AC320-Tribute
It's been a while since I could hold my head up high
It's been a while since I first saw you
It's been a while since I could stand on my own two feet again
It's been a while since I could call you
But everything I can't remember,
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means
It's been a while since I could look at myself straight
And it's been a while since I said I'm sorry
And it's been a while since I've seen the way the candles light your face
And it's been a while but I can still remember just the way you taste
“It’s Been A While” Staind
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
“Tell me again why I have been dragged here,” Sarevok growled as he stalked through the street.
Jarran sighed. “Surely you can tolerate being away from the island for a short while. It is for Anomen, after all.”
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
“Oisig assured me that we would be pleased with it. Besides, how long can it take to dedicate a chapel?”
Keldorn gave a low chuckle. “You should get out more, lad. Something of this magnitude will draw high-ranking church officials from all over Amn to speak, even though they would not have known Anomen if he passed them in the street.”
“Hmph. Then I will be close to a door so that I may slip out if this becomes tedious. I do not like leaving my son for so long," Mazzy said with a frown.
“Now Mazzy, Maria will take perfect care of Ano. Vesper and Leona are never more than a few steps away from the little dear, so I am sure he is surrounded at this very moment.”
“I just hope we will not have to stand during the ceremony,” Aerie said fretfully. She leaned against Minsc, who put his arm around her protectively.
Jaheira said in a mildly scolding voice, “Perhaps you should not have come to Athkatla so close to your time.”
Aerie rested her hand on her belly and said, “The baby is fine, Jaheira. She is comfortable where she is and is not ready to be born.”
“She may not think so, but your body may decide differently.”
Jarran grinned at Minsc. “I hope you are ready to hear this every day until the baby is born. Jaheira is set on coming to Imnesvale to assist with the birth.”
“Minsc thinks that it is not necessary, but Boo says it is wise to have a stronger healer there.”
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings. Besides,” the druid said, her face softening, “someone of elven blood should greet her. I am not fully elven, but…”
Aerie smiled. “That is very kind of you. And my daughter will be half-elven just like you. You are the perfect person to help welcome her.”
Jaheira cleared her throat and said, “Yes, well… perhaps we should go inside.”
The group entered the main hall of the temple and was immediately greeted by the High Watcher.
Oisig smiled at them, trying very hard to appear happy and solemn at the same time. “I hope that you do not mind, but the time that I gave you was a bit early. I felt that Anomen’s closest companions should have a chance to see the chapel before the others arrive. Please, come this way.”
They followed him down a long hallway, passing other chapels as they went. As they went by these rooms, Jarran glanced inside those with open doors. What he saw made him silently agree with Sarevok’s assessment. The statues were invariably of warrior-priests or paladins, their weapons raised high, with expressions that were either stern or proud. Somehow he had difficulty in seeing Anomen in that manner.
At last they reached their destination. Jarran’s hopes raised slightly, for the room had a peaceful air that seemed to encourage quiet contemplation. There were two objects draped in red cloth, large symbols of Helm prominently stitched in gold shimmering in the light.
Oisig approached the smaller of the two and carefully removed the covering cloth. “I should explain,” he said in a reverent tone, “that it is the custom of Helm’s church to create our altars from the armor of great heroes. When you brought us Anomen’s body to prepare for his funeral, we preserved his plate mail for that purpose.”
Before them was revealed a carefully crafted altar. A slab of a stone formed the base of the edifice, with a depression running the length of it to help hold the armor in place. Jarran felt a stab of emotion, a flash of the pain he had felt when his friend had been struck down. The mail was exquisitely polished but, except for rough edges that had been smoothed, it was in the same condition that it had been when Anomen died. Every rend, every slash, every crack that the abused armor had suffered was still intact. The bard heard a sharp gasp behind him from Mazzy.
Oisig glanced at her sympathetically. “I had to argue most strongly for the armor to be left as it was. Many of the senior priests wanted it to be mended and the damage rendered invisible. But I felt that sacrifices should be preserved for future faithful to see. Our path is not an easy one, and those who wish to serve Helm should be aware of what may be asked of them. Too often heroes become mere symbols, and their pain and suffering is forgotten.”
Jarran could see the wisdom of the High Watcher’s views, but it was still a shock, especially for those who had not seen the priest’s death. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Keldorn’s lips trembling. In the center of the torn breastplate was the holy symbol that Helm himself had given to his priest, and at the armor’s feet were the two halves of Anomen’s riven shield. The entire altar was a mute testament to the violence of the knight’s death.
Oisig set the first cloth aside, and went to the second draped object. He uncovered it, saying with a smile, “I believe you will approve of the sculptor’s work.” His smile widened when the companions murmured in surprise. Jarran felt his mouth fall open. This statue was unlike anything that he had expected.
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
He felt unable to resist the urge to approach the statue, dazzled by the details. There was the curl of hair that so frequently freed itself from the knight’s helmet and spilled across his forehead. And how could the artist know that Anomen wore his belt at that particular angle? And his face… the statue’s face was full of the same tender compassion that he had so often seen from the same perspective, looking up into the face of his friend. Jarran felt tears come to his eyes, and judging by the sniffles he heard he was not the only one to be moved.
Imoen was circling the statue, inspecting it from every angle. She suddenly gasped out, “I… I don’t believe it! Look at this!”
The others crowded behind her, and Jarran let out a gasp of his own. He could not believe what he saw either.
The injured paladin wore Sarevok’s face.
It was unmistakable. The warrior was looking up at the priest, his expression one of trust and friendship. At least, that was how it would appear to anyone who had not known the two men.
The bard moved to where he could see both faces and was overwhelmed with the subtlety of the artist’s work. To strangers, they would appear to be a devoted healer and a grateful patient, but for those close to the pair, their love was shining like a beacon. Jarran blinked his eyes, but that did not prevent his tears from escaping.
Sarevok whispered, “How… how?”
Keldorn rumbled, “Not how… who?”
Oisig said gently, “I was hesitant when the sculptor approached me and said that he wished to donate a statue to the temple, but once I saw the work, how could I refuse? I have never seen such a masterpiece.”
Jarran cleared his throat and said, “But who, Oisig? Please tell us.”
“He wished to remain anonymous.”
“Why? Who wouldn’t want to take credit for this?”
“Someone who was afraid that people would laugh at it.”
Both men turned in surprise at this comment. Jarran said in astonishment, “Aerie? What do you know about this?”
“Everything. Minsc carved it in our barn.”
“Oh, Minsc…”
The ranger was blushing furiously. “Boo said it was a nice statue, but Minsc was nervous. I have carved much wood, and many holes in evil’s heart, but never stone, and never a person.”
Valygar shook his head in wonder. “So that is what you were keeping locked away. I wondered what the secrecy was for, but I assumed you had some surprise planned for your wife.”
Sarevok looked from Minsc to the statue, then back again. “My friend, it is wonderful. Anomen would be pleased.”
“I would not have believed it,” Jaheira said as she looked at the sculpture. “They almost appear to be breathing.”
After many more compliments had been paid and more time spent admiring the fine craftsmanship, the High Watcher left them to finish the preparations for the ceremony. A few young priests entered the chapel and replaced the cloths over the statue and altar. The group politely waited for them to leave.
When the door closed behind the novices and the companions were finally alone, Sarevok sagged onto a bench and began to weep. Minsc’s face twisted in concern as he said, “Do not cry! Minsc did not mean to make Sarevok cry again, not after so many tears.”
Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
A Cappella Part 320 - Tribute
Started by
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, Jun 04 2006 12:57 AM
12 replies to this topic
#3
Guest_Cel_*
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Posted 04 June 2006 - 10:55 AM
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
Time's fun when you're having flies, eh?
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
At least it's not Lathanderite statues.
“I just hope we will not have to stand during the ceremony,” Aerie said fretfully. She leaned against Minsc, who put his arm around her protectively.
Jaheira said in a mildly scolding voice, “Perhaps you should not have come to Athkatla so close to your time.”
Aerie rested her hand on her belly and said, “The baby is fine, Jaheira. She is comfortable where she is and is not ready to be born.”
Elven pregnancies last longer than human ones, I take it?
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings. Besides,” the druid said, her face softening, “someone of elven blood should greet her. I am not fully elven, but…”
Seeing as birthing a full avariel seems to happen without difficulty, either wings won't be a problem or they're not present at birth.
Oisig glanced at her sympathetically. “I had to argue most strongly for the armor to be left as it was. Many of the senior priests wanted it to be mended and the damage rendered invisible. But I felt that sacrifices should be preserved for future faithful to see. Our path is not an easy one, and those who wish to serve Helm should be aware of what may be asked of them. Too often heroes become mere symbols, and their pain and suffering is forgotten.”
Jarran could see the wisdom of the High Watcher’s views, but it was still a shock, especially for those who had not seen the priest’s death. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Keldorn’s lips trembling. In the center of the torn breastplate was the holy symbol that Helm himself had given to his priest, and at the armor’s feet were the two halves of Anomen’s riven shield. The entire altar was a mute testament to the violence of the knight’s death.
This has to be the most awe-inspiring altar to Helm that was ever made!
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
He felt unable to resist the urge to approach the statue, dazzled by the details. There was the curl of hair that so frequently freed itself from the knight’s helmet and spilled across his forehead. And how could the artist know that Anomen wore his belt at that particular angle? And his face… the statue’s face was full of the same tender compassion that he had so often seen from the same perspective, looking up into the face of his friend. Jarran felt tears come to his eyes, and judging by the sniffles he heard he was not the only one to be moved.
I love the statue, and I love your description of it.
The ranger was blushing furiously. “Boo said it was a nice statue, but Minsc was nervous. I have carved much wood, and many holes in evil’s heart, but never stone, and never a person.”
Awww
When the door closed behind the novices and the companions were finally alone, Sarevok sagged onto a bench and began to weep. Minsc’s face twisted in concern as he said, “Do not cry! Minsc did not mean to make Sarevok cry again, not after so many tears.”
Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
Those tears have probably waited a while to come out, too; there is more than one kind of grief.
Wonderful chapter!
#6
Guest_Silrana_*
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Posted 04 June 2006 - 04:57 PM
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
Time's fun when you're having flies, eh?
*groan*
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
At least it's not Lathanderite statues.
I shudder to think.
Aerie rested her hand on her belly and said, “The baby is fine, Jaheira. She is comfortable where she is and is not ready to be born.”
Elven pregnancies last longer than human ones, I take it?
Yes, they take about two years.
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings. Besides,” the druid said, her face softening, “someone of elven blood should greet her. I am not fully elven, but…”
Seeing as birthing a full avariel seems to happen without difficulty, either wings won't be a problem or they're not present at birth.
Any birth can have difficulties. Of course, Aerie will have a much easier time of it than if the situation was reversed, with a human mother trying to deliver a winged baby.
Oisig glanced at her sympathetically. “I had to argue most strongly for the armor to be left as it was. Many of the senior priests wanted it to be mended and the damage rendered invisible. But I felt that sacrifices should be preserved for future faithful to see. Our path is not an easy one, and those who wish to serve Helm should be aware of what may be asked of them. Too often heroes become mere symbols, and their pain and suffering is forgotten.”
Jarran could see the wisdom of the High Watcher’s views, but it was still a shock, especially for those who had not seen the priest’s death. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Keldorn’s lips trembling. In the center of the torn breastplate was the holy symbol that Helm himself had given to his priest, and at the armor’s feet were the two halves of Anomen’s riven shield. The entire altar was a mute testament to the violence of the knight’s death.
This has to be the most awe-inspiring altar to Helm that was ever made!
It certainly pulls no punches.
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
He felt unable to resist the urge to approach the statue, dazzled by the details. There was the curl of hair that so frequently freed itself from the knight’s helmet and spilled across his forehead. And how could the artist know that Anomen wore his belt at that particular angle? And his face… the statue’s face was full of the same tender compassion that he had so often seen from the same perspective, looking up into the face of his friend. Jarran felt tears come to his eyes, and judging by the sniffles he heard he was not the only one to be moved.
I love the statue, and I love your description of it.
Thank you. It seemed appropriate for him.
The ranger was blushing furiously. “Boo said it was a nice statue, but Minsc was nervous. I have carved much wood, and many holes in evil’s heart, but never stone, and never a person.”
Awww
When the door closed behind the novices and the companions were finally alone, Sarevok sagged onto a bench and began to weep. Minsc’s face twisted in concern as he said, “Do not cry! Minsc did not mean to make Sarevok cry again, not after so many tears.”
Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
Those tears have probably waited a while to come out, too; there is more than one kind of grief.
Poor Sarevok has spent plenty of time grieving, but this brought everything back. Still, he has had enough time that it isn't as painful as before.
Wonderful chapter!
Thank you. And thanks for commenting!
#8
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Posted 04 June 2006 - 07:07 PM
AC320-Tribute
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
Helmites, do that? What are the odds?
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings. Besides,” the druid said, her face softening, “someone of elven blood should greet her. I am not fully elven, but…”
Aerie smiled. “That is very kind of you. And my daughter will be half-elven just like you. You are the perfect person to help welcome her.”
How sweet.
Oisig glanced at her sympathetically. “I had to argue most strongly for the armor to be left as it was. Many of the senior priests wanted it to be mended and the damage rendered invisible. But I felt that sacrifices should be preserved for future faithful to see. Our path is not an easy one, and those who wish to serve Helm should be aware of what may be asked of them. Too often heroes become mere symbols, and their pain and suffering is forgotten.”
Jarran could see the wisdom of the High Watcher’s views, but it was still a shock, especially for those who had not seen the priest’s death. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Keldorn’s lips trembling. In the center of the torn breastplate was the holy symbol that Helm himself had given to his priest, and at the armor’s feet were the two halves of Anomen’s riven shield. The entire altar was a mute testament to the violence of the knight’s death.
When I first read this, I was a little confused, because I know Anomen lived on and used his armor (or some armor) after he was killed by the dragon. When I went back and read that episode, I saw that Jarran's power mended Anomen's armor as well as Anomen. You didn't mention it, but are we to presume that the armor became 'unmended' when they left the throne of Bhaal?
Other than that,
Oisig made a good choice, but damn, it must be hard for his friends to see that.Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
I have a little trouble picturing Anomen as you described. One arm is reaching for his chest, but the hand is upraised?
(Where's that head-scratching emote when you need it?)
He felt unable to resist the urge to approach the statue, dazzled by the details. There was the curl of hair that so frequently freed itself from the knight’s helmet and spilled across his forehead. And how could the artist know that Anomen wore his belt at that particular angle? And his face… the statue’s face was full of the same tender compassion that he had so often seen from the same perspective, looking up into the face of his friend. Jarran felt tears come to his eyes, and judging by the sniffles he heard he was not the only one to be moved.
Lovely, just lovely. I wish I could see it!
Imoen was circling the statue, inspecting it from every angle. She suddenly gasped out, “I… I don’t believe it! Look at this!”
The others crowded behind her, and Jarran let out a gasp of his own. He could not believe what he saw either.
The injured paladin wore Sarevok’s face.
It was unmistakable. The warrior was looking up at the priest, his expression one of trust and friendship. At least, that was how it would appear to anyone who had not known the two men.
The bard moved to where he could see both faces and was overwhelmed with the subtlety of the artist’s work. To strangers, they would appear to be a devoted healer and a grateful patient, but for those close to the pair, their love was shining like a beacon. Jarran blinked his eyes, but that did not prevent his tears from escaping.
Now I *really* wish I could see it. (and had a box of tissues with me!)“Why? Who wouldn’t want to take credit for this?”
“Someone who was afraid that people would laugh at it.”
Both men turned in surprise at this comment. Jarran said in astonishment, “Aerie? What do you know about this?”
“Everything. Minsc carved it in our barn.”
A wonderful surprise! But somehow, it doesn't surprise me that Minsc would see Anomen so clearly. I've always thought of him as someone who had an innate ability to see the hearts of others, because he doesn't let all the surface stuff get in the way.
When the door closed behind the novices and the companions were finally alone, Sarevok sagged onto a bench and began to weep. Minsc’s face twisted in concern as he said, “Do not cry! Minsc did not mean to make Sarevok cry again, not after so many tears.”
Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
So true, though I still feel so sad for Sarevok.
But maybe it'll help for him to know that people who come to his chapel will see Anomen as he really was, unlike all the 'proper' tribute statues in the temple.
Wonderful chapter! And yes, I cried like a baby.
#9
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Posted 05 June 2006 - 02:30 AM
AC320-Tribute
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
Helmites, do that? What are the odds?
Long boring ceremonies? Who would have thought?
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings. Besides,” the druid said, her face softening, “someone of elven blood should greet her. I am not fully elven, but…”
Aerie smiled. “That is very kind of you. And my daughter will be half-elven just like you. You are the perfect person to help welcome her.”
How sweet.
I thought so.Oisig glanced at her sympathetically. “I had to argue most strongly for the armor to be left as it was. Many of the senior priests wanted it to be mended and the damage rendered invisible. But I felt that sacrifices should be preserved for future faithful to see. Our path is not an easy one, and those who wish to serve Helm should be aware of what may be asked of them. Too often heroes become mere symbols, and their pain and suffering is forgotten.”
Jarran could see the wisdom of the High Watcher’s views, but it was still a shock, especially for those who had not seen the priest’s death. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Keldorn’s lips trembling. In the center of the torn breastplate was the holy symbol that Helm himself had given to his priest, and at the armor’s feet were the two halves of Anomen’s riven shield. The entire altar was a mute testament to the violence of the knight’s death.
When I first read this, I was a little confused, because I know Anomen lived on and used his armor (or some armor) after he was killed by the dragon. When I went back and read that episode, I saw that Jarran's power mended Anomen's armor as well as Anomen. You didn't mention it, but are we to presume that the armor became 'unmended' when they left the throne of Bhaal?
Other than that,
The armor was mended with Jarran's power, just like Anomen's body. Of course, you could ask why didn't the armor mend itself, like most magical armor does? I went by the loose rule that most DM's do, that if magical armor is damaged too severely, it is "broken". So the only thing holding the armor together and making it function was Jarran's power.
And yes, it was very hard on them. But the altar was there for future Helmites, and that is what Oisig had to consider foremost.
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
I have a little trouble picturing Anomen as you described. One arm is reaching for his chest, but the hand is upraised?
(Where's that head-scratching emote when you need it?)
The image I had in my head would have the paladin's head at roughly the level of Anomen's shoulder. So the hand that is reaching for the chest is tilted back in an upraised position. You wouldn't want him poking him with his fingertips, do you?
He felt unable to resist the urge to approach the statue, dazzled by the details. There was the curl of hair that so frequently freed itself from the knight’s helmet and spilled across his forehead. And how could the artist know that Anomen wore his belt at that particular angle? And his face… the statue’s face was full of the same tender compassion that he had so often seen from the same perspective, looking up into the face of his friend. Jarran felt tears come to his eyes, and judging by the sniffles he heard he was not the only one to be moved.
Lovely, just lovely. I wish I could see it!
Thankee.
The bard moved to where he could see both faces and was overwhelmed with the subtlety of the artist’s work. To strangers, they would appear to be a devoted healer and a grateful patient, but for those close to the pair, their love was shining like a beacon. Jarran blinked his eyes, but that did not prevent his tears from escaping.
That's one of the frustrations of being a writer rather than an artist. I can see the statue so clearly in my mind, and the best I can do is try to find the words to create the right image.
“Why? Who wouldn’t want to take credit for this?”
“Someone who was afraid that people would laugh at it.”
Both men turned in surprise at this comment. Jarran said in astonishment, “Aerie? What do you know about this?”
“Everything. Minsc carved it in our barn.”
A wonderful surprise! But somehow, it doesn't surprise me that Minsc would see Anomen so clearly. I've always thought of him as someone who had an innate ability to see the hearts of others, because he doesn't let all the surface stuff get in the way.
There is that, and Minsc has a natural talent to turn what he sees into something beautiful. I don't know how far back you have gone in reading AC, but he carved their bed. The posts look like slender trees, with leaves and bird nests.
When the door closed behind the novices and the companions were finally alone, Sarevok sagged onto a bench and began to weep. Minsc’s face twisted in concern as he said, “Do not cry! Minsc did not mean to make Sarevok cry again, not after so many tears.”
Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
So true, though I still feel so sad for Sarevok.
But maybe it'll help for him to know that people who come to his chapel will see Anomen as he really was, unlike all the 'proper' tribute statues in the temple.
Yes, I think all of his friends are happy to see him have a statue that is truly fitting.
Wonderful chapter! And yes, I cried like a baby.
Thank you. And thank you for commenting!
#10
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Posted 05 June 2006 - 04:00 AM
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
I have a little trouble picturing Anomen as you described. One arm is reaching for his chest, but the hand is upraised?
(Where's that head-scratching emote when you need it?)
The image I had in my head would have the paladin's head at roughly the level of Anomen's shoulder. So the hand that is reaching for the chest is tilted back in an upraised position. You wouldn't want him poking him with his fingertips, do you?
Actually, the part I found confusing is just the opposite. When you say that he 'seemed to be reaching for his chest', that suggests to me that his hand was in the more natural position you'd expect for someone reaching out to touch another person. It was unclear to me whether Anomen was going to lay his hand on his chest or hold his hand over him to pray--which is what is suggested by the 'upraised in a gesture' part--at least to me, anyway.
#11
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Posted 05 June 2006 - 01:22 PM
Actually, the part I found confusing is just the opposite. When you say that he 'seemed to be reaching for his chest', that suggests to me that his hand was in the more natural position you'd expect for someone reaching out to touch another person. It was unclear to me whether Anomen was going to lay his hand on his chest or hold his hand over him to pray--which is what is suggested by the 'upraised in a gesture' part--at least to me, anyway.
Ah, I think I see what you mean now. I'll think it over and see if I can brush it up a bit to make it clearer. Thanks!
#12
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Posted 18 June 2006 - 03:00 PM
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
So the entire story shifted a year into the future, or is it just for this part?
“Tell me again why I have been dragged here,” Sarevok growled as he stalked through the street.
Jarran sighed. “Surely you can tolerate being away from the island for a short while. It is for Anomen, after all.”
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
You said it, pal.
“Oisig assured me that we would be pleased with it. Besides, how long can it take to dedicate a chapel?”
Keldorn gave a low chuckle. “You should get out more, lad. Something of this magnitude will draw high-ranking church officials from all over Amn to speak, even though they would not have known Anomen if he passed them in the street.”
Keeping up appearances, begging for funding and all that.
“I just hope we will not have to stand during the ceremony,” Aerie said fretfully. She leaned against Minsc, who put his arm around her protectively.
Jaheira said in a mildly scolding voice, “Perhaps you should not have come to Athkatla so close to your time.”
Aerie rested her hand on her belly and said, “The baby is fine, Jaheira. She is comfortable where she is and is not ready to be born.”
Aerie... and Minsc... Aerie... and Minsc.... Poor Minsc.
Poor Boo. Poor baby. Uh, sorry.
“She may not think so, but your body may decide differently.”
Jarran grinned at Minsc. “I hope you are ready to hear this every day until the baby is born. Jaheira is set on coming to Imnesvale to assist with the birth.”
“Minsc thinks that it is not necessary, but Boo says it is wise to have a stronger healer there.”
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings.
I might not have experienced the 'joys' of childbirth, but... OUCH.
Oisig approached the smaller of the two and carefully removed the covering cloth. “I should explain,” he said in a reverent tone, “that it is the custom of Helm’s church to create our altars from the armor of great heroes. When you brought us Anomen’s body to prepare for his funeral, we preserved his plate mail for that purpose.”
Well, that's a bit more wholesome that the bodyparts of saints crafted into alters, I have to admit. According to the abbey of Charroux in the 12th century, they had possession of Jesus' foreskin, which was capable of, ahum, performing many miracles before finally ascending into the heavens to become the rings of Saturn.
Religion is fun, isn't it?
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
Nice and swanky...
“Everything. Minsc carved it in our barn.”
Doy? Never figured him to be the artist type.Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
Nice.
TnT Enhanced Edition: http://www.fanfictio...rds-and-Tempers
---
Sith Warrior - Master, I can sense your anger.
Darth Baras - A blind, comotose lobotomy-patient could sense my anger!
---
"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds" - James Randi
---
Sith Warrior - Master, I can sense your anger.
Darth Baras - A blind, comotose lobotomy-patient could sense my anger!
---
"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds" - James Randi
#13
Guest_Silrana_*
Guest_Silrana_*
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Posted 18 June 2006 - 03:43 PM
Over a year after the liberation of Brynnlaw…
So the entire story shifted a year into the future, or is it just for this part?
The last handful of chapters have rather... fluid timing, since some of them would be placed beyond the official FR timeline.
“Tell me again why I have been dragged here,” Sarevok growled as he stalked through the street.
Jarran sighed. “Surely you can tolerate being away from the island for a short while. It is for Anomen, after all.”
“Bah! A pompous ceremony full of frozen smiles and stifling etiquette, that is what it shall be. And I am sure that the statue will be equally pretentious.”
You said it, pal.
Oooh yeah. And I've sat through enough boring ceremonies (religious and secular) to know.
“Oisig assured me that we would be pleased with it. Besides, how long can it take to dedicate a chapel?”
Keldorn gave a low chuckle. “You should get out more, lad. Something of this magnitude will draw high-ranking church officials from all over Amn to speak, even though they would not have known Anomen if he passed them in the street.”
Keeping up appearances, begging for funding and all that.
I doubt the Helmites have to do any begging, since their church is popular in Amn.
Aerie rested her hand on her belly and said, “The baby is fine, Jaheira. She is comfortable where she is and is not ready to be born.”
Aerie... and Minsc... Aerie... and Minsc.... Poor Minsc.
Uh, sorry.
*smacks*
“Of course I should be there,” Jaheira said. “A half-avariel could present problems, particularly if she has wings.
I might not have experienced the 'joys' of childbirth, but... OUCH.
Half-avariel births are not fun. For elves the baby is bigger than they are built for, and for humans the wings can complicate things.
Oisig approached the smaller of the two and carefully removed the covering cloth. “I should explain,” he said in a reverent tone, “that it is the custom of Helm’s church to create our altars from the armor of great heroes. When you brought us Anomen’s body to prepare for his funeral, we preserved his plate mail for that purpose.”
Well, that's a bit more wholesome that the bodyparts of saints crafted into alters, I have to admit. According to the abbey of Charroux in the 12th century, they had possession of Jesus' foreskin, which was capable of, ahum, performing many miracles before finally ascending into the heavens to become the rings of Saturn.
Religion is fun, isn't it?
I've read that if you assembled all the supposed body parts of Christ, you'd have enough for ten men. At one time there was a thriving industry of creating fake holy relics.
Soft light illuminated the image of the priest. Anomen was kneeling on the ground, holding a wounded paladin across his lap. One arm supported the injured man’s shoulders, and the other seemed to be reaching for his chest. The priest’s hand was upraised in a gesture that was so familiar that Jarran felt his throat tighten. How had the sculptor known how Anomen held his hand when he healed?
Nice and swanky...
Er, swanky?
“Everything. Minsc carved it in our barn.”
But there is foreshadowing for it.
Check out Part 170. He carved Aerie a very pretty bed.
Keldorn gently patted Minsc’s shoulder and said, “Not all tears are an evil, my friend. Sometimes there is no greater tribute we can give.”
Nice.
Thankee. And thanks for commenting!
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