousin. Because at some time, you will have to come back to us and dwell with us again. We love you.”

“I am sorry cousin, I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I'll try to be home for every festival and holiday I can. But today is my day. Today I become a Kross.”

**

Around them grew many plants, all kept for their warm reminder of the sun's golden blessing. Golden roses twined up around the many surrounding pillars. Red peonies from far east filled the planters with their lush fragrant blooms, and small gold lilies floated in the fountain that the end of the courtyard sheltering fat gold carp.

The Caine girl stood straight, shoulders back, and with bright eyes of ahead of her. The tabard of the golden sunrise against a rose red background was draped carefully over her neck and proudly worn. As the priests and Knights errant entered the common outdoor courtyard her clear eyes stared obediently straight in front of her.

And there they were, she could see in her peripheral vision, the tall knight she had seen riding through town a soft cream palomino warhorse. Long waved blond hair streamed down his plated back and he seemed to radiate a great warmth. Next to him was a severe looking raven-haired lady knight with golden hypnotic eyes, and a ready smile. There was a tall dark-skinned knight, his face a wrinkled maze, and his shaved pate tattooed with a black sunrise. An even older-knight with snow-white hair and the barest stoop of age in his shoulders caught her glance as well. And then in strode a male knight, stocky and short, his hair cut straight to the quick and a fierce grin.

All five of them spoke lightly with the priests and then the high priest, Kelddath Ormlyr, the Most Radiant of Lathander, entered with long flowing robes of gold and red, and spoke engagingly to the knights there assembled. Caine felt her cheeks burn a little to even be in his presence again, after so many times being the page at the processions, or being so bold as to run up to him with the other young pages and beg for a sweet from his deep sleeves.

Caine looked from side to side, trying to stretch herself taller than the seven boys and girls who stood there with her. They were her worst enemies, her bullies, and her rivals. There was Gaius to her left who's nose she had broken while vigilantly slamming his face into a cow pat after he called her a cunt. Selene, a smug lank girl with curled black locks had sprinkled Senna root into her porridge right before the Greengrass ceremonies last year which caused Caine to run from her duties and spend the rest of the day in the outhouse.

Caine mused on their many fights and the inevitable pile of coughing, spiting, and eye-blacking chaos they created frequently in the training hall. And of course the sullen line up of split lips and abrasions which Father Richart would calmly administer, clucking his tongue over their lack of the Light of Lathander, and prescribing a daily dose of tomb sweeping and chamber pot scrubbing for the lot of them.

It was then, while dusting busily around the stone tombs of Lathander's fallen that she found the fine crack in the wall and felt the cool wet stream of air blowing through. It was there she peeked into the dark and saw the barest shape of a shimmering pool and a secret. She thought for a moment how she would miss them all when she was gone. But for now she stood ramrod straight as the knights bowed to Most Radiant as he gave his blessing and left them. Then one by one they moved into the courtyard and began to look over the potentates.

Across a cloud swept sky the resplendent sun of early spring shifted a few hours into the future. A warm breeze blew. Silky hair ruffled in the breeze. She was alone. Not long ago, after a few quick questions, curt nods, and finally the customary firm tap on one shoulder or two, her classmates were each led away to pack up their things and leave the sheltered halls of the Song of the Morning and Beregost beside their new mentors.

And she stood alone. And though the tears threatened to come and though a sick ache filled her belly with an urge to run, she stood alone and turned her face toward the sun, a whispered word on her lips, “Why?”

“Dear girl, are you still out here?”
Father Richart laid his wrinkled hand upon her shoulder. She nodded as her golden head lowered down between her shoulders and sagged a little.
“Well, come along with me. The Dawnbringer has other plans for you.”
He motioned her to follow him up into the armory, then started piling various armor parts and pieces into her waiting arms.
“You will need this, and this, and one of these. And of course, one of these,” on top of it all off he tossed a large leather bag with the rising sun embossed on the outer flap.

“But what about my knight?”

“You must accept that situation that occurred was entirely the will of the Lightbringer, however bitter a pill that is to take. His Most Radiant was just commenting to me upstairs as he looked out of his window down at your shinning head that he had a another plan for you. He prepared a letter, then bade me come down here and send you upon your new assignment. You are a courier now, a full squire under my care and tutelage. You will deliver our most sacred messages around the lands.”

“How will I become a knight delivering mail?!” Her voice cracked with a tinge of despair, the despair she held back like she once held calves from the teat.

“I would not question His Most Radiant's motivations. My thought is you will learn a good deal more about getting along in the world on your own and faced with your own consequences. Perhaps in due time your answers to the questions the knights errant posed will change and grow in faith and experience. So my first task for you is to take this letter to Baldur's Gate and to the postmaster there. Then you are to gather up any mail for Beregost and any points in between and deliver it. When you do so you are to learn the names of those whom you deliver too and befriend then in the name of the Light. Do I make myself clear?”

Caine nodded, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Good, now put on your new armor and get to work.”

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Last edited by CloudDancing on Fri Feb 01, 2013 5:07 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

Dear Sir Holbretch,

In the span of the last two weeks of our training, I have found myself free to explore some outside missions. I wanted to inform you of the various happenings I have been exposed to as well as assure you that Venrator is getting the best care a horse could possibly get.

First and foremost, I have taken him nearly every day to the pens outside of the gate and let him amuse himself there with the mares. The horsekeepers there are more than happy to see a warhorse of his good qualities spread his seed among them. I do hope this is not a problem; I did not think you would consider his good qualities worth a monetary exchange. However, I did get a promise of a colt or filly if we stay long enough to see them born and enough survive.

As for my experiences in Baldur's Gate, there have been two major events worth remarking. As I told you and Father Richart before I unraveled a great mystery, I was investigating the loss of a child from a caravan that had been attacked by Wyverns not far out of Beregost. I was able to save a small toy bear from the wreckage and from that Father Richart was able to locate that the child had indeed been delivered safely into Beregost itself. As an agent of the church I went to Feldepost's Inn to make a safety check on the child. There I encountered Mr. Feldepost and convinced him I meant no trouble and that I just needed to converse with the finder of the child.

Upon the door opening I found a white-haired woman I had once encounter before and a child; a girl child in the room alone. They seemed to be afraid of me, but I offered the girl the bear and she recognized the toy then embraced it. In doing so she also fell into hysterics reminded of her parents demise, no doubt. I spoke to the woman, who is called Deva, then she assured me that if the child remembers her full name or if the child remembers she has living relatives she will come to the Song and tell the Father of this so we can see that she is returned to them or their names at least recorded to mark their graves.

I did wax thoughtfully at the situation. Is it proper to have a child living in an Inn room? Is the child being schooled and fed when her foster mother is not around? The Deva woman seemed to care for the child tenderly and that did calm me a bit, but again I wondered if she would be better off with a more stable home or even a place in the local orphanage among Lathander's most caring mothers of all?

The second thing, as a continuation of my troubles involving the Baatorian Blade, I and the priestess were led out by an agent of Selune' for there could be no other explanation for a white wolf incorporeal to guide us back to the Temple in Rheul. It was upon this wild dash that I was attacked and temporarily imprisoned by another blood-shadow creature, much larger than the one previously encountered in the Cloakwood. It wanted to play riddle games with the Lady priestess Theresa, but she soon found out there was no sense to this and drove forth smiting it to the ground with a Word of Creation. This was a disturbing moment for me because she asked me first if my heart was true and pure, and though I am sure of that, one wonders what sort of standards the Gods really set for that requirement? I risked a great deal but I would have given my life there as it was to see her safe and not punished for my misdeed in bringing a corrupt presence into her life.

She smote it well and it was dispersed into a puddle of seeping blood. Still we chased the white wolf right to the temple and through the gift of the Light, I simply felt this evil presence lingering below us, waiting for us to arrive. We rushed down to check on the children which fortunately were safe. Instead we found a strange man had somehow found passage into the treasure chambers held deep in the stone.

This strange man mocked us and said it wanted us to return the sword but it could not find it among the chest I most certainly was sure it was in. So I did not correct it and it spoke a great deal of nonsense but also a great deal of knowing until we could determine this was some sort of essence of Bhaal possessing the body of a unwilling young man. And in fact it attempted to kill the young man and trick us into committing some sort of evil act. However the lady priestess Theresa was too smart for that and simply knocked the man out. Thus the spirit fled due to the temple wards that now repelled it free from its human husk. The young man was stabilized and we took him to the infirmary there.

My thoughts on the experience was that at one point the spirit was being obnoxious and found myself compelled to lie to it in a most convincing way. I immediately felt great remorse for lying in front of the priestess and I will remedy my behavior to be more forthright in the future. It is very hard to know what to say to something so evil. It seems you always end up saying or doing something you'd rather not have. I also would note that i'd like to have some sort of recourse for when I am trapped by such a shadowed creature, perhaps a very bright light to blind it, or dispel it's evil. It was extremely unpleasant being restrained and even to have to be touched by those dark vines. I fear it will color my dreams for weeks to come.

So if you could advise me on sword work or even divine spells that might come in handy to avert the powers of a most evil God, I would be extremely grateful. I hope to catch up with you again soon and show you my new armor. It is very shiny. I am sure you will hate it.

Love,

Cousin Caine
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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<3
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

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Dear Cousin Sir Holbretch,

Where ever you are, I left this note for you with the hope you are still alive. I have been assured by your colleague, Sir Normandie Char, that these things happen from time to time.

First, will list some events that have happened.

1. I worked side by side with various individuals to solve problems in Baldur's Gate. This included helping some mercenaries with a giant attack being planned in the western Cloakwood. I nearly died. It was unpleasant. As well ,I helped clear an infestation of undead from mortuary of the City Watch with the priestess Calil, a bard called Rhodes, and a young warrior called Kross as well (no relation as far as I can tell but I have not seen him again to confirm this.)

2.I have continued my investigations on the wagon attack. Things have gotten rather intense. I can't say more; someone may find this letter.

3.I find myself constantly faced by a dark figure called Drake Venesheul.

This started when I was approached by another poor human cloaked in shadow at the Sword and Stars. It wished me to tell it where it's sword is. I did not comply, but I also refused to taste it's blood, or kill the human it inhabited. I offered up my life for the human's at one point, but it did not like that arrangement so I sprung at it and attempted to knock it out like Lady Theresa had done so elegantly to the other shadow-man-thing.
Again my strength faltered, the small space making it extremely hard, but also the shadow was too strong for me. I backed out of the room, only to find this Drake Veneshuel at the door. He engaged the shadow as it rose from the man, and dispatched it. He also was one of the mercenaries that sought out these giants. And most recently has taken an interest in my investigation in Beregost. Still, I barely can stomach the foul air he has about him. In this I think Lathander is testing me, but that does not make me throw caution to the wind, or ignore the faith of his companion priest.

4.I have made the acquaintance of a powerful Druid called Bu. I am not sure what to make of that friendship, but there more times than not that I need a tracker and scout badly. As well, Lady Theresa has become a kind ear to my little problems and troubles.

5.A most horrible thing happened in Beregost.

A dire bear chased (possibly this priest-friend of Drake's) a person of interest into Beregost. I was just a bit away from the ruckus, making my prayers to the Dawnbringer as the sun rose. By the Ulcaster ruins, I heard the bellows of dying cows and the cries of the guard, so I drew my sword and ran towards the trouble. When I crested the hill, I stood face to face with a bear the size of a granary and great matted spikes sticking from it's back. It ripped the head of a cow, in a great rage, like child would rip off the head of a doll. It was not hungry, but had just ravaged the flock. Then it set it's black eyes upon me then and charged so swiftly at me, I barely had time to run.

And run again I did, back to the outskirts of town, by the edge of the Song. I called for an alarm. I called for the guard to come help. And I ran straight up into Veneshuel and his priest. Only then I turned to face the creature again as it paused to rip apart a horse left tied up outside the Juggler. The guard gathered up beside me as did the two men, and we blocked the bear from the town. And then we took it down.

I do not feel I did my best. I am strongly conflicted in fact. Father Richart praised me. Still, I ran and I did not prevent the bear from leaving the Ulcaster ruins and it did follow my retreat. Thus, as the guard came to my aid, the Dire Bear killed Jules Unselstead and Robert Smoot as they stood their ground. I watched them fall like broken dolls to the ground. Robert was crushed under the bear and by the time we reached him it was too late.

I knew them both. Jules and I played together under the mossy oaks around Beregost as children. We would lay on the grassy hills, sucking on grass stems, and staring up at the clouds, naming their shapes. When we hit our teens, she turned toward the boys and chasing them wholeheartedly, and I just stayed the same. We grew apart after I started my training. I heard later her family had needed money, so she took up a shift as a town guard and we would always nod politely to one another when we passed.

Robert was our church prankster and spent a good deal of time in the corner for setting small garden snakes in the teacher's desk drawer or scribbling pictures in the books of learning. He grew up tall and strong, a friend to my brothers, and every year helped bring in the harvest of the Church. He grew out of his silliness, into a great strapping lad and chose to be a guard for Beregost.

I do not think that any of them expected to die that day. The dawn was rising, the town was sleepy as pots warmed and porridge was served. They had just gotten out the door of their homes, bellies warm with good food, and taken up their watch of the town with drowsy eyes. And then I came running up, sword drawn, and screaming for the alarm.

And then they died. And I wept for the first time in a great long time. I knew if I had stood against the bear alone, I would be lying there dead among the ruins, among the cows, and under the great mossy oak trees. Maybe it would be peaceful, staring up at those white clouds, the light of dawn shining, and the blue blue sky? Then this pain would end, this horrible guilt of living on for Him, in his Light.

I feel great pain. I am still not strong enough. I am not like you, but I wish with all my heart to be like you, so that I do not have to see the weak fall again to chaos, to untimely death.

Dear cousin, please seek me out in Beregost. Your friend, Sir Char, is waiting there for you as well.

Cordially and in Faith,

Caine Kross, your squire.
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

Dear Sir Holbretch,

I am leaving this letter at the front desk of the Red Sheaf in hopes when you recover from your ordeals you will be ready to listen.

It pains me in saying this, but as you probably gathered from last night, I cannot be your squire in good conscience. The things I have overheard and the thing you did unto me are unacceptable actions for a teacher or even a mentor. I was shocked and horrified. I had no words.

I can only wonder why Father Richart turned me over to you. I suppose it seemed sensible since you claim to be family and you were a Knight. Perhaps it even seemed fated. I did my best to make the best of the situation. I saw myself a beggar, a figure of shame, with little other choice but to accept this ill-matched pairing.

Nothing you have done with me has been by the book. You made no formal edict or pact between myself and yourself as Knight and Squire. I signed nothing. No formal ceremony was done in the church. No one marked my passing. No one but myself keeps Father Richart advised of my actions, but myself.

By using the privileged gift of the divine to harm my body in order to coerce me to leave the teachings of Lathander, those I have held since I was a child, you have broken my trust. His priesthood, guided by His hand, chose me to leave my home as a child and dwell within the sacred halls of the Song. I will not give up what I know to be true in my heart and soul. I will not give up the Light.

What I know of my faith is clear as spring water and as pure as sunlight. Using the gift, to harm others who have done no wrong, is an utter aberration, a complete misuse of the will of the Gods. I cannot accept that.

So I will take on more shame and admit to the Father I have failed at being a Squire because I could not resolve or redeem our last meeting. You may still find redemption, but it will not be with by my presence.

My trusting heart is simply broken by your actions, and I nothing I know at this time will regrow that. I can forgive, but I will not forget.

Sincerely,

Caine
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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The Family Caine, Part I
“He is family, Mama. But what he did, was such a deviation from everything I know to be good!”

Caine sat with her head in her hands, her cornflower blue eyes uncharacteristically filled with tears.
Elizabeth Caine, was a small woman, her body all curves and softness, her long mouse brown hair, twisted up into a simple bun at the nape of her neck. Her oval face was set with a broad nose, and she shared those same cornflower blue eyes with her daughter. Her lips pursed as she reached down to smooth Caine's long hair from her eyes. Caine had come to her, her hair unbound from the long tight braids. Golden waves fell around her boyish face+ softening the hard lines normally exposed. Elizabeth whispered softly to her daughter, “Cousin Holbretch strongly upset you, I see.”

She grumbled sullenly, “Yes, of course he did. He treated me like a naughty child for refusing to agree with him! Had he slapped me, I'd have been nearly as shocked, but I'd have accepted it. I should have struck him back.”

“But you did not. He is an old man and your elder. We raised you to respect him.”

“I did not stray. But for that moment, it was as if the Light inside me, briefly dried up. I did not feel forgiving, I did not feel kind, and I did not feel anything but shame. So much shame, Mama.”

“Why don't you go outside and help your sisters with their chores. Maybe it will clear your head?”

Caine gave her mother a brief kiss, tied her hair in a messy ponytail, and headed outside. She grabbed a bucket and filled it with cracked wheat, and clucked her tongue expertly. The red-feathered chickens, the white ducks, and the gray feathered geese looked up from their scratching and waddled over to her, fighting for dominance. Caine clucked again and threw out wide swaths of grain, looking side to side for her sisters-in-law. The barn doors hung open and she could hear the contented moos from inside as well as the swish-swish of milk pooling in the metal pail.

Her old brown work tunic chafed against her unbound chest. The armscyes were very tight at her shoulders, her arms fit tightly into her sleeves, and her thighs bulged tight in her old chore pants as well. If she had made a few motions, as if she held her sword, her mother's hand-sewn seams would burst apart. She flexed her muscles involuntarily and for a moment, felt a sense of pride in the results of her training. Then she dumped out the grain at her feet and stepped out of the cluster of poultry.

Then she moved to the barn and leaned on the door frame. There among six spotted cows, worked her sisters, each a sturdy lass of various size and composition. It was true while her brothers chose differently, they each had chosen unwittingly for the familiar. As Caine smiled briefly, each one had an aspect to them that only reminded her more so of either her mother, or her grandmother, and even her father. She bobbed her head to the nearest sister who was milking energetically, her mouth in a firm line of concentration.

“Sister Caine, will you say a prayer for us?,” her sister Elwynne, chirped brightly from behind her cow.

Caine nodded, a small pit of pain welling up in her stomach. She did not feel worthy to speak his name. She had failed. Still, they had all paused, expectant faces turned to their elder sister. She took a deep breath and raised her hands together.

Greetings to the Dawnbringer, father of fathers; the maker of this day. Bless us with your Light. Let our hands not stray from the path of you set before us. Let our hands not be idle. Let no child hunger.

Oh our glorious Lathander! Our giver of life, our remover of all pain and sorrows, the creator of new life, most luminous. Oh exalted and destroyer of sins. We meditate upon thy Light. May your dawning inspire, enlighten, and guide our hearts in the right direction.

We pray blessings too from Chauntea, mother of mothers! Bless our animals with fertility by your grace. Bless the seeds we plant as the rise toward Greengrass beings and guide them to be fruitful. Please bless our matings and pairings so we are harmonious as yours. Bless us oh, earth-mother, and sun-father.


“Sister, do you have a suitor?,” Calesta, asked her youngest brother's wife,who was barely a woman herself.

Caine blushed, “I do not sweet sister, but I am not allowed to, by my Knight's orders.”

“There must be someone who turns your eye.”

“I am not blind. I work with warriors and priests all the time. Still, I can say sisters, I am content to look on, admire, but I cannot content myself with the pleasures of courting. Instead I can love from afar what I cannot have.”

“That sounds rather terrible.”

“And boring!”

The girls laughed and Caine's frown brightened up. She walked over and took up their pails one by one and filled the milk cans expertly, screwing the lids on tight. Then she took up the butter churn, filled it with fresh milk, took up the dasher in both hands, and popped both seams of her sleeves in the first few churns, as her sisters laughed on.
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »


Time had passed.

Squire Caine Kross walked faster as the mail bag's weight pressed into her shoulder.

There was that same lump of rocks, that same jut of crystal.

And then came the crossroards to the Lyon's way.

Then the great lake.

Then the High Hedge.

Ooh! A mushroom.

Onward she trekked.

Her plump lips made a hard line.

"I want a horse," she said to herself.

"You can't have a horse 'till you are a proper Knight and can afford a horse."

The voice in her head countered.

"But you'll never get to be a Knight because you have NO proper Knight is sponsoring you. They just forgot all about you! No one cares."

Caine shook her head as her blond cornsilk ponytail whipped side to side. She settled again into her armor and concentrated on taking brisk steps, foot after foot, to lessen the burden on her legs.

"Someone cares. He cares about me. All this is in His plan. Maybe I am here so I am free to go and dig rocks out of the fields of Rhuel, to bring hands and hearts to help in the planting, and teach the children along side of His chosen? If that old grump Sir Holbretch was here, he'd have me working at some horrid task. Perhaps he is even dead? I can't sit around and wait for a dead man to return."

Caine bit her lip thoughtfully as she crested the hill into Beregost. A good deal had happened since her Knight disappeared. She had saved a few lives, that was for sure. She caught that Cyrite murderer in the Sharpteeth with Morgan. She had made stronger friendships with those that followed the Light.

"Ugh, you are SO boring and predictable. Why don't you do something for yourself for once. Go to the baths. Get a massage. Eat a half-pound of fudge. Go kiss someone. Do something to prove you are alive other than constantly taking responsibility for everyone's problems!"

Caine raised her eyebrow at looked around briefly. Her eyes caught the noon shadows in the alleyways and through the town's trees. She looked side to side at the passersby, most she knew since she was a child. They nodded politely, some warmly even, as she stood there, the mail sack worn across her chest, and her lips still set in a hard line.

"I won't be a Knight anytime soon. So why not have a little fun? And I can still help people. Right?"

Caine looked up at the sun. It glinted on her silver and bronze chased armor, she closed her eyes, and waited.

Last edited by CloudDancing on Fri May 10, 2013 1:59 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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The afternoon sun rose into the clear blue sky, a bright ball of light, muted with soft wispy clouds. Beregost was all a-bustle with the sounds of Greengrass. Booths and tents were set up in the streets, houses were garlanded with green, gold, and golden yellow banners, and tinkers and traders roamed about hawking their wares from backpacks and boxes. Even the entrance to the Song of the Morning was lit up and garlanded with fern fronds and the new wild sunflowers that grew along the road.

She had watched the parade early in that morning. The priests had carried their statues of Lathander, then Chauntea, then Sune, adorned with flowers, with their golden sun-shaped censers smoking with fragrant incense. They were followed by the younger members of the church, from the smallest altar keepers carrying branches of green leaves, to the up and coming squires in their gold trimmed tunics of white, then the squires in their plain polished plate, and then the two Knights of the Aster, then His Radiance, Keddath Ormlyr.

Afterward, Caine Kross had gone to her family's home, went upstairs of the simple farmhouse, slipped her special exotic white dress over over a white full skirt which made it utterly more modest. Next, she combed down her hair into long silken waves, then slipped a crown of leaves and flowers on as a head band. Then she went downstairs and filled a basket with the traditional egg-shaped and jam-filled breads of Greengrass. Caine paused at the mirror, remembering Horatio's wolf-like smile and his appraising gaze. She took a woolen shawl from the wall peg and wrapped it around her shoulders so that it covered her chest.
Then she strode out the door in straw sandals still long-legged; never demure as a town-girl, and then headed for the newly tilled wheat fields, the soil black, deep, and soft. At first she strode through the long grass that trimmed the fields where it tangled up with small baby-blue-eyes, buttercups, and forget-me-nots. The dress clung to her like a second skin, highlighting her normally concealed female attributes.

There in the middle of the field the farm folk knelt before the clergy of the Morninglord. Baskets of golden wheat, barley, beans, and buckwheat had been laid out and His most Radiant, hoary locks flowing, walked among them, golden robes magnificent in the streaming sunlight, shaking holy water over the seed with a leafy branch and praying softly. Caine waited patiently, and as she did, she curled her toes into the earth. She turned her thoughts to a quiet presence that had gone missing as of late. She remembered the brief embrace, the scent of earth and animals that infused him. She remembered how he felt; pure understanding that passed between the two champions. Now, when she passed the shrine, she'd touch the crystal there and whisper, “Please come home, Bu. We miss you.”

When the blessing was finished Ormlyr and the priesthood headed toward the barns to make their rounds to bless the livestock and even the pets of the town. As Caine passed friends and family, she offered the young altar keepers the cakes which most gratefully took as they carried their branches and censers wearily.
By the time she had handed out the treats, the sun was setting now, pink, purple, and dark blue against the fading golden rays. Her pure white skirt brushed dusty against the ground. She walked back through the fields and into the streets of Beregost. She was met with smiles and then the embarrassing attentions of various peoples. The smiles grew lascivious. Clothing was loosened. Resolve fluttered away on the butterfly wings of Sune. Wine and spirits appeared in hand. Music was heard from the Inns, their doors swung open wide and waiting. Warm muffled laughter rolled through the alleyways and the garden courtyards.

There among the lantern light and revelry, Caine was asked to dance by Lars, strapping farm lad she had known since their birth. She flushed red and shook her head. He tugged her hand and dragged her to the dancers, then spun her around in an arc. Her shawl fell to the side. She blushed and did her best to awkwardly bounce along the round dance, her feet stumbling through the various steps and turns. Her pure white skirt twirled while her bodice heaved leaving little to the imagination. The band did not stop its merry tune and slipped seamlessly from one to the next. By the end of a few dances she was red-faced and sweating, laughing despite herself.

Lars swung her around then suddenly gave her a kiss. It was a firm kiss, friendly yet polite. His green eyes caught hers to see how she'd react. She heard laughter around her. The squire rolled from his arms and shook her head to clear it. She pushed him hard enough to send him teetering back on his heels. Then she turned and hurried away from the dancers, away from the laughter, and away from him standing there as he called out her name.

“Caine! Wait! I'm sorry! Its Greengrass!”

As she hurried away through the bustling crowd, she frowned at her dress then wrapped her arms to cover her chest. She pulled the skirt down lower to cover her calves.

I should have never come, I need to remember my oaths. I need my armor.

Armor was more essential in her trade. She remembered the metal-clad champion of Selune' most recent lesson. As they sparred the pale Lady Theresa seemed smaller, but she packed a deceptively powerful wallop. Her mace thunked firmly into Caine's plate helm. As the metal rang, her head jerked, and her ears rang. She managed to hit Theresa once again before a hard painful thump to her hip sent her to draw back and pant heavily. Caine pulled off her helm and plopped down on one knee. The priestess did the same, pulled off her helm, and prayed softly over Caine. Her dizziness immediately cleared as the pain faded away.

The white Lady of Rhuel made a slow motion with her plated arm, like a lethal blow, where the mace head extended fully at the end of the swing. “Caine, like this. See how the mace head builds speed? Often enough that it will bounce if it catches something solid. And it bounces straight up, even. It is a peculiarity of how forces work. It means that it bounces up and by having been stopped moving it means that whatever it struck is struck powerfully downward.

Now, say instead...” she lifted the mace head slightly, such that her hand is considerably ahead of where the striking part of the weapon is, “Like this, my swing moves down, but the impact is down and toward me. It bounces still, yes, but the bounce is in a different direction than the swing, and it's just concussive. It's still being hit with a weapon, mind you, but more likely to wind a man or knock him out than kill him.” Caine nodded eagerly, her hand clenching around the borrowed mace, while her arm hefted the borrowed shield.

“And you'll also want to be careful where to hit. I don't want to break bones, unless it happens to be just bones. As we know on occasion that is the case. The sternum is a very hard bone to break. That is the thick boney one in the middle of the chest. The liver, if struck and not punctured, is very good at laying people down, too”

Caine shook her head, hugging herself tighter now, where she stood in front of the Song of the Morning. Then she strode into the temple and fell to her knee by the altar. She was not alone, though the church was very sparsely manned due to the festival. She lowered her head and a few tears trickled down her cheek.

“Lathander, I am so brave for You but in battle, but I can't even stand against one kiss.”

She remained there, head lowered, until suddenly Caine set her jaw, stood, then found a desk in the nearby classroom. She took up a quill and with a wobbly hand penned a letter to His Radiance and Father Richart:

“Dear High Morninglord Ormlyr and Morninglord Richart,

It is my duty to inform you that the the Knight assigned to me has gone missing. Due to circumstances specific to my cousin, I believe he is dead. He suffered from a particular strain of Lycanthropy and he is well aged. He also was involved in a complex altercation with the Knights of his order and I discovered he was a renegade of the Church of Helm.

I cannot vouch for his whereabouts but it has been many months since he contacted me. I have been very patient. I accepted you placed me in the care of a family member. I trusted that you knew he was a knight of Helm and not of Lathander. I put up with his constant misunderstanding and challenging of the tenets of our faith. I believe he hoped to convert me. You see I swore my oaths to him, that I would remain pure of body, faith, and deed while I was his squire. And I keep these oaths to this very day the best I possibly can.

And all of the good works I have done in the name of Lathander, were done under my own direction, and in direct service to the Song of the Morning. I am sure you are aware of the many ways I have served the church and even accompanied the Sword's Edge on the most important errands of the church. And I have continued my martial training under my own responsibility and even have been allowed to train with a champion of Selune' who kindly has taken me under her wing as a student.

I am sorely vexed by these developments. I need a Knight who will teach me the ways of the Order of the Aster. I need to be instructed in the ceremonies and traditions of our faith. I have never done anything to deserve to be disciplined or punished. So I don't understand why I can't, with all the resources of our wonderful church, can't find a place among you to dwell.

I seek your guidance.

Sincerely,

Squire Caine Kross”


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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

“Caine, wake up. It is time”

The sun rose softly that morning from a rose-clouded shroud. The solitary Caine had taken her three day vigil on the grassy ridge behind the vast and the glowing Song of the Morning and under a thick branched drooping oak tree. As hard as it was, she prayed there. She often fell back to sit and watch the going-ones of the town as the quiet folk of Beregost went about the daily chores. The trees swayed, the grass grew, and the sun traced across the dome of blue sky until the moon traced across the indigo depths of night.

A shiver traced down her back. Caine looked from side to side, then leaned back down to a seated position as the sound of boots approached. She looked up curious and it was him again, her project. “Hello Sunshine,” he said in a rumble-y voice. She smiled and offered some humble comment and bade him sit. Lady Theresa soon followed and joined them. It felt good to see them. First, was her only friend in Baldur's Gate and then, second, was her mentor who took her in and trained her when all seemed lost.

They talked until the barest shade of pink colored the rim of the green rolling hills. Caine was woken from her daze and walked herself to the upstairs of the Song. She entered the bath and stripped down, then washed herself clean thoroughly. Before she was finished she moved to a basin of water set aside, picked it up, and poured it over herself. The clear cascade of holy water ran over her flesh, down her long muscled back, and her even longer legs. It drenched her long corn silk hair then ran in rivulets over her sparse breasts and down her belly. The water pooled at her long feet then seeped down into the drain sanctifying the pipes of the Song temporarily.

Caine dried with a soft towel and then redressed, donning a white silk tunic and white silk leggings trimmed with gold edging. She dried and combed out her hair, letting it free for the first time in over a year. Over the raiment went a clean padded gambeson and over that the high polished pieces of her plate armor. She then attached her simple maize-colored cloak. With a deep breath she then moved down the stairs and met Sir Soulbright. Such names were common. Being reborn often came with a new name that demonstrated their purpose.

He told her he was proud of her. And she could only bow her head and say, “I live to serve.”
The door opened up, the dawn light streamed in, and she was suddenly there on her knee before the altar. Her family lined the back center rows, small chirp of comments arose as Caine took her knee there next to the father, the other Knights, and His Most Radiant. Near them were members of the Sword's Edge, Freck, and surprisingly Lady Sir Alyra Ashedown of Silverymoon. Caine blinked rapidly and her cheeks reddened in pleasure.

It was at this time Keddath Ormlyrr took the time to preach a message to the assembled crowd of mixed faiths. He then turned to Caine and asked her to recite her oath:

“I will strive always to aid. I will strive to foster new hope, new ideas, and new prosperity for all humankind and its allies. I will perfect myself and guard ever against pride, for it is a sacred duty to foster new growth, nurture growing things, and work for rebirth and renewal. I will be fertile in mind and body. I will consider always the consequences of my actions so that the least effort may bring the greatest and best reward. Wherever I go I will sow seeds of plants, I will tend the growing things I find, and plant seeds of hope, new ideas, and plans for a rosy future in the minds of all.
Whenever possible, I will see each dawn. And when my comes to depart this earth, I will go willingly into His arms, the arms of the Morninglord, and dwell with him forever.


It was all true. There had been nothing truer in her heart since the day she stood alone in the rain in the courtyard, waiting to be called upon. She keep this truth in her heart during the days when Sir Holbretch brow-beat her and drilled her for hours until she was exhausted and numb. She held to the truth when he disappeared, well knowing the fate that had taken him. She stayed faithful, even though she worked side by side with mercenaries and she believed she could show them another way by example. Her faith was restored when the champion of Selune' came to her side to train her. And she was convicted when she saw a glimmer of light in a rough rogue's eye, that he could be saved.

The light of dawn blazed warm around her as it streamed down from the occulus. The sword blade hit her cheek with a firm slap, then the other, her eyes then opened to a warm friendly smile and a welcome into the Order of the Aster. Sir Caine Kross, Lady Sir Caine Kross as some might call her. And then she was handed the sword that had dubbed her, the blade hissed to life.

There she was, as she had once been nicknamed, the Blazing Sword, and within her the Light of Lathander.

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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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Stick by stick, log by log, Caine dragged the pieces of the pyre back behind the Song of the Morning into the hills of rural Beregost. She finally stopped when the pile reached her waist and returned to the great glowing seat of Lathander.

Standing before the golden baptismal, she thought back to when Daertho, the dark-haired Feywarden, approached her in the city. At his words she had willed her tears back, though the shock of them shot an icy bolt of sickening sorrow through her stomach which froze her in place.

Time seemed to stop again. And she was there in frozen rain, the feeling of utter abandonment twisting around her, the elf's mouth moving, and her nodding slowly at every word. She asked the requisite questions though the words fell coldly from her mouth.

The burly half-orc had gone alone into the Sharpteeth that night, that night she had been too tired to travel and went to take a rest upstairs at the Sword and Stars. Her last words which were usually a sweetly intoned “Light be with you” were met with “Freck be with ya!” She responded in a playful “you wish!” and trotted sleepily upstairs to her cot.

Briefly she smiled, then set her mouth into a hard line. With an exhale the young paladin lifted up the huge bulk of his body effortlessly. The natural linen shroud was wrapped tight around his damaged corpse had oiled bands of yellow-gold rope that the priests had affixed at her request. Then she picked up a jug of scented oil scented with myrrh and cloves then poured it over him where it drenched the fabric.

Behind her the Dawnbringer's yellow orb began to set, the sky turning gold, then rose, then fading into blue. She waited and spoke to the corpse there, alone on the hill behind the song.

“Freck.”

She sighed and leaned over to kneel, “You were the closest I've had to a friend in a good long time. I don't know why you went on without me. I don't understand why that night you decided you were stronger than you were. I'll never know.”

Caine took a deep gulp, “I thought I could save you. And I'll never know if did. I didn't think to check again. I prayed you would see my light and come around to it in your own way because we were friends.”

A few tears fell down her cheeks, “You aren't alone though. Sir Bevan has gone on and I hope he was saved in the end as well. I pray for both your souls. I pray you've found the Light.”

Lady Sir Caine Kross rose to her feet and reached for her flint and torch. Her long-fingered hands flicked the flint over her dagger then sparks sprung onto the wadded oiled cloth of the torch. The fire welled up. Her tears welled up as well. She lifted up the smoking torch and moved to light the tinder stuffed between the cracks in the pyre. The oil and the dry brush flared up and quickly his body was engulfed by flames.

She wondered for a moment, looking out into the fading day and into the first sprinkling of stars across the dark blue in the distance, “Who loved you, Freck? Who did you care about more than anything in the world? Why did I feel the taint?” Finally, Caine kneeled again by the flaming pyre with it's black smoke pillar blowing dark into the starry night.

She dried her tears and softly prayed, “Oh Lathander, you are my strength. I pray you take the knowledge they have both passed from this part of the world to his loved ones. I pray they feel how we that somehow the world has lost a little something special in both of their passings. By the Light, which passes from day into night to be reborn again, I pray they know your passing. And I will tell your stories far and wide so someday they will know you were beloved heroes of this land.”

There she waited in her place of vigil until the fire burned down to embers, till the bone was burned black. She stripped to her tunic and leggings, took out a shovel, and began turning the soil over then dug deep. Over and over she turned the soil as sweat poured down her face. Once the hole was dug and fire fully extinguished, the bones were raked to the bottom.

Nearly exhausted she moved over to the wheelbarrow and lifted out a young oak tree whose trunk was about as thick as Caine's waist. She grunted and ended up dragging it out then dropped it with a thud into the hole. She cut the burlap-wrapped roots loose, then filled it in with the ashy soil and loam mix. Finally she stomped down the soil and took the time to water it. Then the young knight took up a thick blanket, laid down in the grass, and then curled up with a bottle of mead and dreamed.

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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

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“Virgil Caine?”

A tall, rangy male looked up from a fat burlap bag of seed. His weather-worn face was tanned by the sun and it had a leathery quality against the sun-bleached blond of his long braided hair. His chin was roughly shaven and he wore both a flour-sacking shirt with well-patched leather breeches. He squinted at the well-apportioned guard of Beregost with no smile, just a curt, expectant nod. His mouth opened a crack and a rough tenor came forth.

“That is my name.”

“I have your boy down at the temple.”

“Which boy? I got six on my last count.”

“Cairn.”

“Hells.”

The farmer lifted up his battered brown hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He set his mouth hard and stared the guard in the eye.

“We caught him after he stole a pair of gold earrings from a merchant at the temple crossing. He's locked up in a cell now.”

He grunted deeply and pulled his hat tight over his leathery brow.

“Well, sir. I am knee deep in seeding this field. I don't have time to go fetch his sorry hide. Let him stew there for a bit. Then turn him over to his sister, the Knight. She'll whip some sense into him.”


Later on the outskirts of Beregot, Sir Caine Kross knelt in prayer by her favored tree not far from the Lathanderite stables. The hill overlooked the farmlands and in the distance she could see the Caine family farm. It was a square of white and beside it two humps of red for the barns. She squinted and thought for a moment she could see someone out in the fields.

She sat down briefly then took up a mug beside her and drank her mid-morning tea. It had gone mostly cold while she had made her prayers, but she gulped it down gratefully.

Morning had come yet again and surely His will would be done in this day.

As she finished her mug, a guard approached her, dragging a tall, young man by the scruff of his shirt. His arms were manacled together in front of him. Caine raised a brow, then sighed as she recognized the male.

Cairn Caine stood six foot, three inches and was no doubt still growing. His wide shoulders make him look more willowy with his long arms and legs, well muscled from farm work. His tawny red hair was mussed and spilled down his back in a messy braid of loose lank strands, mussed as if he just had woken up. A days growth of beard stubbled his face and he had a lean, hungry look about his narrow face and his sharp cheekbones. He lowered his pale blue eyes as Caine stared hard into his.

“I see you have my brother. And manacles on him, too?”

Cairn sighed softly in an unusually deep timbre, “It is not like I was going hurt anyone.”

“Sir Kross,” he saluted and spoke quickly, “he tried to steal a pair of gold earrings from Sandal,the trinket merchant, at the temple crossing. He was caught with them in his pocket by our own guard. He's been locked up in a cell for a day now."

Cairn muttered with a low growl, “I don't know how they got there. I tell ya, my friends pranked me.”

She knew his friends, she thought, with a roll of her eyes. The scraggly Amnish boy with the dreaded hair who carried a battered rapier tied to his rope belt. The strapping farm boy with the big mouth about politics (“Beregost only serves the church! Who represents the 65% who are not!?”) And finally the shy, skinny one, who never said anything, but stared at Caine with large, frightened eyes.

At this point in their lives, Caine was well used to his mischief. Out of her six brothers, Cade, Caer, Carl, Kahn, and the baby, Kane Caine (bless her mother's sense of humor), Cairn was always the ring leader. At five he had sneaked his friends into the temple between services and had taken a splash bath in the baptismal un-holying the holy waters. At seven he sneaked his friends and two of his younger brothers onto the back of the coster and they ended up half-way to Baldur's Gate before they were caught. Then at thirteen, he and his boys tried to sneak into the Jovial Juggler with fake beards and rent themselves out a woman for the night.

Caine's frown deepened, her fair face darkened sharply. All had been simple mischief, stealing, however, was a whole different story. She clenched her hands in frustration. She suddenly found herself not wishing to think about the possibility of his other exploits that had gone unnoticed.

“I'll see the merchant is compensated for double the amount he stole.”

“Sir, I was told to turn him over to you for safe keeping. So here he is. When you are done, His Most Radiant wishes to speak to all the knights about the recent Gnoll disturbances.”

“I'll take care of this. Thank you for coming to find me.”

The guard unlocked the manacles and shoved the Caine boy toward his sister. He gave her a salute, then returned to the temple. Caine leaned over, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, then dragged him to her side.

“You. Come sit,” she said in a seriously commanding tone, then the Knight pointed to the grass next to her emphatically. Excising her considerable strength, she pushed him down to his knees.

“Aw, I didn't mean to take the earrings. My mate, he slipped them to me. I was gonna give 'em back.”

Caine glowered at him, “You don't think! You know how embarrassing it is for the family to have their son stealing. It is not like we don't have money for such things. It is not like with a little thinking you couldn't have earned the money to buy some earrings easy!

She threw up her hands. He glared at her, straightened up, and then shook his ruddy head proudly.

“I'm not a boy anymore. I'm seventeen, Bet! It's only a year and a half younger than you.”

She cut him off, “Caine. Call me Caine. Seventeen is when I became a squire. You are nearly a grown man now. It is time to start thinking about what you want to do with your life, to think about who you want to be. You could have a family now, work your own farm. No brother of mine is becoming a thief!”

“Ya know I wasn't born to farming. I was born on the streets. Just because your pa found me and took me in, don't change that I'm not really one of you'all.”

“Cairn Caine! How do you even think like that? I've known you for thirteen years. You are family to me as much as any of our brothers. Take up the sword then. Serve the church with me. You don't have to be a knight or even a priest. Just do something good with your life that honors the Dawnbringer.”

“What if I don't want to follow Lathander? What if I have other plans in mind? What if I go all the way to Baldur's Gate and don't look back?”

Caine gulped back exasperated tears and stared at her foster brother severely.

“You'd leave us?”

Cairn reached over and took her long-fingered hand in his broad one. He lowered his voice, it then wavering as his words choked in his throat.

“No, not yet. There is one thing that's been keeping me here.”

“Only one thing?

“You don't even see it, do you? You are so busy with your Knight-business. You only come home went it suits you, I don't see you anymore, except from afar.”

He stammered, taking her other hand, holding it tight, “I...I...I don't want to be your brother. Not anymore. I was taking those earrings for you. I love you.”

The world suddenly shifted around Caine, the sky spinning a little, until she came back to herself with a slight shake. Her cornflower blue eyes flew wide-open as visions of their life together flashed through her mind. It was hard when father had first brought this ragged, spitting, swearing urchin from the streets into the Caine household.

At first, he taught Caine how to cuss, many pranks, and plenty of gutterspeak right until Virgil Caine, under advisement of the church, provided a loving and judicious application of a switch to his foster son's buttocks. Little Cairn shaped up after that (mostly.) He and she became inseparable as brother and sister; him always getting into mischief, and her always running to tell father. They had shared fist fights, many stick-sword battles, feasts upon fallen fruits, and wanders through the fields. They shared the farm work, the hatching of new chicks, the rolling with the kittens in the haymow, the watching of their younger brothers, and very often the scratches, scrapes, and bruises. Then at 12, he gave her her first kiss. And then she punched him in the nose, breaking it. And then the young knight began her training at the Song of the Morning.

Her jaw dropped as she stammered, “You don't even know what you are saying. I'm your sister. You can't love me! Not like that.”

He lowered his head for a moment and leaned closer to her, setting his hands upon her shoulders, his fingers catching in her soft, blond waves, placing his forehead against hers purposefully. His voice deepened perceptibly and suddenly she felt she was face to face with a grown man and totally exposed, “I've known it for a long time. I've been holding it back, just watching and waiting. There is no one I want more than you.”

Rapidly blinking, the young knight twisted out of his grasp, her cheeks burning red. She spit out the only words that came to her mind. Her thick veneer of composure rose again and sucked up the redness of her cheeks so she then caught her breath. She didn't realize she had been breathing so hard. Her eyes narrowed in uncomfortable displeasure.

“Cairn, I think of you as my little brother. Don't you see? We could never be together like that. It would just be wrong.”

His eyes glistened then his mouth set into a hard line. He stood up, brushed himself off, and then spoke down at her with hurt stinging in his voice, “I might not be good enough for you now, Bet. Someday I will change your mind. I swear it.”

He took off in a run, down the hill, out to the fields, running swift between the furrows of turned earth. Standing erect, the knight crossed her arms over her chest, her brows lowered, her eyes sad. Her hand fell to the hilt of the sword at her belt. She clasped the hilt, her hand tight around the silk wrapped handle, her finger stroking the carved sun.

Why had she said that to him? Was this sword why she could not let herself feel?

She thought of the road, the Gnolls and the innocents, the vampire Lord, standing like steel, and then the call of His Most Radiant. Then she closed her eyes, turned, and walked toward the Song of the Morning, fighting her final urge to chase after her brother.

It was just a day later that her father, Virgil Caine, came to town all by himself. He found Caine in her room, holding his hat over his chest. His tall frame filled up the door as he stepped in and he looked around the her fine appointed room with narrow eyes. For a moment he looked at her sternly. Various books were splayed about one bed. There was a boot in the bookcase and a string of laundry drying from poster to poster on the great, fine bed she called her own. He held to his hat, nodded at Caine, then spoke softly in is rough manner.

“Cairn's gone. He packed up a bag, then he took a loan from your mother, then he turned his tail toward Baldur's Gate.”

She stood up, snapping her book shut, and reached for her cloak.

“Well, I'll go bring him back, then. He'll get himself killed!”

Virgil Caine, however, took her by the arm then spoke softly, “Bet, love. Let him go. He's a man now. He'll come around again someday. Hopefully, sooner, not later.”
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CloudDancing
Ancient Red Dragon
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by CloudDancing »

And then she kissed her. Up until that moment the young knight had never really understood what a kiss was. In the past there were clumsy, unwanted attempts to kiss her, to attempt to get some rise in her affections, but none had made that actually come to pass because they were roughly taken, not given.

This.

This was entirely different from any sort of kiss she had ever received. It was quite a grown-up kiss and it was right in the middle of the sleepy evening tavern. It was after long talking about death and living, then light and dark. It stirred up memories long past beyond this life, memories that stirred back to the very dawning of the Light. And she was simply there, stripped of title and reputation. She was alive.

Was it impolitic for a Knight to be seen kissing in a pub?

Under that persistent gaze, under that careful touch, suddenly Caine was ridiculous, a contradiction of her own faith. The paladins of Lathander are well known for being open to life's warmth and known that they welcomed love and affection as much as Lathander loved Sune or the Earthmother.

And she had been, up until that point, quite struck cold by the thought of lifting off her armor and revealing the true warmth that welled up inside her unbidden at that very moment. What mattered most to the young knight is that suddenly, she could feel, and suddenly that warmth made manifest for the first time truly, in her slim, gilded soul.

And then, she kissed me, just kissed me. I knew it was coming and I did not resist. Perhaps it was because of the cider and brandy, the warm light of the fire, and her eyes, those dancing blue eyes that stared into mine, watching my every expression.

I can save her.

She simply had to save her.

And if by love, or by the Light, or by whatever was this heaviness burning in my breast and heart, I would save her soul.


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Mikayla
Valsharess of ALFA
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Re: Letters of the Light (No Warnings Yet)

Post by Mikayla »

(( Love it - beautiful Cloud. :) Love the art too - great find.))
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
NWN2: Layla (aka Aliyah, Amira, Snake and others) and Vellya
NWN1-WD: Shein'n Valakasha
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