Defender Funeral Service
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_After the chaotic events of the last few months, a sombre occasion calls. The dead cannot lie in the street or in the morgue for too long, the city cannot wait forever, and those who remain must say goodbye to those they have lost.
From the south, a solemn march begins at the Crossroads, the Kelemvorites travelling to Peltarch to see to the mass funeral that the city needs so that it may move on. A massive book, six feet by four feet, weighing more than a man, is part of the procession, the words on the front of it declaring it to be “The Book of the Dead”, a listing of every known death in Narfell since the time of Kelemvore began. Some say that it is a holy relic, and it knows when every man and woman will die before they do, but others shrug that off as mere superstition.
Eventually, the procession arrives, moving through the city on its way to the western foothills. Watched over by the Defender Tower and the Walls of the City, the five hundred dead from the ranks of the city’s finest have been dressed in ceremonial uniform and laid out as neatly as possible, side by side as they fought in life.
Defenders, Ceruleans, Guards, even Archangels… death was not picky who he took in that battle. The hallowed zones ensured that the dead did not rise again to haunt the living, and so now they are to be laid to rest, in death they will watch over the city they gave their lives for, and the city will ever be before them.
Thander Coldream directs his subordinates, as they move from soldier to soldier, administering last rites and praying over the dead. As this happens, General Neverith, and every Officer under him watches solemnly. Many of the remaining Defenders and Guards are standing at attention, watching the proceedings to give honour to the dead.
As last rites are completed for a soldier, his name is announced and added to the Book of the Dead by a scribe dressed in robes marked with the colours of Kelemvore.
Some of the names announced are as follows…_
Xavfire Carter
Nortiln Fletcher
Hororin Windsailor
Xyriries Windsailor
Yenneiros Gellantara
Fruven Chorster
Walfire Swordhand
Prusaadi Songsteel
Coriries Shipsail
Neriskain Spelloyal
Xavward Spelloyal
Janhana Falconsflight
Yllalynn Shipsail
Yenneiros Shipsail
Pruemita Hawklight
Panlamin Hawklight
Quiaga Hawklight
Unaemita Wolfswift
Corvyre Fiedlerson
Jamril Nasser
Davamros Nasser
Panice Loyalar
Magvyre Wyvernjack
Elendithas Chandler
Trageon Tarmikos
Gragold Arroway
Wandaora Urthadar
Marorin Trannyth
Xavril Dryadson
Otirry Waveharp
Norben Falconsflight
Paneak Fletcher
Fruril Shieldheart
Wilendithas Tigersoul
Quiiries Darkeyes
Aliora Chorster
Breiries Gellantara
Oloven Serpenthelm
Udoice Trannyth
Gracenda Dragonsbane
Unaonna Tigersoul
Wilben Pegason
Gracedove Fiedlerson
Alidove Arroway
Coruvial Milner
Xangeon Hawklight
Belice Droverson_…and on the list goes for more than an hour. Eventually though, every single dead Defender and Guard has had his or her name read aloud, and the priests line themselves up along the rows, spaced about forty feet apart.
General Neverith stands on the opposite side of the honoured dead, and raises his voice as night begins to fall, and torches are lit._
Tonight in this place, we bear witness to the last rites of those who fought bravely for Peltarch and paid the ultimate price. Their bravery, their sacrifice, their loyalty will never be forgotten.
The Jewel has always been served faithfully by her Defenders, even as far back as their founding under the Fisher King, Tidus himself. It was in those days that one man saw the strength that comes from unity, from binding together disparate elements to make each stronger. A long time has passed since Tidus walked the realm, but I know in my heart that we carry out his will, and as long as that flame of hope remains lit, there is a future for Peltarch.
Make no mistake! We stand against the darkness, and we struggle against oppression. But it is not oppression from our officials, or from religious idealists who only wish the best for Peltarch… no. These are things to be cherished, for they speak volumes of the freedom that we live in, in Peltarch. Ideas are NOT squashed simply because they do not suit all. Lone voices should NEVER be silenced when they only speak of a hope for a brighter future, even if we cannot agree on what that future holds.
No... the oppression we face is from those who seek to destroy us, and here and now I say this to them... the faceless men who would kill and maim and steal from under us our very way of life.
No matter the cost, no matter what it takes, you will NEVER TAKE FROM US OUR FREEDOM!
These men and women, they died for freedom. They died to protect the innocent from the machinations of those who would seek to deny us our freedom, nay, our very lives. Who loves someone so much that he will lay down his life for them? Even further, who does it for someone he does not know?
The Defender.
These men and women, they will not grow old as we who remain grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor will hunger or thirst tire them. At the going down of the sun, we shall remember them, and at the coming up of the sun, we will thank them for their sacrifice, and honour it with our service, that their deaths will not have been in vain.
I swear to you all, that their bones will not be disturbed as long as Peltarch remains free of tyranny and oppression. Where they lie now, we will build a new wall, new defences for this city, and we will defend their remains with every ounce of strength we have.
I am only one man. But I give you my oath, that I will do everything I can for this city, until breath leaves my body and my legs will no longer march. I know that each one of you will do the same, and today, you are my brothers and sisters in this oath.
_At this, General Neverith raises his right arm as a signal, and the priests of Kelemvore begin calling down holy fire upon the corpses, consuming the flesh of the dead so that they will not rot, and so that scavengers won't be drawn to them. The effect is startling, as six priests call down simultaneous Flamestrike spells, then do so again and again until all the bodies have been consumed by holy flames.
The drain of this on the priests is obvious, as they stagger back to sit down once they complete their ritual, such magics are beyond most men, so it is likely that the Book of the Dead empowered them to do what must be done._
At this time, in this place, I would ask for any who wish to honour the dead to step forward and do so. I will remain here until sun-up, to watch the dawn with the honoured dead.
Long live the Jewel.
His speech finished, the General moves to the side, and takes up a silent vigil.
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Though often unnoticeable Vick Blake is noticeably absent from the proceedings, though someone very observant may have caught a quick glimpse of what might have been him overlooking the area before he faded quickly away into the crowds.
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A rare ocurrence in general, but specialy as of late, Raúl is to be seen. He stands alongside the other defenders with a serious semblant and his defender uniform ironed and in a perfect state. One would say it was the first time he wore it… and one would be right.
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Ashena stands straight and solemn beside Mariston and Talindra, her armor polished to a mirror shine, as though to compensate the lack of the same in her eyes, red-rimmed and weary. Weary too is the slump of the paladin's shoulders as she dips her head in silent prayer, then follows Talindra to the temple with heavy steps.
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Lycka, like Walter, wears the Defender dress uniform - her usually frequent joking complaints of its unflattering fit entirely lacking on such a somber occasion. On this day, she doesn't speak, sing or play her lyre - on this day she is simply a Defender, one of many in quiet mourning.
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Though most onlookers are polite enough not to gossip about it, many notice that Senator Marty is nowhere to be seen.
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Celia and Reynauld watches the procession from the window upstairs from the Mermaid Inn, with a comforting arm around her shoulder she bows her head to a silent prayer:
"Torm please bless them forever
Let the sounds of strife, the cries of battle, the wounds of war
be calmed for all eternity in endless grace.
Ever reminded that we who are left behind
cherish them, honor their commitment,
We will never forget the service that they gave"–--------------------------------------------------------------
From another window the red mageling, recently return from her Grapewine vacation, watches it as well and she responds to the couple with:
"We honor ALL those men and women, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, fathers, brothers, sisters, and mothers. Who have laid down their life for the precious Jewel. Whether weary or emboldened, quiet or defiant, vulnerable or ready when called home. Their sacrifice is too humbling for words… "
.. then she nods politely and heads downstairs for a glass of wine.
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Talindra stands beside Mariston throughout the service, any close enough may hear whispered words coming from her though only those who speak Celestial would know she utters prayers to Tyr for the fallen. As the ceremony ends she quietly heads off to the Temple and stays within for some time at the altar.
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Robyn is seen watching from a balcony. She hangs her head for a moment, but doesn't say anything. When the ceremony is over, she moves back inside.
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Elessar listens to the somber song and reflects both on the sufferings of the people of Peltarch and on the generations of adventurers he has known over the past couple hundred years. Looking around the crowd he sees many he now considers friends and others he is anxious to know. Reflecting pensively he wonders how many of these new friends will join the ranks of the fallen over the next year. He makes eye contact with Bon as he finishes and with a slight nod of recognition he wanders off to ponder the event further.
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María is present, firmly standing with a sad expression on her face, never one able to hide her emotions, when shallyah speaks, a couple of tears roll down her cheek.
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At an appropriate time, a silver haired halforc bard sings an anthem in a deep baritone voice:
// OOC: Sung to the tune of Advance Australia Fair
**"Beside the Icelace frigid waves
Pelt-Arch stands tall and free!
Ne-ver will you see fair-er state
Ev-er in liberty!
Beneath the radiant northern sky
All Peltarch sons stand true
Now and always thee doth shine
O’Ev-er bril-liant Jewel!At first a tiny fishing town
Home of our king Tid-us
Who’s first act once upon the throne
Was hand his crown to us
As ci-tizens we forge our fate
Both small and great shall rule!
Ne-ver a monarch over us!
O’Ev-er bril-liant Jewel!Through darkest times we have all come
With darker times ahead
With courage we face all our trials
And take grief in our stead.
And like the phoenix from the ash
Peltarch soars high anew!
A shining beacon burning clear
O’Ev-er bril-liant Jewel! "**
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_Elena solemnly walks forth from the congregation, a handwoven wreath of sweet-smelling fern and white flowers in her hands. Laying it reverentially next to Mariston's, she bows her head, before a single, plaintive word falls from her lips.
"Farewell…"
With that, she turns to rejoin her peers, lingering for a moment to lay a comforting hand on those that she knows lost a brother, sister, fiance or fiancee, on the way to her place._
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Walter attends the service in the standard dress uniform from the Defenders, today he doesn't distinguish himself as a Cerulean but simply as a Defender. His highly polished Defenders' badge is displayed proudly and openly. As he's never been one for words he leaves the speeches to those are less feeble hearted.
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- Jason is seen standing by watching the procession, tears form as he weeps for the lost saying a quiet prayer to Ilmater to guide and protect the souls of the brave and comfort those that remain *
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::Mariston steps forward in silent reverence and places a single wreath upon the blackened soil. With a step back he draws his blade and raises it in a formal salute. Then with carefully slow steps, walks backward three paces, sheathes the blade before returning to the watch::
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::Surprisingly, the usually cold and quiet Defender Sergeant takes the initiative to step forth. Her gesture looks ever calm, but as she begins to speak, there are certainly emotions surfacing. Those who know her know that she must have something really important to say to do something that she has never willingly done before - speak in public to the masses. However, her words appear to be rather personalized when she turns her gaze towards the Defenders, her grey eyes shifting from the fallen ones to those that, yet alive, witness the funeral::
From day we sign up with Defenders, we know our duty, and what's at stake. ::she pauses briefly:: In these years I have come to trust each of you with my life. But I have also heard murmurs of discontent.
I share your concerns.
We are trained for warfare. We would be legends, but records are sealed. Glory in bard tales is not our way.
Think of what we have accomplished. How many times we have protected this city from great disasters before anyone even knew it. How many hundreds of lives we have preserved through unsung sacrifice, sense of duty, responsibility and loyalty. How many brothers and sisters we have lost so that so that thousands others could remain to be.
::she makes then a pause, letting her words settle into the minds of the witnessing Defenders, her gaze turning again to the funeral pyres, and the hundreds of bodies lined up lifeless::
These deeds do not seem to give us solace here, but they are not all that we are. Before senate, there was army. Before diplomacy, there were soldiers.
Some day, when this time of hardships is just a memory, the peoples of Narfell will come together to this place, this very ground, and say:
The Defenders were here. They did not fail. They did not falter. And they did not surrender.
::With her last words spoken, Shallyah walks off and joins the Defender lines, melding amongst them as one more uniform, one more Defender without a name, without a face, and only one purpose - protecting her city from filth, in any shape or scale, no matter the cost::
