Role

Chapter 24

Mae kept her promise, she went to place where Targung asked, the shrine of
Lord Jormyr. The shaman was not a hollow soul, it lived and died as he saw
fit, in conflict, and war. He was true to his faith, in Maes eyes, and in
the end she wished he would have tore off the yoke of Imperial oppression, to
wreak vengeance against those he served. Lord Jormyr allowed Mae and
Arjandrou to visit the Statues, faded, and names forgotten. She felt a
kinship to them, knowing her end would come, she may be mourned, as well, but
would also be forgotten in time. Lord Jormyrs presence was palpable in the
cavern, almost stealing all the breath from her lungs, the power of
destruction was overbearing, while the vigil was brief, Mae would forever
remember the encounter.

She would mourn and remember those worthwhile, that lived life to the fullest
and willing to accept the loss that was always waiting for them. She mourns
Admund and Targung now, polar opposites, but were not hollow souls.

As she and the bard travelled back to the Tree, she suddenly stopped in the
Tahril mountains, something willed her to mention, Conjurers. Suddenly a rage
filled inside Mae, the rage of Her, Thar-Eris, the mere thought extra planar
beings conjured filled her with anger, so much anger. All of those awake in
the Tree felt it as well, all were Wardens, all agreed that conjurers, even
those of the Light, must be brought down, their blood perhaps sating Her
anger for a brief while.

While all this, she has found the locations the items of power, identified by
the Lord of Loss, her newfound, anger driven bloodlust for all things
associated with conjuration she sees as a sign from Her, that she is
supportive of Maes path she has chosen, the path of the Lost.

Blessed are the Lost