The Death of A Poem

[Pahoran]

The Death of A Poem
Frost 14 Year 120

Pahoran was sitting cooling his heels waiting for his appointment. The white winged Avialae was getting feeling a bit uncomfortable and also beginning to get a bit board. The first part was because he was out of his armor and was in regular civilian clothing. He just wasn’t used to not feeling a layer of protection around his flesh. He had been wearing armor of some type since he was a child. The second part was because he had been sitting in this chair for close to half an hour now. While it was true that the young man had been a tad early, not that early.

Pah sat with his wings wrapped around himself like a type of cloak. He sat there rigidly, but his eyes looked around the room taking it all in, unfortunately there wasn’t anything new to take in. Just as he was giving serious thought to leaving he heard a door open. His eyes ice blue eyes shot towards the change in the room and took in the arrival of a new person. The young man had seen a few of the servants while waiting, and he could quickly determine that this young lady wasn’t a servant. She was dressed in a pink gown of some flimsy cloth. The dress was clearly designed to excite the male viewer with out showing anything. The problem was that this woman to the young man’s eye didn’t have enough meet on her. Then there was her face. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to do there. As she was covered in the stuff. Pah decided it must be a rich person thing.

She came across the room and looked down at Pah with appraising eyes. It was the same type of gaze that his father got when he was judging an animal to see how it would best be used. Pah’s icy blue eyes were enchanting, but they really came into there power when he wasn’t happy. The warmth of his humor evaporated and the ice color of his eyes became frigid. He didn’t like being viewed as a side of beef. He just started at the woman his lips a thine line. After a moment she actually glanced into his eyes instead of roaming his body and she seemed to start. Then a smile flashed across her face and she spoke.

“I am sorry, Pah was it.” She said in a voice that was intended to be sultry but just was breathy. Pah really wondered how much time practicing she had waisted to sound like that.

Pah nodded his head with military precision. “I have been sent by Professor Charlo to help with some edits.”

“Well I am glade we have that clarified.” She said blinking at him. Pah wasn’t stupid, he had grown up around a large family who lived in wagons, and around a lot of horses and cows. He understood where she was trying to go with this, but he was here to do a job and that wasn’t part of it. The young man had done his share of flirting with girls in his time, but this just wasn’t his way. Evidently she realized he wasn’t so easy to tempt because she raised and eyebrow but motioned for his to stand. “Follow me.”

Pah stood collecting his writing tools and followed her out of the door. They were quiet as they moved farther into the house. “My brother wasn’t pleased that the Professor didn’t come himself.” She said.

“The professor had papers to grade.” Pah said honestly.

“You don’t have to defend him to me.” The woman whose name he hadn’t yet gotten said. “You are the poor soul who has been tricked into this.”

“The professor said Lord Zadrique’s work was second rate, and he has given up trying to teach him.” Pahoran said bluntly. He wasn’t sure the extra coin would actually be worth this. He kept going though as he wasn’t a quitter. His response produced pearls of laughter from the painted beanpole who was most likely the daughter of the house. Pah while listening suspected that he was actually hearing the real her in the laugh.

“So you came knowing it was terrible.” She looked at him again “I didn’t give you my name. Charlotte.”

“It’s nice to meet you Charlotte.” Pah said nodding his head. “I am here as an editor not a critic.” He didn’t feel that he should really encourage this woman. Pah really wasn’t sure what the girl was up to none of his sister would have behaved this way.

Soon they entered a study that was well fake was the best word Pah could come up with. Everything in the room was real but while it looked like a study it looked exactly how you would expect it to look. There was no deviation which said to the young man that the room wasn’t really used. The only thing that seemed out of place was the person actually occupying the room. Pah fought to control his expression as he focused on the man in the room. He was a fellow Avialae with brown and grey wings and was dressed in some sort of robe. The young warrior stood there as the young woman tapped her brother’s shoulder. “He is here.”

The other Avialae stood up and turned and looked at Pah with a condescending tilt of his face. Pah sighed and waited for a moment and then spoke. “Hello Lord Zadrique. I have been sent by Professor Charlo to help with some editing you requested.”

“The slithering scoundrel has abandoned me.” Pah’s temporary employer said still pausing dramatically. Everyone just stood there looking at each and finally Zadrique dropped his pose and stood up. With a resigned tone he said to the ice blue eyes editor, “it’s on the desk. Spelling and grammer only.” Pah bowed his head as the young Lord and then Lady of the family departed the former giving him a disgusted and hopeless look while the later checked him out one last time.

Alone Pah sat down and started on the poem in question. Before he began editing he read through the whole piece. It was a poem in the form of an epic. That wasn’t the problem with the piece, the problem was that the writer chose a elvish of poetry pattern that frankly only worked with the Vallenor language structure.

Once the young man had finished reading he returned to the first page and began the long and tedious work to make of fixing the mechanics of the poem. Pah began to carefully write work corrections after crossing out bad spellings or adding necessary grammar marks or scratching out part and writing adjustments.

While the young man recognized the style he didn’t know it very well and so couldn’t really offer any suggestions to make it flow better he was beginning to see the professors issues. The epic in question was about how the Synnekar Avialae broke away, which while a good subject was one often done. The ice blue eyes looked at the shelf next to the desk. The only shelf in the room that looked like books had been read and a simple glance of the titles he could identify at least half a dozen titles with poems or written stories recounting the event.

Pah did what he was being paid to do and corrected spelling and fixed the grammer. It still took a good chunk of time and he was grateful that he wasn’t expected to fix the piece itself. He had some ideas as he read but knew that is tried to start fixing it he would be here for days. He did realizes that while he like writing he felt the story would be better told, even in verse then in poems.

Pah had sensed both of the younger members of this family peaking in from time to time, the brother and writer didn’t hang out long. The sister though would stay longer in the doorway.

Once Pah was done he stood up and packed up his quill and then used a cloth to clean some of the ink on his hands. He was pleased with his work but was ready to do something else. He looked up as the door opened. “Are you done?” Came the question from the lordling.

“Yes. The corrections have been noted.” Pahoran’s voice was professional as he resisted the urge to tell the writer some of his thoughts. “If you don’t need anything else.” Pah said leaving it hanging.

The white winged man was dismissed with a wave of the poets hand. Pah quietly left the room and then keeping an eye out for trouble in the form of the young lady of the house Pah slipped out the way he had come with plans to report back to the Professor.

[Paragon]

“Oh! Oh!” There was a brief exclamation of surprise as an elder woman tried, in vain, to prevent the fall of a stack of scrolls in her arms. A strong breeze had wafted through the street as Pahoran exited the estate. As the scrolls fell to the ground, she sighed heavily before crouching down to begin gathering them up once again. Once the scrolls rolled across the ground, bouncing lightly before coming to a stop in front of Pahoran.

“Well, you’re already late, Gale. What’s a few more minutes?” One by one she continued to pick up her bundle of scrolls. The woman cast about for the last one before her eyes came to land on first it and then the towering Avialae warrior it had come to sit in front of. She blinked at Pahoran for a moment, seemingly taken aback by his presence.

“Oh my, stars above! You gave an old woman a bit of a fright there, young man.” She laughed nervously before wobbling to her feet. She was an older human woman with grey hair. Her attire was humble and while worn, looked to be in good repair. At her hip was a satchel upon which hung a bouquet of dried flowers. The clink of glass hinted at the presence of bottles inside. She smiled at the young warrior. She gestured to the scroll at Pahoran’s feet.

“Would you mind handing that to me, young man?” The woman adjusted the bundle of scrolls in her grasp, letting the bulk of them rest on her hip. She extended her hand for the scroll.

[Pahoran]

Pah was lost in thought as he stepped onto the street. His ice blue eyes still seeing the lines of poetry he had just read. He was thinking it might be good to pick up some more of the elvish languages so that he would be knowledge about such writing.

It was then he heard the sounds of someone struggling. His focus returned and he found himself staring at an elderly human woman who was losing the struggle with a pile of scrolls. The important text clattered to the ground and the scrolls went rolling.

With a mutter of her own tardiness the elderly woman began to chase the scrolls. One of which came rolling up to booted foot. Kneeling down Pahoran’s hand wrapped around the scroll and she stood up still holding it as the old lady bustled up to him chasing the other scrolls. The handsome lips turned up at corners in a half smile. His eyes also danced with humor as the older lady almost ran into him and only just realized that he was standing there.

“You can have it back, but how about I carry those for you at least until you get to your destination.” Pah said and instead of handing over the scroll held out his arms so that he could take them or even just a portion of them. “The name is Pah and I have the time and maybe we can get you to your appointment sooner.” He said with a smile.

[Paragon]

The lady blinked at Pahoran in surprise as he offered to provide her with assistance. At first she looked like she was going to turn the young man down. After a moment’s hesitation, she relented and handed over her bundle of scrolls to the Avialae warrior. It was considerably less of a burden upon Pahoran than it was in her arms.

“You’re very kind, young man. Pah, was it?” She smiled up at him, pressing hand to the top of her head as she regarded him with kind eyes. “My, if you aren’t the spitting image of…”

She shook her head. “Nevermind. Just an old woman remembering something from a long time ago.”

Adjusting the satchel at her hip and smoothing her skirt, the woman straightened herself.

“Gale.” She offered the young Avialae a slight curtsey before gesturing for the young man to follow her. “I am on my way to the Commons. One of the healers who runs a clinic there asked me to pen a few things for her. Bless me, I had hoped to get these to her a lot sooner but fate decided otherwise.”

She chuckled and waved a hand as if to fan herself as she was still a bit short of breath after having to scramble after the scrolls.

“Do you do much reading, Pah? You look to be a learned young man.” She walked at a brisk pace, avoiding bumping into people even as she turned her attention to the towering Avialae. As they walked, a few people waved to her which she returned with a cheerful smile. They neared a kiosk that was selling mugs of hot tea and small bean buns. The woman touched Pahoran’s arm and shuffled up to the kiosk.

“Two bean buns, please.” She looked the warrior over once more. “Actually, make that three.” The vendor chuckled. As Gale gave the man a few coppers for his goods, she accepted the three bean buns and handed one of them to the young man.

“I’ll hold on to the other so your hands are too terribly tied. Eat up, young man! I won’t accept no for an answer. It is the least I can do for your kindness.”

[Pahoran]

Pah watched as the older woman debated about accepting his help. In all reality he was fine with either decision, he didn’t mind helping the struggling woman, but he could appreciate wanting to handle it yourself. Eventually the decision was made, and the clearly not top secret scrolls where handed over. With another smile the handsome young man collected and secured the scrolls. It was true that they weren’t the easiest things to always carry, wanting to roll as they did.

“That is correct.” He said confirming her repeat of his name. What followed though took him by surprise as she commented that he was the spitting image of who. Pah didn’t think he was a spitting image of anyone in particular but he certainly looked a lot like others in his family. He was new curious as to who she was going to say. Pahoran titled his head and smiled as she tried to dismiss it as the ramblings of an old lady. Pahoran had a healthy respect for older people. His grandparents were still as sharp as ever even if they were physically slowing down. He wondered if this lady knew someone in his family.

“It is nice to meet you Gale.” He said and gave as good of a bow as he could while holding the scrolls. Then they were off like a shot, yeah this wasn’t a woman who was slow. She might be old be was one of those people who didn’t let age define her activity. She was a scribe of sorts he quickly realized and actually found he enjoyed the quick pace feel of their walking through the streets. He spoke in response to her question. “I do read a lot. My parents introduced all of us to books when we were young.” He smiled, “Though I have to confess I prefer to read stories and poems to treatises.” His father Pah was sure hadn’t ever read a poem.

The warrior didn’t miss the friendly reception Gale received as she moved through the streets. She was also well known, a key fact as sometimes old people became forgotten, but no she was well known and was greeted with friendship. Pahoran made note of each of these observations. As they paused for a snack, Pah waited patiently as she made the purchase. He smiled and his eyes filled with laughter as she insisted that he have one. Pahoran actually found people refusing other people’s generosity as a bit rude. The young man couldn’t really have explained it, but he felt they were all connected, and that these gives and takes were part of it. He could help carry her stuff, and she had a spare coin to feed him. They both got something they wanted and it was a pleasant experience.

The young man handed over a few of the scrolls so he could eat with one hand. His ice blue eyes looked at her and he took this chance to speak. “Thank you. Don’t worry I would never turn down food.” Well that wasn’t entirely true, but close enough. “So do you do a lot of transcribing, or write some of your own stuff.” He asked and paused as she answered. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Then he had to ask. “My mother and grandmother would be horrified by my rudeness, but you mentioned that I looked like someone you used to know.” He said his eyes truly interested even as he had some crumbs on the corner of his mouths from the snack he was eating.

[Paragon]

“Books are windows into worlds. That is what my mother used to say when I was a girl.” The old woman gave a fond smile as she reminisced on a memory from her childhood. “Whether it is a poem written to enflame the passions of the heart, or a story told to inspire the imagination, or a text chronicled to teach generations that come after us the wisdom of what we’ve learned. Books are a treasure and the writing of them is a sacred thing.”

She handed over one of the bean buns and carried a few of the scrolls so that Pahoran could eat with ease. She slowed their pace so that they could enjoy a more leisurely stroll and to allow Pahoran to savor the food instead of merely scarfing it down. At Pahoran comment regarding food, the old woman laughed.

“Good! Food is a wonderful thing. Though, I am far too fond of sweets.” She whispered this in an almost conspiratorial tone before taking bite out of her own bean bun. When Pahoran asked his question, she chewed her food for a few moments before swallowing and answering.

“I am a historian, mostly. A chronicler of events as I see and understand them. Sometimes I write more poetic things. But mostly the ramblings and nostalgia of an old woman.” She chuckled and waved the matter off as though her musings were of no importance.

When Pahoran posed his question, Gale looked up at him. Her eyes were intense as they studied him closely for a moment before her expression softened. She turned her attention to the street ahead of them. She offered Pahoran his second bean bun before nibbling on what remained of her own. When she spoke, her voice was filled with the breathy reminiscing that only the elderly and wise displayed.

“He was a brave man. He was no Avialae, for sure, but he was tall and strong. Then again, I was a wee little girl when I met him. Everyone seemed a giant back then. He saved my mother and I from death.” Gale’s eyes softened more as she stared out into the distance, lost in memories. “We traveled with him. He inspired those who he came across. A terrible darkness arose in the far east, a darkness he chose to travel to and fight. I am told he gave his life to defeat that darkness and I am grateful for his sacrifice.”

Gale took a deep breath and smiled brightly at Pahoran.

“You remind me of him.” Gale paused in her walking, looking up and down the street that they had come to. “Ah! The clinic shouldn’t be far from here.”

[Pahoran]

Pahoran had to grin at her description of a book. In his minds eyes he could remember visiting the library in the citadel, most of which was full of histories, or treaties on various subjects, but his mother would always select a book of stories, or a well written history that she would bring back and read to her children. Though most of his life had passed since that time, he still remembered those gatherings fondly. It had influenced his approach to books since then. When ever he could he would check out books and consume the contents before he had to return them.

It was one of the few times Pah wished he had more room, so that he could buy his own books and keep them with him. He was even aware of some of the books he would buy. His gaze looked at the woman even as the memories of his mother and stories played there. “I have always enjoyed reading books, but I have almost wanted to write them as well. My parents made sure I had an understanding of history, but I found some of them nothing more then a list of ‘and then’. I always thought people would learn better if it was written as story, more like the way life really is, or at least with some spirit involved. I have wanted sometimes to try writing like my grandfather would tell stories of years past.” Pah came to the hear and now and laughed out loud. “Wow my mother would laugh to hear I want to write. It was pulling teeth to get me to write my essays.”

As they walked companionable, talking and munching Pah found that he was very much enjoying their conversation. Pah did catch that she was a history who wrote histories. The young man wasn’t particular embarrassed by what he had said earlier. He had learned history from books, they had been educational, but he wouldn’t demean this woman by trying to backtrack. Even her comments did imply she felt there needed more then dry lists. “I find people’s ramblings more enlightening then just a list.” He said with a shrug. “While I don’t always agree, they at least make me think about things which helps you learn better.” He then grinned again. “If you don’t mind I would be interested in reading some.”

Pah listened as she spoke of a mighty warrior who had gone off and fought a evil in the east. It reminded him of the times he would sit with his grandfather and listen to similar stories of there ancestors. His eyes were thoughtful again as he said. “I will let you get to your appointment, but if you don’t mind I would like to visit some more about this hero you remember.” He was thoughtful. “Maybe we could try tackling it into one of those poems.”

[Paragon]

Gale looked to Pahoran as he expressed interest in visiting the story of the warrior from her childhood. She came to a stop, staring up at the young man with a soft smile. Knowledge entered her eyes. The look she settled upon Pahoran was one that was filled with the quiet happiness of an elder, proud to see the legacy of the younger generations unfolding, but also the sadness of one who had seen a great deal of suffering in her years.

“I have a feeling you already know his story.” The old woman took one of her scrolls. She extended it to Pahoran. “You have a road ahead of you, Pahoran. A road filled with many obstacles. Stand tall. Be brave. But most of all, never lose hope.”

Gale gathered up the rest of her scrolls, taking them from Pahoran except for the one she had gifted to him.

“When you find yourself in need of an old woman who knows her way around a quill, you can find me at the Antiquities Society.” She smiled then looked about, tucking her scrolls under one arm, she rest her hand upon her head to hold her hat in place. With a wave to Pahoran the old woman began cheerily making her way toward her destination.

Upon opening the scroll case, Pahoran would find an older piece of parchment that showed signs of age at the edges but was meticulously preserved otherwise. The seal upon the paper was that of a blazing sun at the center of which rest a sword whose blade was wrapped in a helix of flames. The symbol of the Dawnmartyr Order. Upon looking up from the scroll, Gale would be nowhere in sight, having been lost to the bustling crowds of a busy city.

Off Topic

The scroll gifted to Pahoran bears a symbol commonly associated with the Knights of the Dawnmartyr. The text of the scroll, however, is written in Draconic, a language not commonly spoken or practiced except by very learned scholars and of course, dragons. He will need to decipher the text of the scroll to discern its secrets.

[Pahoran]

The Death of A Poem
Frost 14 Year 120

The young Avialea was surprised when the older woman handed him a scroll. His ice blue eyes looked with surprise at the generosity and at her cryptic response to his question. Pah felt a shiver run down his spine at her gaze and wondered if maybe he had given something away. He smiled at the woman as she collected her stuff and walked away. Pahoran watched for a long time his eyes curious as he held the scroll in his hands and gentle tapped with a finger. He felt that he was mostly likely safe as he hadn't said anything and based upon what she had said before indicated that she had respected the knights. He also hadn't said anything specific. He still though he better watch what he said more closely as it could get him in trouble.

Turning away eventually Pahoran rolled open the scroll and glanced at it, and didn’t recognize it but that didn’t bother him. His history had taught him that often useful things were written but others in another language. Today Pahoran didn’t take to his wings but instead just walked as he returned to the professor who had sent him on this assignment. His thoughts pondering about what he had just heard and learned.

He also wondered where he could find someone who could read this without giving away any family secrets. Or maybe there were family secrets within that scroll. Pah was aware that while his family had taught him the goals and laws of the knight he was aware there was more that had been sacrificed to save what they could. He wondered if maybe this held some of those lost lore.

[Paragon]

R E W A R D S

Name: Pahoran
XP: 10 XP, not for magic
Requested Lore: +10 of your choosing.

Loot: A scroll written in ancient Draconic, a language that is considered frustratingly difficult to translate. Who knows what secrets it holds?