Starry Skies and Rolling Hills

[Iorran (Tirion)]

OoC: Since I can't describe the music as "Celtic" seeing as the Celts don't exist in Elibe, I'll provide a link to what the music Tirion is playing sounds similar to. HERE

IC: A stunning mist hung in the air of the Norric city of Mullingard on the eve of Tirion's departure. Just a few minutes prior, his best friend, Cray Gildanaed, had asked him to follow him to their favorite bar for one last night of drink and merriment before he was gone. The day before, Tirion had been named Envoy to Sacae and gladly accepted the duty, hoping that he could help his tribe of Norric integrate with the rest of the world.

Cray seemed a bit lacking in levity compared to his usual upbeat self. Tiron placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and firmly squeezed it.

"I'm not gonnae be gone forever, ye know. I'll be back singin' o' the heroes neck deep in some brandy before ye know it!" he attempted to reassure his friend. Cray simply looked at him as if he weren't convinced. with a sigh, Tirion let go and continued walking.

A few minutes passed and the two reached their destination, the Dancing Blade. This bar was very well known in Mullingard for it's open stage for anyone who wished to perform. However, this night the bar was almost upsettingly quiet. Cray put a hand on the door and stopped for a moment, his long black ponytail winging to one side. He looked to Tirion and a small smirk worked it's way into his previously melancholy face. As Cray swung the door open, the bar erupted with life. Every significant person to Tirion was there. Tirion couldn't believe his eyes! He looked at his best friend who was in hysterics. Cray slapped Tirion's shoulder and wrapped his arm around him.

"Ye seriously, t'ought I was worried? Come on, Tirion! If anyone could come back in one piece from this, it's ye!" Tirion pushed Cray off, a bit embarrassed at the fact that he was fooled. Still, it was quite a party Cray put together. The bar was fully stocked with his favorite alcohol and everyone was in a great mood.

Tirion spent the next couple of hours chatting it up with friends and relatives while drinking the best brandy and whiskey he had ever tasted. The music was lively and the bar was fully stocked. Finally, the
main event began, or at least it was the main event in Tirion's eyes. Her name was Erie Herlad. Her long brown locks flowed behind her gorgeous features as she stepped up on stage. Producing a fiddle from behind her back, she began to play a set accompanied by Cray on djembe and another friend of Tirion's on mandolin. He was mesmerized by Erie's playing and dancing. It made him want to join in and, spying some bagpipes on the stage, he did just that.

Tirion hopped up on stage and joined right in on the set. Erie stopped to look at Tirion as he played an engaging riff on the pipes. Realizing Erie had stopped playing, he stopped as well and urged her to return the melody. She responded in earnest and the back and forth went on for what seemed like an eternity of bliss for Tirion. The crowd cheered as they started playing together, dancing as they poured their hearts into their instruments.

The night ended on a very high note. Speeches were given in honor of Tirion, Cray and Erie giving Tirion's favorites, and everyone went home drunk and merry. Cray, Erie, and Tirion left the party together.

"Now that was a party!" Tirion slurred. His companions responded by laughing heartily.

"Aye! No better way ta -hic!- send ye off, I says!" responded Cray, just as drunk as Tirion. His gaze turned to Erie who was standing firmly and tall, "How come ye didn't have a drop o' drink, Erie? There was plenty ta go 'round!"

"I wasn't feelin' up ta drinkin' tonight. 'Sides. Someone needs ta keep ye two in line!" Tirion felt that she wasn't being sincere, possibly nervous even. Or maybe it was the drink making him feel that way. He wasn't sure.

Cray was dropped off at his home and Tirion and Erie continued to their part of town. The two grew up together, living a few houses down from one another. Upon turning the corner down their street, Tirion caught view of a few soldiers accompanied by Halford Jaldniric, commander of the Norric armed forces. Tirion wasn't on very good terms with him so he wondered why he was in front of his house. Halford slowly approached the two.

"Ye 'ave a fun time, Tirion? I hope so, 'cause ye're leavin' sooner 'an expected." Halford followed his speech up with a forceful punch to Tirion's gut, causing him to spill the contents of his stomach on the ground. Tirion's kneeled over and only was able to hear bits of what was said next. He heard Erie scream and then speak with tears in her eyes.

"Ye said... hurt 'im!"

"... never promised..."

Erie ran up and embraced Tirion. A soldier pried her off of him as she screamed back at him.

"... sorry! Me ma, she's... no choice!" nothing more could be made out as everything else around Tirion went black and he slipped out of consciousness.

[Iorran (Tirion)]

Slowly, Tirion slipped into partial consciousness. Vision blurred and aching all over, he only had enough time to hear jumbled sentences from unknown sources as if they were whispering in his mind.

"Dispose of... like his fath.... no trace....."

"... 'bout his armor....."

"... on him.... was killed out there..... no one........."

The next thing Tirion knew, he was awake in the middle of a large river, half submerged to his waist with the other half on the grassy bank. He attempted to open his eyes, but the light hurt his head so badly he couldn't even attempt to look around for a good half hour. Rolling over, Tirion found that his dark olive cloak was draped over his shoulder and he was wearing his chain mail and other armor. Everything was soaked to the last thread and Tirion's head spun as if recently thrown from a rampaging horse.

After dragging himself from the bank, Tirion slowly pulled himself up using a nearby tree and hung his soaked clothing on the longest branch. He sat down on a large boulder half naked and hungry, laying his blade, it's scabbard, and his shield against the trunk of the tree to dry. As much as he tried, he couldn't remember a thing about what had happened the night before.

"What in the blazes did I do to deserve such a hangover?" Tirion muttered, voice scratching from a dry throat. Thankfully, his gourd of brandy was the only thing not ruined in his packed rations. A mighty swig was taken from his much larger than necessary gourd and he pulled a long pipe from his pack to realize that all his leaves were soaked as well. Letting out a terrible groan, he placed everything back in the now mostly dry pack and began to polish the metal he was wearing to keep the iron from rusting, talking to himself as he worked.

"What happened last night? Did I leave early? Moreover, where am I?"

OoC: Anyone is free to join in now.

[Iorran (Tirion)]

Tirion packed his things and clothed himself. He began to wonder how the road running along the river was so empty. Not a soul had passed by in the hour he sat under the tree he hung his clothing on. The question as to where he was in the plains was still unanswered, however. Tirion's head began to feel less like thousand hammers were constantly striking it and more like it was being smacked by a leather belt periodically.

Sweeping his cloak to the side, Tirion pulled out a rectangle of leather with stitches of twine that made a lightly detailed map of Sacae. He was very thankful that he was able to buy the map from a traveling merchant. If he had brought a cloth map with him, it would likely have been ruined. He took a look down at the map and up at the surroundings. Tirion repeated this and realized his map was too sparsely detailed to make sense of where he was. Groaning, he put the map away and decided to simply follow the road in hopes he would find a town of some sort.

Head still aching, he continued to struggle to remember what had happened the night before in vain.