Post by ancientempathy on May 18, 2008 21:30:58 GMT -5
Posted upon player request
On they came, in sudden.. yet even droves. Comely, beautiful young people, peasant to the eye, yet not paupers. Wheeling their carts, they first came to Arabel, promises of relief upon their lips. They spoke, to those who's pain was the greatest.
"So many sorrows have come to these lands.." The lovely young woman spoke openly, boldly. "So many, have fallen under the blade of orc, Zhent.. and beast.." Almost instantly, a small crowd began to gather as the girls words where heard. She moved slowly among them. Her hands gently touching many in a reassuring manner. "Let us not forget our loved ones, let us not forget the truth.. of these dark deeds and days. Our King is dead, gone.. from us forever. Yet it is we, that must preserve his memory.. his ideals, of what Cormyr could, and should be.." She walked to each of those who had now gathered, a sad smile creased her lips.. her soft hands pressed to an old womans face.
"Your son, Jacob.. he sees you still. He sees your pain.. and no longer wishes you to suffer. His memory.. shall be yours.. forever more.." The old women's tear glistened almost immediately in her eyes. Welling up, as her pain was made known. The young girl leaned in, and kissed her forehead. She whispered. "Never forget him, Miss. Not ever.. " She turned, one of her fellow peasants open a slat on the cart, and drew forth a small figurine.
To the eye, it resembled a carving of one of the Purple Dragon Knights. The young woman took this figure from her fellow, and offered it to the older woman. "For Jacob.. for his memory.. that it may always ring true within your heart." The old woman clutched the offered figure, weeping. The young, raven haired lass smiled warmly.. and kissed her forehead again. "Let this trinket, help to ease your pain.. let it remind you always, of what Jacob was.. " She removed her hands from the woman's face, her eyes holding hers for a moment. "Let it ease your burden.. yet never let him be forgotten."
As the older woman clutched the figure to her chest, she wept.. openly. And others wept with her. Hands coming from all around to comfort her. Not a single dry eye in sight.
And so they came. In each village, or city they stopped at, one remained behind. Always offering council. Always offering gifts of remembrance.
From a mild distance. Three eyes watched. Three eyes felt, and understood the depths of sorrow those who the young people helped, through words, and gifts. Knew it, as a lover knows their beloved. Three eyes, that did not weep.
On they came, in sudden.. yet even droves. Comely, beautiful young people, peasant to the eye, yet not paupers. Wheeling their carts, they first came to Arabel, promises of relief upon their lips. They spoke, to those who's pain was the greatest.
"So many sorrows have come to these lands.." The lovely young woman spoke openly, boldly. "So many, have fallen under the blade of orc, Zhent.. and beast.." Almost instantly, a small crowd began to gather as the girls words where heard. She moved slowly among them. Her hands gently touching many in a reassuring manner. "Let us not forget our loved ones, let us not forget the truth.. of these dark deeds and days. Our King is dead, gone.. from us forever. Yet it is we, that must preserve his memory.. his ideals, of what Cormyr could, and should be.." She walked to each of those who had now gathered, a sad smile creased her lips.. her soft hands pressed to an old womans face.
"Your son, Jacob.. he sees you still. He sees your pain.. and no longer wishes you to suffer. His memory.. shall be yours.. forever more.." The old women's tear glistened almost immediately in her eyes. Welling up, as her pain was made known. The young girl leaned in, and kissed her forehead. She whispered. "Never forget him, Miss. Not ever.. " She turned, one of her fellow peasants open a slat on the cart, and drew forth a small figurine.
To the eye, it resembled a carving of one of the Purple Dragon Knights. The young woman took this figure from her fellow, and offered it to the older woman. "For Jacob.. for his memory.. that it may always ring true within your heart." The old woman clutched the offered figure, weeping. The young, raven haired lass smiled warmly.. and kissed her forehead again. "Let this trinket, help to ease your pain.. let it remind you always, of what Jacob was.. " She removed her hands from the woman's face, her eyes holding hers for a moment. "Let it ease your burden.. yet never let him be forgotten."
As the older woman clutched the figure to her chest, she wept.. openly. And others wept with her. Hands coming from all around to comfort her. Not a single dry eye in sight.
And so they came. In each village, or city they stopped at, one remained behind. Always offering council. Always offering gifts of remembrance.
From a mild distance. Three eyes watched. Three eyes felt, and understood the depths of sorrow those who the young people helped, through words, and gifts. Knew it, as a lover knows their beloved. Three eyes, that did not weep.