Post by oceansky on May 21, 2018 14:09:54 GMT -5
The Sorceress of Silver can be seen in Arabel, offering help to the commoners and guards to help remember those who fell in the recent orc raid. At first, Lyn felt hesitant and strange with her presence, uncertain how to help at all. She could watch the people move and go about their business, but the grieving process was so personal to intrude upon that she didn’t want to make herself more unwelcome than she could already be. Still though, she lingered.
She started by first going to the gates and the guards, asking if there were places she could volunteer to help. Then after receiving directions, she would go and work. Often times it was as simple as hauling stones or helping move debris. Sometimes it was with those who gather leaves and fresh spring flowers, to make memory wreaths for the fallen. All of this, she did without her arcane spells, left hand shaking and right hand branded.
There were a few times when working on the graves of the fallen someone would recognize the thin red T shaped brand on the back of her right hand, that blazed with ember like heat, and react with extreme disdain. There was a particularly loud moment when an old mother screamed at her for trying to rob the grave of her fallen son, a man who had served on the guard that day. It was on that day that Lyn backed away, pulling her hood up close over her face, her cheeks bright with shame and her eyes wet with frustration. She could only apologize and leave, after being checked by the guards and answering a lot of questions- for she had not actually stolen anything.
Eventually Lyn found her way to one of the local taverns late one evening, in Arabel, and found another way. She listened. The taverns were full of people coping with the loss, the memory of their fallen. It was there that Lyn could listen to them, offer them a drink and a few supportive words of memory. So then she took to that- if they would accept her help there, she would return to where they lead, help with a plot of land, a flower bed, a stone circle… a campfire in the night. She would share her story, and speak of what she learned of Kelemvor.
And it got a little bit easier. The weight lifted only slightly and the brand still softly glowed.
She started by first going to the gates and the guards, asking if there were places she could volunteer to help. Then after receiving directions, she would go and work. Often times it was as simple as hauling stones or helping move debris. Sometimes it was with those who gather leaves and fresh spring flowers, to make memory wreaths for the fallen. All of this, she did without her arcane spells, left hand shaking and right hand branded.
There were a few times when working on the graves of the fallen someone would recognize the thin red T shaped brand on the back of her right hand, that blazed with ember like heat, and react with extreme disdain. There was a particularly loud moment when an old mother screamed at her for trying to rob the grave of her fallen son, a man who had served on the guard that day. It was on that day that Lyn backed away, pulling her hood up close over her face, her cheeks bright with shame and her eyes wet with frustration. She could only apologize and leave, after being checked by the guards and answering a lot of questions- for she had not actually stolen anything.
Eventually Lyn found her way to one of the local taverns late one evening, in Arabel, and found another way. She listened. The taverns were full of people coping with the loss, the memory of their fallen. It was there that Lyn could listen to them, offer them a drink and a few supportive words of memory. So then she took to that- if they would accept her help there, she would return to where they lead, help with a plot of land, a flower bed, a stone circle… a campfire in the night. She would share her story, and speak of what she learned of Kelemvor.
And it got a little bit easier. The weight lifted only slightly and the brand still softly glowed.