Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

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Uniskorne
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Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Uniskorne »

The candle flickered, throwing wild shadows against the far wall of the small room. At first glance, the hunched, horned shade was frightful, but, upon closer examination, to the being bathed by the light, it was revealed to be a horc holding a quill. He was bent over a sheaf of papers atop a steamer trunk purposed as a desk. His heavy brow was furrowed in thought or frustration or both, and one leg jigged nervously. He looked tired, older in the shadows as he sat on the edge of his bed. He felt tired and old. Frightened, but not so much that his mind strayed from this writing.

It was important that he wrote this. When the vampires attacked (it was no longer an ‘if’), he would be on the front line, using his strength to fell their enemies and his body as a shield for his friends. He would be grievously wounded, no doubt, even with the various healers doing their best. Realistically, he would die. He was just skilled enough to defeat swarms of goblins or multiple miconids, but multiple vampires? Ones who could do something called ‘dominate’? Let them gain control of someone like Kal, Laird, or Vale, and he stood no chance, never mind all the brilliant archers and spellweavers he knew.

He set his jaw and put quill to paper.

”Dear Wren,
I pray you never read this. I pray that we both survive this battle, and I put paper to flame with peace surrounding us. I pray you’re alive when I burn this. I pray we all are. But, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry.You’ve been through so much—I know we all have, but you shared yours with me. I want you to know I love you. I’m trying to love you like a brother, but it’s a challenge. It wasn’t a sudden love; I guess that’s why this is so hard. I pray Vale realizes he needs you as much as you need him. If not, I pray someone loves you like you deserve. Like I wanted to.

To Laird, my dearest friend, thank you for seeing me as a man and giving me the chances others would not. You are the father I needed, the mentor I didn’t realize I wanted, and the friend I wished for unconsciously. I pray you’re alive to mentor any other oddball that joins the Lodge. Also, if this is my last wish for you, do not blame yourself for my death, as I know you will. I die willingly as long as everyone is safe.

To Clari, who inspired me to better my mind and voice, thank you. I heard too late of your loss to comfort you, which I am ashamed of. I would wish you to live only if it would be to have another chance to love and to spread the love of knowledge you possess. If you have fallen, I rest easy knowing you are at Adam’s side once more.

To Kal, to Ryld, to Elero, to Shal—to all the warriors I’ve fought beside, I am proud to call you ‘Mate’ and pray you fight still. If you join me at the side of your and my Gods, know they are pleased. Unless they’ve got a problem with valiance and shedding the blood of your enemies.

Now, my last wishes: If you’re reading this, you’ve found my key and opened my chest. Whatever is within is to be used toward rebuilding the Lodge either physically or spiritually. Become better prepared. Dare to better yourselves but beware ego and ignorance. If we fall, know that these were our folly. Tend to the children. They are my brothers and sisters and will need more than coin can buy. Let them know I love them still and watch over them from Helm’s side.

Lastly, lay me to rest within Road’s End. Perhaps, if I rest within, I can bring comfort to the babes I’ve laid to rest there as well as other poor souls. I’m sorry in advance to the poor souls who must carry me there.

May Helm watch over you all.

~Madog Millhouse


The note was reread then folded and placed within the steamer trunk. Then, the horc stowed the writing implements, blew out the candle, and sunk under his sheets, praying no one ever read the letter.
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

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Morning, on what the young horc was calling (in his mind, at least) 'The Final Day'. It came too swiftly, wound away after hours of preparation with Wren. The Lodge, as a construction, was prepared. Wards and traps were set to ensnare the vampires or their Thralls. Important weapons and armor were emptied from the building as well, leaving the enemy nothing to turn against the members. He had even emptied his own room of possessions, preparing to abandon ship if need be. But, spiritually, he wasn't ready, and he didn't think anyone else was, either.

He'd awoken in a cold sweat earlier, realizing that they'd not thought of one minor detail: Other people. The Lodge was located among several taverns, the Watch House, and (this thought had nearly made him vomit) the Orphanage. Vansa would not be above using innocents as weapons, shields, and hostages to sway Vale's decision. Vale would still not be swayed, stating that the children were better off dead than being used in such a way. The horc didn't disagree with that, but he also wasn't as valiant as the elf. He had swore to protect the innocents, and he would see them safe.

If the Lodge fell this night, one of them might grow up to be an adventurer who could face the vampiric threat and succeed. Or be blessed by a god as a healer.

Or just grow up.

He paused in his steps, ran his hands over his face. It was easy to forget--when you were stripped naked in the darkest, dankest part of the sewers, punching a giant metal-eating bug in the compound eyeballs--that some folk woke up in the morning, ate breakfast, went about their duties, and looked forward to sitting by the fire come night surrounded by the things and people who comforted them. It was hard to imagine for someone who faced unnatural threats on a daily basis that there were people who didn't know any of this happened. MD wished this for the children--that they grew up never knowing the horrors he knew--but, for that to happen, he had to prepare them.

Thick knuckles rapped smartly on the unassuming door, and, immediately, the silence beyond the portal erupted into cheers. A sad smile crossed his features. They knew their Brother's knock by heart. Knew that it meant chalk on slateboards, forming shaky round letters, books read with all the voices and sound effects done right, and tales of pirates and the brave adventurers who lived next door. Now, in retrospect, he was sorry he told them of the latter, but they had asked, their big eyes glittering with curiosity and awe. He would save them and see those eyes just as sparkling. He vowed it.

The visage of Kiber appeared as the door was opened. "Brother Millhouse! Good morning! The children have just finished breaking their fast and are eager for today's adventures."

MD put a firm hand on the man's robed shoulder, walking him out of the doorway, earning him a confused look that transformed into a worried one. The horc closed the door, smiling to the kids beyond then leaned down to Kiber.

"There's gonna be trouble tonight, Kiber," he explained in low tones. Unconsciously he looked around before continuing. "Vampires are comin' fer some'a our members. Ye gotta move th'children to a temple--not Milil's down th'street! Somewhere 'cross town, pref'bly."

The older man's expression went pale. His mouth formed several words before whispering, "Are you certain the children are in danger? No, of course you are. I'll start preparing them."

MD looked to the sky then back down to the man he considered an older brother. "As quick as possible. Take only what they can carry. Up to ye whether or no ye tell'em why yer goin'. I'm no sure which would be better, honestly."

The grip turned into a squeeze accompanied by a tight-lipped nod before MD let the man go. Kiber turned back towards the door then back to the horc, shaking his head, "The children have experienced too much upheaval in their lifetime already. I'll contact one of the temples and request guards. Helm will watch over us. Have faith. For now, though, do you have time for lessons or...?"

"Or," MD responded regretfully. Then, a bit brighter, "When this is all over, I'll make it up t'th'kids. Promise."

The older man studied the younger before nodding firmly, patting him on the shoulder. "Yes, you will. We'll be awaiting your return, Brother Millhouse. I'll let the children know you're indisposed. Helm watch over you."

"Helm watch over all'a ye," MD said, straightening up.

He smiled and waved to the kids as Kiber entered the Orphanage, but, when the door closed soundly, the young horc found himself wiping his moist eyes.

Sometimes, though, you have to lie to those you love to keep them safe. He just hoped they forgave him.

Feeling ten times heavier than when he carried the corpses of his friends, Madog turned back to the Lodge to get some rest before the the day ended.
"The natural state of Uniskorne is awesome." --SSM
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Uniskorne »

Memory was truly a horrible thing. The young horc moved like a construct--stiffly, repeating the same movement almost identically to the previous one, without any emotion crossing his face--but his mind was tossed about like a ship in a squall.

Chaun, Amarylla, Eruk, Kathe, Kenner....

As he lifted each still bundle, his mind returned to the day/night he lifted/met them. Squirming, crying from a goblin pack. Hiding behind a wall/friend/Kiber, eyes wide at the towering man with the tusks. Running up to him bravely, proudly saying their name or imparting some knowledge about themselves/their world to him.

"Brother Millhouse? I just lost a tooth! See?" Praise given. Coin given. Affection given. Acceptance and love returned. Family he never had earned.

Fhilip, Martus, Myrdora, Ralonelis, Theven....

He helped name at least two dozen of them. Spent days sometimes asking about, researching proper names for their race. What was a good elven boy name? What was a good dwarven girl name? How did you name an orphan without offending their brethren? Give them a name that would give them strength in their lives. The others who had come to him with their own given names, he had learned painfully, speaking odd letter combinations through his tusks, accepting the chuckles and frowns at the lisped sounds he produced, promised to say them right one day. Had he gotten them all correct recently? He didn't know now. He hoped he did as he laid them upon Stephan's wagon.

Iarwynn, Wilnan, Ridove, Phibi, Hiskur, Banfi....

Madog paused, wiped his forehead on his sleeve, watched Wren return with another armful. He remembered the first time they'd come across a dead babe in the sewer. The blue elf had been shaken, her arrows missing their mark for the rest of the 'tour'. He had not fared any better. Honestly, he was horrified.

"Whut do they do wif th'babbins?"

"They eat them."

That was the start of his devotion. It was a whisper at first. A tiny voice saying, 'Dat ain' right!'. With each new babe found, the voice grew louder until he couldn't sleep. No one should hurt children! No one should mistreat the elders! Mothers should be protected! My friends need me on the schildwand! All the gold in the world isn't worth it if someone is suffering! He'd gone to Kiber, thinking him a priest, and spoke of all things Helm. Then, one night, before a candle in his room, he had bent his head to his shield and vowed to protect those who could not defend themselves and smite those that would harm others. When he rose, he was Brother Millhouse, Priest of Helm, in his heart, word, and actions if not in Temple Law.

Hawk, Tara, Bram, Hlant, Beyla....

More bodies to the cart with the gut-clenching knowledge that there were more somewhere else. If the gods were kind. Rather they be dead than forced into the ranks of the Undead. The sick image of his spear piercing the small, thin chests of a familiar face nearly doubled MD over where he stood. He would have to do it, though, if they were Turned. He owed it to them to protect them from what they'd become.

Ferel, Velene, Meshel, Vinshun, Zarra....

Eight dead. Twenty-one missing.

Eandro, Sefhanie, Collen....

One survivor. Helm be praised. One. Survivor.

Diogenes.

Clari had named him after Daeges. Almost fitting that the child bear some form of the girl's name, defying those that took the life of his namesake. 'For Daeges' was becoming a rallying cry as well as a weapon. The young horc shook his head as he entered the Orphanage for the last time. There was the message, in blood, slowly vanishing as Wren put rag and water to it. 'For Daeges'. He would rip the intestines from whoever wrote this message as he would from the reporter from The Trumpet....no, he wouldn't. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn't because Daeges saw better in him.

Because the children saw better in him. Because he promised he'd see them again and....

A silent nod to the elf before exiting the...building. It wasn't an Orphanage anymore. Wouldn't be for a while. The horc climbed into the back of the wagon with the still bundles. He had brought them out of the sewers, and he would stay with them until they were placed safely within Road's End. As he would do for the others when found. Because he'd promised.

For all those who suffered unnecessarily. For those who could not protect themselves. For those who were innocent or weak. For the voices, unheard, screaming in silence. Against those who would persecute, torture, abuse, and kill these people, do I wield my spear, raise my shield, and place my body between them and those I seek to protect. I swear to you, Helm, Protector and Guardian, that I will carry out this most sacred vow until my last breath, in your Name, with your Strength.

Because memory would not let him rest.
Last edited by Uniskorne on Sat May 11, 2019 6:45 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Mick »

So powerful and well wrought, Uni. Well done! :D
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Uniskorne »

Tired blue eyes watched the tip of the quill hover over the parchment, a tiny bead of ink threatening to detach from the point and mar the clean tan surface below. His hand shook or was it the light cast by the candle making it seem that way? It was hard to tell. He was weakened, limbs once-sure in their operations now reluctant and easily worn out. All because of one instance. It only took one instance.

Nearby, the ashes of another writing smoldered in a bowl. He had made a promise in this first letter that, if they both lived, he would put paper to flame. They. Wren and himself. He swallowed as memory washed across his mind like waves upon a beach. It was frightening: He thought of himself and his friend as a 'they' despite how hard he tried not to. Her heart belonged to Vale. Wren loved Vale. Still did despite the monk breaking off their relationship to better pursue his Path.

It was understandable. Vale was to be commended for his dedication even if the horc thought him daft for it in some respects. No. Only one respect--Wren. How could you choose Duty over Wren? He would do both....

MD ran his hands over his face, inadvertently drawing a line from forehead to jaw. He didn't feel it, wouldn't care when he noticed it. His heart was a storm of emotion. He was no stranger to anger, fear, doubt, and pain. Love. Ah! That was an unfamiliar feeling. Growing up, 'love' had meant food in his belly, clothes (even if they were ragged) on his back, and firm discipline when he warranted it. Even being sold to the Merchant Captain had been because his Da had loved him (though, later, he'd find out that fifty gold had passed hands that fateful day).

But, this-!

The quill was set down, a small leather strip was fetched from nearby, and MD tied his hair up in a tight ponytail. Wren had remarked how much she liked his long hair and his facial hair. Something warm had swam in his stomach, raced up his spine to settle in his chest where it puffed him up. Her smile made his knees weak; her laughter chased figurative clouds away. Her tears shook the ground beneath him, making him want to skewer whatever/whoever caused them. When she insulted herself, his was the first voice to correct her, praise her, argue against whatever verbal slight or inner misconception she had about herself.

This felt like starving. This felt like drinking all the water in a barrel and still thirsting for more. This felt like when he'd dove over the side of the brigantine to prove to he wasn't a frightened landlubber, even when Cook had told him, 'They're gonna raise anchor an' leave ye, boy!'. The horc hadn't hesitated, quickly removing his shirt and boots before sailing over the rail to the sound of cheers. When he surfaced, the ship was still there and a rope was being thrown to him. At the next port, the 12-year-old horc had been dubbed 'Mad Dog' and was tattoo'd with a shark biting an anchor on his left inner forearm. This felt like when the captain of Umberlee's Wrath had walked before each man down before him on their knees and asked, 'Who is your captain, sailor?'. Each man had answered either with the Merchant Captain's name, 'I don't know!', or 'Please, don't kill me!' as the man before him had been instantly stabbed for obviously answering wrong. When the Pirate Captain had approached him and asked the same question, MD had taken a chance and answered, 'You'. And, that's how he'd become the Cabin Boy upon the dread pirate ship, Umberlee's Wrath.

Love felt like all these things boiled down to their essence and swallowed. Helm, it felt like Wren's Basement Burner! It nearly killed a man, but he wanted more. But, he was afraid to drink more for that reason, and for the fear that he'd drink too much and vomit. It was too soon, anyways. The wound in Wren's heart was still fresh. The wounds from her...death...and his were still healing; however, there was so much feeling within him that, if he didn't get it out somehow, his heart would burst!

To this end, he retrieved the quill and put it to the parchment:

"Dear Wren,"
I was alone in the darkness, unaware that I had fallen in battle. Indeed, I thought the Crypts, the fight, and all the horrors that'd swarmed us nothing more than a nightmare, but, then, realization slowly crept upon me, and intense woe filled my heart. I was dead, and I would never see you again! Moments (or eternity) later, I felt the presence of others and knew them to be Shalheira and the Lad, Bolt. I felt like Daeges and Morgan were with us, too. But, I still felt alone. That is, until I felt someone take my hand, and all my fear and sadness vanished.
You were there. You took my hand and brought me comfort. I knew instantly that it was you, and, in that instance, I decided that I would return to either love you or avenge you. You speak of the Music leading you back, and I believe you! I would give praise to this 'Music of the Universe' you speak of for bringing you back, but, as for me, my Duty and Love are intertwined. I love who I protect. I just love you more than them.
Yes, Wren, I love you. I find it funny that I can charge all sorts of aberrations fearlessly but I choke on those simple words. I'm a fool around you. A brick wall, mute and unmovable. I drink deeply the small moments we have together knowing we may never have more, and I tell myself I am satisfied. I must be satisfied because you deserve so much better than myself. Not because I'm a horc but because I'm a coward in the face of your burning heart. You deserve a man with your own passions, unafraid to shower you in poetry and romance. And, yes, not a horc.
I will remain silent as we heal, happy to remain your friend. I warn you, though, if I see that there is a space opening in your heart for 'us' to grow, I can't promise I'll walk away. I will leap in, as I did to shark-infested waters once. Your name is already tattoo'd across my heart--I just have to earn it.
I love you. I love you. I love you, Wren Bluefeather!
~MD"


Quill was replaced in its holder. Ink was sealed in its bottle. The letter was powdered, blown on, and folded. For a brief moment, the young horc with the tired eyes held it near the candle, debating if it, too, should smolder in the bowl, never to be read. Releasing a breath he hadn't know he was holding, he rose, and, following some strange logic, stuffed the letter under his mattress. Locks could be picked, boxes opened, but who would look under the mattress of a smelly half-orc? For now, his secret would be well-kept. A weak smile crossed his lips as he retrieved his water pitcher and exited his room to fill the vessel downstairs.

He was dying of thirst.
"The natural state of Uniskorne is awesome." --SSM
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Uniskorne »

So much had happened. Battles, so many battles. Threat after threat, claiming lives then either vanishing like a mist in the morning or being vanquished at the cost of more lives. More sanity. Too many friends gone. The world heaved like a ship in a squall, tossing all those who remained off their feet, dashing security upon the rocks of despair and doubt.

First, Kal. A friend had been ripped away, and, if rumor was true, he'd metaphorically taken Sarenna with him. How could she not suffer through his loss? It made Madog anxious with thoughts of his own possible loss. As Wren lay upon the bed, sweating, coughing, and calling to those long gone, the horc feared losing her. This world seemed to hate love. Clari had lost Adam; Sarenna had lost Kal. Would "Mawren" also meet the same fate?

He had little time to contemplate this, as sickness claimed him next. Wren became distracted--her face etched with the same concern he'd seen on his own. Sometimes, he felt like he caged her with his love. When they'd met, she'd been so carefree, so alive. Now, she was so worried all the time, but it was his own arrogance saying that she worried just for him. There was the Guild. People came and went with a few steadfast (or foolish) friends staying. This was her family, and she worried that she would fail them.

Felt like she already had. Every new member laid to rest in Road's End or elsewhere was another confirmation that she hadn't done enough. Wren sometimes whispered that she thought the Guild cursed. No leader stayed long, and there was always some trouble plaguing it.

"Should just torch the place and be damned done with it."

She never would. Wren never gave up. Despite everything, Wren believed in good, that it would, ultimately, come out on top.

Then, Vale had died.

Health had returned. Confidence had returned with it. Then, Vana had given Wren the news. The ugly crying that Wren had promised Vale if he'd died didn't come at first. She'd just nodded, thanked Vana, turned back around and ascended the stairs to the Master's Chambers. MD had stayed on the stairs, feeling as if someone had just hit him in the stomach with a warhammer.

Not Vale! Vale always made it!

Flash memories of the stoic elf forbidding the horc from calling him 'Sir'. Supporting him when he wanted to learn to read and write. Teaching him better defense tactics. And this last time when they'd spoken in the Elven wood about service and how to serve those you love. A mentor. A leader. A friend. Gone.

MD had joined Wren again in her room. They'd gotten drunk. Stinking, lousy drunk. Wren had begun by cursing Vale a fool, cursing him for chasing his own demise. Cursed him for dying to such a stupid foe. "Out of everything we've fought, Vale--crocodiles and Yuan-ti??" Then, laughter as she reminisced about their love. It had burned brief but hot, and she admitted there would always be a small flame within her heart that would never die for him. Star-crossed lovers and all that. Different paths. If things had been different. . . .

The ugly crying had come after a day or so, when booze failed to ease her heart. When the shock had worn off. Vale is dead-! Touch was pain now. She wanted to be left alone, but MD refused to leave any longer than to retrieve food. She wanted to die but there was no conviction in her voice or actions towards that end. "I'm too much of a damned coward to die!" She spoke of leaving the Guild and Waterdeep, leaving everything that reminded her of him. She spoke as a widow would of a beloved husband, and MD felt nothing but sympathy for her. After all, even when Vale had seen them together, he had supported them and remained a good friend.

In a way, to the horc, it felt as if he'd lost a lover, too.

Wren slept fitfully in her bed, one arm thrown over her eyes, the hand of the other arm clenched in a fist upon her chest. MD watched her in the flickering firelight. They would make it somehow, as they always did. He reminded himself that she was so much older than he was, had lived a hundred lifetimes, watched people she loved grow old and die, but still found the will to go on. She would never fully recover from losing Vale, MD knew, and he mourned the light that would be lost in her eyes. Little signs that she suffered missed by those who didn't know what to look for, couldn't see past the cursing and drinking.

She was like Vale in that sense, and MD hoped she wouldn't chase death as her lover had.

To the fire, the young horc whispered, "May you find the peace this world couldn't offer, Vale, but give Wren the strength you had within you to walk unafraid in the face of such sorrows."
"The natural state of Uniskorne is awesome." --SSM
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Mick »

Really nice, Uni. :D
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Rumple C »

Yeah, uni writes a very believable character. Great stuff.
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Re: Madog Millhouse: Priest, Protector, Friend

Post by Uniskorne »

The horc sat at a desk now inside his new room. It was amazing how much things could change in only a matter of months--not even a year, really, just a few months. He and Wren had left Waterdeep, answering the Bard's need to breathe, so to speak. Vale's death had made the safety of the walls she had renovated into a cage, made every empty room a tomb, and, worse of all, had turned the city she loved so much into nothing but a painful reminder of what could never be. She had walked those dirty streets proudly and bravely when Vale lived; now, she couldn't bear the sights and sounds.

'They' had left. Madog hadn't been invited to travel with her. In fact, Wren had told him to stay, take care of the Guild in her absence like the Guildmaster's Right Hand should, but he had hurriedly grabbed a few things in his pack and followed her.

Like an obedient dog...

'They' had gone to her home and visited her parents. MD had found them openminded and pleasant but not harboring the wildness their daughter had within her. He knew he made them uneasy; neighbors watched him with caution or distrust in their eyes. He was an orc regardless if it was only half, and, almost worse than that, the other half was human! There were questions from Wren's parents, hinting at something he had not thought of before. He was too busy making sure that Wren was alright, even when she wanted to be left alone. He was her protector, and he loved her.

'They' had spent one night sitting outside, watching the moon rise. A gentle breeze had blown, cooler than a few nights before with the hint of frost within it. A chill had shaken Wren's small frame, and MD had draped his cloak about her shoulders. A soft smile--brighter than the moonlight--had bloomed upon her lips.

"Why do you do this? Why do you take care of me?" she had asked, not looking up to him. There was still sadness within her voice, but it was fading with every night. She was healing, but the scar would forever remain.

The horc paused in his writing, quill hovering above the paper. His free hand smoothed his moustache and beard, and he inhaled deeply, silently exhaling as memory played out in his mind.

Confidently, he had answered, "Because I love you."

Wren had chuckled, pulling the cloak tighter about herself. "Well, I love you, too, MD."

She had turned her radiant smile up to him, and his world had turned from night to noon. It was the words he had longed to hear for so long. Ever so gently, he had cupped her small chin within his rough hand and bent to kiss her. There were stars in her eyes, and he was lost within them. His heart pounded within his chest like cannons firing. He felt dizzy. On fire. He trembled, unsure if his rough lips would hurt her. Her breath smelled of pipeweed and alcohol, and it was the most beautiful fragrance he'd ever smelled. How long had he dreamed of this moment? Fantasized about it shyly as he stood by her? Another fear filled him: What would he do if she chose to go further than a kiss? He would disappoint her with his inexperience! He could say 'no' if she suggested it; he could ask that 'they' take it slow.

But, it was Wren who had said 'no'. Her palm had placed itself firmly over his lips, pushing space between them. She let his cloak puddle around her on the log bench they shared as her eyes sought something everywhere but his eyes.

"No, Madog," she had begun, her tones initially soft and unsure. When she spoke next, the Wren he knew from the Guild spoke--firmly and without argument."No, MD. We...I can't do this. There should never be a 'but' after someone says 'I love you'...but I can't love you like this. You've done nothing wrong--please understand that! You're a wonderful friend, a brave protector, and, if in here--"

Her free hand had grasped her chest desperately as if it would stop some unseen bleeding if this was done.

"--if in here was different, I would burn with you! I know you love me--everyone can tell!--but I can't like you want me to. I can't watch you die! No, no! Please, let me talk!"

He had taken her hand (her trembling hand) from his mouth and had begun to utter the phrase everyone stupidly said when they chose the life of an adventurer: "I won't do anything stupid--I'm careful!"

Wren stood, hands running down her face then gesturing broadly as she paced in the moonlight. "I've thought about this from the moment I realized how you felt. You're half human as well as half orc. You'll live a bit longer than most humans, but you'll still grow old and die. The thought...the thought tears me up in here. If you fall in battle, that's one thing. I lost Vale that way, and my heart-! I still love him and it hurts so much! But...but--Hells, I could fall in battle! But, Corellon willing, I'm going to live a very long time, MD. Do you understand?"

She had looked back then, and she was crying. "You're going to grow old while I remain young. I can't watch you die, MD! That's how much I love you. I'm sorry! I'm so very sorry!"

MD had sat there, feeling like he had been gutted by a harpoon. Shock. Anger. Sadness. A thousand ideas on how 'they' could work speared themselves through his mind (and heart). He ran his hands over his face a few times too many before retrieving his cloak. He felt dizzy. The heat that had buoyed him up moments before had drained from his body. Everything he thought he knew about 'them' was wrong.

Not entirely. No. There would be a part of his heart that would always love Wren Bluefeather. How could it stop doing so?

He rose, feeling the entire weight of the world within his chest. Gently, he swung the cloak out to land on Wren's shaking shoulders. He felt a small, sad, lopsided grin spread across his face.

Heard himself say, "No need to be sorry. I understand. Th...thank you for stopping me...I was gonna do something...thank you. You're a great friend, Wren, and...and I love you."

A flash of fear, confusion, then understanding lit up Wren's eyes. She dashed her tears away with the palm of her hand before clutching the cloak with it. A few deep inhales. A cigarette was retrieved and lit. Emotions were exhaled as blue smoke. She nodded slowly as she watched the ephemeral cloud twist up into the sky.

Then, in a tone that tried to pretend nothing had happened (but failed to fully do so), Wren had said, "You better get some sleep soon. We're heading back in the morning."

MD had nodded, dusted his hands on his thighs, and turned to her parents' place. He didn't need to ask where they were going to. He knew. Wren wanted to go home, and he would follow. That would never change. He was her Protector and best friend. He had left the Church, left Waterdeep, but, as long as he breathed and Wren needed him, he would follow. He would follow until someone who loved her as much as he did proved that he could protect her.

He loved her that much, loved her enough to let her go.

The horc looked about his new room, searching for something he wanted but didn't know what. With a sigh, he looked back down at his journal and began to write:

"We...I mean, Wren and I, have returned to Waterdeep, to the Guild. The place is a disaster. The city itself is a wreck. And almost everyone I once called 'friend' is dead."

The quill was returned to its ink pot, and the journal was closed, disregarding the wet in within the pages. All was left upon the desk as the horc rolled into his new bed and forced himself to fall asleep.
"The natural state of Uniskorne is awesome." --SSM
Current PC: Hawke, Paladin of Corellon
Hawke's Portrait: https://sta.sh/06i8l21ndu8 (open in new window)
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