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My Story Pt 1

By: HolyD

The weary cleric knocked the snow from his boots as he climbed the stairs towards the warm illuminated door frame in Whitefall. The sun had set hours ago and the Whitefall Inn was the most prominent landmark that could be identified in the combination of harsh winter winds and snow. The mountain air was frigid and difficult to breathe; he tasted the rusty flavor of blood in his throat from the exertion of the journey which began the night before. The expedition into Iron Pine Peaks had been made all the more difficult since the death of his Vaiyuu companion which had carried him from the deserts of Shimmersand. The hardy spiral horned mount was unaccustomed to the massive temperature and altitude changes from its homeland far to the south. It had survived the skirmishes of the previous evening in Stillmoor only to collapse from exhaustion on the climb into the northern mountains. Holydisciple had exerted a small amount of his remaining powers in an attempt to save the beast He knew the trip would be difficult and would require steady magical energies to make the climb into the steep mountain peaks and therefore abandoned his efforts after a short period. He had briefly thought of his teachings from years ago of charity towards man and beasts and pondered them against his sense of duty and sacrifice. He quickly dismissed them as he reaffirmed his devotion to his cause.

The main hall was awakened from its mood by the abrupt interruption of the large hardwood door swinging open to allow the bitter atmosphere to enter the comfortable room. Visitors to Whitefall were a bittersweet gift to these parts, although the mountain folk were weary of strangers they did harbor a fascination for them and their tales of far away lands. Holydiciple struggled for what seemed to him an eternity to move the heavy door closed; he was reminded that although he held the favor of the divine, he lacked the physical fortitude of a warrior. Even when called upon to fight with physical prowess he called upon divine powers to strengthen his abilities, in the flesh was no more a mortal man than those that sat in the room, eyes looming upon him. He censured these thoughts and focused on his purpose, the Mage.

Once the door was closed Holydisciple turned towards the room as it nonchalantly turned towards its conversations and low toned songs from its bards by the well fired hearth. He felt awkward as he tried to adjust from the damp icy exterior to the fiery inviting openness of the large hall. Although pious he quickly wondered of the spirits made in these lands and if they were able to warm his tired body. He moved towards the Innkeeper at the bar fully aware of the sideways stares that were upon him from the numerous circular tables throughout the hall. The three quarter robe of white with red text written in long vertical rows upon the lower half below his belt were clear signs of his devotions to the Guardians of Light. His mace felt heavy upon his right hip, a formidable weapon indeed but imbued with holy powers which made it symbol of divine power rather than a weapon of warfare. His Mathosian Steel boots trod the floor leaving muddy wet bootprints in their wake and created an ominous thud. He traversed his way towards the smell of cooked meats and ale and focused, ignoring the lingering eyes upon his body. “Awful late to be getting into these parts” said the barkeep, “you've almost reached the summit”. The clerics' mind raced from the 30 second change of wilderness to civilization and tried to think of talk other than the atrocities he witnessed the previous evening. “Aye” was all he could mutter as his eyes snapped back and forth between the bar and its' attendants face.

“what can I do for you this evening” the keep asked in a lower tone as he examined the contemplative state of the stranger that had entered his inn. Several seconds elapsed as Holydisciple adjusted to his surroundings. “Ale and whatever meat you have on the spit over the hearth over there” he stated. “Please forgive me my lack courtesy, the journey here has been long and difficult”. The barkeep smiled at Holydisciple“Well, my name is Jorgen and it's been a long time since we had the blessings of a cleric up here so please make yourself comfortable, and ignore the stares of these folks, they're good people”. Holydisciple turned slightly to observe the bright warm hearth that was the focal point of the room. The smell of exotic woods used to build the fire and the meats which were being rotated on the spit above it were sensational to the nose. He waited as the barmaid collected his order and brought it to the burly man behind the counter. He paid his silver coins and turned to look for a table to sit; the snow and ice on his face, his robes and weapon, we looked for a table to sit and was greeted by bowed heads. He focused on the warmth of the hearth, he noticed towards its left corner in the shadows a table seated only by one. He attempted to see who was seated at the table with no companions but couldn't make out the dark robed figure from afar.