Despair

[Verrath]

The panther slips into the Druid Glade, limping heavily and not putting any weight on her left front paw.

Despair ripped at Annie when she realized what must have happened.

They've got Os.... what are they going to do to him? She hurt all over from where those two Thayan brutes had beaten her to within an inch of her life. They can't.... if they hurt him, I don't know how I'll hold up. I know what Serena meant now. Perhaps I am not cut out to be a Guardian, if my heart is split in two this way - my beloved Glade on one side, the love of my life on the other. But I can't bear the thought of being without him.

Annie shook herself angrily, telling herself the tears the movement dislodged were from the pain of the bruises and breaks, not from her utter helplessness in the face of this situation.

The panther.... be the panther. The panther doesn't care. I have to heal first. And I can't despair, there HAS to be a way.... be the panther...

The large cat retreats into the sanctuary, where she curls up in a tight ball, retreating into hiding to heal her wounds, as cats will do.

[Silas North]

Bittersweet was the sound of the Wiltenholm bard's music within the cold, dusty walls of Sundren Jail. At least that where he assumed he now was. The guard's different uniform and lack of inhuman treatment against him made it clear he was no longer on thayan soil. Still unknown was the end result that awaited him and more than ever before, the bard wished not to be surprised.

Is it death that awaits me?
Is it brutality?
Is it community service?

When those doors opened once more, would a saintly preistess from the Triumvirate step within to tend to his bruises or would it be a large sweaty man with an axe, lack of diction, and eyes full of bloodlust hidden behind an executioner's mask?

Everything was forgotten. Everything meant nothing in the end. The words of thayans carried more weight than a man who had done so much good for this valley. Yes, he had done good. He was tired of being humble, occassionally doning a playful mask of quasi-egotism. He was no hero, but surely what did he do to deserve this kind of fate?! This question screamed over and over again within his mind. Beside the screaming voices came others.

Fenton telling him that this sort of thing would happen in the end. No matter what he did for anyone here, in the end he would be used up and discarded like a piece of trash.

Kathryn speaking her last words within the valley before her departure. The valley had betrayed her too and ignored all she had done and all she was willing to do.

Annie.. sweet Annie. With her voice came not so much a lesson, other than her yelling at him for being a 'woolhead' who foolishly wandered into such situations without the proper care. All that came from his mind in regards to his love's voice was the sweet promises of the family they wished to have. Was it too late for that? Was that no longer an option?

The voices of darkness, deceit, and evil were loud in this valley and the people were all too willing to hear it. They had become like the very puppets the bard used in some of his performances. Were they worth it? Were they truly WORTH saving and striving so hard for?!

The silent walls felt not so silent anymore. From each speck of falling dust and ever gentle crick-crack of their settling came mocking laughter.

We win Osclow... We win you stupid, spoony bard... We have all the money, all the power, and the stupid people in our pockets. All your efforts mean not a damn thing in the end. We have legions of minions and allies. You have nothing.. You never had anything here.

Now was not the time to give up.. He could not surrender, could NOT yield. Whether or not this valley could be his home did not matter now. All that mattered was hope... faith.. that he would see the sun again and the beautiful face of his beloved.

If nothing else, he had to let her know.. he was sorry...