More Images

January 25th, 1225

4:13 pm

 

The frozen ground gave little under Nolan’s feet as he tried to walk quietly through the underbrush of the woods. Although he was on the hunt for a certain amphibian, he spotted a fawn in the open. Pausing to pull a piece of white canvas, he began to sketch. The frog would be in frozen hibernation at this point anyway, and things were so peaceful. Unfortunately, they didn’t stay that way.  

 

"Professor Nolan! Professor Nolan, where are you?"

 

Rylin stumbled gracelessly through the trees. She was not dressed for this today. But as she approached, she saw the fawn bolt at the noise she was making and winced when she realized he'd been drawing it. “...Sorry professor. Any luck finding your frog?”

 

“Not yet.” The Professor said, standing and brushing the snow from wet trousers.  “I’m sure today’s the day!”

 

“That close, are you?”

 

“The cave across the creek will be the one! The trees alongside the river are a perfect habitat, they’d be hibernating, so it would be the perfect time to study one. I just need to find where they’d be hiding.” Rylin frowned, turning to look at the cave, then back to Nolan.

 

“So they're not going anywhere for a few weeks?”

 

“Not until the beginning of spring if I’m correct.”

 

 “Well…that's a relief because I actually came out here to find you and bring you back. There’s another threat coming…so I scried you. Luckily I used to climb that tree when I was a kid,” she gestured toward a pine tree with lots of low branches, “so I knew where you were. Anyway, we need to get back. Travance will come help us like they always do, but we don't want to be caught out here without protection -”

 

Suddenly something felt wrong, like for a moment the world twisted, the colors of the sky changed and everything felt like it sat in the wrong direction. But just as quickly as it came, the feeling left, and the memory of it began to fade.

 

* * *

 

Mayor Elsbeth Grey sat in the hallowed space of the Hospital of the Holy Light, looking over various reports from Travance with worry. Marching armies, confusion about banners being placed, evacuations. The army had fallen on Travance the previous evening but it seemed they were still locked in combat. Across from her Shepherd Leyla Boswell poured tea into three cups. Steam curled from the tea even in the warmed room. Elsbeth put down the papers with a sigh and lifted the tea cup.

 

“Thank you Leyla, you’re a good friend. And your presence here is appreciated”

 

“We will face this together. Denwick has persevered through worse, and we will continue to do so.” The Shepherd's gaze passed between the Mayor and the other individual, a Captain of Denwick, and within the next day her husband if this crisis could be resolved.

 

“We have, but I’m afraid that this will be another one we barely scrape by from.” Captain Bellinore lifted his cup of tea, fingers gripping as if the cup itself were a weapon. 

 

“We need that militia I’ve been talking about, and we needed it yesterday. We can’t keep having so many close calls, we need a safety net.” Mayor Elsbeth sipped her warmed tea, disguising the expression she had in response.

 

“Captain Bellinore, I appreciate your expertise and eagerness to keep our town safe. I assure you my priorities are for the safety of our people as well. The heroes of Travance have always been able to keep any threat from getting too close. I fear a militia would only make us a greater target. For now, we are too small to be noticed by the dangers on this side of the rift.” 

 

“Elsbeth, I admire your ability to turn away threats diplomatically, but not all dangers can be swayed with words, and the heroes can’t make it every time we’re in danger. You say we’re safer without a militia but I know that we won’t continue to be safe without one.”

 

“Captain, you cannot stand against a Dark Paladin. None of us could. If we did have a standing militia, this threat or the next one may deem us dangerous and decide we must be dealt with. With Travance so close we can count on their great heroes to keep us safe. They will not abandon us in our hour of need.” She placed the cup down, folding the reports in a gesture of finality. 

 

“You should be thinking of your wedding. Don’t distract yourself with trying to raise an army from our neighbors when you should be focusing on remembering your vows.” 

 

“I assure you, I am remembering my vows. All of them.” Bellinore more dropped the teacup then placed it, splashing the warm liquid onto the table. He shifted in his seat, on the verge of standing.

 

“How can I focus on our wedding when our neighbors lie dead in the rubble of their homes? Do you really think we can rely on being a non-threat to protect us from cruel and wicked people? What about when we are attacked while the heroes are preoccupied with a larger threat?” From her seat, Leyla winced, either at the poor treatment of the tea, or the thought of dead neighbors. Gently placing her teacup, she reached out to grasp Bellinores hand.

 

“I think it’s important for us to remember that we all have the same goal in mind; to keep the people of Denwick safe. Obviously, there are different approaches to take in doing so, and none but the Gods can say which is right.” At the Shepherd's words, Bellinore calmed and sat back, though not without an air of frustration. She squeezed his hand again, looking at the Mayor.

 

“Have you heard from Travance, Elsbeth?”

 

“The reports from Travance are a bit muddled, to be honest. Most of it made sense with the heroes evacuating commoners directly in the line of the approaching army. I am confident this can be resolved, and I will do what I must to keep our people safe,.”

 

“Are we on the path that the Void Sun is marching?” Leylas gaze drifted between the two, finally settling on Bellinore, whose tone became relaxed.

 

“I don’t think so.” He looked back to the Mayor, his expression had become relaxed, but his eyes were focused.

 

“Elsbeth, I trust you. I believe in your confidence, but that won’t stop me from worrying - ” 

 

* * *

 

In the woods at the edge of the village, unseen by the residents, a figure stood. The Discordant had seen their debate, their worry over the choices to be made. They giggled softly, lifting a jagged black crystalline item, and dropping it to the ground. They watched as it touched the tapestry, and threads began to fray and burn away. Suddenly everything felt wrong, the world twisted. Where there was one conversation happening, now there were two. Soon there would be more, so many more. Soon this world would be free, free of choice. Free of consequence. The Discordant turned, their eyes and they met… yours. Yours as you watched this. They spoke and you felt them talking directly to you.

 

“Don’t you want to see what that’ll look like?”