HEROIC REALMS

The setting sun sets the treetops aglow, their leaves just starting to change color made more radiant by the backdrop of dusk. Slowly Orogom moves through the stronghold, in his hand he holds a white lily that he found blooming in the wild. The Triclopse moves towards the portal and, when he gets there, he moves his cloak out of the way and very deliberately places the lily in front of the portal. Addressing the shimmering surface, he speaks softly, a few tears falling from his eyes as he whispers, "Sellinger...I know it's been too long since I've thought of you, but this place really isn't the same without you. There's a missing note of laughter ever since you left, and we all pray to any god that might listen that you return to us. I'm sorry that your sacrifice seems to have been in vain, but since Jezzy and Smirl were able to return, as well as Brandir and myself, I still have hope that our paths will cross again. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, my friend, please return to us..." Orogom turns his body to leave, but his legs seem to refuse to work and the Triclops sinks to his knees, tears now flowing freely as he asks in a soft cracked voice to the portal, "Why is it that anybody here that I truly befriend leaves? Sellinger, Eliora, so many in the Manor House...is it my destiny to always walk alone?"

Upon leaving the tavern and spotting Orogom over by the portal doing what he believes is meditation of some sort, Artha decides to sneak over and wait several paces back, donning his mask and utilizing a spell to Pass Without a Trace. His intent, apparently, is to try and show off how sneaky he can be to impress his assassin ally. He catches the tail end of the speech, however, and blinks a bit in surprise, long enough that he returns to the realm of the visible and forgets about his mischievous plan. He thinks for a moment... then shrugs, leaning back on a tree by the start of the clearing around the portal.
"If I may make a comment, and I mean this in the best possible way... you look like you need a hug." Artha says, his mask still down for the moment, but the young mage's smile makes his identity unmistakable. That and the bright blue staff, of course.

Orogom, lost in his own thoughts, did not hear Artha approach and, when the mage speaks, the Triclops jumps while instinctively pulling out a dagger and throwing it where it embeds itself in the tree right by Artha's face. Upon seeing who it is, Orogom is immediately apologetic and says, "I'm sorry, Artha! I missed you, didn't I? By Raul don't sneak up on me like that, especially when I'm lost in my own world!" Rushing up to the mage, he pulls he dagger out of the tree and makes sure that there's no blood coming out of Artha's head. His mind finally digesting Artha's statement, he suddenly bursts out laughing and replies, "No, I don't need a hug, but after that you might need a change of pants!"

"Ehehe... don't worry, I didn't spend years learning magic... without learning how to dodge.... could use some more practice though...." He laughs nervously, as he's still surprised by the suddenness despite having dodged a sharp pointy object to the face. Not enough that his bandana wasn't pinned to the tree by the dagger, however, and he gives a sigh of relief as Orogom frees him. "...guess I actually have been getting better at sneaking around... for better or worse..." He takes a few deep breaths to get his heart rate back down. He then leans back against the tree, sighing tiredly.
"Seriously though..." He switches to Draconic for a moment. "<You don't seem like the crying type, Orogom.>" He smiles and pats Orogom on the shoulder. "Who's going to be my role model around here if Good Ol' Three-Eyes gets sappy on me?" The young mage says in a joking manner, heading over near where Orogom had been by the portal and sitting down on the ground. He glances to the lily briefly, then looks back to Orogom.

Orogom looks off into the distance for a moment, then at the portal, then at the young mage. His eyes are serious as he says, "Artha...you once said that you want to make a difference, well, let me tell you about somebody I know who went off to make a difference. He tried to close the portal you sit next to, and we haven't heard from him since. He was somebody who had gotten me to laugh after I had spent decades doing nothing but spattering blood. He was somebody who made me believe that I could be more than the killer I had become. So, forgive me if I shed a few tears over the loss of somebody who did so much for me and this stronghold." The brewer takes a deep breath and looks off into the distance before addressing Artha again, his voice very soft as he says, "Those that get close to me...they don't seem to stay in my presence for much longer after that, for one reason or another. Most look at me and see my skills as a killer, or as a brewer, but not many are privy to just how lonely an extended life-span truely is. You humans live your lives for a few decades, maybe a century, and then die with all your peers, while I have watched people grow old and die while their children and their children's children do the same. There is a family in southern Farlenia whom I have known for almost three centuries...to the whole family I am 'Many Times Great Uncle Oro' because we have lost count of how many generations I have outlived. I'd associate with other Triclops if they would be more willing to come out of the mountains, but the others that I have met when I was down in Shar for extended periods were...distrustful of me for not having spent my life in the mountains."
He suddenly whirls around and faces Artha fully and says, "So what's it going to be, Mr. New-Found-Optimism? Will you also subject me to friendship so I can watch you age at ten times the rate that I do and make me stand over another body to weep? Though, around here I should account for the probability that there won't be a body left to weep over." Orogom smiles a chilling smile at the mage and anybody within earshot can tell that the ale-maker is having a bit of fun at Artha's expense.

Artha goes quiet, listening and taking all this in, thinking about it. And after almost a minute... he gives a short, brief chuckle, little more than a single "heh." He pulls his bandana down over his eyes behind the mask he wears, glad the mask hides his tears. He sniffles, then laughs some more. "Well then... you three-eyed jerk..." He sniffles once more, then rubs his nose. "You think you just have it hard because you lose friends from time alone, huh?" He frowns, though most of the expression is hidden by the mask and bandana. "Being a human isn't any better. You think it's easy knowing how short your life is? Knowing that any friends you might have of the other races are going to live longer than you, and knowing they feel just like you? Watching yourself age while they don't, feeling jealousy at something that you can never yourself attain?" He throws his hands out to the sides. "Or just around here. Forgive me for being a selfish ass, but it seems having pointy ears carries some damn serious weight around here!"

He stands up against the tree, slowly, wearing an ear-to-ear grin despite the tears on his face. "Here's your mistake, Old Uncle Oro..." He says, emphasizing that bit. "You don't come to a merchant for pity. We're ruthless, greedy individuals who care more for ourselves and our interests than such things as friendship." He then pulls his bandana and mask up, looking Orogom right in the eyes, a fire in them. "But I'm no merchant, I'm a mage. I'm Artha Locke. I do care. And I would be a terrible friend if I subjected a friend to pain because of my choice. So it's up to you, Orogom."
The young mage crosses his arms, giving an arrogant grin. "I'm the optimistic one. I'm the one willing to go to hell and back for a friend for no reason besides that it's a friend. And godsdammit I will find a way to outlive you. Even if I have to turn myself into a dragon to do it."

Orogom's three eyes return the look of the mage with an equal fire in his eyes and anybody watching might easily take this fire for an intent to kill Artha. Suddenly, Orogom throws back his head and roars with laughter, the sound echoing between the trees. When he is able to catch his breath, he replies, "I knew there was a reason I liked you. You show bravery in the face of danger and truth in the face of spite. It's true, a short life span carries a burden of it's own, but there are ways to extend it, though I wouldn't go the route of Terrengoth and seek immortality. You are a student of magic, and perhaps one day you will figure out how to slow down the process of aging through magic alone, and then you can satisfy that greedy side of you by selling it to old women." The Triclops looks back at the portal, then at the lily and continues, "Artha, please dont' mistake me, I do consider you a friend...Hell, we even faced a dragon together! That is the sort of thing that forges these bonds of friendship, and forgive me if I was snarky with you. Though, for what it's worth, the only reason that having pointy ears counts around here is because those with pointy ears ensure that it does."

"Hehe.... and Orogom?" Artha sniffles, still crying a bit now that the anger is wearing off. "Then don't pull that guilt on me again, it works too well... next time I'm socking you one..." The mage slumps back down and cries quietly while he tries to reign his emotions back in.

A pained look briefly flashes across the Triclops' face as he holds out a hand to help Artha up. "Come on, brother whelp, I'll buy you an ale, that should clear up any hurt. Oh, and if you want to hear how much of a jerk I am, talk to Eliora about why I invited her up to Trillador with me a while back."

Artha sniffs, taking the hand up and rubbing his eyes with the other. "Don't you start calling me Fluffy too." He says with a half-chuckle, heading into the tavern and plopping down in a seat.. "Any chance I'd get the story from you?"

Orogom goes into the back of the tavern and pulls two ales out of his private stock. Handing one to Artha, he says, "Essentially it was along that same lines of what happened there, but she got REALLY pissed at me and didn't speak to me for a few days. Morgan had asked me to keep an eye on her to keep her safe after some bounty hunters came in for her, and she mistook my duty as friendship and began telling me things that were not for a non-friend to know. I...somewhat harshly reminded her that she and I were not friends and...well...I apologized by taking her with me on a trip to Trillador that I had to make. She and I shared quite a few adventures and have been firm friends ever since. That's the short of it, essentially."

Artha smirks. "Leave it to a bard to have a flair for the dramatic, eh? What a glorious tale of romance, a half-elven bard and a triclops brewer, together on--" Artha apparently couldn't finish his tale because he started laughing. "No, wait, I think you'd have competition." He laughed more, taking a drink of the ale once he stopped. "Alright, I haven't been around here long, but what's the deal with Smerl and Eliora? Everyone acts like they're a pair, and I seem to be out of the loop on the inside joke."

Orogom laughs and explains, "Well...Smerl has a thing for Eliora and everybody around here when that first started thought it would be a real hoot if we could actually get them together, so that's where that joke originates. As for her and I being romantically involved...I don't think that would go over well regarding my vow of celibacy and what we were discussing earlier."

"Hehehe..." Artha takes another drink, leaning back and sighing. "An adventurer's life sure has more ups and downs than how the stories make it out to be." He smirks. "Maybe I should start writing some of my own."

"You know," muses Orogom, "Perhaps you might make a good candidate for cataloging our adventures around here. You have access to plenty of paper, after all...Try seeing what Quintaras says and perhaps you can get payment for it as well as other duties you eventually pick up around here."

"Perhaps. Getting paid for taking notes does seem to be my specialty, after all." He rolls his eyes. "I'll look into it though. Once Quintaras is actually here. When I sent my letter the other day, the gatekeeper said he and Rawlin and everyone are away from the stronghold." Artha shrugs, then speaks quietly in Draconian. "<Five bridge says the both of us know exactly what it's all about, but...>"
Artha then trails off, then less than quietly thwumps his head on the table. "Dammit. And I still keep kicking myself for the moon before. That morning, Quintaras was down here in person and I was too unsteady in the head to say a thing..." He frowns indignantly. "Oh well. Win some, lose some..."

Orogom smiles and replies, "You'll get your chance soon enough." He looks up as a shadow crosses the tavern door and he calls out, "Hello there, care to join us?"

((OOG: Okay, who's gonna hop in here?))

With a grunt, Hanz covered in mud and bits of leaves enters the Tavern. "Besides mud and slick slopes, there is nothing up dark entry road." States Hanz finally finishing his patrol. "And not hide nor hair of that banshee either, but it will be back." He drops into a chair, sets his mace and shield down, then slams his head into the table, "Has anyone seen Izzy? I seem to be the only one actually doing patrols anymore. Don't tell me he has gone out "Scavenging" again." He finally says after getting some sir into his lungs.

Orogom shakes his head and brings out some well-water for Hanz. Bringing it over to him, the bartender replies, "I haven't seen him for a few days, but I'm sure his thirst for ale will lead him back here eventually. Oh, and when you are finished with that, please clean off the chair before you head back out." Orogom hands over the water and smiles at Hanz to show that he's joking, then heads back to his seat at the bar. Just before he sits, he serruptitiously reaches up and touches the lock while muttering the activation word.

Artha nods a greeting to Hanz. "Good to see nothing followed you back here. Not besides Laroon's... ehe... 'blessing?'" He chuckles. "If you want, I wouldn't mind taking a walk around the woods. I'm just not on the guard, so perhaps I'd need a guardsman with me anyway. Though with my new spell, I should be able to handle myself as far as getting away from any danger I get into."
Artha stands up and stretches out. "You know, I think that's just what I'll do. I could use a good excuse to get up and stretch my legs. I'll be up around Sanctuary if you need me, and if you hear any girly screams, you know what to do." The young mage tugs his mask back down, and heads along out of the tavern and off towards Sanctuary.
Also a good excuse to keep an eye on the graveyard. If this is some kind of undead, as it appears to be, that and the undead treant are the two most likely places for it to haunt. At least if the stories hold any truth.

Morgan who has been mining in the cave for a few hours, ( Keith OOG- Did I find anything?)decides to head back towards the tavern. As he passes the Sanctuary he decides to go in and say some prayers.

About then Artha ducks into the Sanctuary, and waits for the constable to finish his prayers before speaking. "Good eve, Constable. Find anything interesting in this neck of the woods?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. As much as you can call anything ordinary around here, at least. I'm going to take a bit of a patrol around here, after paying my respects to Arlon." Artha chuckles, kneeling before the insignia of Arlon and offering a prayer of his own. Again a prayer without words, because he doesn't know any.

Hanz sighs and rises with a groan. He takes the chair outside and shakes it a bit, returning it inside. He then fills a new wine skin he had made with the well water and heads out. "I will be providing an escort to the mage. If you need me, call for a guard. I'm almost sure I'll be one of maybe two that will show up." He then heads up the the sanctuary.

He waits until Artha is done with his prayer, gives a grim nod to the constable, then states. "If you still plan on looking around, you have yourself an escort." He then looks down and notices the severity of the grim on him, groans and then headsfew feet off the trail. "Damn, slippery rocks" He grumbled, knocking the dirt and grim off with a plated glove. "Whenever your ready Artha."

Artha nods to Hanz as he finishes his prayer, then motions him over as the young mage heads towards the graveyard. "Hanz, you seem like you have a chip on that armor-plated shoulder of yours. Anything I can help with?" He then points to the graveyard, speaking under his breath. "I'm just going to be making sure that banshee doesn't have to do with anyone we know. If you can just keep an eye out, that'd be great..." Artha then proceeds to look around the graveyard, not disturbing anything but rather checking to make sure nothing in the graveyard has been disturbed by anyone else.

((OOG: Keith, anything of note on the search? Looking for anything at all that would indicate a disturbed grave... moved or off-kilter headstones, holes dug in the ground, etc. ))

Orogom looks at the Constable and replies, "Sorry, but no. Oranges only grow in Shar, so if I can't get a fresh supply, then I can't make any. We do have Root in stock though, that grows locally." Dropping his voice, Orogom says, "Also, I have news you might be interested in..." As Morgan comes closer, Orogom whispers in his ear ((OOG: look to the PM))