Tamryn Jorandur

[Dune]

Rumors are spreading through the churches and from nobels that the body of Tamryn Jorandur was found at the bottom of the Schild Mountain. Many have been speculating that the body was heavily wounded with stab wounds mixed with magical substances. A small meeting between Balthasar and Rismal - the finder of the body - was said to have been held not long after she was found to discuss who may of done this.

As of yet, nobody knows who did it, or even why but it is known that Tamryn was somehow restored, alive and well.

[Kangleton]

Very shortly after the event transpired, an unremarkable bird takes off from its position near the mountain, heading towards Sunren's Military Ward. Circling the area of the Temple of the Triumverate, the bird awaits the inevitable entrance or exit of the esteemed Greater Paladin, Hano Fetten. As soon as his unsuspecting appearance is made, the bird unleashes a roll of parchment weighed down by a rock, falling directly upon Hano's line-of-sight. Not awaiting the Paladin's reaction, the bird flies off, leaving behind only the words scribed upon the note.

Upon unrolling the parchment, it is made clear that it was very neatly written with what seems to be a fine and
presumably expensive red ink.








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Hano,

I would hope that at this point, word has already reached your ears of what has transpired. Your ally, your friend, your lover... she was killed. Dead. It is by my grace and sympathy that she is to be found walking and breathing once more, but I hope that my kindness is not taken for granted. See this as a warning, good Paladin; a final warning. Should your lover intrude upon my goals again, I will be pushed towards a coarse of action that does not involve sparing her.

With this letter being written in the blood of the one so dear to you, I hope you can appreciate the seriousness of the matter. Have her stand down, or you shall be deprived of the one whom you love most. You now know it is within my ability, and thus, I hope you act accordingly. Call her off, like only you can, or next time that you share a bed, you will find that the sheets are tinted a very dark red.

Your friend,

-Karthus

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[Raksha]

Tamryn sits cross-legged on the meager bunk in the Temple of Helm where her body was taken after its discovery. Her armor lay in the corner, burned and slashed open; some edge had carved directly through the thickest portions of metal plate. Next to it, the shield that she seldom used had been nearly cloven in half.

A shiver ran down her spine; they had thought to bring her here to clean up for an attempt at resurrection or preparation for burial. Contrary to all expectation, her near-decapitation and the dire wounds across her chest and stomach had all healed, and shortly thereafter her soul found its way back to her renewed body.

She sits with a pen in hand, a sheet of parchment in front of her. The scritch of pen on paper fills the room as she tries to record her thoughts before they flee; wisps of a dream half-remembered.

They found me with wounds that corresponded to the damage to my armor. A blade wielded with incredible skill or great strength, and blessed by powerful magic, would both be needed to do such a thing. There was blood on my axe, so I struck my assailant at least once, but it obviously wasn't enough.

My last memory was of facing Karthus up on the mountain, and accusing him of allying with the monsters who rendered me barren. He gave that arrogant little shrug, as though to say 'wasn't me', even though he shares and approves in such acts. And standing close to me, also looking at him... there was... a man. His face is hard to recall, as though there was nothing especially exceptional about it; middle-aged, I think, or young. Stubble. Eyes hidden under a black hood, and odd armor in black -- plate over chain. Black cloak.

...What is it with black, anyhow?

He wielded a greatsword, and having delivered more than my share of greatsword wounds over my time in service to Torm, I think it might have been possible that he was the one who attacked me.

The priest told me that my wounds had bled very little at all, as though something had cauterized them -- but it hadn't been something that burned. A twisting, inflammation, as though of either negative or positive energy. The trace was too old for them to tell.

Why was he standing there? What was his purpose? Is he an ally of Karthus? I have a suspicion that the answer is 'yes', and a further suspicion that he was the one who struck me down. No Veritas soldier, no blade wielded by Karthus, could have killed me so quickly.

...the face seems familiar... I should know it. I've seen him before.

And whoever he is, if he is indeed Karthus' ally, the Veritas' position may become completely unassailable. There is none I know that could stand against such powerful skill.

And yet... is he an enemy?

She finishes her report, and looks to her glove, stripped along with the rest of her armor in the corner...

A glove that holds a thousand tiny fragments of glittering crystal, orange and red, swirling and capturing the light even in its destruction.

Who had given it to her?

Were her savior and her killer the same man?

...Tamryn muttered and pressed a hand to her temple. Another headache. Time to find some willow-bark. Or maybe a whiskey.

[Dune]

In an unknown place, Mandele sits down, taking off his armour and putting on his old hides, he pats a dead wolf laying by the campfire, which was decaying and giving off an awful smell. He looked up at the sky and sat there for a moment. Slowly, he got to his feet, walked to the tent and took a tattered book. He opened it and tore away a page, then went about finding a quill. After retrieving them both, he began to write --

Dear, Hano

What have I done... I am a changed man once again. I draw a sword to another of my fellows and strike them down. The girl, Tamryn, she did not deserve it, though I felt, it was to be done - for the greater good. I can give no excuse for my actions, nor any I believe, for Karthus himself.

I am not (the word seems to be put into the parchment much more firmly) a killer, nor am I a lap-dog assasin. My actions today may of been wrong. It was not my place to tell whether or not she was to die, it wasn't my place to judge. But I let it be known to you, Tamryn's lover it seems, that my intention today was to not kill your loved one, but I leave her with a signus, so she can only pro-long her time, before her end comes.

I am sitting here now, writing, and not knowing why. I do not know either of you, but I feel now is my time to aquaint myself with you. My deed today was under ones rule whom I believe holds true to all his words. Karthus is a good man, maybe it may take time for you to see it, but I do not want my nor Karthus' intentions to cause another catastrophe which I believe was made today. I apologise for you, on behalf of both mine and Karthus' actions today, but it is not forgiveness I ask, just understanding.

~Mandele

The letter is passed on to Hano through Balthasar. He gives a solem nod to Hano when he hands it over.

[Leaving Hope]

* A large man in blue armor is seen rushing to the Temple Barracks of the Triumvirate upon hearing the news *