Day Four of The Odinsleep (In the Garden of Idunn - Part 2)
Day Four of the Odinsleep (7:30 am)
Idunn wears a silvery gown and has her long, blond hair tied into a single braid that hangs down past the middle of her back. A woven basket rests on the ground at her feet. She smiles as the group approaches and she offers Cedron her hand, “Good morning, brave heroes. Are you ready for your day’s duties?”
Cedron smiles upon seeing the goddess standing before him. He reaches out, grasping her outstretched hand. A wave of bliss sweeps over him as they touch and the minstrel’s mind wanders as he thinks to himself, “Did you ever imagine you’d be escorted by a goddess?” He forces himself back to the present, reminding himself of his chosen path – to promulgate the Path of Progress among the less fortunate. As if in response to his thoughts, the enchanted seed pouch hanging from his belt jostles against his leg. “Remember thou art mortal,” he reminds himself as Idunn leads him deeper into the garden.
Ra’ziir interrupts the priest’s reverie as he asks, “Duties? I thought we were here to fight the hordes of Jotun, dark elves, and other foes of Asgard. Are we to spend the day picking fruit instead?” Morn grins, a spring in his step that has been missing for some time, “I thought we were guarding the garden.”
Idunn laughs lightly, “Why must it be one or the other? This grove is of greater import than you realize. This is where I grow the golden apples that keep we gods young. Without them, we would age as any mortal – even Asgardians must bow before the passage of time.”
Grotto looks at the grove and then the basket, “We are going to be picking fruit” he thinks to himself. The dwarf begins looking from tree to tree for low-hanging apples he can snack on.
Kysek shakes his head, still wary, nay distrustful of this…distraction. Watching over a grove of age-defying apples is not what he imagines we need be doing in the protection of this realm.”
Niklas takes in the sights and sounds, wondering if his presence here is too good to be true. “Yesterday, we were battling monsters and today, we’re in a garden,” he muses aloud.
Raven overhears the woodsman and smiles, “In the garden of Idunn…sounds like the words of a song.” He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he glances down at the burned out crystals on his bracer. He remembers using the leather and clockwork arm guard to reverse time to prevent Korbin and Niklas’ deaths and the near-certain demise of himself, Ra’ziir, and Shadow the day before. He worries that this day, despite its auspicious beginning may prove to be just as perilous and without the bracers’ magic, he would unable to protect his allies should the worst befall them.
Arthur and Korbin continue to glide above the group, looking around for any threats that may be hiding in wait while Desmond remains near the group, following in their wake as they proceed down the path and further into the trees.
Shadow brings up the rear of the group, his head low, thoughts of the nameless warrior maiden running through his head. This seemingly endless jumping from one realm to the next and is perhaps the reason he is drawn to women to he cannot settle down with – a way of coping with the plane jumping as it were. He wonders if he will live long enough to make it back to Toril and if that will be when is finally is able to settle down. “Even elves grow old and weary of war. Is there a normal life for the likes of us? Or will we keep rolling the dice until we fall in battle a final time?”
Of Grog, there is still no sign. The shaggy-haired man wanders the streets of the city, searching for a way to get back to his home.
Idunn wears a silvery gown and has her long, blond hair tied into a single braid that hangs down past the middle of her back. A woven basket rests on the ground at her feet. She smiles as the group approaches and she offers Cedron her hand, “Good morning, brave heroes. Are you ready for your day’s duties?”
Cedron smiles upon seeing the goddess standing before him. He reaches out, grasping her outstretched hand. A wave of bliss sweeps over him as they touch and the minstrel’s mind wanders as he thinks to himself, “Did you ever imagine you’d be escorted by a goddess?” He forces himself back to the present, reminding himself of his chosen path – to promulgate the Path of Progress among the less fortunate. As if in response to his thoughts, the enchanted seed pouch hanging from his belt jostles against his leg. “Remember thou art mortal,” he reminds himself as Idunn leads him deeper into the garden.
Ra’ziir interrupts the priest’s reverie as he asks, “Duties? I thought we were here to fight the hordes of Jotun, dark elves, and other foes of Asgard. Are we to spend the day picking fruit instead?” Morn grins, a spring in his step that has been missing for some time, “I thought we were guarding the garden.”
Idunn laughs lightly, “Why must it be one or the other? This grove is of greater import than you realize. This is where I grow the golden apples that keep we gods young. Without them, we would age as any mortal – even Asgardians must bow before the passage of time.”
Grotto looks at the grove and then the basket, “We are going to be picking fruit” he thinks to himself. The dwarf begins looking from tree to tree for low-hanging apples he can snack on.
Kysek shakes his head, still wary, nay distrustful of this…distraction. Watching over a grove of age-defying apples is not what he imagines we need be doing in the protection of this realm.”
Niklas takes in the sights and sounds, wondering if his presence here is too good to be true. “Yesterday, we were battling monsters and today, we’re in a garden,” he muses aloud.
Raven overhears the woodsman and smiles, “In the garden of Idunn…sounds like the words of a song.” He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he glances down at the burned out crystals on his bracer. He remembers using the leather and clockwork arm guard to reverse time to prevent Korbin and Niklas’ deaths and the near-certain demise of himself, Ra’ziir, and Shadow the day before. He worries that this day, despite its auspicious beginning may prove to be just as perilous and without the bracers’ magic, he would unable to protect his allies should the worst befall them.
Arthur and Korbin continue to glide above the group, looking around for any threats that may be hiding in wait while Desmond remains near the group, following in their wake as they proceed down the path and further into the trees.
Shadow brings up the rear of the group, his head low, thoughts of the nameless warrior maiden running through his head. This seemingly endless jumping from one realm to the next and is perhaps the reason he is drawn to women to he cannot settle down with – a way of coping with the plane jumping as it were. He wonders if he will live long enough to make it back to Toril and if that will be when is finally is able to settle down. “Even elves grow old and weary of war. Is there a normal life for the likes of us? Or will we keep rolling the dice until we fall in battle a final time?”
Of Grog, there is still no sign. The shaggy-haired man wanders the streets of the city, searching for a way to get back to his home.
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