Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

A dark figure in black robes appears at the now empty scene after the celebrations. His feet wade through left over pies and what not. He flickers his tongue very much like that of a snake, then places his palm on the earth. A smile appears displaying an array of spikey teeth. He lifts the palm and sniffs it gently against his face and whispers...

"Ssssso pretty"

He then continues to walk through the scene of the once had party and collects any left overs he may find and wraps them in cloth, leaving quietly

*rumors spread of the elf Celasorsan having struck the Hand, Eowiel, following a long and sometimes heated discussion, just inside the gates of Doron Amar. Eowiel is reported to have called for the rangers to take him down as he fled the village. Many arrows found their mark, but the warrior found his way into the deep forest and away. It is reported that the councilor told the rangers to bar his re-entry to the village unless a councilor was present to allow it*

After dusk had settled and the festivities finally died out, a solitary figure is seen approaching the smoking ruin on horseback. Reins bound in his hands in anger, he takes the wreckage in with a black expression that only the purest, most profound hatred could spur. Swinging a leg over the rump of his horse, he descends on the sodden ash beneath him and clasps a handful of it in his obsidian hand. He lingers for a moment, watching the ash drift between his fingers as venom-laced words drift out of his mouth.

"This I swear unto You. I shall anoint You in their tears and shape the weak laments of their wounded into a laurel for You to wear. Let anyone who would stay my hand lose theirs and all those who seek my mercy, be shown the sword."

Sevilthir Silverthorn approaches the gates of Doron Amar. In his hand he clasps a parchment with three signatures. But upon presenting the scroll to the watchmen, he is met with grim response.

One of your signaturs has been banished. His name shall not be counted.

Sev turns and treads off into the verdant shadows, wondering what Cela might have done to earn this banishment.

An elf in green stood before the statue of Angharradh for many hours in silent meditation and prayer.

*Rhys was very determined during the clean up and very exhausted after it. Showing a level of physical activity normally not made by the elf. When asked why he responded *

"I was there in the original raid, i feel reasonable for this."

He could be seen expending his magic to the most potential in the clean up. Disintegrating piles of rubble, using spells to keep his strength and endurance and even taking the shape of a giant to make the most of the clean up.

Sehlanna steps from the mists with a heavy heart, but a bittersweet smile. In her arms rest the remains of those long dead in arms. But they had saved those children. Human remains are trusted to Allison when she approaches the party, the rest are Tel'Quessir. Despite all the monsters, they had won.

With a solemn Sending to Doron Amar, she asks where these partial remains may finally be put to rest. And, whomever could officiate. Songs could be sung to each in turn.

Looking to hollow eyes of each, she stores them in honey leather with respectful care,
"You were never forgotten. It may take years, or centuries - but we do not forget our own."

Heartfelt words of the now departed Elven father still echo in her ears. He gave everything to protect those children. In a distant realm, on an unknown world, he too met his end. Not even his soul was spared.

Then her brows tense a moment, she looks up to the fading evening sky, wearily asking to the sky, expression slack,
"The father. What was his name?" Looking out to Rilae, to Celasorsan, everyone. What smiles were left just melt away. She closed her eyes and rested back her head on a tree. Only a silence carries on the wind.

Noone had even asked.

((Special Thanks: DM Venger, for the quest.))

A golden cloaked and hooded human makes his way to the bridge outside of Doron Amar. He semes to pause, gazing off towards the waterfall as though losing himself, if but briefly, in memory. He approaches one of the Elven Archers at the bridge and hands the Elf a letter addressed for Eowiel.

Green cloaked Elfmaiden stumbles from her couch at the Evrae's Jest. She flips her hood back with left hand while sparkling motes fizzle away in her gesturing right. Baggy eyes turn longingly up the stares while she stumbles up, looking a touch paler.

(Elven) "So much to do..."