Waiting

Bane's View 


 * Day or night, great pains are taken to illuminate nearly every nook and cranny within this establishment. Using lanterns, torches and the showcase arch-manteled fireplace in the north wall, the proprietors keep the shadows at bay.


 * Windows grant views of traffic on the main road through Wedgecrest, as well as the landmark granite hill called Night's Bane on the opposite shore of the Fastheld River.

Norran currently sits at a table near the bar, his haversack and shield resting at his feet while his claymore, Retribution, rests leaning against the table within its scabbard. A goblet of wine sits before him, idly looking around the tavern while tapping a knuckle against the tabletop.

Lucius Nepos enters the tavern with a bit of a scowl present; perhaps this is due to the dusting of rain which has collected at the bottom of his boots. In any case, he glances about the tavern, his leather covered shield tied down to his own haversack and heads for Norran's table upon spotting him. "Evening."

"Evening, Marshal. I arrived sometime in the morning, and aside from a large order of bread and water I'm about to request from the Barkeep, I'm pretty much ready to go," explains Norran with a nod in Lucius' direction, gesturing to a nearby seat. "Trust me, it'll take a lot more than a claymore to slow me down. It's not like I'm taking a lance with me."

Lucius Nepos's eyes dart from patron to patron and he removes his plate helmet from his head, the only stray piece of armour that doesn't go with the rest of the pathfinder. "I'm Lucius now. You're Norran. Keep it simple." Says the man in a low voice. As he sits down, he smiles, though. "Good."

"Well, I didn't salute you. Some parents name their children Marshal, but very well," notes Norran with a quick grin, taking a look around the tavern. "Weather's pretty bad, hopefully it'll clear up before we have to leave."

"Not terrible." Lucius counters with a bit of a shrug, dumping out a bit of water from his loosely tied boots and letting them dry, apparently, on the ground as his feet raise up to lounge on the chair opposite his current position. He also drops his haversack and shield on the ground. "I need some water. We're crossing from where again.. the Ashlands?"

"He just said that's where we're going. I don't know anything beyond that. I've never even been stationed on the wall yet, let alone gone into the Wildlands. I guess we'd have to wait until Vhramis shows up. I don't even know how he gets outside the wall," explains Norran with an idle shrug of his shoulders, leaning slightly forward with his arms across the tabletop.

Lucius Nepos calls a barmaid over and asks her for a jug of water, which a few moments later, occupied by the silence of the man, it is brought and the woman suitably tipped. He then turns to Norran. "I do. There's cracks in the wall throughout the entire thing. Any one of those will do. We can't go through an official gate, of course."

"There's no gate that I know of, but then again I didn't think there were unguarded cracks throughout it that anyone could just shriekweasel in and out of at their leisure. I figure there might be some secret tunnel the wildlings made, or something like that," speaks Norran with a light sigh, taking a sip from his goblet before settling it back down. "Or maybe a way through the rivers or some such."

Lucius Nepos arches an eyebrow. "Well. There are gates. They are kept locked down and heavily guarded. There are also river gates, such as the one at Aegisport. Also heavily guarded. It would be ridiculous to try and guard all of these cracks in the wall. There are many of them, most of them are unknown.. that combined with the fact that many of them are very isolated and the ten thousdand Blades in this realm are needed for other tasks than this. Besides, the Aegis was erected with Shadow magic. What makes you think we have the ability to repair it? No, I am a mason and none of my techniques could come close to doing so, besides in a rudimentary fashion, unless I had access to an enormous quarry. The size of the job precludes it being done, and it is not important."

Norran shrugs his shouders once more, sitting straighter and leaning back against his chair. "I just figured the only openings in the wall were for the rivers to flow, and since there are such sanctions never to leave or let anything enter that there would be no need for any sort of non-river gate to be built to begin with. If most of us don't know about these cracks, the wildlings do. It explains why they can seemingly enter without any problems," explains Norran before taking a deeper sip from his goblet, waving a hand afterward. "Little matter, I suppose. I'm eager to get moving, as I've sat around taverns quite enough for the past few months."

"The Wildlings have no interest in Fastheld anymore, at least for now. The Green Tribe got what it wanted when we released Kalath'aria, which is what their goal had been for all the years they'd attacked us. Interesting, I'm sure." Explains Lucius, pouring out a cup of water for himself and gulping it down. After pouring a second one, he offers Norran some of the liquid.

"The lot of them still deserve slaughter. My father died in the Second War. They can be very stealthy when they want to. You were at Aerie Heights. They've always gone out of their way to murder," gruffly answers Norran, accepting the drink with a thankful nod and downing it pretty quickly. Settling the cup back down, he takes a moment to glance toward his claymore. "I haven't been in a direct engagement with a wildling in some time, but they'll not find me so unprepared."

"The Black Wildlings deserve slaughter. I lost many friends in battle with Wildlings. You know nothing of their motives, though, and I would refrain from partisan feelings towards them if I were you." Lucius shrugs, sipping more gingerly from this drink. "But that is I, I who have interacted with Wildlings in war, and then, in peace, when I was outside the Aegis for an extended period of time. They are very much like us, you know. And we can be more horrible than they could ever possibly be."

"Their actions speak loudly enough for their motives. Whatever was done to them in the past by our ancestors is in the past. Not a single man or woman in Fastheld is old enough to have committed it, and I'll not buy into some ridiculous notion of collective guilt for what others committed so long ago," Norran speaks with a fair amount of conviction, tilting his head slightly toward Lucius. "I largely doubt they care about we think of them enough to call us hypocrites."

"I don't even know what you're talking about. They don't blame us for anything. They care not. I simply call you a hypocrite because of your own words; the Wildlings themselves are unconcerned. But they seeked to undo something which our ancestors had done to them, and which had been hurting them for thousands of years. I don't pretend to agree with how they conducted this, but I do understand it. Until you talk to them, I don't pretend that you will, either." Lucius replies with a shrug. "This conversation is not going anywhere productive. I do not wish to talk about this anymore."

"And yet they went out of the way to murder our civilians throughout the centuries. They attack us, campaign against us. Aerie Heights had nothing to do with this dragon. I've spoken to wildlings, in the very tavern in which we sit. Here they slaughtered the previous barkeep in the cellar when he went down to investigate a noise, then held Vhramis hostage and threatened to kill him for answers. Despite no-one knew what they were talking about, they dragged him off anyway. He was lucky to have survived at all, were it not for the healers," retorts Norran quickly, narrowing his eyes slightly at Lucius before leaning back in his chair. "I may not have been with the Blades as long as you, Lucius, but do not assume me to speak with conviction on things I honestly do not know. If you wish to stop speaking of this, I suppose I would."

"They do not function in the same way as we do. They speak telepathically, and do not, or did not until recently understand that we could not understand their intentions. I told you, I have no wish of talking about this to you because you are uninformed on the true nature. I told you I didn't approve of their attrocities. They are not human. Bear this in mind." Lucius turns away now, as if to further make it understood that he does not want to talk about Wildlings. "I know because I have spoken with their Chieftains and people who've lived among them for years. You do not know because you've never been outside these bloody walls." He finishes, seemingly with a bit of haught in his voice.

"Yet their ignorance is accepted so easily while ours demands guilt? I can't imagine how many words spoken with them could explain that logic. As much as you hate Zolor and those like him, Lucius, it's not reason enough to hate all of Fastheld," speaks Norran with finality in his voice, finished barring further incentive from Lucius it seems, emptying his goblet.

"If you think I hate all of Fastheld, then you are greatly mistaken. I love the place of my birth and I am a Fastheldian through and through. Nothing could change that. I serve in the Blades, protecting my fellow citizens with my sword and my life." Lucius has turned back to Norran as he says this, expression a stony neutral, his eyes locked on the other man's. "Our land is plagued by many things. Ignorance of truth is the most severe. The Wildlings formerly had such a problem, as well, perhaps for small issues such as the one we talked about. But what they did was the only sensible thing that they could think of. It is stupid to dicsuss issues which are so much greater than us. I cannot understand why they worshiped Kalath'aria. But the fact is they did, and they needed to free her." He shrugs. "And because of our ignorance and disgust at them, without knowing their motives and blinded by our own zeal, we made ourselves their antagonists. They are primal creatures, but they are thinking beings as we are."

"You can hardly blame our people for how they have acted through the years, to simply wanting to discuss what the wildlings want. It is not that simple. It has never been that simple. The Church rules through fear and always has. Merely speaking of this is reason enough for them to cry for our heads. While we were trying to save Vhramis' life in this tavern, a Scourge was busy berating us and threatening us for 'dealings in the Shadow'. You cannot expect a society long inhibited by the Church to suddenly not care of what the Church would do to them. From youth, we have all been raised this way," Norran explains a bit more calmly now, hands resting on the table as he watches Lucius.

"Exactly. That is why you and I do not shun the society of our birth; because even though the people are ignorant, they are our people and it is not their fault they are ignorant." Lucius sighs. "Nevertheless, the Church has a grip. I don't see that changing anytime soon unless something drastic happens. Perhaps this Marrokamir will be the one to incite it.. given his alliance with the Emperor."

"I don't know how he'll manage anything positive with doing Zolor's bidding. Even so, do you think this giant bushdragon will do anything about it? They do not care about our existance, do they?" asks Norran with a tone of curiousity, taking a moment to adjust the baldric for his claymore that's been leaning against the table. "What is it to them what this stranger does?"

"To the Drakes? The only Drake that I know of in our area is Val'Sharax, as Kalath'Aria appeared to depart somewhere else over a year ago, now. He cares about maintaining the balance, and from what Vhramis was telling me.. Marrokamir disrupts the balance. It is hardly about us." The Marshal pours himself another cup of water.

Norran nods slowly as Lucius speaks, idly tapping a knuckle on the tabletop as he mulls over the words in his mind. "The stranger...he said the rift was getting smaller. Do you think that if it should go away on it's own, the stranger would go away as well?"

"I know nothing of arcane matters such as that. But I would think not, and hope otherwise." Replies Lucius simply and earnestly, his face displaying a tired look now. He takes a sip of his water, gingerly lifting the cup to his lips.

Again, Norran does the usual nodding and knuckle rapping against the table as he thinks these words over, not caring so much that his goblet is empty of wine. "When he first came out, he said he didn't know of this dragon. He also said he had no wish to communicate with the Emperor," begins Norran, thoughfully, "He lied to us, as evidenced by what he's said since. That much does not surprise me, but it worries me. Something seems to have changed his opinions. He cares little about interfering with us, yet he hesitates divulging the full knowledge of his plans because he thinks we'll tell the dragons. He fears. I worry he may soon turn destructive."

Lucius Nepos sighs. "Perhaps. I think perhaps you worry about it too much. We have neither the knowledge of Master Wolfsbane nor the socerous magic of.. others. We can do naught but accompany our friend on his journey for now. Any other warnings to the public will have us branded as heretics. Vhramis knows what he is doing. I trust him." Lucius pushes him from his seat, grabbing his bag and shield. "I go to sleep now. I will see you in the morning. Light Keep, Norran."

"Light Keep," answers Norran in return with a slight nod toward Lucius, taking up his own haversack and rising from his seat. Slinging his shield over a shoulder and carrying his claymore by the baldric in his free hand, he walks toward the bar.