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Old 04-13-2004, 04:59 PM   #1
Mirwen Melo're
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Default Tolapumj’s Robe

CoAuthored by Mirwen and Yilielin - 2002


After leaving the High Council hall from a long day of recruitment and still managing the ongoing construction of the Guild Keep, Mirwen sought to retire for the evening. She traveled the corridors of the hall, the walls still smelling fresh with white wash. The guild’s keep was newly built. She smiled to herself, seeing the dream she once carried only in her head, finally coming to fruition. The tap of her shoes against the floor somehow made it all real as she found her room, and slid open the door. A fire warmed the quiet of her chambers. She sought the comfort of her chair to read and be peaceful at the close of the day. She had sent for warm tea and honey earlier and there it was, still warm, by the hearth.

Mirwen sat reading for only a short while when a careful knock at her door slightly startled her. She rose and answered her door. In the hall stood Yilielin, pale faced for an Erudite. Yilielin asked, in a cracked tone, “May I enter?” Mirwen, of course, seeing the look on the face of her new friend, quickly motioned for him to step inside. She shut the door.

Yilielin held two letters with seals bearing an oddly familiar symbol, not unlike many rune stones she had seen. One of these letters had been opened, its seal broken. The other was still intact. The good cleric would not be seated, even when asked repeatedly; instead, he paced to and fro, adding tension to the room. For what seemed like an eternity, he merely stared at the letters in his hand. Mirwen placed her hand on Yilielin’s shoulder to reassure him. She broke the silence, asking, “Please, Yilielin, what is the trouble?” Yilielin’s shocked and bewildered behavior was beginning to frighten her in a way she had not felt in many long years.

Yilielin wordlessly handed her the letter with the unbroken seal. She saw her name written in Elven script. She recognized the beautiful hand writing to be that of someone who had not written Elven all his life as she had. Then it hit her: Yilielin had handed her a letter from one of her dearest and best friends, a high level wizard, the Ambassador of The High Council, Gorit Tovenaar.

With nervous concern, having no idea what to expect after Yilielin’s ominous reaction, she broke Gorit’s seal and began to read. Minutes passed. Mirwen unconsciously sat down in her chair as she read. The letter noticeably moved her. Yilielin stood watching her face change with every line. The blood drained from her already pale complexion. Her mouth dropped. Water pooled in her eyes. The letter fell from her hand to the floor. Mirwen looked up at Yilielin. Her expression was full of sadness and her face glistened with tears. She could barely breathe. She noticed that Yilielin had also opened his letter to re-read the words contained there, almost as if he still could not fathom what it contained. She noticed it was written in Ancient Erudite.

“Is it true?” she whispered.

Yilielin nodded in confirmation and knelt beside her chair.

“Aye, M’lady.” He said in a hushed tone.

Yilielin’s eyes were red and shined like glass. Mirwen broke into tears even as Yilielin began to shed tears of his own. He embraced his friend in mutual sorrow and comfort.

“I cannot believe it.” She cried.

“Neither can I.” he managed to croak out.

“How? Why? I do not understand this. This is clearly unlike anything I would have ever expected from Gorit. He loved this guild. I know he loved his friends. How could he abandon us all, so suddenly and…” She trailed off.

Mirwen fell quiet. She recalled the words of Gorit’s letter. She knew more than she dared to speak. It all fell into place and she somehow felt at fault. Yilielin too knew more than he dared to speak to Mirwen, but they each let the other hold their last and final words from Gorit’s letters in honor. Yilielin and Gorit had known each other years before Mirwen. He held knowledge about the gentle wizard only he knew. But Yilielin also knew that Mirwen, Merkaba and Gorit had become quite close over the passing months, working night and day building the Guild. They were the High Council and were bound by a single goal. Gorit was kind; he had gained countless friends in his travels. Of the many friends the wizard had, Gorit had taken the time to at least express his final thoughts to those he cared for, many of which Yilielin and Mirwen barely knew.

Mirwen and Yilielin knew what the future would hold. Merkaba would need to know as soon as possible. The news would surely distress him. They would have to tell Gorit’s friends a brief, impartial summary. They would hear the questions of guild members and old friends in passing. They would wince at the mention of his name. Every rune stone collected would be a reminder of their loss. Mirwen and Merkaba would have to scramble to fill his position within the High Council. Oh, this was terrible timing with the Guild newly formed. But none of it really mattered at that moment. The fact that Gorit was gone was the worst news of all. They would have traded anything and everything, just to change that fact. Yilielin sighed, released Mirwen from his genuine hug and sat silent. They both wiped tears from their faces. The fire crackled and leaped like dancing pixies mocking Mirwen’s earlier comfort at the same fire. They sat in stillness until another knock at her door brought them out of their thoughts. Mirwen started to move, but evidently didn’t feel like answering the door. She reseated herself staring into the fire. Yilielin, noting Mirwen’s reaction, answered the door instead.

A Guild guard stood at the door facing Yilielin. This surprised the guard and he peered into the room. Upon seeing Mirwen focused on the fire, the guard took it to mean that she had rather not be disturbed. He instead told Yilielin about several large bags of goods abandoned in the hall. He asked what he was supposed to do with them. Yilielin told the guard the bags were his and asked the guard to bring them all into the room. Mirwen was unmoved, even as the guard bowed to her and left her chamber. It was unlike Mirwen not to acknowledge someone in the Guild, but Yilielin knew not to question it. He thanked the guard, and bowed in acknowledgement of his leaving. Yilielin took to opening a bag and began pulling out various pieces of clothing, armor and jewelry. Mirwen still stared, lost in thought, into the dancing flames. He then pulled out a neatly folded, dark green cloth. He shook it out with a whisk of his wrist. The sound caught Mirwen by surprise, even as the faint scent of something familiar breezed passed her. She turned to Yilielin. To her great surprise there was Gorit’s old robe. Tolapumj’s Robe was its proper name. She had borrowed that robe so many times. Its magical properties she often used in the creation of magical jewelry. It had a kind of sentimental value she only just now realized. Yilielin laid the silken-like robe on her bed and smoothed out the creases with his hands.

“Gorit wanted you to have this. He knew you were… fond of it.” Yilielin half smiled but Mirwen’s face only turned a shade paler. She rose from her chair to walk towards the robe he carefully placed on her bed. She looked across the floor to all the bags brought in by the guard.

“Are these all his things?” she asked breathlessly.

“Aye, M’lady. He gave me everything he owned and asked that I donate them to the Guild. But he insisted that I give you this robe and any other item that might be of use to you, should you need it.” he stated.

“I don’t care about his things.” She quickly replied. “I’d rather have my trusted friend returned to me whole, than to accept his belongings like the inheritance of a dead man.”

Yilielin looked towards the floor, a frown coming on his face. “Aye, I know what you mean. I feel as you do. This is not easy for me either.” He looked up at Mirwen, an intense light burning in his eyes. “I have known Gorit since he was very young. I watched him grow in strength and power, and shared many adventures across Norrath with him. I have no pleasure in seeing his entire estate in these bags. But I do know one thing: he would rather see his friends use these gifts than watch them fade into time, not aiding in the battle for light and righteousness.”

Mirwen could not deny the truth of his statement. It would dishonor Gorit’s memory to do anything other than make sure others got use from these things. She brushed her hand across the green silken threads and a sudden flash from a time in Greater Faydark entered her mind. She smiled a weary smile that came as quickly as it faded.

“You’re right Yilielin. I only wish there was something we could do…” She trailed off.

“We can remember what he gave us all in knowing him. And in doing so, has he really left?” Yilielin replied.

“Aye.” Mirwen retorted. “Gorit did indeed leave us by his own choice. No honey will sweeten this bitter pill.” She turned to look into the fire, softening her tone, “…but I will respect his wishes…” Mirwen turned back to Yilielin, “…because I am still his friend.”

Yilielin continued Mirwen’s own thoughts into words, softly, “Aye, and who knows, maybe someday he will find a road that will lead him back home…”
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[ALIGN=left]Attachment 28[/ALIGN]Lady Mirwen Melo're
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