Log: Broken Blade: As the Blade Turns

Date	Log	People
May 14, 2015	Log: Broken Blade: As the Blade Turns	Kyson and Godwyn

Practice Grounds

"You do not stop thinking when you meditate."

Godwyn sits on a nearby bench, watching Kyson practice. "If you stopped thinking, then you would be ostensibly dead. What meditation is, is the direction of the mind's focus toward a single point, or a single action. And after that point is reached, the focus is cast to the winds... and all is silence in the mind."

The young apprentice, though in the middle of a series of movements, answers the Paladin's comment with a fairly sarcastic tone. "Yeah - wizards know -nothing- of meditation," he begins. "Channeling the forces of arcane magic...feh, just kinda do it when you want to...not really any matter, really." The last form is halted, though not yet complete with the full form and he turns to to the woman curiously. "What...," he pauses for a moment and then returns to his exercises, "...nothing."

Godwyn chuckles. "And you do it when you want to, because you already know how to cast the spell. Subconciously. But how many days... weeks... years does it take to learn?" She shrugs. "Focus. Is everything in the beginning."

The wizardling has left his possessions back at his dormitory room for today's practice. His mood is as sour as is his tone. He seems bitter for some reason, like a lover has spurned him or he's been chided once too often of late. Finishing the first set of moves, he draws himself up into a ready stance, salutes some imagined foe and breaks the form to walk over to the edge of the field to set down his wooden blade and take a sip from his canteen.

Godwyn pats the seat next to her. "You don't look so well. Something is bothering you. Before you start yakking on about how it's nothing..." She shrugs again. "You are training with a live weapon in two days. If your mind is not in the present, you do something you'll regret."

"How do you know?" he asks somberly. "How do you know that I will regret something that I will do with a life weapon?" The tone is more curt, more cutting now as Kyson speaks. "It would not be the first, nor the last time that I've injured someone or killed a thing." He sounds rather cold about it - as though the thought of harming another were of no real consequence. "Why just the other night, some idiot of a brigand tried to grab my shoulder bag while I was passing through the docks," and that's when the cold starts to radiate off him again; like a crisp autumn breeze in summer. "...a fool's death."

Godwyn shrugs. "And you'd hurt or kill the one that was teaching you? You'd do it to yourself?" She shakes her head. "*Listen* to yourself, Kyson. If I didn't know any better, you sound like that sword."

Kyson's emotions are considerably darker than normal. Over the past few weeks he's grown more adversarial and emotionally sensitive about certain topics. He's lost all concern with doing 'whatever it takes' to accomplish his goals in life. His tone is cut throat, his attitude is ruthlessly pragmatic. Though still 'lawful', one might argue that he's started down the darker path of neutrality."

Godwyn takes in a breath. "All right... look. I'm sorry I said those things. If you'll forgive me, maybe we'll get to the bottom of this. I have a few questions... but you need to be honest with me."

"So now I'm being -dishonest- with you?" he asks acerbically. "And you need to -ask- me to be honest?" The wizardling's behavior is definitely a bit 'off' - as though he were just looking for conflict to exploit. "I don't think there's anything to get to the 'bottom' of... but if you wish to ask your questions, I will not stop you."

Godwyn's tone doesn't change. "How long have you been around that sword fragment. I need specifics." His anger doesn't bother her, because it's not his.

Kyson shrugs, "Since before I met you..." his answer, though short, doesn't really reveal much. It's been nearly - what - four or five weeks maybe a little more? The boy bends to retie his boot lace so that they will not start flopping as he walks - and walking is what he intends to do. From all appearances, the apprentice already has one foot outside of the practice ring; leaving for... something.

Godwyn nods. Leading question, evasive. It's definitely affecting him. "I know that. That's not the part I wanted to hear." Before he can respond, she presses with the next question, her tone still even. "Have you been hearing things from the weapon? Voices... suggestions, things like that?"

Animals, often predators, can snap their heads to face a threat with such speed that it's nearly impossible to see. One moment they're looking one direction and the next their head has swiveled to look another. Kyson's head snaps to Godwyn as she mentions 'voices' though he does not immediately respond. His face, first flushed with anger, quickly fades into the cold resolve of steel. He's not about to tip his hand just yet but she's definitely stepped on something. "Paladins can detect a falsehood when spoken, yes?" he asks in answer.

Godwyn smiles... and this one is sad. "I don't have to detect it. I have a weapon that speaks to me about compassion and mercy. The question is... what does yours say when you don't think you hear anything?" She glances at his right boot. "Last question... who is it that you want to kill so badly?"

"Is it so evil, Althean, to correct that which has been mistaken - to put into order what chance has made chaotic?" The young man's words are calm, even and icy as he speaks. "That which was once thought to be true has now been shown to be a lie. All that which has been built upon that truth is, thusly, also a lie." He continues and tries to reach for a sword that is no longer at his hip and does a feint to adjust the fall of a pouch at his belt - a poor attempt at a cover but an attempt none-the-less. "So do you destroy what has been built...or the lie?"

Godwyn nods. "An interesting philosophy. And one that isn't yours." She reaches for his right hand and takes it. "Let me remind you that not only is that weapon very much alive, but it's true nature is being shrouded by traces of necromantic energy. The traces of, if I am not mistaken, the very same sword that *broke* it." She shook her head. "Do not proceed any further down this path. Leave it at home, lock it away, do something else. Give it to Aldean when we go to Selentia. One thing is for sure, I'm not letting you carry that around any further..."

She sighs. "Because I don't want to lose you to it."

As the paladin's hand takes Kyson's own, there's a flash of cold that strikes out at her. With the chill of an arctic gale and the teeth of a glacier, the cold is palpable if only for that moment of contact. When she mentions that she's not letting him carry the blade any longer, the boy yanks his hand away from her and takes off on a sprint away from her; calling forth muttery words of magic with each step.

Godwyn sighs. "I'm going to need some help... some very, very big help." She closes her eyes. "Matron guide me... what should I do?"

<Symbolic imagery>

Kyson is the youngest of three children. He's the youngest in the family - youngest by far. He's the only one in the family - the whole village - who was capable to learn magic.His mother -never- showed the blade to anyone in his entire life. When he left their small village, she gave it to him wrapped in the tattered, blood-stained flag of Rune and said "This is your legacy". Now what -lie- would make a -son- want to kill...but be unable to kill the person who lied so he takes it out on everyone else?

Godwyn's eyes flashed open for a moment. "Never... never showed it to anyone else, and then gave it to him. But."

Godwyn gasps. "It's the wrong one." She gets to her feet. "That's not even the sword we're looking for! Its companion is somewhere else!" She grits her teeth. "Kyson... you're in more trouble than you think."

Godwyn glances toward the last known direction that Kyson ran off in. "Gone. Probably the same illusion that was on the sword. Couldn't hear him, so he levitated." Only reason she knows this was because she'd had the spells used on her. "He's going for the sword. The sword is in his dormitory. And his dormitory..." She lowers her head for a moment.

Godwyn nods and gives a piercing whistle. "Argent Fire!"

The boots she's wearing will not do. She needs the speed of a blink, a flash of lightning. And it just so happens that she can ride the closest thing to lightning there was. Her faithful friend appears next to her and she leaps onto his back. "Come on, we have a soul to save! RIDE!"

They didn't move... they vanished. It was just that fast.

<Academy Dormitory>

Kyson was assigned a room in the north dorm on the second floor; room 22. He did not have much with him except for a large wooden chest that his father had made for him for his Name-Day present. His room was small, only the length of two full staves on a side, with a pair of windows along the north wall. Glass windows were not something that he was used to as glass was too expensive to import all the way up in Blackbriar. His bed was surrounded by a thick green curtain to keep out the chill come winter but pulled back as it is early spring. A writing desk and a chair were provided for him where he spent several hours in study.

And... it looked like she'd gotten here first.

Godwyn sighed and got to work. "If i were an evil, necromantic sword that wanted to kill everything that didn't agree with it, where would I be..."

The room looks well-maintained; probably cleaned and ordered daily by Kyson before he leaves. The bed is made, his books are stacked and the window is partially cracked to let in a faint breeze. The only thing that even partially looks out of place is the large wooden chest by his bed. Rather than being perfectly squared against the wall and the bed it's slightly askew - as though someone hastily opened and closed it.

Cloaks, an extra blanket and the odd bit of clothes are scattered hazardly within the trunk - a complete opposite to the condition of the room. Mixed in with the clothes is a stray corner of old, blue cloth; the color of Rune's flag?

Godwyn picks up the flag. "All right, time to find out just how much we've been lied to." She moves over toward the bed and unfurls it.

The banner of the Kingdom of Rune; resplendently embroidered with golden thread (in some design that the staff won't tell me). The edges of the banner are old and faded - which everyone has seen and immediately disregarded as 'just a wrapper'. When unfurled upon the bed, however, the banner reveals its truth. Upon the center of the four-foot long banner, burned into the fabric, is a large, black skull.

Godwyn grits her teeth. "Thulite. Someone wants Rune to suffer, and they're using us as the conduit."

And the door SLAMS closed behind Godwyn.

Godwyn doesn't have to guess. "I can see what that weapon meant. Your parents have a lot of explaining to do, you just can't make them do it by way of the sword." She turns toward the door. "But there is an alternative... make everyone else suffer in exchange. But that's not the way... and you know it."

Godwyn doesn't have to guess. "I can see what that weapon meant. Your parents have a lot of explaining to do, you just can't make them do it by way of the sword." She turns toward the door. "But there is an alternative... make everyone else suffer in exchange. But that's not the way... and you know it."

As the paladin turns, there's no one there. Just an odd feeling of a chill in the air. Though the window may be cracked to let in a breeze; the cold starts to settle into the chamber like winter upon a lonely, shadowed valley.

Godwyn glances around. "Oh... so I did make it first, did I?" She smiles, and it's entirely placid. "Shame, that. You almost got us... now how do I break you for good, you bastard?"

Silence. Cold and silence. The room starts to grow darker though not exactly abnormally. A cloud or something must have crossed in the heavens, blocking the sun from the window but it's enough to remove just a hint of the warmth in the room. Breath appears as the paladin speaks; suggesting that the room has dropped to the edge of a winter's morn. fA voice passes in the hall; or one would expect. The muttering of a student or master passing by - except that the muttering doesn't seem to fade from hearing. The muttering is a hushed, whispered voice coming from no real location but definitely within the room.

Once voice...then two...and then three...then...more...the sound grows in volume and number until the room should be filled with people gabbering at a formal reception.

Godwyn chuckles and takes in a breath...

"SILENCE, FOUL DEMON!"

As the paladin commands the 'demons' to be silent, a chorus of tiny voices gasp in surprise. "Listen," they mutter, "She's going to say the words..." in a perfect rendition of the common tongue. Like rats in the walls, they scutter and scurry so that they're never directly in front of her for fear that she might see through their veils and smite them with her holy power - the voices speak in an oddly unified chorus. "He doesn't want your help...Althean. He trusts only the One now..."

Godwyn stands still, entirely calm. "Your voices, as you can tell, do not work on me. He's still young, impressionable. But the Matron shows me the truth. I know it's not going to be a simple thing, but I WILL bring him back. You however... will not be there to see it."

She takes in another breath. "Face me or face the concequences!"

GAME: Godwyn casts Challenge Evil. Caster Level: 13 DC: 16

From the shadows, a glob of flesh with eyes and only the faintest suggestion of a form emerges to challenge the paladin. Its body seems more formed out of a lump of hot wax or tallow than actual skin with large puddles clinging to it that threaten to spill forth their putresence at any moment. A floul stench fills the room - that of rotting meat.

<Image: http://tinyurl.com/kmyhya7 >

Godwyn whirls her weapon over her head... and strikes once, cutting deep into the foul thing's chest. She whirls... and a second strike removes its head. She flings the gore from the mithral blade and returns to her relaxed stance. "You may want to reconsider. NOW."

As the first of the blobish creatures is struck down, two more leap from the shadows at Godwyn. Their tiny claws, nearly cat-like, rake and scratch at the woman's armor but can't find purchase in flesh. They fall to the ground and scramble to jump upon the paladin once more.

Godwyn almost chuckles. "Was this the best the Iron Hells could send? This is almost funny!" She closes her eyes as they leap again. "Matron guide my sword, to strike the unrepentant." Her weapon glows in her right hand. Then, she waits.

Godwyn whirls her blade above her head. "Not..." First swing, splat. She spins and cuts again. "...even..." She eviscerates the one behind her. "...a challenge." She flings the tainted blood from her blade again and looks around for a cloth. "Now then, to find out where Kyson's gone..."

The small minions of evil were quickly dispatched by the paladin. They were no match. In fact, the only thing that they managed to do was ... to delay her.

Which Godwyn has realized already. "I really do need to get moving... but first." She picks up the flag and tucks it into one of her bags before putting her sword and shield back in their places. "Cesran needs to know we've been duped. Later though." With that, she made her way out of the room... and toward the academy's front desk. "Masters, where has young Kyson gone? I need to get to him before something terrible happens."