Silverymoon - North East Quarter

[dob85y]

The sound of metal dragging on flagstones could be heard, long before the source of the sound could be seen. Folks looked at each other as the strange sound grew slowly louder wondering what it was.

A figure, dressed in ornate black armour, made his way through the streets of Silverymoon dragging his tower shield behing him. Strapped to the shield was a body carefully wrapped in a cloak. None approached as the man solemnly made his way through the streets on his journey, though a few bowed their heads in respect for the one that had passed.

The noise finally abaited, the armored man carefully layed the shield in the grass while he unstrapped the youth and carried him inside the temple of the Morninglord. The Dawnbringer inside, knew the armour and knew what it represented, barely a nod passed between the two as the man bearing his burden continued on. The Dawnbringer wondered what had inspired the designs when the two had first met, and being a forthright type, asked the allied priest, as most of Kelemvors followers wore dull muted tones. Ward, had explained the design in detail, explaining it as a souls journey with both the living and passing, showing that death is merely a transition, not an end.

A small room had been set aside for the Death Gods followers, deemed as allies with similar goals, and this priest of Kelemvor known as Ward, had used it many times in the preperation of those who had reached the transition in their journey, yet again it seemed. The Dawnbringer noticed, as Ward unwrapped the body, that he was a youth, somewhere between 15 and 18 winters, and that his body was badly battered, it didnt take an expert to know this boy knew agony before he died. The Dawnbringer retreated back to the alter, leaving Ward to his solemn charge.

After the body has layed out on the table, Ward removed his armour, and set about cleaning the body, removing the blood and gore from the remains. Voices echoed in his head as he carefully washed the body, that of Gruu and Kaldt, they were right in their assesment of the corpse, it is but a vessel for the soul, but the circumstances surrounding the boys death concerned Ward, that if the proper measures were not taken, the boys spirit may return, angry and vengful for the wrong commited against him. And also the family, the boy was a local, he had friends and at least a younger brother who had to mourn, without something to cry over, they would struggle to heal. And finally the one responsable, she had to see the consequences of her actions else they happen again.

Just as the hymns were beginning in the main chapell, signifying the beginning of a new day, Ward had finished his duty, the grevious wounds covered by his death garb, his face as if sleeping, the boy now looked at peace.

[Ithildur]

Arathil watched the priest depart with a silent nod, reassuring himself that the body was in good hands from what he knew of Kelemvorites.

He returned to his room at the Lady's College, reclining to sort through his thoughts. This was not the first death he'd seen certainly, but he was bothered in no small measure. The youth had been just that, a youth, shorted lived indeed even for a human. Once again he found himself pondering the implications of the flickering lifespans that humans knew; his memories brought forth images of faces, faces of young and hearty friends in Waterdeep, faces that he watched grow wrinkled and worn over time, along with limber limbs growing shriveled and stiff, before finally succumbing to the inevitable... while he himself remained virtually unchanged through over seven decades spent in that place.

Arathil turned slowly, recalling his conversation with Milo a few days before finding the dead young man. Short of wit and sense he clearly seemed, likely not destined for greatness or significance measured in terms of power, position, or influence... and yet, he was a living, breathing, and sentient being capable of knowing hope, joy, laughter, sadness, the pleasure of song and dance, and perhaps with patient guidance becoming a productive member of his community, perhaps fully capable of enriching the lives of others. He had no hint of true malice in his demeanor once the veil of fear was dispeled, and his reaction to the simple cantrip Arathil provided brought a faint smile to the elf's face, which confirmed his convictions.

"A wasted life... wasted by the woman's sheer arrogance and contempt," he whispered, then paused as he shook his head. "At the very least, she was thoughtless and foolish, perhaps more so than Milo himself could ever have proven."

Either way, Arathil determined the woman needed to be monitored, if for no other reason than to ensure a repeat occurance did not occur with some other haplass young man. He glanced towards his familiar with a knowing nod, indicating to the exotic looking scarab that he would be needed.

"Her community needs to be told what occured. Perhaps they will shun her, or decide on other appropriate measures. That is, if they are not under..." he paused, and pondered a while as his thoughts branched off into several new possibilities, before deciding he would wait and see before drawing too many conclusions.

"Come, Coleo, we will need to pay a visit to Milo's brother regardless, and Dudley as well perhaps."