Silver and Secrets

The lawds have mercy we finally arrived back in Drynna!
 
The last day or so after that encounter with the croc was certainly a drag, being weighed down with what awaited us back in Drynna and also literally weighed down with some trophies. Miss Enessa was kind enough to put her incessant enthusiasm for harvestin' souvenirs from our kills, to commemorate my encounter with the jaws of fate! Primarily some strips of the croc’s hide, and a tooth so large it was akin to holdin' Bayou.
 
I tentatively fished the mangled remains of my claw out from the scaley bear trap of the croc’s jaws, to find little that could be salvaged. So, I ripped the croc’s injured arm off its final sinews to sever it as recompense. Even with it dead I had a petty compulsion to trade in dealin' an arm for an arm!
 
After reporting back to Councilman Loriette upon our return, I knew the group were eager to make some preparations for our confrontation with the apothecary Miss Althia, the sister hag of Miss Barithia and Seleena. Respectively the Good, the Mad, and the Undead!
 
I noticed in our senseless fight with Miss Barithia that whilst I got in some good shots, she seemed almost to shrug off the bullets’ impact? I wondered if the hag’s magic or fey nature made them of sterner stuff, so I checked with Lawd Raphael if there were any particular weaknesses known of the fey. Apparently the fey are susceptible to particular metals, iron and silver, which would explain the impotence of my lead shot.
 
My own collection of silver was embarrassingly sparse, especially after the undervalued payment for our services from the Council. I hope the group has learnt that the Paladins should be left to negotiate peace rather than pay. Fortunately, Miss Zenirith was flush with silver. I didn’t question how flush she came to be, hopin’ to save myself from any more of Miss Brightflame’s charges to make amends with Gods who’s shrines Zeni may have emptied again!
 
She was eager to part with it once I explained that I was gonna use it to make bullets in case things went south with Miss Althia. As the group agreed to reconvene at the Eagle’s Landing after pursuin’ their various leads and enquiries. Miss Zenirith and I headed straight there as her kitchen’s fires would be ample enough to melt the silver down. I managed to work through the considerable impurities of Drynna’s silver to craft 15 bullets, each one a potential mote of someone’s fate to come.
 
I loaded them into Bayou, but I hoped she would stay silent tonight.
 
We stopped off at the shrine to Melora outside Miss Althia’s hut, in the hope that some grace or goodwill would be found. The youngsters were one upping each other with their donations of silver, but with every increase made their gestures became as empty as they were expensive.
 
When we finally arrived at Miss Althia’s she seemed ready to expect us, as if death or worse, the truth, had come to her door. She knew that we knew of her secret and her sisters in the swamp. It was a tense discussion, Lawd Rapahel didn’t help when he seemed to pull a move of showing off his piece and promptly got called out by Miss Althia. The irony of that move was not lost on me!
 
As I listened in, all I could think of was that I hoped we wouldn’t fail her like we did with Miss Barithia. And when the details of her sisters’ final days were told, I saw a grief in her that couldn’t be faked, and found her actions to help Drynna were genuine.
 
Minds eventually calmed in the roaring sea of emotions within that hut, and we found a way for Miss Althia to stay true to herself. Someone who was born a monster, but would live to not die as one.
 
However, Miss Zenirith was not at peace with what had transpired and stormed out. Once the group had finished, Miss Althia graciously offered us to stay on her land, and we utilised the remnants of the bandit camp that we cleared from her premises when we first visited her and Drynna. Miss Brightflame and I went to see where Zeni had gone, and found her flipping the two silver coins she had just offered to Melora’s shrine when we got here.
 
Miss Zenirith had me stumped, so far it seems she is as wild and tempestuous as the seas she must have sailed as a child. Her eagerness for craftin’ the bullets was now clear, when she seethed that Miss Althia had not paid her penance for her inaction to stop Barithia. She tossed her silver on the ground as she stormed off after she said her peace, but carryin’ on like that won’t find her any.
 
Miss Brightflame and I were left to fumble over what to do with her silver. Ceri asked me if I could remember any words of thanks or prayers for Melora, to make amends for Zeni’s "desecration". I was still stumped by the volatility of Miss Zenirith’s reaction to remember anythang; plus, most times I've mixed with Melora's merchants and militia have involved a lot of fine grain libations from the Abundant Terrace. Damn those circle of moonshine druids!
 
Hearin’ Miss Brightflame describe Miss Zenirith’s actions as a desecration, and seein’ Ceri try to pray on Zeni’s behalf for forgiveness and mercy against any retribution from Melora, gave pause for me to reflect on what little I actually understand of her faith, and consider how it can drive her actions.
 
Ceri knows that I struggle with faith. I don’t have the same strength and passion that she has to devote herself fully to a God such as Bahamut, but that dear angel still accepts me for the (self-described) uncommitted heathen that I am!
 
From what little I understand, Bahamut’s faith is communal in practice, and it was no surprise to see that Ceri would carry the weight of prayers for others on their behalf. But a part of me worries that the further she travels on this path, the heavier her pilgrimage will be. I just wish I had the spiritual strength to share the load with her.
 
As for prayin’ for mercy, my impression over the years I’ve served in the Silver Talon’s militia, is that the Platinum Dragon’s preachers are as passionate and yet stern as the militia’s drill sergeants. I hope Ceri forgives this reductive and poorly informed hypotheses on theocracy, but I wonder if naturally worshippin' a Platinum Dragon you would be more inclined to expect great fiery wrath to rain down from above if a God is displeased?
 
Could that be why she is cautious to make amends and apologies for Zeni, in case we incur Melora's wrath? Although with those 2 weeks in the Root Garden, I'd say we're probably even with her! I'm no Gladekeeper but it may be wise to say that the Wildmother is used to wild children, and she may have the patience to see how Zeni blooms in time.
 
Whilst Miss Zenirith was forceful in her point, it wasn’t any less valid. Granted Miss Althia did plenty of help for Drynna with those potions of hers, but I agree she was still capable of more and could have done it. But these could be just the viewpoint of a child slave and an only child such as myself.
 
I couldn't imagine the conflict that must have stirred within Althia at the thought of having to possibly kill her sisters. Yet Miss Baritihia found the strength to do it with whatever great evil that Seleena had become. I guess we can't always act until the other has made a choice, and that the choice for Barithia to end this curse of revenge was always there for her right up until she was finally lost to the madness.
 
It was later when we were round the campfire, the good Lawd Raphael was lookin’ to begin temperin’ the trust between us into something unbroken, by sharing somethin’ personal of ours that was unspoken. When Miss Zenirith spoke, I saw where her fixation on penance came from, the injustices she endeavoured on that ship she was abducted, and abused on.
 
Her venom is justified, and I do not blame her for strivin' to enact the same punishments she faced on that Captain, who took so much from her. But if she blinds herself to consequences tryin' to beg, borrow and even steal from Gods to pursue this path of revenge rather than justice, she could become just like him. Nothing breeds more than cruelty.
 
With each confession, it felt like a circle of progressively abhorrent childhoods, and when it got to me, I couldn't compare the slights I felt when I was growin’ up in Kraghammer. I now felt that I was lucky to at least have a family that I did disappoint.
 
I covered what I have before, a little more detail on the night the woman with the metal hand came looking to sell a strange invention, called a gun. For the last 20 years, Ceri was only person I told about that night and Bayou. There’s probably more to tell about all those years, but we’ll have time for those another day. But I finally was able to share my current frustrations on the news of this Whitestone, and its brazenness that made me question keepin’ the secret of Bayou for this long.
 
Though ironically Whitestone’s own openess seems to be makin’ me more open. It was a relief to voice these thoughts, and that the troubles of havin’ that secret were of my own makin’. After our business is done in Drynna, I would like to visit there one day. This ol’ gunslinger has many questions to ask of the Lord of Whitestone.
 
From what I understand from Mr Silverbeard, Mr Hulnom was also headin’ up yonder that way. Maybe our paths will cross, and let’s see what fate will come his way if we do meet again.
 
For now, we'll see what the mornin' brings, but I think we've earned some R&R for the next week or so. I'll find some time to check on Mr Sprocksmith, there’re some interesting ideas in his other plans that might be applicable for fixin’ my claw hand. As well as some plans on makin' Bayou’s boom more silent. Although I fear makin’ the hand might be good practice for something bigger if his leg worsens…