Deanna ((open RP for anyone that knew her))

[Kyre]

The witch thought Deanna had just gone on a vacation so she and Caswir waited and waited. Talking to Brassius, Elesil, Phillibald, then finally Villaria, she sat on the grass for a long time unable to fathom that Cherga kept her best friend as she repeatedly mumbled.

No, it can't be true! What happened?


Kyre dreaded to tell Caswir, he would be devastated. He and Deanna were close for such a long time even before he moved to Runewick from Galmair. Plucking a blade of grass, instead of twirling it gently as usual, she tore it in little pieces angrily watching as the wind blew the torn pieces over then past the cross. How could Cherga do this to all of Runewick, why?

Unable to move from her watchful state, the witch can only whisper when someone else shows up..

She is gone.

[HolyKnight]

Apart from The Bearers gravitas and influence, Eli Travinus had remained oblivious to the political atmosphere in Runewick— stretching back to Gobaith’s exodus when he first came to Illarion in a vain search for his wife and children.
Morgan was still the Archmage, twas the extent of his care and knowledge. So long as the astute mage guided Runewick, Eli saw no need to distract himself from his own research. Year after year, the aging mage came and went from Runewick, resupplying, delving into the litany of avant-garde theorems surfacing between visits, and each time the faces grew less and less familiar.

On several occasions, before the flame of The Bearers expired in Runewick, Master Djironnmya had implored him to stay and teach aspiring mages and be a voice in the city council. Eli, tempted each time, managed to escape responsibility of adding to the city’s wellbeing and future prosperity. He’d helped guide Troll’s Bane long ago, and losing a family in that time was more than enough public service heartache for a lifetime.

Eli preferred talking to people, engaging them one on one, helping where could, discreetly and away from the ire of public scrutiny. Then there was Deanna, an elfess he’d been acquainted with since the days she first called Tol Vanima home. Right away, in the inner circles of people who spoke the old tongue she was well known as an elfess of savvy intellect, purpose, and wisdom. Eli was not at all surprised when he heard she’d become an elder of Tol Vanima years later.

On chance meetings with the elfess, he admired how hard she worked to communicate with him in the new language. He was enthralled by her perspectives, calculating ways, but also, her willingness to fight. Deanna was not one to back down, and used her quick wit, always to her advantage.

In the mire of his own disastrous life, he lost great opportunities to assist her and befriend her. Eli admired her from afar, in her writings, in the taverns when commonfolk speak about bigfolk and heroes, and of course, the people she knew and affected. People that knew Deanna deeply, would die for her, a rarer quality than any precious magical gem you might unearth or forge.

So when the rumor mill surrounding Deanna’s supposed death turned into a deafening outcry of mournful loss in the Runewick, Eli had to stop and stare. Brassius was recanting the tale to a small crowd, a mixture of races unknown to him by name, they all hugged one another and cried. No one moved from their small huddle of grief. Beside him, in front of him, and behind him on the golden bridge to Runewick people were handing out candles and holders. Each individual who received one placed it somewhere on the bridge and a small halfling in robes too large and a hat too big lit them.

Eli cried, these people, these strangers, they moved and hustled but when one of their legends who rises like the burning sun fades to the night sky, they remember and the gods do weep for them in mercy.

And the gods do weep for you dear Deanna, they do weep through smiling eyes for a life well spent.

[Tenebrous]

Like so many others Adaeron came and went, never truly committing and dedicating his life as she had. He first visited years before, curious to see what Elvaine had made of the place, but it was the elfess and her sharp wit that led him to stay a little longer than intended. Drawn again to the forested isles, this time he was only to be met by the sorry tale recounted by Brassius.

Elvaine would undoubtedly feel the loss acutely. Her resistance had stood the test of time, she had endured where others were afraid. As unfamiliar faces reacted to the news he concluded the path she had wandered with her heavy burden had been a lonely one in the end, as so often leadership was.

Sitting contemplating Runewick's loss, he smiled at the unfamiliar man's expression of herding cats. Mages were not suited to leadership... of course their egos desired it, but they lacked the selflessness to dutifully serve. This one seemed to have a practical outlook though, perhaps he would be the one to take her mantle for now?

[Katharina Brightrim]

It was the 1st or 2nd Elos, when Katharina went to Runewick to check whether the undead had been defeated. When checking on Yewdale, she encountered a lich. Its bones were penetrated by arrows, yet still standing as it worked on summoning its fallen comrades, to once more take up the fight. She approached the lich, the arms practices in Cadomyr showing their use, as she managed to defeat the lich on her own. Looking down on its scattered bones, she knelt down to remove the arrows. Surprised, as she noticed that these arrows glowed in a soft light. She did not use these "wind arrows" herself all that often, but recognized them, and she remembered that Deanna did. So she collected them to bring them back to Deanna, once she met her again.

A few days later, Katharina sat at the table of her villa, a map of Cadomyr in front of her. Her majesty had given her the task to defend the realm, and she would obey this order to the utmost of her capabilities. A knock at the door made her look up, as prompting her to say: "Please, come in. The door's open." She watched as a rather thin man walked in. He occasionally brought her news from Runewick, when she was too busy to check on the on-goings herself. Now he held his hat between his hands and twirled it nervously. She smiled, "What is it?" The smile on her lips slowly vanishing to be replaced with a frown, as the man reported to her about Runewick's loss. With each word, the frown on her forehead deepening.

In her head, it took a moment to realize the meaning behind the words. Her mind refused to accept what she just heard and so it was only after the messenger already left, that tears found their way into her eyes. Sure, the past few years had been a little difficult between her and Deanna, but she remembered a time when Deanna had been one of her best friends. A time when she had looked up to her for her wisdom and her experiences. Ever since she had been... What? 13, 14 years old? Deanna was there at the most important moments of her life. Together, they had left Tol Vanima, and together they had found a new home in Runewick all those years ago. More recently Deanna had even visited the celebration of her wedding...

And then her mind went on to the last time she had talked to Deanna. Right after Caswir's tavern evening, she and Deanna had walked back to Runewick. As Katharina took the teleporter back home, while Deanna moved on to the town, she remembered Deanna's last words well: "This Mas will be terrible", Deanna had said, before adding, "I have a bad feeling." And she had been right.

Standing up from her desk, still sobbing, Katharina went to seek solace from Amanda.

[Caswir]

Drakull walk through the town of Runewick at dusk. He had been looking for Deanna to ask for health potions to purchase. He couldn't find her however. Later that night returning to his home in Yewdale, the Quadruped Red bird. He spoke with Kyre and she gave him the horrible news. Deanna was gone.

Not like this. He thought.

Angered he drank himself to sleep that night. In the morning he went to Runewick to try to hear of any details. But not much was known. Drakull then decided to go to the Archmage and speak with him. Caswir offered help from himself and his guild. The Archmage seemed to be under the impression that she was killed. If so .. why and who would do such a thing?