The Paladin and the Hag

[Toros]

Having carried the spindly green-skinned body out of the fort after the blizzard subsided, Jerek builds a simple stone cairn not far outside the walls, as the ground is far too frozen for any other sort of burial. He kneels before the pile, cloak flapping in the frigid breeze.

"I failed you Egra, and I am sorry. You were evil, and you paid for your terrible crimes with your life, for devouring children. I told you that I am sworn to fight evil, but this was not the only way.

You never had anyone to show you a diferent life, and the day you treated a child with compassion and kindness not only did you not save the child, but your sisters rejected you and drove you away. You said you weren't afraid to die, but we both know that was a lie. You tried to escape, tried to turn invisible, but there was nowhere to run. My heart breaks knowing that you died alone and rejected, and I could've done more. Maybe you weren't ready to stop your evil sisters, to not be evil yourself today. Maybe if I came back, was the first person to ever truly treat you with kindness... your live could've been longer, happier. I believe there could have been a day where you weren't evil anymore, fufilling my oath without bloodshed.

Egra, I forgive you for hurting those in my party, for attacking us, for the lives of children you took to survive and because you knew no other way. Please forgive me for not being as brave as you were the day you decided to risk everything for the life of a child."

[Ostheim]

Bundled up in her wool cloak, Wynna stares out from the wall of Tregorian's Gate, the wind biting persistently at her with every moment she spends outside the dreary 'comfort' of the keep's interior, staring out at the field of nigh-perfect white snow that has blanketed the mountain range and hills around her. It's been an unpleasant, long night for her, one not overly imbued with restfulness; seldom is it that she actually stays overnight in such old places, and the stay at Tregorian's Gate was proof positive of a policy she's not soon to rectify. Unable to sleep well, she instead scurries quietly throughout the keep in an effort to uncover more of its mysterious history.

Better that than dwell on the pathetic creature that the paladin was now burying in a sad, equally pathetic grave. Thinking back on it still brought fresh frustration over the whole situation. By no means a bleeding heart, it was still vexing the amount of effort her companions put into simply feeling as if they had earned a good 'death' for the monster, whose sad state defied the cold malice Wynna usually reserved for her cold precision with the crossbow slung on her back. There was no heart in it that time, whether or not it was lying about its sorry tale.

Kelda's persistent demands for its death, though something Wynna felt not very strongly about, was a breath of relative fresh air compared to the waffling of her husband and the whispered back-and-forth between her and her comrades. When they finally elected to destroy the creature, it was only after a brief, frustrating battle that Wynna herself did not partake in at all, save to lose control of her senses for a brief moment, enough time to shoot her friend in the chest and jeopardize his life.

She was very quiet, incensed, after that, speaking only when required and only in a moody monotone. To have threatened a companion through no fault of her own clearly brought her to the familiar depths of melancholy she was well-known to delve into; the creature, its story, was just the vessel that brought her there yet again.

Nothing to do but look at old tapestries, look for old documents, and ponder at tattered sigils. It kept her busy, at least, and not dwelling on the frustrations the night had brought. She was not sure if another trip with the Adlers would be wise, though she kept such doubts firmly to herself. Paladins were clearly proving to be a vexing lot.