Firiona Vie Everquest

Stormfollower knew what had happened. In the time their minds had met Remis must have released the spirit bond with the primary artefact of the Wolf Tribe. The Remembrance, an ancient leather bound book that had come through antiquity beyond a long extinction of the noble Wolves of the North to the hands of Stormfollower so that he might re-gather the Wolf Cult and bring the old ways back to Norrath. But the sacred Tome was bound to one soul only and could only pass to another if the bonds, as strong as starlight yet just as easily eclipsed. It would have taken him only a moment of thought and this is what he had done. Stormfollower wished now he had not been so open in his explanations of these matters to the tribe. The book was free again. Wolf Cult would go into the hands of the next person who could grasp its cover in person.

Far out in some uncharted reach of the Guarding Sea the White Sybil bobbed on a vast horizon, her huge stone hull breaking through the crests of the south born waves. At her helm the pilot and sole crew member kept his meandering course and in so doing his oath...To ride the waves of sea and fortune upon the bridge of the White Sybil to guard the treasures she bore in safe lockers in her vast storerooms below, away from the thieves and honourless knavery that had no heart for the sea. The Remembrance was safe here, yet without his bond to it Stormfollower had no way to know where, exactly it was. The leadership was his in name only now, the right, the guarantor of his position, was lost at sea along with all the other great treasures of the tribe...

This included all the stores of rare silvered Evergreen Leaf. A leaf whose properties made for an excellent green dye, but a silvered leaf (perhaps one in every thousand was tinted silver with the light of a full moon on it) when combined with other more common plants was able to keep a person from dreaming for short periods of time. Yet its side effects left one emotionless for days afterwards. Stormfollowers proposition might heal Remis but at what cost?

As if none of this revelation concerned him, Stormfollower spoke with calm resolve. “The full moon will come again as she always does, then will I collect more of the silvered Evergreen.” And even though he, Jetamio and the rest of the tribe knew that finding even one leaf of Evergreen was hard enough in these lands and to find a silvered one was near impossible, he still spoke with a confidence that could not be questioned.

"And what shall we do with him until we find it?"

She leaned into Stormfollower for both warmth and strength, but kept a watchful eye on Remis, ready to snare him again should he tried to escape.

"He is not going anywhere. Look closer at him." There was no jugement in those words, just a direction for his much adored wife to look.

Remis had slumped slightly bacwards now as he apperently stared one eyed up at the owl which had now perched on Stormfollowers shoulder. A slicked o`er expression was frozen on his face. Clearly he was no longer present in body.

"Let his mind flee for a time, we will have no words with him until he has." Stormfollower turned quickly now on one heal as he addressed the remainder of the tribe.

Their number was 23 now, including the Wolfhearts.

"Great Wolf Tribe! Here we stand at the turning of the cycle." He placed a great fist on each hip and took a firm stance.
Here now, we who are still alive. Once again fate has brought us back full circle to this our sacred place. Full circle, yet further through the path. The path that leads us on to eternity. Let us celebrate this journey here, now, and allways..." He smiled broadly at them all inthe way only he could at such a time.

"Let the feast begin!"

A great cheer went up from the tribes mostly young voice. Old souls no less recognised for thier youth. At once the hidden cashe lid was carefully slid aside and many baskets began to be lifted out.

Mujbura peeked up a warm smile toward Zask, she had seen the kindness in his eyes and knew she would trust him. Her head nods slightly in return of his smile. She had not realized she had not released his hand and had a firm grip on it as Stormfollower and Jetamio spoke.

Stormfollower had called forth the feast, but Mujbura’s heart was heavy. So much had transpired in this travel that even her mind was cloudy. Realizing she had such a firm grip on Zasks hand she quickly releases it, her head lowering to hide her embarrassed and bashful expression. Her voice, tiny and small as she was when she did speak, “I do thank you for your service, truly.”

Her eyes raise to his for only a brief moment, then toward Stormfollower and his family, and finally the tribe. She glances up at Zask with one last smile of appreciation, hoping the weight in her heart would not show.

She walks a distance from the tribe sitting upon the earth. Tiny fingers dig past the grass into the dirt as she watches the tribe in the distance. She had associated herself so much with nature, she hardly knew how to commune with those whom she would consider family.

Amber eyes close as whispered prayers to The Mother begin to trickle to the heavens. A silence befalls around her, not even the breeze was crossing her path. Nature falls mute, birds sing their voiceless songs, even the sounds of the insects frolicking were without sound. She opens her eyes to a pure white wolf who jumps toward her, disappearing into her.

A soft gasp brings her surroundings to life again and she watches and listens to the tribe celebrate from her spot set off from them.

Zask watches as Mujbura walks to her sitting spot, feeling the heaviness of heart during the last gaze into her eyes. She had released him from her service but he desired to stay with her longer. The young half-elf pulls a small orb from the pocket of his cloak and runs his fingers over one of the runes inscribed on it's surface. The orb glows slightly and a female voice softly emanates from it.

"Is all well Zask?"

"All appears to be well Lady Sineliniel. Lady Mujbura has released me from her service."

"Very well then, please return at your earliest convenience."

"M'Lady I wish to stay with her and these people if you and Lord Gilliadson have no objections." A few moments went by before the reply came back.

"We have no objections, Master Zask. By all means follow wherever your heart may lead you."

"Thank you M'Lady, may the peace of Quellious always abide in your home."

"Live long, Live well and Live with passion, Master Zask." The glow of the orb fades away and Zask puts it back in his pocket. Zask thought to approach Master Stormfollower about joining his tribe but first he had to do something for Mujbura...

Zask walks over to her but she does not see him. The young minstrel starts singing a bright melody to lighten the heaviness of her heart and renew her spirit.

She sat in the distance watching them celebrate with the feast. She had seen so many of them born, played with them as they were children, then stepped away when they were nearing adulthood. Such is the cycle when an elf with an long life-span lives amongst those who do not have such a blessing.

The cycle continued for many generations. So many even her father had been forgotten by most. Only the eldest of Warriors within Halas seemed to know the myth of the single-father Warrior who raised an elf within the village, and most of that discovered only through researching some of the oldest books in their extensive and proud history.

Light streams across her heart in gentle ripples of Zasks song. Serenity lightens her soul with the trained voice of the Bard causing her eyes to sting with joy. She quickly blinks away the tears attempting to hold them back. A smear of dirt is left upon her cheek as she wipes away a stray tear with her still dirty fingers.

She looks at her fingers and dusts them off on her leather pants then looks for the beautiful voice that had caressed her heart in such a delightful way. It is then she looks upon the ever vigilant Zask. Tears once again fill her eyes as she looks up at him. A nearly inaudible whisper makes its way, “Thank you.” was all she could muster.

Zask smiles as he finishes the song.

"M'Lady I would continue with you if you wish. Not as your servant but as your companion."

The half-elf holds his hand out to Mujbura.

"Come, let us join the feast."

A smile brings a brightness to her face as he finishes his song, his beautiful voice fading into the mist that falls within the sacred grove. He offers his companionship, and her smile broadens with one tear streaking through the smudge of dirt on her cheek. It didn’t matter what he had said, she had never considered him a servant, but the word “companion” chimed well within her heart.

She hesitates a moment, not quite sure she knew how to be a companion, and never having joined in the festivities of her people. She had always been the onlooker, watching and observing, never a participant. But, maybe, now, it was time. She rises to her feet, peeking up a shy smile then places her hand in his.

A great fire was lit in the center of the cleaaring in the center of the Aspen Grove. All sorts of dried friuts and meats were served around along with large amounts of mead and wine. Soon the spirits of the people were lifted and everyone was swaying gently to Zasks fine music. Slowly the sky grew darker as night began to fall once more a chill was in the air but it was not overly cold. As the tribe drew closer to the fire for its warmth and light the stars began to shine. The moon, while still a cresent, was high in the sky, nearly directly overhead. Couples moved closer together as the festivities carried on and though the mood was subdued by recent losses it was still pleasant, filled with wishes of good in the coming year and thoughts of how fortunate they were to have survived this long against such inexhaustable evil from the lands away from home. As the midnight moon took her place on the cusp of the treetops they began to sing together, a song that Zask was teaching.

His voice was strong and resonant above the others while his fingers deftly played allong...

The sound of a wolf's howl in the distance joins with the music from Zask's lute and blends in perfectly. The hoot of an owl nearby keeps the rhythm. Several of the tribe members pull out simple drums and start tapping the rhythm on them. Zask finishes his song and listens to the beat of the tribes drums.

"Master Stormfollower! I have heard tales of your masterful dancing. Would you please lead us in one?"

Among the survivors was Tortha, sitting by Radha a little way back from the others. Cionadh had not been seen in days, but he was certain she was safe in the Southern lands, most likely with her nose in a book completely oblivious to the goings on here. His youngest sister had borne the brunt of it though, and she sat staring into nothingness. He wondered if she too had left her body to seek out her twin but he couldn't be sure. Either way, she had not stirred in hours, not even to the lively music now being played.

Tortha watched his father with admiration as he got up to dance, watched also by his mother Jetamio.

Mujbura looks up at Zask with a grateful smile as he sits her amongst the tribe. She shifts her weight slightly due to nervous fidgeting that she just can’t seem to shake. The music begins and she looks around seeing those without instruments singing or clapping along. She had never sang and decided it was best to just clap. Trying to mimic the others her clapping was completely off-tempo so she looks around with an embarrassed smile before slipping her hands under her legs to keep them still.

She looks at the faces of the tribe, a majority of them of the same blood, Northerners. A few, such as their leader, had married outside their race. But they were a tribe none-the-less. Singular and yet numerous, all in the same moment. She looks at their smiling faces, and knows those with whom she has a more direct relation. A single finger traces a tattoo below her eye, the same tattoo those of her fathers family, and a sense of pride is felt within her heart.

Taking a cleansing breath she slides her hands back under her leg, to keep both hands restrained from her off-tempo clapping. She sits amongst the people, her people, with a sense of pride. Though, somewhere in her heart still lay the feeling that something was missing.

The music had become livelier and great quantities of drink were still being imbibed. The mead was the choice of most but it was not the rich long steeped brew of the southern towns, tavern variety. This mead was sweet and rich yet without much fermentation, so although many were drunk on it it had taken them copious amounts to get so. Stormfollower only smiles at Zask when he had suggested the dance but the music had moved on and by its tempo and intonation the bard must have known exactly what was next.
Many of the tribe had begun to shout and whistle at the coming event while all around the people of Wolf Cult started removing their clothes and footwear. Even Stormfollower had quickly stripped down to his loin cloth. He was also one of the first to take up one of the large animal bladders filled to near bursting with the free flowing mead.
He returned to Zask and prodded him with the elbow that lay crooked lovingly across his precious flask.
"No Zask, no time for that, the dancing will come later..." He said with a wry smile "maybe many days later."

He turned and stopping only briefly to scoop up the comatose body of his son, he ran full sprint into the direction of the coming morning. Many of the younger men were quick at his side, keen to match their strengths to the legendary ones of their leader.

"Now we run!"

Zask watched as the great Shaman hefted his son and took off toward the east almost naked. Zask decided to follow suit. He was not used to these colder temperatures and shivered uncontrollably for a few moments while he hummed a tune that gave him warmth. As the magic of the song took hold, Zask held his hand out to Mujbura in invitation to run with him.

While Jetamio had witnessed this before, she had only watched, not joined in. But she sensed the need for unity tonight, to be completely one of them. After a moments hesitation, she too stripped naked and joined the band, letting go of her self consciousness. While well toned and fit, she was an Elf and would never match the physical brawn of even the youngsters of the tribe that already towered over her. The comparatively tiny woman charged after her husband, her long red hair flying like a banner behind her as she ran, the cold air rather refreshing on her bare skin.