Tweet
* Abbot Orlan of Helm sits and tends to his critically wounded friend, Tifton Holyguard, with deep, worried wrinkles forming in the corner of his eyes. The passing Paladin of Helm takes a shallow breath, and the Abbot wonders if it will be his last. Orlan would be angry and devastated--if he had the luxury of time for those sentiments. Instead, he is simply worried and works to keep Tifton alive.
Another seizure begins.
Tifton's body shakes with pain, and the hundreds of wounds on his body begin to bleed anew. Two bulging Everwatch Knights, twins and childhood friends of Tifton's, hold him down during the shocks of agony to spare the Paladin any additional damage to himself. The Abbot prays to the Viliant One, their father of protection and unyielding defense, their lord of duty and dedication, and with their father's blessing cocoons Tifton in healing light. The seizure subsides, until the next, and the three men look at each other with weary, aching eyes and wonder how much longer the suffering will continue.
It is the blood, Orlan believes.
The good Tifton volunteered himself and his services that past night to render a number of magical items into dust, their essences required to create a container to confine two incorporeal beings. Something was wicked within with those items, those ju-ju knives, that the Abbot should have caught. As Tifton rendered them to dust, some deep, dark, cursed part of them rejected the process and prompted an unholy explosion. Was it sabotage? The cursed dust went everywhere with shards of glass, both making their way into Tifton. The evil essences were inside him now, pulsing through his veins, wounding Tifton as fast as the Abbot could heal him.
Tifton had stood in for the Abbot, and now here he lay. Tifton had volunteered for this, in an act of selflessness and duty.
The night is long, and exhausting. Tifton does not wake. Very briefly the holy Paladin speaks, delirious in his dreams, dying in a bed of blood and sweat, and mumbles "-Mella." But the Abbot knows not what it means. *
Another seizure begins.
Tifton's body shakes with pain, and the hundreds of wounds on his body begin to bleed anew. Two bulging Everwatch Knights, twins and childhood friends of Tifton's, hold him down during the shocks of agony to spare the Paladin any additional damage to himself. The Abbot prays to the Viliant One, their father of protection and unyielding defense, their lord of duty and dedication, and with their father's blessing cocoons Tifton in healing light. The seizure subsides, until the next, and the three men look at each other with weary, aching eyes and wonder how much longer the suffering will continue.
It is the blood, Orlan believes.
The good Tifton volunteered himself and his services that past night to render a number of magical items into dust, their essences required to create a container to confine two incorporeal beings. Something was wicked within with those items, those ju-ju knives, that the Abbot should have caught. As Tifton rendered them to dust, some deep, dark, cursed part of them rejected the process and prompted an unholy explosion. Was it sabotage? The cursed dust went everywhere with shards of glass, both making their way into Tifton. The evil essences were inside him now, pulsing through his veins, wounding Tifton as fast as the Abbot could heal him.
Tifton had stood in for the Abbot, and now here he lay. Tifton had volunteered for this, in an act of selflessness and duty.
The night is long, and exhausting. Tifton does not wake. Very briefly the holy Paladin speaks, delirious in his dreams, dying in a bed of blood and sweat, and mumbles "-Mella." But the Abbot knows not what it means. *
Comment