Experimental Procedures - Richarde Thistle

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The Vandals of Rome
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Joined: Mon Mar 22, 2021 9:55 am

Experimental Procedures - Richarde Thistle

Post by The Vandals of Rome » Thu Jan 05, 2023 1:42 am

The Visitor

It was late in the evening when the visitor came to the Thistle clan.

An elderly gnome; she wore a knit shawl, cracked spectacles and moved with the assistance of a cane. She named herself Juniper and, wearied from her travels, she asked to stay with the clan for a time that she may rest and be amongst her own.

So she was made welcome. That evening the burrow was alight with cheer. The clan was large, extending to many families, and the ancient circle of Thistle clan druids dedicated to Baervan. The young and adventurous eagerly listened to stories of Juniper's travels, and dreamt of their own discoveries. The elders found the stranger learned, and respectful of the skies and stone. The forgotten folk of the clan each found the stranger kind, even warm, and in the days to come she felt a part of the family.

Juniper would spend many hours in the ancient circle of stones kept by the Thistle clan. Where the long traditions of their Druidic arts were passed on, in carefully guarded rites. She was no druid, but she was welcome to pray or meditate there. As Archdruid Gabriel was fond of saying: "the land belongs to everyone."

It was a full moon the night that Quentin found Juniper there.

The night air was cool, and still. Though the forest was never silent, it was quiet this night. Juniper was sitting cross-legged in front the heart stone of the circle, one hand flat upon it. She heard Quentin before she saw him; his ironwood armour made a heavy clacking sound. She roses slowly, using her cane for support, and turned to face him. The gnome hadn't yet seen his first century, but his expression was weighted with something beyond his years. His beard was kept to a militant trim. Juniper smiled warmly.

"I thought I'd be alone here this night. I don't think we've met before. Are you a traveler, too?"

Quentin shook his head, his expression a guarded neutral.

"I arrived only this night. My obligations to Ironhand extend to protecting the wider region."

Juniper adjusted her spectacles, humming.

"I should hope that you're soon for rest, then. You must be tired from your travels."

Quentin nodded, taking a breath as he studied the circle around the two of them.

"I am tired. But I have come to see you. Baravar must smile on you, stranger, for you wear another a face well."

"Juniper" studied Quentin, then. His hammer was peace bonded. She smiled a little too wide.

"I mean your kin no harm."

Quentin's tone hardened.

"There are many reasons to hide. Good ones, too, for the forgotten folk. But here you are guest of my clan, and safe. I will have the truth and I swear to Garl that if you mean no harm and have only Good purpose here, I will not break this charade of yours."

Juniper stepped closer, leaning on her cane; she gestured strangely with her free hand, and her tone carried with it the weight of a charm spell.

"I understand your concern. Still, you can trust me. What harm could I do?"

Quentin's hand shot up to seize Juniper's arm. He frowned deeply, his tone stern.

"Ironhand's blessings protect me from trickery like that."

Juniper tugged ineffectually against the other gnome's grasp.

"You're hurting me!"

Quentin didn't flinch.

"No. I'm not. Do away with this illusion; I have no wish to harm you."

Juniper tilted her head oddly, there was a moment of silent calculation, then she straightened against her cane.

"How does a florist end up serving Ironhand?"

This gave Quentin pause, his expression shifting subtly.

"The same reason anyone chooses to defend others, stranger. There is Evil in this world, and some of us must defend those that do not practice violence. How is it you know my peacetime profession?"

The illusion flickered and vanished. Gone was the kindly old gnome. In her place was an entity that looked much younger, clothed in a gentleman's travel attire. Her features were sharp and she might have been beautiful were it not for the predatory edge to them. Her expression was one of amusement. Quentin released her arm in surprise, taking half a step back. His reserved tone gave way to mixed and heavy emotions.

"Richarde? Wh- I looked. For such a long time, I searched. I thought you'd died."

Richarde Thistle straightened her spectacles and adjusted her grip on her cane, her tone cheerful.

"I didn't think you had any of this in you, little brother. You really fouled things up this night. But that's oka-"

Quentin cut Richarde short as he took her up in a hug, his tone filled with a relief from a years long burden.

"I'm so so sorry, Richarde. I didn't find you." Richarde shifted subtly, replying a little absently.

"I missed you, little brother. But I haven't come home, and I never will. I just needed to borrow a few memories from the elders."

It took Quentin a moment. He slowly released his sister, recovering the scrutiny he'd learned from Ironhand.

"Borrow- ? Whatever you're doing, Richarde. Whatever you've done. You can stop now. You're home."

Richarde smiled oddly.

"I'm leaving, Quentin. Don't look for me."

Quentin's expression grew pained.

"You know you have to explain yourself. To the clan. To mother. To the elders, with... Whatever you borrowed. Don't make me force you."

The witch sized her brother up, then peered about at the gloomy forest. Her tone was light.

"Sure, Quentin. Let's do it."

Quentin gestured at the way out of the grove.

"After you, then."

Richarde released her cane, and it flickered and vanished. Quentin muttered something about wizards. As Richarde drew close to Quentin he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. In that moment she spun towards him, a cloth soaked in something acrid and chemical smelling in her grasp. Quentin caught her inches before the cloth reached his face.

"Good Garl, Richarde. What is this?"

"It's for putting people to sleep."

Embittered, Quentin peered past the cloth to his sister, her arm still held firmly in his grasp. He didn't notice the knife slide from her sleeve, and didn't react in time when she buried it in his gut. Something icy seeped from the injury, his grip slackened, Richarde's apologetic smile was one she'd worn after making him the victim of a prank many times in their youth. She gave his chest a playful push and he fell backwards onto the grass, like a plank of wood. He opened his mouth, but couldn't muster words.

"That one's paralytic. You made this harder than it had to be mister mind-protected-fast-hands."

She stepped over him and removed the knife, wiping it clean on his armour.

"It also induces an exciting hallucinatory experience."

She studied the stab wound then extended her hand; the glow of positive energy lit up her cheerful expression. The icy stiffness didn't abate, but the pain lessened. Richarde straightened. She moved like a dancer towards the darkening forest.

"Sweet dreams, little brother."

SilverSnake
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Arelith Silver Supporter
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Re: Experimental Procedures - Richarde Thistle

Post by SilverSnake » Sat Jul 15, 2023 2:32 am

An amazing story. Kudos! Would gladly read more!


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