Narratives

     Ebon whipped through the seven standard motions, his body a fluid blur as he spun, crouched, lept and rolled. But it wasn't right, he could feel the lack of discipline. Inner turmoil leads to chaos, his mentors taught. This is most certain, he felt, while ending the final motion with another low kick to an innocent sapling which snapped in half.
     He held his position for a moment and tried to feel the calm, grasping for the inner peace he had so strongly been seeking. Quiet forest noises returned after a moment, the pre-dawn chirp of insects not willing to relinquish their hold on the night. Sucking in another full breath he muttered, "one hundred twenty three," and began the seven motions again.
     Usually this brought great calm and inner peace, drawing his soul closer to the One True Way, that which he is always seeking. Instead the small mote of chaos within him festered, throwing his motions astray. Last evening was more than he was willing to accept at the moment. It started as just the proper thing to do, she needed help, assistance and aid in traveling safely. There is nothing wrong with that by any means. Nothing at all.
     SNAP, CRACK, this time he ended against a larger tree trunk, closer to the width of the ale tankard Barok seems to enjoy. The tree is not severed like the smaller ones, but as he counted the twelve breaths of solace following the seven standard motions the tree poped loudly and began to slowly tip forward. On breath ten Ebon stepped slightly to the left in order to allow the tree to follow its proper path to the ground.
     It is not a problem with the priesthood, it is allowed for priests to take on wives. Sometimes even other priestesses, although that is frowned upon. But he swore an oath to himself, when he was younger. It was a more wild time of his life, running with the band of outlaws in the Phostwood. However, the lands were at war. Iuz led battles across the Flanaess, his homeland was destroyed. All he had left were his companions. They lived as they could. Sometimes they were out of control, more than Ebon was comfortable with. They robbed a caravan during the month of Flocktime. The people of the caravan fought back and died. The only survivor was a woman who hid beneath the cart. Everybody was high on adrenaline, the brush with death brought out a carnal aspect. The other men dragged the woman out from under the cart and took her there. He can still hear her screaming. He was only thirteen at the time, there was nothing he could do. But he did vow... he would never have a woman who did not want him, truly want him.
     Annrei cannot want him, she does not even know who he is. To her, he is just somebody who can keep her safe. She has only known him for three days. That is all this is, a way for her to live in safety and prosper.
     The first night, after they said their vows before Pholtus, Barok yelled for ale and what little stores remained in the refugee village were brought out. The revelry lasted a while, and Ebon did have one half glass of ale--something he normally did not partake of as strong spirits of the drink usually enhances chaos.
     It was Kerris who schemed the whole thing. The night before the wedding Ebon, Kerris and Barok were sharing a cramped chamber of the worn down Inn. But while the party was winding down they pushed and prodded Annrei and Ebon down the hall and into the sleeping chamber together. Kerris gave the final shove and quickly closed the door behind them, followed by a slurred stage whisper to his fellow conspirators, "Them two luv birds aughta keep 'emselves busy for the rest o' the night."
     "But don't they just want to go to sleep?" asked Avrien.
     Barok began to respond but through better of it, grimaced under his dwarven beard and instead yelled, "Where is the real Ale!? Now that the weak gutted human is gone we can pull out the good hard drink, this watered down crap isn't worth feeding to my horse!"
     Ebon stood inside the room where he had stopped after the door was closed. Annrei looked around the small room and turned back to him, her eyes almost stared through him as she reached to unfasten her robes. Ebon stepped forward and held her hand in place, "No.. it, uhh... no."
     He pushed one bedroll to the side of the room with his foot, "Not now..." If he could have, he would have appreciated the irony of Avrien being correct. Instead his face maintained the chiseled scarred demeanor he usually presented to the outside world. Perhaps his emerald eyes flashed with the inner turmoil and emotion he was suppressing, but nothing else was shown.
     Annrei's shoulders slumped and she turned away from him. With care she removed her robes--down to her small clothes--and folded them properly, leaving the embroidered holy symbol of Pholtus showing face-up. Ebon stood unmoving the entire time. Only after she slid beneath her blanket did he move to make his own bed, across the room from her. That night he stayed awake. For a while he counted her slow, measured breathing while contemplating. But the inner knot of turmoil only grew the more he thought on it.
     The first night was hard, but since then there was the journey. They were heading to Rel Mord, and once they reach the Justcrown province, roadside Inns should be more common. Until then, they used wayside camps. She made her bed next to him, to maintain a proper presentation to the rest. But last night the temperature dropped, and it became quite cold. He woke in the deep of the night to find Annrei snuggling next to him in her sleep, drawn to his body heat. He lay still, unsure if she were awake or not, and unwilling to wake her if she was.
     Some time passed and his own thoughts raced, unheeding of discipline and logic. Her back was to him, and it was comfortable... nice. Her curly brown hair tickled as he breathed, smelling faintly of the flowers she and Avrien had found the day before.
     Eventually he slowly withdrew from her, so as to not wake her, and wandered to the forest. Kerris nodded from where he held watch, "Early mornin' nature call, eh?"
     Deep in the forest Ebon started the seven standard motions, trying to find inner calm and peace.

     CRACK, this time ending with the low hanging branch of a tree, it shook with the impact and dropped to the ground in a crackling woosh.
     "You know they 'ave people 'round here 'o cut down trees, an' they use a newfangled t'ing called an axe," Kerris said while examining the splintered trunk of a nearby tree.
     Ebon finished the twelve breaths of solace and turned to survey the area as the sun began to crest the horizon, "one hundred and twenty nine."
     Surveying the broken trees, Kerris rubbed his chin, "That aughta sho' them trees, mesin' with the like'o you."
     Ebon blinked, "come again?"
     "one 'undred an' twenty nine you said? Or per'aps I 'eard wrong?"
     He pointed to the trees on the ground in what was now a clearing, "yes, one hundred twenty nine cycles of the seven standard motions, to no avail."
     "Ah." Kerris said while nodding wisely, "Hrm. Per'aps ya oughta leave them poor trees alone and come back; we're leaving soon."
     "It is time to greet the rising sun."
     "You didn' used ta greet the sun by killin' trees. You doin' OK?"
     Ebon walked past Kerris and headed towards camp, "everything is fine."