The Chastening

Farmers, guardsmen, priests, over-zealous hunters, adventurers, and drunks--anyone up too late or up too early might see, of a pre-dawn morning, a frail, hooded figure walking toward Old Skull Hill.

Never alone, he is occasionally accompanied by a golden-haired, golden-armored Dawnknight, his gaze intense and careful as they approach the hill. But most times, it’s his mate who guides him, yawning, frowning with concern, his sleepy dragon eyes piercing the morning haze as they place the two buckets and the burlap-wrapped bastard sword in their usual spots.

They fill the buckets with water and arrange the bastard sword across the hooded man’s shoulders, then they carefully hang the buckets off the sword. Finally, lifting and balancing the arranged weight, the hooded figure goes running up the hill.

Sometimes he sprints; sometimes he barely walks. Sometimes the buckets are full to overflowing; sometimes they are nearly empty. Sometimes he makes it up the hill; most times, he falters, one bucket or the other sliding off the sword and bouncing downward as he falls hard against the rocky slope.

But, each time, he stands, trudges down the hill, refills the buckets, and tries again, again, again, until, somehow, he finds a way to reach the hilltop in time to stand and rest, gazing reverently as the rising sun’s light rushes headlong across the fields, like a long lost love, toward the sleepy village.

Sweating and out of breath, the man struggles to compose himself before speaking. His smile can be seen above his beardless chin in the growing light, even beneath the hood. It seems genuine, yet it's hard not to notice his quick glance down the hill to make sure his companion can still see him from below.

Unceremoniously dropping his burden, he pulls his yellow hood back to reveal bright eyes within pallid face that looks anemic, as if from sudden weight loss.

"Hello there. My name's Cleo. What's yours?"

Cleo nods in understanding at the woman's gesture, but gives no outward sign that he recognizes the woman.

The young priest, previously possessed of a lean and wiry strength, now seems twenty pounds lighter, twenty pounds weaker. He is drenched in sweat from his efforts, but has finally caught his breath. His cheeks are sunken and there is darkness around his eyes.

But his spirits seem high as he gestures somewhat excitedly, bidding her to watch with him the gold-hued sunrise.

While her eyes are closed in meditation, Cleo takes a break from his own reverie to take closer note of her sword, her robes, her painted mask, trying to learn what he can of her from the items on her person.

Any question on his lips is interrupted by her sudden movement, and he smirks mirthfully as she makes her way down the hillside, following as fast as his weary legs will allow.

While sipping from his flask at the bottom of the hill waiting for Cleophus to regain enough breath to come back, Lucent would notice he's now not alone and would wait for him, unmoving and sporting his trademark frowny expression.

Cleo makes his way carefully down the hill, glancing at Jay with a friendly but curious look, as if to ask "do you know this person?"

Reaching the bottom of the hill, he takes a sip of water from his canteen as he watches to see what she's going to do with his sword.

Elric would be standing next to Jay waiting patiently as well.
He responds to Cleophus' inquiry:

"She is the monk sworn to silence that hath gone to the hells to rescue thine soul along with the paladin Milo."

Cleo smiles, bowing graciously to the woman, then he looks around at the little group, as if struck with a sudden thought.

He looks toward the morning sun, then back to the others.

"Then this is a perfect assemblage for what's next. Come, if you will. There is something that must be done, and now is the time."

He arranges the buckets and sword so that he can sling them over one shoulder, the buckets hanging hobo-style from one end. With his other hand, he grabs Jay's hand, and practically tries to pull him in the direction of Chauntea's temple.

"Lead on Dawnbringer" Replies Elric as he moves to aid him with the buckets should he seem to falter.
If not he'd still be within arms reach just in case.

Lucent would follow along even though he doesn't seem very convinced.

Cleo leads the little bunch, or all who would follow, into the House of Plenty. There, he first asks for Rebecca. If she is present, he inquires to her health and offers any immediate aid that he might, before seeking out any familiar cleric at the temple.

Of the cleric, Cleo requests, by virtue of Lathander's alliance with Chauntea, or by virtue of his friendship with Julia and Rwolf, or by virtue of a generous donation, the use of a font.

Urging his companions to gather around, Cleo produces a vial of finest holy water, holding it up to the tinted morn-light that beams through the stained glass of the temple. He opens the vial and pours its sun-soaked contents into the font.

Supporting himself occasionally with one hand on Jay's arm, and frequently smiling encouragement at each assembled person, Cleo recites a lengthy, ancient prayer, ritualistically troubling the holy water with his finger, drawing familiar patterns in time with his words.

Finally reaching the ritual's end, Cleo closes his eyes and utters the word "Karovir". Then he falls toward the font, supporting his frail frame with one hand on each edge of the structure as he looks into the water, silent, watching, listening.

(( DM-approved casting of Discern Location. If the use of the Chauntean font would not be approved, Cleo would have dragged everyone to the Dawnspire and done it there.))

The priests and priestesses of the Chauntean temple lower their heads and pray, surrounding the Dawnlord in a circle.

Light bursts from the font, bathing Cleo's fevered cheeks. He lifts his head, still clutching the font, muttering "no. no. not again. not---"

He stops, takes a deep, centering breath, and whispers a few words that only those assembled nearby might hear.

Then he collapses backward into Jay, still conscious but utterly weakened.

((Sending PM))

Lucent would hold Cleophus enough for him to stand on his own and then he would suggest to walk back home if he's done.

Cleo nods,  smiles a goodbye to those assembled,  and makes his halting way to the temple door.

On the way out,  noticing the new Dawngreeter, Leeora, Cleo clasps her hand and whispers in her ear:  "Lovely light of Dawn, go ahead of me to the Dawnspire and make ready. When I arrive,  we will pray to the Morninglord for life's renewal in the body of noble Trip Kindred."

At last,  he exits the temple and joins Jay on a lovely walk home.

On opening her hand, Leeora would find a palm full of diamonds.

[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], it would be some time yet before Cleo is seen back around his home.