An Effort At Peace

Through darkened streets and alleyways, Aragos makes his way through Alexandria. He does not stop, or falter in his path. Only slowing when someone makes to cross his path. His purple eyes are set and determined, yet also traced over with the edge of hopelessness. The paladin of Vardama passes several bars. Their open doors and tempting warmness do not sway him tonight. He passes them by one and all.

Eventually he makes his way not to the river, or to some forlorn corner of Alexandria, but to the docks which are nearly abandoned at this late hour. The sound of joyful reverie can be heard from the sailors whom are enjoying their shore leave. Aragos however, seems unaware of them. His steps carry him not to any of the ships, but rather to stand on the end of one of the piers.

Only then does he stop. He stands there, looking at the moon spilled out over the cold and empty ocean. The gentle splash of waves against the dock. It seems as though, for a time, as though he has brought himself only to wile away the hours. To let his mind empty of its thoughts and smell the - admittedly somewhat unpleasant - scent of the ocean which calls to so many.

At least, it seems possible... Until he steps off the pier, and allows the pull of gravity to exert itself upon the weight of his body and the armor he carries - into the midnight waters.

GAME: Telamon casts Telekinesis. Caster Level: 20 DC: 24
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+sorcerer+9: (20)+20+9: 49 

It's easy to think of Telamon as a dandy. A foolish fop. And to an extent he even agrees with that assessment -- he doesn't quite fit the mold of an adventurer or a hero, at least at first glance. But present him with a problem, a peril, and the facade falls away to reveal something far more imposing, despite his five and a half foot height.

As Aragos steps off the pier, a voice calls out, "Dimma sa, irhandi namsita!" Something whispers through the air, and before Aragos can drop into the icy water, he is caught in the grip of a powerful force. Small sparkles, like fireflies, floating around the man, as Telamon steps out of the shadows, his eyes glowing softly with starlight. "Her light upon your path, Absolution -- but I think we need to have a word."

With a gesture, he draws the paladin back onto the pier.

There is little - nothing really - that Aragos can do against the force which drags him away from his desired fate and back to land. Despair turns quickly to white-hot rage, and purple eyes light upon Telamon's sure image. "How dare you!" He growls the words, struggling uselessly against the magic that carries him. "Cease your magics upon me; I desire no word with _you_ Lord."

Out of the night comes a pair of beating wings.

The touches down on the end of the pier where Aragos had stepped off, but it does not stay a bird for long. For it forms into a quite-tall man of elven stature, an even six feet tall. He wears clothes of a fanciful fashion like Telamon's typical penchant for clothing, although he chooses a long and sleek overcoat today to go on top of his waistcoat, dress shirt, and well-tailored pants. He's let his long dark hair flow today, and he might even be mistaken for a prodigiously tall mul'niessa--

Were it not for the fact that his violet eyes glow like mana-lamps of their own accord.

"Telamon," the man says, adjusting his black gloves with a little tug at the hem, "I'd say hello, but you're rather busy, and it seems that this fellow here might need my words more than you do." He looks at Aragos. "Good evening, sir."

GAME: Telamon rolls detectBS: aliased to sense motive: (16)+29: 45

"No. Not just no, but -hells- no. What is wrong with you, sir knight? You should be celebrating, or praying, or whatever paladins do when they've saved a life and created new hope." Telamon gives Aragos a shake telekinetically. "Yes, she had to go live in the settlement. Alexandria -does not like werewolves-, Aragos, no matter how innocent she was. Is it fair? No. But it's her best chance for happiness."

When the bird swoops down, and transforms, Telamon stiffens, and there's something indefinable that seems to tremble around him, as though he's preparing for something. Then his eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring, and finally he relaxes a bit. "Grandfather," he says, offering a bow. "My apologies, I am currently trying to keep this fellow from exploring the harbor."

Aragos is still hovering in the air, so there's little he can do but stay there even as he's shaken by Telamon's spell. "I know Lord very well, that she is better where she is than here." His purple eyes narrow on the sorcerer. "You've no right to tell me what I should be doing."

His gaze flickers to the unfamiliar man who has dropped out of the sky and then he blinks. "The only words I have need for are the ones that will free me of my imprisonment." Aragos grits out irritably.

Grandfather, as he has been identified by Telamon, looks between Aragos and Telamon, and... He sighs, looking at Telamon. "May you let the fine gentleman down onto the pier?" he asks. "It sounds to me as though this man has just tried to plunge himself into the depths over... The life of an innocent saved, and that speaks to a torment that builds under the skin."

He looks squarely at Aragos, glowing violet eyes meeting purple ones. "I should know," he says. "I have lived with such a torment for most of my days. May we speak on common ground, should my grandson-in-law set you down?"

Telamon looks quite frankly at Aragos. "As long as he's not hells-bent on trying to take a swim again." He gives Aragos a pointed stare, before setting him down again, and the flickering sparkles disappear, releasing the man from his arcane grasp.

"It's good to see you again, Grandfather, even nowadays." His lips curl faintly. "It may be winter, but the home is still warm and well stocked for it."

Aragos only inclines his head to this 'grandfather' figure once, and then settles himself somewhat once he is placed on the ground, a frown set onto his features. After a moment of listening to the two converse, Aragos snorts rudely. "Are you always this rude Lord?" His voice is touched with disdain. "To leave your grandfather unintroduced to another?"

"I will introduce myself," the man with glowing violet eyes states, looking at Aragos a moment before holding his gloved hand out for Aragos to shake, like he's not wholly sure of how to do so. It's another peculiarity to his demeanor and appearance. "I am called Alud'rigan. I am Telamon's relation by marriage, as he has wedded to my beloved granddaughter for..."

He peers at Telamon momentarily. "Only a year in this realm, correct?" he asks, before turning his eyes back onto Aragos. "But you may call me as you wish. Older friends of mine liked to call me Rigan. Now then. Shall we get you to a place that will furnish us with warmth, food, and perhaps a warm drink to rid mortal bones of the chill of winter's grasp?" There's a small smile on his lips, like there's an inside joke there.

Telamon snorts at Grandfather. "Ah, you don't mark time as we do. It's been over a year, though as I told Lana, it seems like it's always been like this. Such is the nature of a happy marriage, I believe."

He tilts his head at Aragos. "He understates the nature of his connection to Lana. But if you want that story... I think he's got the right idea. Let's go find a place with hot food, good drink, and a roaring fire."

Aragos stares at Alud'rigan for a moment before finally shaking his hand. It's oddly polite for a man who's been endlessly rude to Telamon thus far, but he almost immediately ruins this moment of politeness by negligently lifting a hand and waving it dismissively. "Go and enjoy your warmth, your food, your drinks, and your fire." His eyes settle on Telamon. "I'm sure you have more important things to do now with family in town then attend to me."

Grandfather smiles broadly, violet glowing eyes settling on the man before he places a hand on the back of Aragos's shoulder, turning himself to be at Aragos's side. "No, I do not," he replies. "Not at this moment in time. Give a lonely old man some company, yes?"

The last sentence is, of course, a falsehood in that Grandfather hardly looks like 'a lonely old man', save for the touch of light wrinkles on his face. "Come now," he says. "Telamon's paying for it all." A light mischief in his eyes and voice for volunteering his grandson-in-law to foot the bill.

"Let's go to the TarRaCe," Telamon suggests with a grin at Grandfather. "One, they have good food and drinks. Two, they know me. Three, it's also got baths if you need one." He shakes his head. "You know Grandfather, I'm amazed you even understand money. You were the one who took that bookstore job at one point just so you could get advance copies of Crimson Pen novels."

"Speaking of introductions, Grandfather, this man is called Aragos, an Absolution of the Harpist. I'm sure he'd be pleased to make your acquaintance if only to comment on your shared eye color, if he wasn't in such a mood."

Purple eyes look at the midnight ocean. What is one more night? One more night he doesn't deserve given over to drinking his woes away. What is one more night? When he doesn't know if he'll have the courage tomorrow to take that fateful step again. He sighs and shakes his head. What is the purpose of a name when the one that bears it will be gone tomorrow?

"It seems you should attend your grandfather more closely Lord, if you have left him so lonely." His words are lacking any warmth or even coldness. They echo hollowly in the night. "I am certain the Lord can occupy you well enough, so leave and let me be."

"The loneliness is my own curse," Grandfather replies gently and evenly. His hand is still on Aragos's shoulder. "Caused by many, many years of isolating myself from others. It is... hard, to grow older. I have watched my wife pass on into the Halls, and my children, and their children... And the more distant they became, the more I tried to convince myself that it was fine. That it was all fine."

Grandfather's violet eyes, despite the fact that they glow, are gentle things. "It was not. And because I was alone of my own accord, I had no one to talk to. Just the birds in my woods, just the unceasing passage of time. And many were the days that I counted that passed. I have been pushed into talking and visiting more. It requires time and effort, simply because of where I am from--and the fact I do not want to impose on others, a thing that many a man suffers from. When we are called upon always to be strong for others--we do not know how to be vulnerable. To do so is to allow the chance to be hurt."

The hand on Aragos's shoulder tightens a little in the grasp. The odd thing is that it doesn't strictly feel like... _hands_ underneath the gloves, even though they look like hands. There's something shaped at the ends of the fingers that feels more than a nail, at least. "Come with us to the TarRaCe. Telamon has deep pockets, and I have time for a new friend, Aragos."

"You might as well, Aragos," Telamon says almost breezily. "We're not going to let you do something foolish. Whatever your flaws are, whatever your past is, you might as well sit down with us and discuss it." He looks to Grandfather. "My esteemed sire-by-marriage has a -lot- of experience with love and loss. Why not unburden your heart? He won't mock you. Hells, I'm not going to either, but you could do worse than listen to him."

"Which reminds me, Grandfather, if you're going to be in town for an extended period, will you be staying with us, or with Verna and Aura? Obviously, either one is perfectly acceptable."

"In truth, I hadn't quite planned to stay the night," Alud'rigan responds to Telamon. "I suppose I'll trouble you for a stay. Lana and I would both benefit from such a thing."

He looks at Aragos. "You do not have to talk, should you not wish to," he says, before he leans in a little closer.

"Drowning... is a horrible way to go, and I have often found... that there are always those who would miss you and hurt for you in the aftermath." His voice is a sober thing, a thing that speaks of pain he knows well. Untold years of sadness.

Finally Alud'rigan pulls away a little, but his hand is still on Aragos's shoulder. "Let us find a warmer place than this pier," he says to Telamon. "Lead the way."

With Grandfather taking Aragos in hand, Telamon feels a little more comfortable about taking his eyes off the man for the moment. "It's in the Colosseum district. We'll cut through the Theater and Lower Trades." That done, he begins to lead the other two men off.

"The TarRaCe has kind of an interesting reputation. Adventurers who bag certain edible critters can get them turned into meals. I'm kind of mixed thoughts about that myself, as some things are distinctly not good to eat. But they do a brisk business, and some of the more common beasts invariably wind up in the stew." He shrugs and grins. "Well, ankheg is pretty tasty, and those bug-bastards are always causing trouble for farmers in the Heartlands."

"It's not the worst way to go." Aragos says curtly to Auld'rigan, not bothering to lower his voice. After that though, he says nothing more. Not entertaining any part of the conversation which Telamon offers. He walks more like a man still tracking his path to the guillotine than one who's sharing a drink.

"It's not," Alud'rigan replies, and then there's a little quirk on his lips as he offers, "but it would be a shame to see your handsome features bloated by the water."

The hand on Aragos's shoulder slides a little bit closer up the neck. "If you'll permit me some gallows' humor, that is, and if you do not, then I do apologize for my remark. I often find those who have contemplated death often share a terrible--and terrific--sense of humor."

"Better to not go at all. Life is precious, and even though we measure it out in days and years, why not savor it, enjoy it?" Telamon tosses Grandfather an exasperated look at his sally, before continuing, "There's peace when the Harpist finishes her judgment, but in the meantime one should strive to make sure she looks upon you favorably."

He pauses, then continues, "After all, you may yet have tasks to do, and the Harpist does not always keep those who come to her Halls."

Aragos's eyes slide toward Alud'rigan and he offers a light snort. "I am a paladin of Vardama, gallows humor is perhaps the only kind I have left." The paladin in question quietly shakes his head. "What purpose is there in seeing the benediction of a deity you know will grant you no favor Lord? Or in attempting to curry that which you do not deserve?"

He stares ahead again. "I have what little shreds dignity remain me at least, I will not spend them in a fruitless attempt at begging."

Alud'rigan can't help but to have a wider smile at Aragos's snort. It's something that is not a look of despair from the Vardaman paladin. "I have not an idea as to my own end should I die," Alud'rigan admits. "I do not know where my soul will go. The gods would know that I have committed many a 'sin', things considered crimes in most noble societies. It is something that... I should not ever have to worry about. Yet I do. Some days it keeps me up at night."

He smiles at Aragos. "If I needed to sleep, that is. Now. What's your favorite dish? And don't say a mouth full of ocean water." There's the dark humor again.

Telamon dryly replies to Aragos, "Well, I have been dead once. Very briefly. So it behooves me to at least try to make nice." He looks quizzically at the paladin. "You puzzle me. You are, presumably, a knight of Vardama, and yet you seem torn as to whether you should be at all. Clearly she has some faith in you, as you possess some of her power."

Walking along, he looks at Grandfather. "You should experiment with it, Grandfather. There's something to be said for sleep in a comfortable bed. Granted, I am somewhat prejudiced on the matter..."

Aragos eyes Alud'rigan a bit, uncertain as to what to make of his words. "I wouldn't presume to know what the Gray Lady has planned for any of us." The man shrugs. "What purpose food for the dying sir? None at all."

However directed their path to a house of libation and bath, Aragos has no lack of determination that his Lady should find him sooner rather than later. "I am not torn as to the purpose which is given to me Lord. She wants me to live, and so I do despite myself. Every night my purpose finds me and bids me live to see another morning. It is not the purpose which I question, but the living... Even if She seems so determined that I do so."

"Comfort, Aragos," Alud'rigan responds quite easily. "There are those who are dying who wish for one last meal. A beloved one's cooking. I remember... my wife, when she was dying, part of what she wanted was my food. I made all the cookies and the pies that she could ever want."

Alud'rigan's eyes go soft. "It's the same thing with every member of my family that's come to stay with me over the years," he explains. "All of them--they've all wanted comfort in the end. It is part of my reason to live. I live to make others happy. They make me happy in turn."

As the unlikely trio steps into the TarRaCe proper, Telamon gestures to the server, and points to a nice private booth, tucked away. "Well, if you need a reason to live... aside from sharing a meal with those who wish to help you... consider this, sir knight."

Sitting down, Telamon steeples his fingers. "While Bela's situation was unfortunate, you made the best of it and then some. Do you think she would be happy to learn you were sliding into despair like this?" He stares at Aragos with those starry, fathomless eyes. "Remember, she will want to send letters, and see you visit. How does throwing yourself into the ocean jibe with that?"

The paladin glances again at Alud'rigan, a flicker of something flashes through his eyes but he looks quickly away. "Perhaps the difference is having the ability to want." The words are almost soft. "I've had my last meal Sir."

He can still remember it. The taste of food which is mere memory now. Everything since that day has tasted like ash and liquor.

The restaurant is warm, and Aragos takes his spot without a single care or thought. Instinct directs him to a place where he can defend himself, but he ignores it to take the first seat he can reach. It hardly seems to matter if he can see people coming and going. Telamon's words are needles, but he's numb to the pain of them. "She is a child Lord. She will forget me quickly enough in the pleasure of joining with her new family. She will think to write me perhaps once, and will mean to do so again... but she will not. Bela has a new life to live, and I am not a part of it."

Alud'rigan takes a seat next to Aragos, almost smugly occupying a space in the booth next to the man, as though intending to box him in. "You know," he says, "that's what this is all hinging on, no? The wanting."

His violet eyes peer at Aragos's purple ones. "The act of wanting, that is. It almost sounds to me you don't permit yourself to want for _anything_. Has it never occurred to you that there might be people who want you in some capacity in their lives? There's always someone. Perhaps even a secret admirer." Here his lips quirk.

Drinks begin to arrive, and Telamon waits for the server to depart before continuing, his voice a trifle annoyed. "Grandfather makes a point there. There are still people who need you. I know you've done good work in the past, Aragos."

Telamon picks up his glass of wine, studying it. "It may not shock you to learn that Otho Redwater didn't learn a damned thing from his little disaster with wine and elementals. He tried to sue me after that." He waves his hand as if brushing away a fly. "It was thrown out, of course. But the point is that you were there and you saved lives. How many more lives will you save in the days and years to come? How many more children need a champion?

Interestingly, the paladin doesn't seem to mind nor care about the closeness of the other man at his side. Then snorting at the idea that he has some secret admirer. He doesn't touch the cup brought for him, but there's an edge to his eyes, like a starving man seeing a meal set before him. He clearly craves it even if he doesn't reach out for it. "There's always someone else." He mutters to Telamon. "There will always be someone who needs saving. Always another person that will be there to do so. If I am gone, someone else will take my place."

The man to Aragos's side takes up his own drink. Alud'rigan doesn't sip right away, however. "Aragos, forgive my needling... But do you really have _no one_ in your life? Not a single soul who has tried to get close to you? Not a single friend in the world? I doubt you do. Everyone has someone in some capacity."

He finally drinks then. "If not, may I make a bold suggestion?"

"Of course there's always someone in need of help. But why let the task fall to others? You are in good health, in the good graces of the Harpist. I can understand a man having to let his burdens pass on to a younger generation, but this isn't the case here."

He leans towards Aragos, speaking softly. "I understand you are haunted by grief and remorse. Not even the gods can change your past, sir knight. But you -can- change your future. None of us are the people we were a day ago, or a year. The question is what you want to be."

Unfortunately, Alud'rigan is not wrong. There is someone. Yet Aragos shoves the thought into the back of his mind with all the force he can. Bending to his addiction and drinking deeply. It never clouds his mind as quickly as he wants or needs it to. His purple eyes narrow at Telamon, and his words are full of harshness, bitterly laced with a sharp edge. "I want to be dead."

The cup is nearly empty already when it touches to the table and he waves his hand negligently at Alud'rigan. "Make your bold suggestion sir. What's the point?"

"What if there was someone who has been in your shoes before?" Alud'rigan asks, looking keenly at Aragos. "Someone who would like to know your company for some time in friendship, someone who could show you a good time for a while? If you're intent on dying anyway, you might as well have some semblance of fun. Experience things that you've never experienced. And if you've still the desire to end it all at the end, then I wouldn't stop you. In fact, I'd find a way to make it comfortable."

Alud'rigan smiles just a little wider. "Because I would be that someone, and as I said before--it would be a shame for you to become a sea-bloated corpse with looks such as yours. _What's the point_ of saying no to me, mmm?" Mirth dances in those violet eyes. Telamon flicks his eyes to Alud'rigan, and he starts to say something, then goes quiet. Instead, he covers his little hiccup by taking a sip of his wine, before hmming at it. "A decent vintage. I need to speak with Irshya though. That wine tasting isn't going to organize itself."

"But to get back to the matter at hand, sir knight... you've had a dozen opportunities. And I don't really believe you want to be dead. You think you -deserve- death, for whatever past sins are on your soul, but want it?" He sits back. "You might as well take up Grandfather on his offer. I assure you if nothing else, he does know how to have a good time."

There's a flash of surprise on Aragos's face. He twists the thought in his head, his shoulders slightly hunched. The last of the glass slips into his mouth and down his throat. "Fine." What has he got to lose. There's a twist of a bitter smile on his lips. "But I'm not staying here. I can't."

He shoves himself to his feet, needing to be out of this place. "And I'll hold you to your word Alud'rigan." Purple eyes flash toward Telamon briefly. "Keep an eye on the girl Lord. I don't expect that we will meet again."

"It appears I'll have to take a raincheck on my meal then, as well," Alud'rigan says to Telamon, only half-apologetically as he rises up and places his hand on Aragos's shoulder. "As it appears we're off into the night, mmm? Send my regards to Cor'lana."

He adds in a lower tone for Aragos, "I intend on holding myself quite firmly to that word, Aragos, which means that we start tonight."

The prospect of Alud'rigan leading Aragos on a pub crawl causes Telamon to inwardly shudder. Still... he hasn't been able to dent the man's unyielding despair. And Tel is not so egotistical as to turn down a different approach. So he pastes on a jaunty smile. "Of course, Grandfather. Ah... fair warning. I've received a letter from my family in Ylvaliel. Mother is coming to visit." His eyes twinkle. "Just so you're aware."

He raises his glass to Aragos calmly. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Don't worry about the tab, I'll take care of it, as I agreed."

Aragos shrugs to Telamon, leaving his empty cup behind and moving toward the door with only Alud'rigan to follow him. He seems to be in a bit of a hurry, though there's no real explanation for it. The paladin opens the door, holding it for a moment to allow Alud'rigan to step out before him. Purple eyes catching on Telamon's for a brief moment.

There's nothing inside them. Looking at him in that moment, it's clear that Alud'rigan - whatever his plan is - has his work cut out for him.

The door closes behind Aragos, and the two men are gone.

-End