THe Archer's Gather

The wind blew moist and slightly warm akin to a creature from the surrounding forest. From their vantage point they overlooked the inn the forest and the approaches. The irony of what was to come not lost on Wythran as he surveyed those present.

Ciardha, Ceci the couple required. Grendel the dwarf of honor, Jerial the story teller. Ana the friend and still others caught up in the moment it occurred. He addressed each one having to raise his voice slightly over the howling of the wind on the mount. Each figure oddly shrouded in the movement of their clothing as they looked on unknowing what the archer had in store, but each oddly trusting their own intuition that harm was not to be done this day.

His steely and malformed eyes drinking in their presence he spoke to each in turn. Jerial whose eyes see without taint, whose mind is open and whose heart is true do you bear witness this day.. yes. Grendel whose loyalty to clan and home knows no bounds, whose word is bond do you bear witness today. TO the unlikely friend do you bare witness? Each in turn signaled their assent and the conversation continued.

Ciardha his face a mask, his eyes showing confusion but trust looked on.

Many reasons does an archer take his oath. Most for vengeance, some for reasons to dark to name, but others still to protect their people and shoulder the burden of the dhearow. Some of the doing is obvious as the black skinned devils scamper into the light your course obvious as the direction of the sun. While still others are more murky. When to know to help those kin who cannot see that they themselves require such help? When to now if your judgement is good enough to help them from themselves. We can only hope when the time is on us we know the difference and can see the difference.

After speaking to those gathered he whirls on Ciardha. My Cor’faenious. You walk in the darkness with the names of those needing revenge on your lips. Speak now their names so we may all know them.
The words Kara and Salvatore can be heard drifting of the hill top.
Wythran: Tell of him.

Ciardha: What can one say of one who gave their all, who lived every day to provide?

Ciardha: What can one say of the smiling face burned in your memory and the sound of a voice you will never hear again? Whose life was devoted to providing for his family, his son. His son listening for the words “You have done it right.” The sound of his foot steps as he laid the fresh kill for dinner. How can one describe the opening of the door on that faithful night as the black skinned dhearow stole in taking him from me forever.
Wythran then nodded with firm agreeance drawing a black fletched arrow over his head and turning to those assembled. You have born witness to one reason for his vengeance. Know that in his heart their wars emotions. Both for vengeance and for love. They cannot exist in him side by side for the heart is full and torn. His vow is his to decide, but in his heart room needs to be made.

With one quick motion Wythran drew the arrow across his hand slicing it twice and turning to Ciardha approaching.
Brother I offer to take your vengeance from you. Your vow will stay but your heart will have less vengeance. I offer this freely allow me to take their names into the dark on their honor and my word. Wythran then approached him.

The witnesses looked on watching saying little. Ceci remained with her back turned as instructed so nothing she did could influence Ciardha. Her presence serving as reminder of his love only.

As the archers grew together a hushed conversation ensued. Only the gods bore witness to the whispering that took place on the hill that day, but after heated debate Wythran took a step back with the words decide on his lips.
Silence came crashing in like water on a beach. All eyes were on Ciardha now each harboring their own hope in their hearts for a decision only Ciardha had sway over.

For long moments, Wythran simply locked eyes with Ciardha each understanding that regardless of his decision their brotherhood would not be torn asunder and this was his decision. Time froze as Ciardha gripped the blood stained arrow that Wythran used for his cut.

Then, with slow and deliberate motion he raised his hand cutting it. Father I give him to you were the words from Ciardha’s lips.

Slowly Wytrhan approached blood palm out and up he clasped his hand to Ciardha’s.

Borther I take your vengeance. Go to her now with love in your heart. Embrace her fully for, perhaps the first time.
No further words were spoken by Ciardha as he approached Ceci. Wythran simply turned on the witnesses saying “Thank you for coming.” And walked from the hill giving them what time they needed.

The wind blew over the mount as they dispersed the risen moon giving mute testimony to what had transpired and the small flare of life that may have taken place in the heart of an angel of vengeance that night.