The Heavenly Host

It appeared to be the camp of a single man. He was a rather portly gentleman possibly a few years older than Hilda appeared to be. He was dressed either as a monk or a very unkempt wizard. He was sitting in a hammock chair next to a rather nice folding camp table that held a selection of meats and cheeses, along with a very interesting-looking bottle of wine. The man was reading a book underneath a glowing ball of light. However, what was far more interesting was the fact that the wine was actually labeled and not one’s typical refillable bottle.

She zoomed in on the bottle with her divine sight: House Darryne: Old Vine Meryst; 405 PV. Hilda sighed; it was an excellent vintage. This man had taste and money. The meats and cheeses also looked delicious. Technically, being an avatar and thus “dead,” she did not need to eat or drink, but old loves were very hard to give up. There was a second chair on the other side of the table.

Hilda closed her eyes. There was nothing she wanted — no, needed — more at this moment than a place to sit, a bite to eat and a glass of that intoxicating wine. Surely, after her long, fruitless trek around the camp, she was entitled to a small bit of time off? Further, this odd man must clearly be somehow affiliated with the local goings-on. Perhaps a bit of inquiry would not be out of order? Technically, that wasn’t within the scope of her assignment, but how could anyone criticize her for taking the initiative to go beyond her minimal duties?

Hilda’s divine scent suddenly picked up the aroma of the meats, cheeses and yes, that refreshing hint that could only come from an Old Vine Meryst grape, sacrificed at its most luscious. That settled it. She quickly ran through a series of Seeings and the standard detection rituals.

There was no hint of the supernatural about him, no demonic influence, no ghosts, undead or other evil stigmata. Actually no darkness beyond normal, forgivable human vices that she could detect. His aura was quite earthy; most likely he was a thaumaturge. He was not of a clerical persuasion; she detected no real sign of excess piety, thus no significant religious affiliation. He seemed safe. Time to introduce herself.

∼

Trisfelt looked up from his novel, a book about a young wizard whose parents had been slain when he was a babe by an evil wizard but whose innate talent had shielded him from the blast that killed his parents, leaving only a scar on his forehead. Trisfelt had a passion for “true crime” stories. His passion however, was being interrupted; something wasn’t quite right. There was a disturbance in one of his wards.

“Ouch!” someone exclaimed as he felt them bounce up against the low-range repulsion barrier he had set up to keep animals from sneaking in to steal his dinner. “That’s odd, who would put up an invisible wall in the middle of the forest?” a decidedly female voice said.

Trisfelt put his book down. How could someone have run into his wards? The aversion spells should have subtly caused the person to walk around this area. He shook his head and peered through the trees towards where the noise had come from. It was quite dark outside his camp, and the spells somewhat obscured his vision, but it appeared to be a good-sized woman in a white dress. Trisfelt made gestures and muttered the incantation to temporarily lower the wards.

“Oh! A campsite!” the voice said. “How unusual.” A woman proceeded forward into the camp, apparently completely fearless. What an odd woman, Trisfelt thought. “Well, hello there!” The oddly bright-eyed and beaming blonde woman smiled cheerfully upon seeing Trisfelt. She was looking around at his camp. “Sorry to barge in; I was in the neighborhood trying to get back to my own camp when I bumped into your invisible wall!”

Trisfelt blinked. The woman seemed to have an effervescent charm about her, almost radiating joy. Definitely not a normal quality of any of the women around the school. Jehenna, for example, seemed to impose a rather dark cloud on those around her. This woman was wearing a layered white silk dress, only slightly muddied around the hem from tromping through the forest. Her gold-trimmed white slippers, clearly not designed for hiking, were coated with mud. As he’d noted, she was full-bodied; rather voluptuous actually, Trisfelt thought. She had brilliant golden hair that he swore almost glowed on its own and seemed to match her beaming eyes and wide smile.

“I’m Hilda!” The woman introduced herself, extending a hand to Trisfelt.

“Uhm, Trisfelt,” he said, shaking her hand after a momentary bit of confusion. “What brings you out into the woods at night?”

“Well, I’d been at this wedding,” she said, gesturing at her white dress. “Not mine though — I was just a handmaiden and was returning to Freehold, and what do you know? There’s an army around it!”

“Uh, yes... it’s been there for a while now,” Trisfelt said, puzzled but still a bit flustered by her intensely brilliant smile.