Meeting the Final Party Member

Wren

 

 

He came back after lunch.

 

"There are a couple of candidates in the area," he said sitting down,"but the one I've heard the most about is Wren."

 

"By Tempus' hairy balls," Ulf said, spitting out some ale,"Not her!  She's an uptight bitch."

 

I turned to look at Ulf.  I hadn't known him long, but I think I knew why he said that.  "Turned you down, eh?"

 

"Not just turned down," he said."She actually led me on for a bit.  Got real close to me like she was going to take me up on my offer, right about then I realised that there was a dagger aimed at my scrotum.  I mean, she coulda just slapped me."

 

I nearly spit out my wine.

 

"Anyways," continued Logan," We will have to go and meet her.  A bit of a loner, she has a camp about a half hour's walk from here."

 

"How good is she?" I asked him.

 

"She's an excellent scout.  She had great success in the recent campaign.  She also is known to use magic.  There is something else.  She doesn't like knightly types."

 

That left Garrus out of meeting her.  He is too well known and a proper knight.

 

"I'll go." I said.

 

"But you're a paladin."

 

"I know.  But we can't send Ulf.  There's negative history there.  The half orc could give her the wrong impression.  I'm actually not sure how she'd take to Thoram.  With them out of the picture, that leaves us.  Less than ideal, but, I am not quite as knightly as Sir Garrus.  I'll also let you do most of the talking."

 

And so we left the inn.  We eventually came to a clearing about a half hour away.  It had but one occupant, a very attractive half-elf with dark skin.  It gave her an exotic appearance, and one I can honestly say would have drawn me to her, but somehow, I wasn't interested.

 

"Who are you," She said, angry that her solitude was interrupted.

 

"Hello," Logan said," We are very sorry to have interrupted your day, but we would like to discuss a matter of some urgency with you."

 

She still looked annoyed, and to tell truth I don't think she liked the look of either of us.  "Make it quick."

 

"I am Logan, a priest of the Red Knight, and this is Eddard."

 

"Well met," I said quickly.

 

Logan continued,"We are embarking on a mission to wipe out a known goblin/hobgoblin bandit group that is looting, killing and taking people from the area around the village of Halfbrook.  The Mayor of Halfbrook has been seeking someone to come and help him, and we have decided to aid him."

 

"What's that to do with me?"

 

"We need a scout," I said," and you are the best one in the area."

 

"Thats true," she said, but her tone hadn't softened at my attempt at flattery.  Still she hadn't told us to leave.  Yet.

 

"May I lay it all out for you?" I asked.

 

When she nodded, I said, "Defenceless people are being killed, and the bandits are doing it.  It isn't right.  We want to end it.  We offer you what we've offered everyone else.  Equal share in the treasure."

 

She thought about it for a while." Okay, but there's something you need to know.  I do my job, I do it well.  I don't take orders and no body tells me how to do my job."

 

Logan seemed a little put out.  I just smiled, inwardly wondering if I've opened a can of worms.  "Agreed," I said," We can certainly live with that.  We are leaving in the morning from the Troll and Maiden."  I expect we simply caught her between jobs, or maybe she'd pissed everyone off with whom she's previously worked.  Doesn't matter.

 

"Agreed." she said.

 

We had a scout.  I was happy with that.  I think.

 

Songs About Death

**Warning! Contents may depress!***

 

As I have mentioned previously, I seldom talk about this, but a number of circumstances have crossed my path in last week or so that has got me thinking about it.  So, in order to put some of it away, I'm going to talk about it.  A little.

 

 

My first wife, may she rest peacefully, passed away some time ago.  I rarely talk about this because revisiting the emotions, even now, is difficult for me.  Reliving the events is something I rarely ever do.

 

 

But I do remember becoming somewhat obsessed by the reality of inevitable death.  This obsession, and her funeral, led me to listen to what other people were saying about death.  Through the poetry of music, the loss that death brings is heartbreaking, and seeking to understand my emotional distress, I thought I'd listen to what the others were feeling through their poetry.

 

I amassed quite a collection of music by assorted artists and bands.

 

There are the obvious songs:

 

Hurt, by Johnny Cash.  And When I Die, Blood Sweat and Tears.  Seasons in the Sun, Terry Jacks.  In the Air Tonight, Phil Collins.  Painted Black, Rolling Stones.  Green Green Grass of Home (I can't remeber the artist).

 

Pink's Who Knew is beautiful song about the loss of a lover.

 

Wallflowers One Headlight is a lovely song in Cohenesque style.  Beautifully put together.  I think the song is about suicide.

 

Rush's Afterimage which opens with the powerful line "Suddenly you were gone, from all the lives you left your mark upon.."  In many ways the song, memories of the time they had together mirrored my own.

 

Frank Mill's If You Love Me Love Me Love about an old man who sang about his loss until the day he died (I, in romantic fashion, though of myself as the old man, in the future, but was saved from that by my meeting The Wife).

 

Emerson Drive's Moments If this song means nothing to you, I have to wonder if you have lived.  Its not a song about death, per se, but about the contemplation thereof.

 

Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss Whiskey Lullaby:  I can't even describe the depth of this song.  Its heart wrenching. Like Moments I cried when I first heard it.

 

Live's Lightning Crashes.  I first heard this song on the cult TV show Strange Luck.  Powerful, emotional, and a statement on the circle of life, and death.

 

Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue's Where the Wild Roses Grow.  From Nick Cave's The murder Ballads Album.  A must hear, and by far the best song on it.  About murder.

 

Alannah Myles The Last Time I Saw William.  About the senseless tragedy of man's life who could have been so much more.  "I saw love, loss, and loneliness in the corner of his eye, I never did see William cry."

 

Loreena McKennit's version Carrighfergus. A lament from a dying man who would rather be with his love, who I think is dead.  It explains the Marble Stones as black as ink line.

 

Sarah Mclachlan has written many, but she has two I consider more beautiful than the others.

 

Drawn to the Rhythm.  A song about suicide, the first two verses explain the emotions, but the last explains the result.  At the risk of getting in trouble with Nettwerk, the last verse is:

 

In the still and the silent dawn, another day is born.

Washed up by the tireless waves, body bent and torn,

In the face of the blinding sun, awake only to find,

That heaven is a stranger place than the one I left behind...

 

But the most beautiful and emotionally charged song for me on the subject is Ben's Song.  From her first album Touch.  There is no substitute for her subdued piano and purity of voice in the song.  It is a powerful lament, or a dirge, and one, that for me, is the ultimate on the subject.  It is still hard for me to listen to, but again, at the risk of offending Nettwerk and the artist who penned it,  I'm going to give the entire lyrics.

 

 

On the hills of fire the darkest hour
I was dreaming of my true love's pyre
Who will bring a light to stoke the fire
Fear not for you're still breathing

On a winter's day
I saw the life blood drained away
A cold wind blows on a windless day

Hear the cry for new life the morning's flame
You were the brightest light that burned too soon in vain
Who will bring you back from where there's no return
Fear not for you're just dreaming

On a winter's day
I saw the life blood drained away
A cold wind blows on a windless day

 

There is a genuine sense of loss conveyed in this song, and Sarah conveys it on more than one level.  This song clearly marks her as one of the most powerful and beautiful voices in the last 25 years of music.  If you have never heard the song, you should listen to it at least once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



The F Word At the Football

Yes, it was time to watch the cowboys in action once again.  Last home game of the season, and sitting 5th on the ladder, I gathered The Wife and jumped in the car, to see the boys play at home.

And what a game.  The home side took the game by 8 points in a grinding battle.

I had a great time, and kept Cadbury Corner alive as when I arrived, the cheering section was sorely depleted.  The 2 guys I usually cheer myself to a sore throat with weren't there.  So, it a was up to me.  And you know, I believe my cheering made a difference.  When I started, the entire bay picked up the call.  And it was on.  What a blast.

But I am left to wonder.  

Some kids near me, in their enthusiasm to see an away team's line break come to a quick end, yell things like "Kill him," or "put him down," so be it.  That's part of the fun, part of supporting the home team.  There's nothing wrong with that.  And if you happen to barrack for the other side, well, you're in hostile territory, get used to it.  But make a complaint?  Why go to the game.  You have that same right to cheer your team, and in the same manner.  I'll respect it.  I won't like it, but I'll respect it.  If you're that easily offended by it, don't go hostile home ground.  Sit in your stadium, surrounded by the people who cheer for your team.

There's also a big thing about the use of the word fuck at the game.  Not just in cheering, but in conversation, they don't want it because "football is a family event."  This fucking word comes up all the time, not just at the footy, but in shops, movies, restaurants, music and even TV.  What the fuck is the fucking problem with saying the word fuck?

You can't protect your kids from it.  They'll hear it when you're not around and will be using it themselves before the fucking age of seven.  You can't protect em.  They'll fucking hear it whether you want them to or not.

So why even try to fucking regulate it?

Is speech in this country no longer free?  I should be able to fucking the say the word whenever the fuck I want.  If you don't want to sit near 15,000 people, all saying whatever it is they're saying as is their right, then stay the fuck at home.  Put on Foxtel, and watch it on TV.  But you'll soon work out that the players say it on the field and the coaches say it in their boxes.  You can read it on their lips.  I highly doubt they are bothering to moderate their language by saying "freak."

The fucking word is part of the game.  Its part of the emotions, the thrill, and especially the disappointments. 

If you don't like the fucking word, maybe it's time you followed a different fucking sport.  Harden the fuck up, and get over it.

They should be fucking grateful it's only that word they hear.  They could instead could be listening to the tuba section of the Sydney Orchestra and smelling the local sewage treatment plant if I decide to eat 2 bowls of chilli before coming to the game.

That'll fuck em.

Eddard's Diary 6

When we reached the inn, Tia went back to her room to get ready for her shift.  I went back to Thoram.  

When I got inside, Thoram wasn't alone.  Aside from the plates surrounding him (the stacked empties numbered more than a dozen), the amount of food had seemed not to change, and he had a fresh pitcher of ale.  He was joined by Azzarak, Garrus, and another figure.  The quality of his equipment rivalled Garrus'.  He was built more like me, Thin, yet strong looking, and intelligence shone from his eyes.

Thoram smiled when he saw me, but it was Garrus who spoke first,"Eddard, I'd like you meet Logan.  He's a strategist that my father was kind enough to loan to me indefinitely."

"Well met, Sir Logan," I said, taking him for knight for his manner was impeccable was he stood to greet me," I am glad to have you with us."

"Well met, indeed, Eddard, but I am no knight.  I am a priest of the Red Knight."  The Red Knight was the right hand to Tempus, the strategist to the Fury of the God of War.  It was then I saw his Holy Symbol.  I was a little embarrassed. 

I nodded as I took my seat.

Logan began,"Before we begin on our mission, I thought we should put together a list of skills of the Party members." He consulted some notes.  "Thoram is a fighter, and handy with an axe.  Garrus is a knight, trained in the use of sword and shield."  When I nodded, he asked me,"and you?"

"I am a good fighter, trained in shortblades, and I am a fair shot with the bow.  I have most of the usual paladin abilities, including that mysterious hesitation by those who have given themselves to evil, giving me a slight advantage in combat.  But I do not heal, nor will I be able to invoke Mystra's name against undead.  I am an inquisitor, a paladin trained for combat against rogue mages."  I kept my voice down as I said the last, for while knowledge of my order was uncommon, those that needed to know knew, and I didn't want them to know I was here.

He nodded, making notes.

Suddenly from dark corner of the room, there was a crashing sound of a stone mug smashing to pieces and noise of wood being dragged across the flagstone floor.  Ulf struggled to his feet, looking confused and a little under the weather.  "Mornin'.. oh shit..."  He somehow stumbled to a cleaning bucket, toppling a couple of chairs in process.  The sound of retching followed.

When he finally stood, colour had returned to his face, but his voice was like gravel.  "Barkeep! Hair of the Dog! Ha, Ha, Ha!"  The last 'ha' was more of croak.  He sat down at our table, smelling like someone pissed up the brew he consumed last night, maybe it was him.  "Garrus, who's your friend?"

"He's a priest of the Red Knight." Garrus said.  I don't know if he was slightly repulsed by Ulf's display, or amused.  I hadn't learnt to read him yet.  "He'll be travelling with us."

"Cool.  Hey Eddard," He said looking around,"You remember that pair of tits last night?  I can't remember who she is.  So much of last night is an alcohol haze,  maybe it was her," he said, sizing up a barmaid,"No couldn't be, they look too small."

"Ulf," I said.

"Eh?" His hair of the dog arrived.  He gulped it, made a face, shook, saying,"Ahh, that's more like it."  And indeed, he did look better.

"This man wants to know your skills."  I said and ordered more watered wine.

"I drink.  I fight. I wench," He roared with laughter.  His hair was long, in the Northern Style, a barbarian through and through.  His massive chest shoved the air out his lungs with each laugh. He wore a longsword, and a spear and daggers galore.  He also had a bow.  I noticed Logan didn't miss any of it.

"Excellent," he said, smiling," but we may be light with missile fire."

Azzarak came in through the main doors.

"A glorious morning, Tempus has smiled on us," he said, sitting down.

"Good morning, Azzarak." I said, and turned to Logan," He is a priest of Tempus.  And an excellent fighter."  I had figured that much out after last night.  My drink had arrived, and I took a sip.

Logan took it all down. "Is that everyone?"

I nodded. 

"Hmmm.  We'll need a scout before we can do this.  I'll be back later, I need to see who is available."

All business.  I guess that's Logan.

It was after lunch before he returned.  I think its fair to say that the only time I saw Thoram without a plate in front of him was when he went to the bathroom.  Ulf spent the time sizing barmaid's bosums.  He didn't recognise them, however even when she served him his lunch.

Eddard's Diary 5

I awoke to brilliant sunshine streaming in my window.  My first good night's sleep in a week.  The suite was on Rygor, so I ordered breakfast and took it in my room.  Eggs, bacon, fresh bread and watered wine.  I was pleased with myself and the world.  I lost a fight last night, true.  I also probably made an enemy.  But, in the end, I prevented a crime, more serious than murder in my opinion, from occurring.  And that meant much to me.

Lighthearted I went down to the taproom.  At the bottom of the stairs,  I looked at the remains of the previous night's revelry.  Bodies and vomit lay strewn all over the floor.  The inn's staff was already hard at work, shooing the revellers out, or waking for breakfast and hair of the dog.

In a clean corner, I saw Thoram already seated.  Ulf and Azzarak were no where in sight.  Thoram was almost invisible behind mountains food, and neatly stacked to one side, empty plates.  Last night's late feast had no visible impact on his appetite.

"Eddard, Good morning.  Tia was looking for you," he said amiably, full of good spirits.  I supposed his capacity for drink outweighed the possibility of a hangover.  Or maybe it was simply legendary Dwarven constitution.

"Tia?" I didn't know the name.

"The woman you saved from that barbarian last night.

Oooh, that Tia. "Where is she now?"

"She had to go out."

I looked around.  There was no sign of Ulf or Garrus.  I turned back to Thoram.  "I think I'll go look for her," I said rising.

"If the others show up, I'll let them know," said the dwarf.

After inquiring with the innkeeper, I learnt that Tia was at a morning service of thanks at a nearby Temple devoted to Chauntea.  It was only a few minutes walk from the Inn, and was a major temple in the area.  I decided to go for walk.

I arrived at the temple.  The scent of a rich earthy garden filled my nostrils even before the temple grounds came into sight.  The service, led by the priests dressed in the plain brown robes of Chauntea, were leading the worshippers.  Planting, gardening, weeding, and praising their Goddess.

I was familiar with the religion, but I am a servant of Mystra, and so decided not to interrupt.  I watched the service with some interest, and waited for its conclusion about an hour later.

As the service wound down, I looked for Tia, and approached her.  In daylight, and up close, I could see very clearly the beauty that shone from within her.  Before I could engage her in conversation, I was intercepted by a priest.

"An offering for the Goddess?" he asked holding a seed and a small garden shovel.

I honoured the Deity into whose temple I strode.  I planted the seed, with sombre reverence.  When I finished, I said," My name is Eddard, of Mystra.  I have actually come to speak with Tia, a member of your flock."

He smiled at me, and let me pass.  I caught up with her.

"Hey Tia.  I heard you were looking for me."  Her beauty had not faded up close, but instead became more enchanting.  She is tall, brown haired but with shining green eyes.  She wasn't slim but she also wasn't fat.  The extra weight only enhanced her curves.  It was then I realised she wasn't alone.  She had a daughter with her.

"You didn't have to come all the way out here," She said," I just wanted to thank you.  For last night."

"You don't have to thank me," I said.

"But I want to.  I want to let you know that for the duration of your stay, the staff at the inn will be making special meals for you and your friend."

I wouldn't have called Azzarak my friend, I thought, I only sided with him last night,  Still, I hoped as I got know him better he might become one.  Though I knew it would take a bit to overcome his appearance.

"I got my ass kicked last night, and but for the timely intervention of Stormhammer, I would've died, and you..well.."

"You took that risk for me." she said.  There was a look in her eyes that I didn't recognise that day.  "Please accept."

"I would be honoured."  What else could I do but accept?

The wagon that the worshippers used to go to and from the temple had started to leave.  She made as if to get on it. 

"Let's walk back together." I said.

Making small talk, we walked back to the Troll and Maiden together. Tia, her daughter, and I, though I confess I barely noticed the daughter.