Legends of Belariath

Khristoph Maelese

The Journal of Khristoph Maelese: Days 6-10

Day 6

I am not leaving my quarters until I set myself straight. I do not hunger, I do not thirst. All that exist are my tome, and the thoughts that, like ink, pour from my quill.

First off, I need to remind myself that I have made too many assumptions to this point. To continue my current rationalization that a kiss and a sweet smile could mean more than what they are is pure nonsense. Stupidity. Did she not give a departing peck to both Night and Lydial? Was mine more special, just because it graced my lips?

To separate the real from the ideal is the matter at hand. In the ideal, yes, Caoimhe has contrary feelings to me, and will set the wheels in motion to a future I cannot hope to even imagine. The real, however, seems to be the most tangible; her actions were merely friendly, nothing more.

Of course the real must be the correct choice. To think otherwise, I would have to be a fool. A fool who misinterprets actions to be more strong than they were intended.

I am not about to lose my current residence in such a safe, peaceful place just because I can't keep a blind, preposterous notion of Caoimhe's supposed feelings for me in check. To embarrass myself, yes, I can live with such a thing. It wouldn't be the first time, and I'm sure it wouldn't be the last. To embarrass her, however, is a song of a different nature. I couldn't bear to see her expression if she were appalled by my thoughts based on insubstantial evidence. Or her anger, for that matter. I would never wish to be the one to ever make her brow slant, to see those gorgeous eyes burn with rage.

Truly, it is a contest of real and ideal. The mind and the heart.

I will not build myself up for something that may not happen. To do so will only tear me apart from the inside, and leave me bitter. What about another option? Is Caoimhe's affections for another? Had I not even thought of that?

I can't believe how incredibly base I am. Weigh all options, formulate, then strike, never before; guesses and gut-instinct turn many a brave man into a dead one. How right my combat instructor was, and he wasn't even speaking of matters of the heart. Then again, it is possible he was; at times he could be quite cryptic. I've had a feeling he was underlying a second meaning to many things.

The day rolls on, and all I can do is think how to react now to m'lady. I mustn't snub her, or act aloof. I will continue like nothing has changed, but I must exhibit more self control.

Please... gods help me. You were there for all my crucibles in the Clergy hall, and by your wills alone, I survived and am now your eternal servant. This may be my most trying crucible of all.

Light and Cross, give me strength.

Day 7

Bolstered by my renewal of strength, I decided that I would return to the Inn today. After having a light yet filling meal of vegetables, I departed. Not long after, I was back inside the establishment, surrounded by the familiar sights, sounds, and general hoopla of the Lonely Inn.

Today, I met up with a barmaid, named Braids... well, more precisely, Braids Shinyeyes Moonlight Raven Cabal. Friendly, helpful, and flanked by another, named Hemlock. Both were eager to please, and were quick with the innuendo and drinks. However, it didn't take long for their eagerness to attract the attentions of Grunt, and sooner than later, Hemlock was busy with a little 'servicing' of her own.

I decided to walk away from the bar, and to look out of one of the windows nearest me. The view into the heavens was picturesque. How very accurate, when they, the almighty ones, use the very air as their canvas, dragging a brush which leaves, in its wake, the stars and lights up above.

I am decidedly poor at recognizing the most basic of astronomical markings. However, a winged girl by the name of Mayalaya approached me, and we spoke briefly of two of the symbols in the sky. I will share the story, as I understand it.

In a constellation that looks much like a 'W', there are two deities, named Sazera and Maedel. They joined in union, eons ago, as they do to this day. The first time of their union, they conceived the world we know today. The male, Maedel, was earth, and fire, and the female, Sazera, of course, was wind and water. Normally, I would be forced to defend against this, stating it was all rumors, hearsay, and blasphemy against the Clergy, keepers of the true faith. Something touched me, though, when she spoke of their true love, eternal.

Could such a thing ever happen? Did such a thing happen? Nothing is for certain. I just thought this was worth noting.

Soon after, I had to head home, bypassing a small ruckus. My only regret was that I didn't take a moment to heal the person brought in. My deepest apologies, but the way the other healer sprung into action, my attempts would have been laughable, and may have angered the barbarian woman who drug the other woman into the Inn.

Still, for good men with the power to change and shape do nothing in a time of need, tis the greatest evil of all. I pray, gods, forgive me.

Day 8

Something very special happened to me this night.

It all started with a mind-throbbing headache, one that threatened to split my skull wide open from the inside-out. I couldn't stop feeling guilty over not assisting in the healing, if just because of my lack of being able to swallow my pride and bow to a more powerful magic user. Add that to my confusion, thoughts, wishes, desires, hopes, and dreams of - you guessed it - Caoimhe, and you can easily see why I needed to attempt to drown my spinning brain in a few pints of ale.

I saw Hemlock again, and another, named Ororu. He seemed a bit too distracted by all the unclothed flesh to keep a good conversation. Grunt, at least, could hold a good rapport of understanding nods and some speech while... well...

Enough said.

A girl arrived in, wet from head to toe, and I set about helping her with some towels. From now on, I'll do my very best to be ready when I'm needed, and I will not pause in the face of action. A towel for being drenched is far from being a life-or-death situation, I know, but you'll not catch me idle again.

While I was finishing up with the second towel - which Hemlock so sweetly cleansed thoroughly with a Clean spell - Caoimhe arrived, and approached me. I had my first pear cider today, and I'll tell you, you can keep your ale. Not only does it have the nice warming effect of ale, it's taste is much, much better.

She asked me if I would join her at the baths, that she needed an extra set of arms to help her bathe her lower equine body. I agreed. Not long after we finished our drinks, we made our way to the hot springs section of the baths.

I wasn't sure which pool would properly support her form, and so when asked which pool to choose, I declined. She then chose a nice one, and removed her blouse. Seeing her, there, bare-chested brought a small arousal deep within me. I really, really must do better to keep myself in check.

I removed my clothing, having some trouble with my right boot - which isn't news, I've always had trouble with that thing - and was in the pool with her. Not too far off from our private bathing area, it was easy to hear two others in the establishment, doing whatever came natural to them.

I could've done without them. Even though the sound almost subliminal, they were a great distraction, especially when I'm here, trying not to become excited and highly embarrass myself with my lower extremities standing at attention.

Luckily, I can say, such a thing did not happen. Almost once, twice, thrice, but by sheer concentration, I was able to remove the desire from myself. I now have a deeper respect for my Clergy hall; they weren't just teaching me the skills for ministry, the skills I would learn would be far more versatile than that!

I picked up a brush, and began to wash her, working in circular strokes. We spoke of my childhood, my father, and other such things. It's not a big deal to me; had I not experienced everything just-so thus far, to go back and change one thing... I may not have been having that conversation with her.

She confided in me that her father never had any time with her. So very sad. I blushed madly as I called her “his precious daughter”. She reached out, and ever-so-gently caressed my cheek, her hand soft as lace and silk. I had to revel in her touch for a moment, but then changed the subject to the fact that I needed assistance scrubbing my back.

This wasn't altogether far from the truth. It is hard to reach back there.

Positioning myself properly, she continued to scrub, our conversation continued. Why was I a scribe? I drew it out, making it sound somewhat noble, that preservation of history and the now was important for the betterment of the future, or something along those lines. Then about languages...

If I had leaned but less than an inch backward, she would've touched my back. I felt her breath, so warm, on my back and shoulder. I didn't make a move. If the brush I still clenched in my hand were made of any weaker material, I would have snapped it in twain... or splinters. Never, ever, had I felt this way, as she rubbed the sponge, from behind, across my taut torso.

That memory alone will forever hold a place in me. No matter what may happen, and gods only know what will, I will always remember her... that close to me... Then came her voice, which only fanned the flames already deep within, quiet, slightly deepened.

I'm not sure if it was a call to pause, or to end completely, our current actions. I've a feeling, a strong one, that it was merely a pause. I do so hope it was. Sometime in that warm water, my head stopped pounding. She truly holds some power over me.

As we left the warm pool, I helped her towel off her lower half, making sure to take as great of care as I did with her while bathing. Small circles, taking my time, as I did with the old mare who used to pull the apple cart for my father. Once finished, she offered to dry me off. I don't know why I was so quick to block her view of me completely... I'm sure she saw all she needed to; the water doesn't distort the features submerged that much.

She left me to dry the rest of myself while pulling on her blouse, leaving me with a brief moment to get what I was feeling inside off my chest by expressing myself to the wall. Three deep breaths later, I was returned back to my smile, small smile, and I looked upon her with love.

Dare I say?

Only time will tell completely, but do not rule it out. All I wish to do is to make her happy, that she is never lonely again. I cannot change her past, but I may have some, small part in her future. If not to be by her side, then at least let this unworthy vessel be at her be-hooved feet, to be there to make her smile lest her eyes cloud with sadness.

After I helped to attach her saddle bag, she informed me it needed to be tightened more. Noted. I then went to dressing, swearing I could feel her warm eyes watching me. If she did, I do not mind. Let her see me in any way that pleases her, and bar the ones that do not. That damnable right boot was the only real holdup, but soon we had exited, traveled the short distance to the cottage, and said our good nights.

I am now out of parchment. Hopefully, I will get to go to town soon.

Light and Cross, guide me where you see fit. And watch over Caoimhe, in whatever she

does.

Day 9

The beginning was like any other, but this turned out to be no ordinary day.

I was sitting at the bar, enjoying a mug of Pear Cider and inhaling the rich smell of sweetbread, when someone came crashing into the establishment, begging for assistance. A cat person, whose name I would later learn to be Dante, was in desperate need for a healer. Quickly, I set aside my drink, and asked him to clarify.

His visage made me slightly wary. I wasn't sure where his loyalties were; Light or Dark. However, he stated that he had harmed another in self-defense of a woman. It seemed noble enough, and without attention, the one he attacked would surely die. I will not have anyone's blood on my hands that I have not made entirely positive is guilty and deserves death for their crimes.

Dante lead me into the forest, my hand resting on my hammer, prepared if his words proved false and this was nothing more than an ambush. Still, I could not ignore the need for someone with the power to invoke the deities and remove damage done in haste. Not too long after, we happened upon a man with a gashed face, and a cat person who I found out was named Snow. She did not like me at first glance. It didn't matter what she felt, I was the only hope that the downed man had at that time.

It would also not be the last time I would feel her ice-blue stare piercing me to my soul that night.

Summoning the will of the gods, I laid my hands across his face, feeling his revival. The wound sealed, a scar would not mar him. He arose, thanking me, paying me for the healing. I have never received payment for repairs of the flesh, but I decided that refusal may anger the man, and so I quietly accepted the funds. Dante also handed over a few coppers, a more noble gesture could not have been made.

It was then that Dante gave me a glance... one of trouble. I then remembered he said the blow was struck in defense of the woman, yet she seemed to be quite happy with the man's expeditious recovery. His glance, her reaction... something did not add up. I paused, not leaving yet, even though nothing more was demanded of this vessel. After listening to an exchange of what sounded like an argument of a foiled robbery of some sort - with Dante being the thief and Craven the victim - Snow tugged at Craven, and they were gone, leaving me with Dante.

I was ready to go back to my waiting mug of Pear Cider, when the catboy looked at me with shame in his eyes, and he fell to his knees. At said point, I was getting rather annoyed; my patience is great, but when someone withholds the truth, my tolerance is like a fire struck to an unwaxed, fast-burning wick. Dante continued, pleading that his actions where only the purest in mind... well, the defense of the lady, not his attempt to filch funds.

Then he proceeded to tell me that, by magical means, the man had attempted to put the catgirl to sleep, and then take her without consent. Rape. What would bring a man to such an action? Were there not enough females present in the Inn, ready and willing for anyone who would loosen their buckle and pull forth their wanting members? What would command anyone to stoop to the taking of someone when they wished it not?

I commanded him to rise from his knelt position, telling him that there was nothing I could do; if one of the Order does not see a crime committed, all they can do is initiate an Inquisition. I do not hold the power to command the truth from the lips of those to be properly judged, but as there was no one else around who bore the Cross, I could be the only one.

I had to play very subtle, but I had a plan to elicit the truth from this Craven. But the truth I would have. To lie outright to a Clergyman during an Inquisition... especially this humble vessel, whom the gods speak so very loudly to... was to forever forfeit your soul in the burning pits of the Infernal... the Abyssal to do unspeakable horrors to your undying form, waiting maliciously for you to regenerate so that they may torture you again and again.

If you wish to tell untruths, go ahead, but pray to whatever you believe in that you never die. The gods never forget.

Dante seemed crushed, that his wishes to only protect were turned away with nary a word, and he told me that perhaps she should learn what kind of beast that Craven was. That he could not defeat him a second time. That his victory was a fluke. It was then that I told him the greatest truth of all... one does not win wars with weapons, with brawn, with might, not even with the summons and beseechments and boons of all the gods. One wins with the mind, the soul, and the heart. Out-think. Believe in yourself. Never lose hope.

I had no idea that Caoimhe was as close to me as she was. Literally, in this sense. I was so thusly wrapped up with my conversation that I had not seen her show until it was too late. I thought someone was going to strike at me, and so I readied myself - and once my eyes laid upon hers, I instantly relaxed. Dante informed me that Snow's scent went towards town, and I told him to be her shadow. He then told me, like how he could smell her, she could smell him. I had no idea how to cover his scent.

Caoimhe was the key. She said that some herbs may do it, bless her knowledge of the wilderness, but she also had a potent chant that would also mask him well. After agreeing to it, he was then, indeed masked... even though he smelled very strongly of the fragrance of intercourse. I was quickly glad we were out of doors for that enchantment, the odor was indeed incredibly powerful. Even if he followed her into the Inn, the smell would not be anything new, and would still go undetected.

Now on the way to town, Caoimhe followed close behind, and I was comforted by her presence. Not just for my feelings for the beautiful centauress, but for her added support if the exchange between Craven and I got nasty. I knew she was not a pushover, that she commanded power. Why else would she be the co-owner of a Healer's Guild? I, of course, hoped it wouldn't come to that, but having her near did wonders for my already steeled courage.

Entering town, I noted that the shops did not appear open. It was late at night, after all. Doing some more of his olfactory tracking, Dante found that Snow and Craven had parted company; her tracks going back towards the Lonely Inn. She was the most important one, and so I sent him on ahead. If we both entered the Inn at the same time, she would most likely be suspicious. Caoimhe and I shared a few words, then I told her I would see her back home.

I arrived back at the Inn, not a moment too soon. Craven was with Snow, and both were cuddling close. I knew Dante's eyes would be about the room, somewhere. I didn't bother to look for him, knowing there would be no need. I entered, making it look like Caoimhe was chasing me, letting me win a footrace. I know that if we were to both run, her lower equine form would beat me sore. Right away, I started with my minor form of Inquisition, this being the only time I had ever attempted this. I disguised it with the look of ignorance, of friendship.

Again, Snow was not pleased. Here I was, interrupting them from their time together. I can understand that, but she did not know what I was attempting to protect her from. Then again, neither did I.

I found it queer indeed how he had known my name in the forest. I asked him, and he responded with a weak alibi of a friend, whom he couldn't remember her name, had mentioned me. I haven't been in this Inn long enough to make a lasting impact on anyone. Keep up the stories, little man. He would then inform me that Dante's attack wasn't the only one he had experienced. That he had been assaulted several times. He also praised the efforts of Snow, for coming to get me.

Interesting. Snow didn't come for me. Dante did. Why would a would-be murderer seek help for someone he just sliced into?

I would get nothing more from him with the catgirl's biting stare at me, so I decided to return to my drink, still waiting for Dante to make himself known to me. Mentally, I balanced the issues. Still more questions unanswered. It was then Mayalaya approached me with a greeting. Her attentions were quickly turned away by other pursuits... in the form of the eager arms of two girls.

Again, I ask the heavens... Why take another against their will, when so many are so quick to offer pleasure in this place?

As soon as Craven and Snow adjourned to a room, Dante sprang down from overhead to begin asking how he was going to get into that sanctum. I figured he, with his current profession, would do well to pick the lock. I would be the sort to just level a hammer blow at it, but that would completely defeat the purpose. He didn't have access to the tools, and so I told him of listening at the door; if he heard anything suspicious, to report it to myself. I knew that if Dante was seen by others, cupping a hand to his ear, and the ear to the door, that his actions would only be written off as light perversion, and no one would chastise him for such a thing here, so no harm there... other than a light tarnish of reputation.

In my musings, and it may not seem much, but when Caoimhe had stepped to my side in the forest, my hand ran along the length of her pony-like body, feeling the feather-soft chestnut hair here. She did not pull away, nor give me a second glance, and my action had been like second-nature. I believe it is safe to say that I am becoming much more comfortable with her.

Now if I can just stop blushing and grinning like a complete idiot.

I am content with what I have between Caoimhe and I. I need not rush it. I feel my actions at the baths yesterday were out of sheer cowardice of the unknown, but in a way, I am happy that I do not need to make a fool of myself just yet, and speak to her the words that blaze in my bosom. Indeed, the fires burn hotly, scalding me from the inside, but it is a pain I can continue to bear. I am still completely uncertain if she does have deep feelings for me, or any at all for that matter.

I made my way for the exit, hoping that Dante would not need fight Craven without me. Just before I left, I was passed by a cat person with black fur and bright pink hair. I didn't catch her name. Perhaps later.

Tomorrow is another day. Until then...

Day 10

The summary of today was best placed to Braids. I shall repeat it now.

'I was beaten with little effort at a contest of strength. Spoke to one over love advice, that his lady love wasn't being faithful, but expected him to be. Then Craven appeared, and I was asked to intervene. I questioned him, and an attack initiated unwarranted. I stepped between him and three others to save his miserable hide, upholding the code of the Cross.'

Let's start from the beginning.

Grunt, the ogre whom I've mentioned several times these few days has found employment as a tender of the bar at the Lonely Inn... it is, in my opinion, the most perfect job for him. Before he was making coin at it, he would easily reach over, taking whatever anyone needed off the shelves and handing it to them. Now, he would be more readily rewarded as thus.

After handing me a bottle of Pear Cider, I took a drink. I greeted Mayalaya, whom was coming towards the bar from her room. She had the look of satisfaction on her brow, and proved it with her 'I slept like a kitten' comment. I got the humor, and the innuendo, but decided not to encourage her by making any more of it than just words. Sometimes, feigned ignorance is the greatest power you can hope to have.

Mayalaya asked me if there was need of more guards at the Guild. To this, I do not know. I told her to ask Kyrspeth, or m'lady Caoimhe, but after I told her this, she seemed more interested to ask me about the centauress. After asking me how she was to work for, and her description - and if one would call her 'pretty' to which I replied 'beautiful' - she told me that even though I wasn't gifted with wings, that I was blessed to work for a mistress like Caoimhe.

A mistress? I hope I didn't give her the wrong idea. I then informed her this; Lady Caoime was a friend, although quickly made, and was one I could trust my life with. Her reply was that she was sure that she had a very - and she emphasized very - good friend in me. Something was being intoned, but I'd rather not search out the hidden meaning implied.

A large wolfen, named Wolfy, wasn't too far away from my position when I told Grunt I was going to the arena for some exercise. He followed me, and offered a challenge. Figuring it would be more interesting than a practice-run of drills I tirelessly worked out in training, I accepted.

He humbled me in two blows, the second almost not needed. I was conscious enough from the first that landed that I was able to invoke health to my aching form. The second one tore at my being, sending me spiraling into blackness. I have met my match. Wolfy be thine name.

The next thing I was aware of was a sudden return to the world of the living, and a violent headache. It was all I could do to keep my thoughts straight, but even through unfocused eyes, I knew Grunt was there. He had restored me, awakened me, and informed me to repair my own wounds. I could not concentrate enough in my state, barely able to draw breath without it chopping in and out dangerously, but then a felt another wave of health restore more to me. At first, I thought Grunt had doubled the intensity, but he said he had not the power to perform a second Minor Heal. He then pointed out a pretty nymph, who, quite bluntly, asked 'want to fuck me?'. Her name, I do not know, but she smelled strongly of apples.

I refused, letting her know that my heart belonged to another, despite anything my body attempted to say otherwise. After receiving a curious look, like I had spoken to her in another language, her visage quickly turned to one of joy as Wolfy and the man who told me of the baths both began roaming her body. Back to my bottle.

Normally, I'm not weak when it comes to combat. However, Wolfy had ground me into a fine paste with but two swats of his mace. I pondered this a moment. Then I thought of Caoimhe. Still later, a hymn I hadn't sung in some time came back like a haunting memory. The words were lost to me, but I knew the notations like they were yesterday. I hummed to no one but myself the cords, all in minor, giving the piece a slightly eerie tone, but an enjoyable pace.

The song ended, and my throat was slightly dry. It was time to put the Cider away for more needed water. What I received in the mug from a tender on duty after Grunt left was something to remind me of back home. I didn't realize it on the first swig, but this water had heavy sediment in it. The top layer wasn't muddied... the rest was.

Enter Roder, an elf. Self-professed ranger. He had appeared to have taken a tumble with some barbarians. At first, I didn't notice the limp, but when he sat down and had mentioned that he was in pain, I offered my services to him. At first, he declined, then later agreed, if just to take the ache off. I repaired him, invoking the gods for a third time that day. He was quick to see my mug of vile water replaced by something much more pleasant, and slightly cooled. I washed out the taste of the previous drink, then had several swallows of this fresh liquid.

He was quick to point out the bath attendant and the wolfen's goings-on with the nymph, asking me if the Clergy liked public sex. I told him what I told the apple-scented one; my soul longed for just one.

That sparked off a whole new torch.

He told me that his relationship with his lady love was open, yet when he had received oral sex from the same nymph earlier, that was now busy satisfying the other two, she had become quite angry with him. He shared that she had, herself, had a few sexual endeavors of her own. To me, that did not seem very fair, for her to announce their togetherness as non-exclusive, then have her own fun, and then to become enraged when he should tend to his own lusts.

The elf had informed me that the feelings I harbored for Caoimhe - which I did not mention her name - would be constituted as love, that caring for her deeply, feeling empty when she was not nearby, and trusting her with my very life was just that. Love.

Very well, let it be known. I, Khristoph Maelese, am in love with Caoimhe. Of course, my way with words could never possibly convey what my heart pounds out, although I wish I could explain it. Just a fraction of the intensity, of the longing, of the sheer electricity that courses through me when she looks upon this unworthy vessel. I would be so very happy to do so, but I lack any sort of bardic ability.

To return to the original issue, Roder had professed his undying love, and seemed he would be happy in an exclusive union. She, however, always seemed to get upset at the mention of it. Far be it from me to judge, but it seems this girl wants to have the whole pie, and eat of it as well. The only advice I could offer was that he continue telling her, letting her know how much his love was for her, and to ignore his own wants, showing her she will be the only one in his eyes.

At this point, I was rejoined by the catboy from yesterday, Dante. He had walked right up, taking the chair opposite of me, the one that was not currently occupied by the elf Roder. I had but just a few seconds to wonder why he had shown up - and notice that the Sex Smell ritual had warn off - when Roder drew a crossbow with impressive speed.

It was now that I was graced with the name of his lady love. Kaelan. I was also to hear the accusing word of 'rape' once again. I did not see the accused. I knew who it was, his voice burning through the air like a casted Fireball.

It was Craven.

Too coincidental to have two men confide in me the same news in the span of two days; one dealing a near-deathblow, the other now drawing a tight bead on what I would assume to be a headshot. It was then I branded him an enemy of the Cross. The title came to be no more than to shame him, but if he was in the market of selling slaves, like he was at the current moment, then it would have no effect on him.

You have no idea how much I wanted to just cross that floor and bludgeon him until the gods took him back and casted him into the Infernal. I guarded the front door at Roder's request, Dante stationed at the back. There was nothing I could do; the code of the Cross was just such... no executions without trial, and no sentences of death without proof of such a heinous crime. There was no doubt the two men were telling the truth, but without the evidence in my hand or having been seen with my own two eyes, my hands may as well been bound.

Dante cried aloud for Craven to meet us all in the arena to fight for his life, but I could not... would not have any part in it. To strike in fury without proof would be to directly anger the gods which so readily whispered to me. It was time for a proper Inquisition.

Instead of moving towards the arena, Craven took a spot at the bar, getting a drink of something. I approached him, demanding him to rise. He did not, but did make it clear he would answer my question. 'On oath to the gods who watch over us all, have you ever sexually taken a woman by magical or non-magical means who did not wish to be taken?' His response was 'Does it count if they say yes later?' After warranting more explanation of his response, he told me that they always said yes after he was done with them...

The goddess of Chaos spread her arms and laughed maniacally.

Roder let fly the bolt, striking wickedly into Craven's face. All he could say was 'oops'. His malicious, upturned smile mocked me, mocked everything I was attempting to accomplish. I removed it the quickest way I knew how... a direct blow to the face. The elf crumpled from the shot to the jaw, not expecting it, the same way I did not expect him to fire the crossbow. Stunned, and angered, he found his feet a moment later, but not before I dropped to Craven's side, pulling the wicked barbs from his flesh and repairing them in the same breath.

It angered me that I would waste my energy with such a foul man, but I was bound to all in need. The attack was not warranted, save for the taking of Kaelan, which I, again, did not see. His responses churned something in the pit of my stomach, and I knew by the look on his face he was ready and capable of such unsavory deeds. It was all he could do to draw breath properly; had my skills not been there for instant effect, he would not be alive right now. I wonder how much sleep I'd lose in that fact. Then again, I don't.

Another stepped forward, gouging a blade across his throat. It seemed like a free-for-all was centered on Craven, but this strike was not out of revenge, but pure greed. A shadowy figure had watched the slave transaction with hungry eyes, seeing where the fat pouch full of coin was placed, and now, in the confusion, had hoped to eliminate its previous owner and line their own pockets. Again, it was on this vessel's shoulders to remove the thief’s attention long enough to heal the accused rapist - again - and keep his effects with him at the same time.

Mark my words, gods. I know it is my sworn duty to uphold the Order and the code thereof, but this cannot be allowed to continue. Craven must be stopped; by your hands or mine acting for you all. I only hope he sees the error of his ways. I believe he will survive through the night and make a full recovery, but since my beseechment to the heavens was so rushed, he will at least carry the scar across his throat as a reminder of tonight.

All I wanted to do after this was to go back to the bar and finish that large bottle of Pear Cider. In fact, I tried, drinking for the sole purpose of drinking. It was then Braids returned from wherever she had gone to, and was back behind the bar. After giving her the short-form - the same short-form I wrote at the beginning of this entry - she looked unfazed. The girl was quick to pat my head and inform me that not only did it sound like fun, that it was all behind me.

She had a point. I only needed to take comfort in the fact that what I did, I did for the side of Light. For people like Braids, who seemed so very care-free, to perhaps remove a bit of the torment they may have had in their lives. To know that not everyone was there to drive a blade in their back when they turned around. To just know that Darkness always had a counter-balance.

Order would always be set.

Praise Order, Light, the Cross, and the gods. ...and of course, my sweet Caoimhe.

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