Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Sept 15, 2019 17:47:37 GMT
"Hey,
You know how I said I was going to sort through some of your dad's stuff?
I found a letter for you in a box upstairs. It looks old and I'm a little scared that I think I know who's handwriting that is.
It's yours so, here it is. I hope you're ok.
Love,
Thea."
In the quiet of the night before the party is due to set out for Sigil, Baine finds Sunday and takes her by the hand, ignoring her questions and pulling her along to Varis’ quarters. He looks visibly shaken; his eyes wide and his large frame trembling.
He knocks on Varis’ door, barely waiting for a response before pushing his way inside. The Grandmaster is leaning over his map table, heavy shadows bags under his eyes.
Baine lets go of Sunday’s hand and pulls out a letter from his pocket, the parchment old but well-preserved, and looks nervously between his two friends. He works his jaw a couple of times before forcing out a few quiet words.
“I got a letter. From Thea.”
Sunday points to one of the chairs by Varis’ desk. “Sit. Tell us.“
Baine sits. He turns the folder letter around in his hands a few times before looking at Varis.
“When you gave me the recruitment speech that day, after our girl here beat me to shit? Remember that? I told you I was supposed to be looking for someone and you said you’d be willin’ to help me with it. That offer still on the table?”
Varis nods without hesitation. “You call, I will answer. What do you need, my friend?”
“Well, Thea’s been going through my dad’s stuff. Sorting through his boxes in the attic, the like. She found a letter. For me. From my mum.”
His voice is rough with emotion, his hands shaking as he unfolds the letter he’s holding.
“I know why she had to leave me, now. I know her name.”
“What is it?” Sunday cuts in, her eyes kind and steady.
“Sharn. Her name was Sharn.”
“A good name,” she replies with a smile.
“Baine, child of my body.
I must go on a journey. You will not understand why, but I will tell you so that you know, for I do not know how long this journey will take, or if I will survive it.
You are sleeping right now, a blessing, and you are the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. You will surely grow up to be very handsome.
You know I am a soothsayer. What your father may not tell you for he does not believe, is that I am very good at it. There is a danger to you, my child. A man who will cause your death. Rivers of blood surround him. I cannot allow him to live, so I go to kill him before he can do you any harm.
I do not know exactly where he is - the place is strange, distant, cloudy, mountains with the setting sun behind them, but my visions will lead me there. But I will hunt him, and he will die. And then you will be safe and I will return to you, best of me.
Your father is a good man, for all his faults. You will be well here. You will grow up strong. I hope you will not grow up too much before I return.
I must go before either of you awaken. You are my heart, Baine. I hunt your killer.
Sharn Cinderwood, Soothsayer once of the Cinderblade Tribe”
“She went looking for this man and I think she came to Kantas.”
“Lots of mountains have the sunset behind them,” Sunday says gently.
“The Sunset Spine is right fucking there.” Baine points a large hand towards the closed door to Varis’ chambers, hope and heartbreak clear in his eyes. There’s too many thoughts in his head, too many possibilities - they’re leaving for Sigil in a handful of hours and this is not the time but his mind is a whirlwind of questions.
“What if she came here? What does that mean for me? What if she got caught up in the mess here in Daring?” He looks at Varis, the Grandmaster’s face unreadable as ever.
“Orcs helped us fight the Twilight,” he answers with a slight frown, “And then helped sack this city not long after.”
Varis pauses for a moment before continuing. “I helped hunt down survivors after the Green Tide was turned. It is how this order was founded.”
Baine bites his lip and looks down at his hands, nodding.
“Do you know her full name? Does the letter say anything else?” Sunday’s voice cuts through the fear building and swirling in his mind.
“Uh, yeah. Cinderblade. She was a soothsayer of the Cinderblade tribe. Does that mean anything to you?”
Both Varis and Sunday shake their heads, looking at each other and back at Baine.
“She had a tribe. I think that means I have a tribe as well?”
Sunday smiles at him with a raised eyebrow. “Another tribe, you mean.”
He laughs wetly at her correction but nods at the undeniable truth in her statement.
“Yeah, I went from having no tribe to having two.”
“Most people would call that greed,” she smirks at him.
He folds up the letter again, his hands marginally steadier.
“I know this isn’t the time. But once this hell business is over with, will you help me? I haven’t the first idea where to start looking or how to do it. Is there magic that could find her? I don’t even know if she’s alive or not.”
Varis nods confidently. “We’re going to place of information tomorrow. Perhaps there’s something there for you. If not I’m certain Rholor could help.”
His serious green eyes meet Baine’s grey ones.
“Our current mission has a time limit. You’ve been searching for... what, 19 years for your mother?” he asks, not unkindly.
“All things have their time and place but once we’re done, I will help you look for her.”
Baine nods again and lets out a sigh before looking between the two of them again.
“Okay. Yeah. Okay. Uh, thank you. I’m.. I’m gonna go steal some alcohol off of Grits now, or something. Try to sleep before we have to head out.”
Sunday’s gaze pins him momentarily. “Will you be alright?”
He smiles as reassuring as he can before standing and making for the door.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Sir. Sunday.”
The Crimson Fist barracks are dark, save for the single hooded lantern on the floor next to Baine’s bed. The half-orc is sat in the chair next to the bed, the large chair he won in the games. The chair he dragged all the way from Daring Heights to Port Ffirst and then back again. The chair Celandrine had given him and told him would only ever work for him.
He sits now, leaning forward, elbows resting his weight on his knees, tears glistening in his eyes but not falling just yet. On the bed, not three feet away from him sits Joshua Cinderwood, mirroring his Baine’s pose. Unlike his son he’s letting his tears flow freely - they roll down his cheeks and fall to the stone floor, without sound or trace.
“There’s so many things I wish you’d have told me,” Baine tells him, “So many things I wish I’d’ve asked you.”
Joshua can’t answer but he looks Baine right in the eyes and doesn’t look away until his form fades from the bed ten minutes later.
Baine tucks the letter inside his tunic and goes to bed. They leave for sigil at dawn.
In collaboration with andycd Sunday and Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar.
You know how I said I was going to sort through some of your dad's stuff?
I found a letter for you in a box upstairs. It looks old and I'm a little scared that I think I know who's handwriting that is.
It's yours so, here it is. I hope you're ok.
Love,
Thea."
In the quiet of the night before the party is due to set out for Sigil, Baine finds Sunday and takes her by the hand, ignoring her questions and pulling her along to Varis’ quarters. He looks visibly shaken; his eyes wide and his large frame trembling.
He knocks on Varis’ door, barely waiting for a response before pushing his way inside. The Grandmaster is leaning over his map table, heavy shadows bags under his eyes.
Baine lets go of Sunday’s hand and pulls out a letter from his pocket, the parchment old but well-preserved, and looks nervously between his two friends. He works his jaw a couple of times before forcing out a few quiet words.
“I got a letter. From Thea.”
Sunday points to one of the chairs by Varis’ desk. “Sit. Tell us.“
Baine sits. He turns the folder letter around in his hands a few times before looking at Varis.
“When you gave me the recruitment speech that day, after our girl here beat me to shit? Remember that? I told you I was supposed to be looking for someone and you said you’d be willin’ to help me with it. That offer still on the table?”
Varis nods without hesitation. “You call, I will answer. What do you need, my friend?”
“Well, Thea’s been going through my dad’s stuff. Sorting through his boxes in the attic, the like. She found a letter. For me. From my mum.”
His voice is rough with emotion, his hands shaking as he unfolds the letter he’s holding.
“I know why she had to leave me, now. I know her name.”
“What is it?” Sunday cuts in, her eyes kind and steady.
“Sharn. Her name was Sharn.”
“A good name,” she replies with a smile.
“Baine, child of my body.
I must go on a journey. You will not understand why, but I will tell you so that you know, for I do not know how long this journey will take, or if I will survive it.
You are sleeping right now, a blessing, and you are the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. You will surely grow up to be very handsome.
You know I am a soothsayer. What your father may not tell you for he does not believe, is that I am very good at it. There is a danger to you, my child. A man who will cause your death. Rivers of blood surround him. I cannot allow him to live, so I go to kill him before he can do you any harm.
I do not know exactly where he is - the place is strange, distant, cloudy, mountains with the setting sun behind them, but my visions will lead me there. But I will hunt him, and he will die. And then you will be safe and I will return to you, best of me.
Your father is a good man, for all his faults. You will be well here. You will grow up strong. I hope you will not grow up too much before I return.
I must go before either of you awaken. You are my heart, Baine. I hunt your killer.
Sharn Cinderwood, Soothsayer once of the Cinderblade Tribe”
“She went looking for this man and I think she came to Kantas.”
“Lots of mountains have the sunset behind them,” Sunday says gently.
“The Sunset Spine is right fucking there.” Baine points a large hand towards the closed door to Varis’ chambers, hope and heartbreak clear in his eyes. There’s too many thoughts in his head, too many possibilities - they’re leaving for Sigil in a handful of hours and this is not the time but his mind is a whirlwind of questions.
“What if she came here? What does that mean for me? What if she got caught up in the mess here in Daring?” He looks at Varis, the Grandmaster’s face unreadable as ever.
“Orcs helped us fight the Twilight,” he answers with a slight frown, “And then helped sack this city not long after.”
Varis pauses for a moment before continuing. “I helped hunt down survivors after the Green Tide was turned. It is how this order was founded.”
Baine bites his lip and looks down at his hands, nodding.
“Do you know her full name? Does the letter say anything else?” Sunday’s voice cuts through the fear building and swirling in his mind.
“Uh, yeah. Cinderblade. She was a soothsayer of the Cinderblade tribe. Does that mean anything to you?”
Both Varis and Sunday shake their heads, looking at each other and back at Baine.
“She had a tribe. I think that means I have a tribe as well?”
Sunday smiles at him with a raised eyebrow. “Another tribe, you mean.”
He laughs wetly at her correction but nods at the undeniable truth in her statement.
“Yeah, I went from having no tribe to having two.”
“Most people would call that greed,” she smirks at him.
He folds up the letter again, his hands marginally steadier.
“I know this isn’t the time. But once this hell business is over with, will you help me? I haven’t the first idea where to start looking or how to do it. Is there magic that could find her? I don’t even know if she’s alive or not.”
Varis nods confidently. “We’re going to place of information tomorrow. Perhaps there’s something there for you. If not I’m certain Rholor could help.”
His serious green eyes meet Baine’s grey ones.
“Our current mission has a time limit. You’ve been searching for... what, 19 years for your mother?” he asks, not unkindly.
“All things have their time and place but once we’re done, I will help you look for her.”
Baine nods again and lets out a sigh before looking between the two of them again.
“Okay. Yeah. Okay. Uh, thank you. I’m.. I’m gonna go steal some alcohol off of Grits now, or something. Try to sleep before we have to head out.”
Sunday’s gaze pins him momentarily. “Will you be alright?”
He smiles as reassuring as he can before standing and making for the door.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Sir. Sunday.”
The Crimson Fist barracks are dark, save for the single hooded lantern on the floor next to Baine’s bed. The half-orc is sat in the chair next to the bed, the large chair he won in the games. The chair he dragged all the way from Daring Heights to Port Ffirst and then back again. The chair Celandrine had given him and told him would only ever work for him.
He sits now, leaning forward, elbows resting his weight on his knees, tears glistening in his eyes but not falling just yet. On the bed, not three feet away from him sits Joshua Cinderwood, mirroring his Baine’s pose. Unlike his son he’s letting his tears flow freely - they roll down his cheeks and fall to the stone floor, without sound or trace.
“There’s so many things I wish you’d have told me,” Baine tells him, “So many things I wish I’d’ve asked you.”
Joshua can’t answer but he looks Baine right in the eyes and doesn’t look away until his form fades from the bed ten minutes later.
Baine tucks the letter inside his tunic and goes to bed. They leave for sigil at dawn.
In collaboration with andycd Sunday and Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar.