Kathryn sits outside on the porch, taking in the cold night air and drinking a mug of warm cider and pecking at a plate of beans and pork. She doesn't seem to have much of an appetite tonight, and is quiet and thoughtful instead, wondering about the events of the day.
She reflected on the Dwarf who had died in the fight-courtesy of a deadly sword blow from a Ranger sort. The man seemed to have regretted it. But, dead is dead...the Queen embraces another soul. She did not feel regret-death was merely a passage, not a book end. He went on to a better place, surely. But Kathryn was still unnerved by the severed head, eyes opened, staring into eternity.
Which was odd, right? She was the 'Prophet of the Raven Queen'-chosen by the Cult of the Raven because of the scythe-shaped birthmark on her lower left hip. She had no choice in it, and had always more or less accepted it as fate. The bones had been cast many times-and every time, they said she was important to one thing, or another-that she would do something amazing, wonderful. She should not fear Death, they said. For she was the Queens Chosen, her Vessel, her Avatar.
The prophecy stated, her life would follow the Raven Queens example-rising to great power from humble beginnings, challenging Death himself on his throne...and becoming it's Master-ruling alone, in the cold and darkness. No one was supposed to follow her...
But Kathryn never felt like any of that-she bled like any other person. She was not fearless. Her blade skills failed her, and her defenses faltered, just like anyone else.
Despite her airs, she sometimes had serious doubts about herself, and the strength of her Faith. A good example-the Dwarves had badly injured Lon, after all, while she watched helplessly-without the Clerics help, he would almost have certainly died in her arms.
Though she would never admit it to anyone, the thought of Lon dying had scared her badly. She had realized, somewhat coldly, how alone she would be if he was gone. She stilled the shaking in her hands, not entirely caused by the chill in the air.
They had been friends for many years, she and him. Lon was...quite literally, the only person in this world she truly called friend. She had sometimes wished for it to go further than mere friendship, but such things are never easy to begin.
Yes, she was quite alone. Her family was gone-they had given her up as a child, and wanted no contact now. She had met few others over the years who got over her fell reputation-for, to walk with the Raven Queen was to court death and bad luck, the Legends said. The Clergy distanced themselves from her, for they wished the Prophecy to come true-and that meant she walked apart from them. Men and Women on the streets all but ran from her visage, her dreaded Crow Cloak, as if she were harbringer of bad times to come. And, who can say she was not?
Still, for all that, Lon had greeted her warmly as he ever had, that morning. With a smile, and a merry song on the tip of his fingers. No fear.
Was Lon not afraid of death? Or did he just consider her company worth that risk? Did he know she felt about him? Kathryn had never thought to ask Lon, perhaps unconsciously fearing it would invoke that which she dreaded.
She began to eat, to take her mind off these heavy thoughts. She could not control fate-not even the Queen could, in truth-but, Kathryn could enjoy what time they were given.
That was the greatest truth of the Clergy-Live every day like it was your last. For in time, you and all the love and care for will be swept away.
Kathryn did not sleep well that night, her dreams (which were always odd) darker than usual-filled with cries of Ravens and the clash of metal-the crunch of bone, the parting of flesh.
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Topic: The Sad Thread D&D [3.5] Game -- Loot and RP thread (Read 13195 times)