Sworded Tales

Rôhn’s eyes widened and affixed on the glistening green jewel, appraising it.  His jaw slackened and his tongue lolled, loosening its vice on the stem of his pipe, which rested on his dried and cracking bottom lip and would have fallen to the ground had the pipe bowl not been perched upon his fingertips.

“Oooohhhhhh….” he muttered as his eyes sparkled in time with the glistening of the jade amidst a shroud of slowly rising smoke billowing from the burning leaf.

Marcus finished his spellcasting on the wounded and watched as Cheskith made stew and bread, adding only a pot of tea to the meal.  “Well done, Cheskith.  I was planning on stew the first day and the bread is a nice touch.”

“A little of everything, yes?” the Lizardman replied, “It is liked by most, and your compliment, it is appreciated.”

Rôhn’s transfixed eyes followed the jade as the box was passed to Erellia, and then to Marcus.  His smoky reverie was unbroken until Erellia turned toward the group and clasped her hands, a gesture all too familiar to Rôhn, which signaled a soliloquy of great gravity that cut through his fog like a blade.

The thin Elven woman finished her treatment of Borlak’s arm with a distant smile and a slight shaking of her head from side to side.  Standing gracefully, her waif-like figure was evident despite the heavy traveling cloak which was draped over her shoulders.  Taking a few strides toward the fire, she leaned over the stew simmering above the flames and drew a deep contented breath.

“Mmm, your preparations do smell most promising, Cheskith,” she said, “Thank you for your efforts.”

Erellia then turned and absently took the case from Kurn when he offered it, tracing her fingers along the interior for several moments before handing the case to Marcus.  She repositioned herself to face the group with her hands clasped before her.

“I wish that it were simpler,” Erellia said with a small degree of sorrow in her tone, “Providing you the information for which you yearn.  How delightfully mundane it would be to learn something and pass it along to you the next moment.  Knowledge gained.  Knowledge shared.”  A deep breath inward and a slow exhale seemed to bring some peace to her features.  “But nothing is ever so simple where I am concerned.  Whether for good or ill, I have become a vessel, a vast repository of information the likes of which is staggering even to me, and over the centuries I have been granted knowledge which could save or destroy these realms many times over.”

Erellia paused to allow the weight of her words to penetrate as deeply as intended.

“The task of interpreting, weighing and disseminating this information is one I would never wish upon another,” she continued, “Though in contrast, I would not shy away from my purpose even if my own life depended upon it.  In coming to understand that all events, all entities, are linked together in some fashion, whether it be Metherin’s Weave, Herotorn’s world, the living, the dead, the past, the future, I have begun to grasp the potential power of a single piece of information cast into the sea of existence.”

Looking around the camp, she met the gaze of each individual present.  “I must choose carefully what knowledge is to be revealed and when.”

Allowing a few moments to pass and for the enormity of the circumstance to dwindle, Erellia sat on a nearby stone before continuing her tale.

“Clearly Zulian believes you should be informed about these renegades becoming known throughout the lands as the Purification,” she said, glancing off in the direction of the horses, “I had hoped to bypass the sharing of this knowledge considering the fact that once we pass within the borders of Anquilla, the Purification will no longer pose a threat to us.  However, now, it would seem, that withholding the information could prove more damaging than not.  So I will share what I can.”

Shifting on her unforgiving seat, she said, “There is a fanatical movement growing within the populace of the realms that dubs itself the Purification.  This group of hunters, as they like to be known, believe that arcane magics are the root cause of a great many evils throughout recorded history, while conveniently overlooking the numerous positive impacts of arcane practitioners.  Their self proclaimed goal is nothing short of the eradication of all energies arcane, and they use whatever tools they may to achieve this goal, religion, ignorance, superstition, fear.”

“The single most disturbing quality I have encountered with the Purification, is that they appear to have a highly efficient means to locate and track sources of arcane energy.  The more potent the source, the more likely the target within striking capacity of this relatively fledgling organization, mind you.  The great wizards and institutions are entirely out of their scope of possibility at present.  They more often prey on less protected targets, peoples, places and items of power that are within their reach.”

“Like me,” she added bluntly, “And most of you.”

Rôhn snorted derisively, two streams of smoke spewing forth from his nostrils like sea foam from a whale’s blowhole.  He grumbled with a tone as rough as a whetstone, “If they are such a fledgeling band as you say, My Lady, why do we not simply draw on this ‘Font-of-Knowledge-that-Could-Destroy-These-Realms-Many-Times-Over’ and dispatch with these brigands once and for all?”

“Or simply smash their skulls?” he added, resting his free hand on the pommel of his war hammer.

After getting out the bowls and mugs, Marcus sat back down as he listened to Erellia explain part of what her concerns were and what the group may be dealing with.  He nodded as she spoke of information and its perils, but said nothing as she continued.

Holding his comment until he had thought it out a bit more, Marcus cast a detect magic to see if the necklace was magical, before pulling out the parchment and reading it.

“As of yet Rôhn, the Purification does not seem to have a physical stronghold or core for its inner workings.  It appears to exist in a very nomadic state, with the hierarchy working in independent factions,” Erellia replied, “This has made it extremely difficult to track them down.  Not that there has been much effort in doing so.”

“Truthfully though,” she said, her gaze distant, “Even if we were able to disband this cabal of fanatics, I do not know if that is the course of action we would take.  If the heart of this dark disturbance we go to investigate turns out to be of arcane origin, then the Purification may ultimately prove to be an ally against this much greater threat.”

“For now, simply know that they exist, and that they may threaten our purpose,” she stated, “Often times, the footsoldiers of this organization bear a simple tattoo on the webbing of their hand between thumb and finger, a cross or a star.  In addition, the use of magic serves to draw their attention if it is of sufficient scope or magnitude.  While most of you should be able to work your energies without drawing undue attention, I must caution you to consider carefully whether or not you unveil your abilities to large numbers of common folk.  The Purification pays well for such information.”

With a slight sigh, she concluded, “I on the other hand, must be very judicious in the weaves that I employ, for the energies I harness are considerable and would resonate clearly to any hunters which may happen to be nearby.”

Cheskith remained silent throughout Erellia’s original speech and the first question that she fielded.  His eyes narrow steadily, though, until he was all but peering through slits at the stew which he was serving out into bowls.

“The power behind this Purification, what is it?” he suddenly voiced in the midst of doing so, his stare still on the food rather than Erellia.  “These things, these groups, they do not happen so widely and so well without something to drive them, I know.  Something more than fear, even if used to drive them it is.”