The Barrow Tor

[unpopularprophet]

The Sun had finished her trek across the sky, stalking beneath the horizon, leaving the dark, misty wood in half-shadow. Dusk was fading, night falling... The incongruous and unlikely troupe quietly marched their way in the direction of their intended camp. It was not long before they saw it.

The mist floating about the forest had begun to thicken, and in the half-light beneath the canopy, it was becoming difficult for many of the party to see very far... Then there it was. The trees grew far thicker and taller here, so that though the rise was devoid of any life but tough grass and rough shrubs, the clearing was almost as completely shadowed as the rest of the black weald, only a single circle of sky visible, directly over the peak of the barrow.

The ancient constructed tor was not as broad as many, but it was notably taller, and steeper. The pinnacle of the great overgrown grave was about forty feet above the bottmomost slope, and on the peak was a striking stacked-stone spire, next to which was a well, of which no bottom could be seen. Why a well was wrought upon a tomb was beyond any of them, except perhaps a glimmer of nigh superstitious suspicion slipping about Aleister's musings. About this tiny tower they started to settle some, starting a hot fire, which cast the shadows a darker shade, laying out bedrolls, releasing some of the knotted tension which they all bore. There was something curiously... timeless about the place. Not in a way that it felt like it could have belonged to any time, but as if it were almost something abandoned by its own time, a time so long gone that it was long forgotten, whether intentionally so, or not. The very air almost had a tangible taste of buried memory...

Aleister snapped out of it. He had almost involuntarily slipped farther into the spirit-sight than he normally dared. He had not even noticed that he was seeing beyond his eyes, that the light about him had begun to blur. 'Twas almost as if something had been... coaxing him, teasing him, coercing him beyond the confines of his body. In light of certain things he had seen beyond sight in the past few hours, this was... alarming, and yet the pressure about the place kept him from fight-or-flight reaction. Once they had settled in, he would have to pull Quelin and Lord Rahl aside. He began to tune back into the conversation...

[Lord Rahl]

When they arrived, Arya had poked about the small clearing as if it was an expansive room filled with hidey-holes. The stacked stones were examined as though she expected a dragon to crawl out of it, and she stared inside the well fiercely for a few moments. Now she seemed cautiously content. Along with the others, she sat at the fire, on her bedroll, with Eris on one side of her and Aleister on the other.

There was little smalltalk. The small amount of it that there was died off when Deneric cleared his throat. He stood in front of the fire, his hands clasped behind his back, wearing the war wizard's attire that he had found, and was so fond of. Layered over the top of it all was a thick green cloak. His cloak of spun gold, which he had found with the rest of the outfit, was at the People's Palace. He had made the decision to leave it based on his worries that it was too flashy, especially for an ambush. Not that it worked out too well, anyway.

"I am Deneric Rahl," he said. "Every single one of you knows this. What I want to tell you all, however, is not what my name is. What I want to tell you is that my name is just that — a name. I have been born into the Rahl bloodline. For different people, this means different things. To some it may mean they owe me their lives. And to others it may mean that mine ought to be taken."
He cast a glance at Arya, and then at the man who had earlier assaulted him.

He continued. "But the name means neither. My name means that my father before me was a Rahl. And his name meant the same thing. In the past, there have been cruel men who have shared my family name. And there have been great, kind men. But these things, neither of those are important. I am my own man, unique in my own ways. I try to treat people right, and anything my fathers before me may have done does not reflect my own decisions."

He walked around the fire, slowly, behind the backs of those assembled, and rested a hand on Arya's shoulder. At the same time, he looked to the other Mord-Sith who had joined them. "I am sorry for what has been done to you. You do not deserve the pain that made you what you are. While I appreciate your help greatly, I would ask that, if anything, you help me as friend. But no servitude is required of you. Your lives are your own."

Now he walked around until he faced the as-of-yet unnamed man. He bowed his head deferentially for a moment, and he began to speak. "My father before me caused great harm to you and your family. Irreparable harm. I could not hope to make up for what has been done. But I can tell you this: I will treat you with nothing less than dignity and respect. If you decide to go your own way, you are free to do so. But so long as you are here, you will be treated as an equal to anyone else here. What you say and think will be considered as much as the words and thoughts of any other person present."

He now looked to all of the assembled group. "Above all, you are all free people. As the Lord Rahl I have never wanted anything other than to provide the people of D'Hara with the freedom to live happy and peaceful lives. I never wanted to hurt anyone. My reluctance is what has put us in this situation. I'm sorry. It is not the duty of any of you to help me mend the damage I have caused."

Deneric clasped his hands behind his back. "But it is counter-productive for me to tell my only allies that they do not need to be my allies. While I shall not bring this subject up again, the words I have spoken will always stand true. What I would like to do now is familiarize myself with these new faces, and acquaint you all with one another."

He extended a hand to the second Mord-Sith, and with a sweeping gesture indicated the unnamed man, the Confessor, and the Mord-Sith.

"I have introduced myself. If you don't mind, I would like to know more about all of you. And then the rest of us will introduce ourselves."

[sariah]

Sariah looked for a moment as though she thought the world had gone mad around her. As she came to realize that Deneric's words were nothing less than the truth however, she found a slight smile crossing her lips. "I am Sariah Risan.." she said, a little hesitantly though her voice gained in strength after. "My father once served your father as a wizard. I barely knew him before Mistress Belinda took us away. Those years were some of the best, and worst of my life." she shook her head then bowed it respectfully. "I thank you for your concern Lord Rahl... But you should not apologize for what your father ordered. It is the man, not the bloodline that matters afterall." she said with just a hint of a smirk, turning his own words back on him. "You say our lives are our own to do with as we choose.. I choose to guard you with everything I have until you no longer have need of me."

[quelin]

Quelin stared at the Lord Rahl. Introduce myself? Why on earth would I do that? I've purposely kept this secret to avoid people knowing my name until this point he though to himself. Quelin didn't even know if he could trust these people yet, so entrusting them with the knowledge of who he is might be dangerous. He passed Lord Rahl when his gesture was extended. He was very uneasy around these people. Nobody had ever even attempted to show him kindness without an alterior motive. Why would someone show an monster such as him any form of kindness. He looked at the group and decided to throw them a bone, no matter how small it may be.

"I am Quelin. My last name is of no consequence. I am a gifted outcast from the Midlands. I was outcast at a young age, and since developed a great dislike to other people. I am an assassin. That is all you must know. As I do not trust any of you, or your extensions of kindness, I cannot see fit to give you any more information about me. You'll just have to live with it."

Quelin moved to a small open patch next to the pillar. He sat down and crossed his legs. Closing his eyes, he began to hum to himself, pretending nobody else was there.

[malyssa]

Maliss shook her head as she listened to Quelin's response. He was hardly one to be talking about not trusting. If anyone in the group fully trusted the assassin she'd eat her cloak. After a moment's pause to see if he had anything else to add, she turned her attention to Deneric. "I am Maliss Cariel. As you know, I am a Confessor. Like you, I did not choose this, but was born into it." she found herself smiling in spite of all of her attempts at maintaining her confessor's face. "With all of the chaos caused by the rogue confessors in Aydindril, I took the first chance I could find to leave and try to make my own life elsewhere. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I got more than a little lost along the way. I am quite certain that by the end of all of this, you will have need of me. And I won't turn my back on that need."

[Lord Rahl]

Deneric smiled, and gave a slight bow.
"I am pleased to meet you all," he said. "Arya, Eris. Why don't you introduce yourselves?"

Eris straightened himself. From his spot atop his bedroll, he spoke quietly but proudly. "I am Eris Zethra. When I was younger, I was trained by my father in the arts of magic. When I turned thirteen, I was sent to the People's Palace. My education continued there, for fifteen years." He looked to Deneric and smiled. "And I have been devoted to protecting Lord Rahl since I met him."

In the bedroll to the left of his sat Arya, who was laying back slightly, her arms propping her up. She did not speak quietly, but she did speak proudly. "My name is Arya Meiffert. I am Mord-Sith. That is to say, I serve my Lord Rahl, and would not hesitate to eliminate any threat to him. There is not much more I can say about myself."

Lastly, Rahl nodded to Aleister.
After he introduced himself, they could all get down to business.

[unpopularprophet]

Aleister sat crosslegged upon the earth, seeking firm grounding.
"As some of you already know," Aleister began with a pointed, albeit gently teasing glance at Quelin, "My name is Aleister Brighton, from the Hartland of Westland. The only magic I grew up with was my own... peculiar brand... and it nearly killed me all by itself. Might be argued that it did, technically. My reasons for leaving Westland I have confided to no one as of yet, but after I left my home I spent some time with the Raug'Moss, who consider me an honorary brother, before heading to the Keep in Aydindril. From there- after a series of odd events- I spent a few months with the Mud People, who have adopted me as their own." Aleister thumbed the bone knife at his belt, smiling at the thought of his brethren in spirit (winced at the internal pun), if not quite in blood. There were reasons Aleister had little qualms about sticking a knife through his arm, and Raug'Moss blood flow control was low on the list.
"With them I received... intelligence... from certain unimpeachable sources that my aid would be needed east. I followed the spilt-blood road until I fell in with this lot," he continued with a relaxed gesture to a lethal leather-clad killing machine, a battle-hardened wizard, and the heir to one of the, if not the, most ancient and revered magical bloodlines in the world.
"I am here not for any oath, Bond, political agenda, or any other such thing. I am here because I know without a shadow of a doubt not only that Deneric Rahl is a capable leader, but truly because, without a Rahl.... D'Hara will crumble in an absurdly short amount of time. And D'Hara is the first and most reliable line of defense for freedom in the world at this time."

[Lord Rahl]

"I thank you all for your loyalty and your help," said Deneric. "Now that we know each other a little better, we must discuss our direction. We were heading toward the Namir province. Our intent was to go to Aydindril and seek the aid of the Mother Confessor. I could not hope to take back the Palace or fight off the Old World without more support, even with a group as well equipped as ours."

He stepped forward, closer to the fire. "I believe this is still the best course of action. But there are new additions to the group," Rahl looked to Sariah, Maliss, and then shot a brief glance at Quelin, who did not appear to be paying much attention. "And before we get some rest, I would like to know what you think we should do."

[sariah]

Sariah hesitated, then looked Deneric in the eye before speaking. "That is likely the first thing our enemies will think of if they have put any thought into considering your next move Lord Rahl. However.. It may also be the only course open to us unless we want to try to take back the People's Palace on our own." she really didn't like the sound of either plan, but he'd asked for suggestions, so she would give them. "Our best course would seem to be to go to Aydindril as planned, but not openly as we are now..."

[Lord Rahl]

Deneric nodded. "Indeed. The plan is to quietly approach from the north, coming down out of the mountains. I am not sure what the disposition of the city is, but when we enter, I would say we break apart into smaller groups and meet at one of the many inns, close to the Confessor's Palace. From the inn, after we've seen the state of the city, we can make plans to seek an audience with the Mother Confessor."

[quelin]

Quelin sat silent. The Mother Confessor? What in the name of the spirits did they think she was going to do? Fight off the old world with a few confessors? She couldn't provide aid even if she wanted to.

"Did you forget?" Quelin smirked. "The Mother Confessor is dealing with rogue confessors. Did you not listen to this confessor sitting with us? Do you honestly think she can afford to thin her ranks to help you fight the old world? Seriously? Your hopes are shallow and self centered. You can't expect her to break apart her defenses to help you out"

He returned to his hum, with a unconcerned look on his face.

[unpopularprophet]

"You know better than to mistake the Midlands for a single entity ruled by a single leader. The Confessors are of course largely preoccupied, and many of the nations in the Midlands. But there are ready nations whose forces would be more than willing to aid Lord Rahl, especially on the recommendation of the Mother Confessor. But you would still be mistaken to assume we think that is the limit of what we must do. D'Hara has not supported the Rahl line so long to so easily abandon it... it's been tried. This Lord Rahl here in particular has long aroused an especially fierce loyalty from those he has worked to protect. They will likely support him with more tenacity than Trabane allows himself to believe. Also... once things are set in motion in Aydindril... I fully intend to go to the People's Palace myself. There are things about my past that would make me, shall we say, instrumental in an easier recovery of the capital."
With that, another pang of the Beast struck. It was busy, wherever it was. He fought off the sensation before leveling a pure, classic Rahl glare at Quelin.
"Also, if we are being completely honest, even the Westland has always been supportive of the Rahls... almost personally."

[Lord Rahl]

"Thank you, Aleister. You are exactly right."

Rahl avoided looking at Quelin, himself, for he could barely contain his frustration. Instead, he looked around the dark woods around them. "Unless anyone else has any criticisms to make, or suggestions to offer, I would say it is time for rest. I think I ought to take first watch. I am not too tired, and I'd like some time alone to think things over."

[malyssa]

"Disguises seem to be in order for most of you." Maliss said, "Especially You and the ladies in red." she added, looking Deneric in the eye and gesturing toward the two Mord Sith. Maybe for Allister as well. The rest of should be able to pass normally."

She was all too aware that all eyes were likely to be on her at that moment, and so she sat up a little straighter, putting on a symbolic authoritative posture. "The Mother Confessor may not be in Aydindril. much of the confusion that allowed me to leave unnoticed was that she was missing. She may have been presumed dead, in which case a new Mother Confessor would have been appointed."

[unpopularprophet]

Even through his preoccupying state, Aleister was concerned by this. Mother Confessor Amnell had been very patient, understanding, and helpful during a difficult time for him, and it was because of her that his path had led him to the Mud People, and that the memorable events therein had occurred. He knew she was not one to abandon her people. There was the possibility she had been on an imperative mission, but otherwise, he could think only that... but something, perhaps wishful thinking, perhaps his uncanny insight as a spirit-man, told him she was not dead: just doing what she believed best, wherever that led her.
"Mayhap... in any case, they know me well enough at the Keep and in the Confessor's Palace... anywhere else I should be anonymous, unless the Raug'Moss or any of a very short list of Hartlanders happen to be in Aydindril. And only one of those things would be of any risk to our mission should I be recognized..."