House Ancora

[Turin Wallace]

Turin sat around in his now empty office, sitting on his favorite chair, book in hand. It wasn’t the book that has his attention, however. His eyes were fixed, meditatively, on the small fire that was burning in his fireplace. Earlier, when he made it, he thought,

“No need to make a bigger mess for the staff, it’s small, but it will suffice.”

Now, however, it served as a focal point as his memory played out scenes from the distant and not so distant past. Wars won, wars lost, people who came and went, accolades given and received. All felt like they happened just yesterday, but they had not. Soon, a knock came upon the door, which brought him back to his senses,

“Pardon me, sir, but it’s time.”

Nodding, Turin says,

“Yes, yes it is.”

Standing up, he takes the book and places it into the final box that was meant to be loaded onto the cart outside. Looking to the young man, he says,

“Make sure this gets to the cart, and here are fifty silvers for the help today.”

The young man smiled and watched as Turin walked out of the office. Alone, the boy looked into the box and saw the spine of the book read “Hands of Providence”, the boy had heard stories of this organization and figured it to be just another history book. Picking the box up, he takes it down and places it into the cart.

Meanwhile, Turin heads to the tavern, where some folks gathered to see him off. His feelings were mixed parts happy and sad. He had spent more than a few years here, in faithful service, and would miss everyone. On the same token, he looked forward to new adventures again, as he was ever a wanderer. For those that cared, he gave the means to contact him if they cared to do so. Today, however, it was to share a few drinks before he would be gone.

Entering the tavern, there were far less than he expected to see him off, but those present were the ones he cared to see to begin with. A part of him felt hurt, but people are only people, and with recent events he could understand the willingness of many to skip out on his farewell.

Good friends stepped out and while one takes his hand, they lead him to a table where red wine and fine venison was laid out, while saying,

“We just wanted a chance to say farewell, old friend.”

Turin was humbled. He replies,

“It means a lot to hear that, I thank you. Now, tell the bard to play something jovial and let’s have some fun before the morning comes.”

Hours later, once the moon had set and the morning began it’s reign, many who had responsibilities left. A few stayed behind, and one asked,

“So, you haven’t mentioned where you will be going?”

Turin answered,

“No, I have not. I will likely spend some time at my home by the waterfall; it has been sorely neglected for far too long. The roof leaks, the fireplace needs rebuilt, and the overgrowth has taken over. After that, I will spend some time with my mother in the lands of my home, to visit and check on my brothers and sisters. After that, I can’t say where I will end up.”

His friends looked to each other and said,

“Well, if you ever need anything...”

Turin interrupted them by saying,

“I will be fine. In fact, I need to get going as it is sunrise, and I gave my word I would be gone.”

They all nodded and said there goodbyes.

Turin, alone and in the first rays of the morning light, mounted his horse and grabbed the rope of the pack mule hauling the cart carrying what was left of his life here. His armor, weapons, and most of his books he had given away or donated to those who needed them. No one had mentioned the old set of armor and weapons he was wearing, or maybe they did and never said anything out of respect. It was the armor and weapons he carried in with him before becoming the man a few loved, most knew, some tolerated, and others hated.

“I leave the way I came. Goodbye, Ancora, I wish you and your people well. Perhaps one day, our paths will cross and I hope to call you friend once more, though I think it will take many passes of the moon before that will occur, if ever. Goodbye, dear friends, those whom I saw, those who I did not, and those who prefer to see my head on a spike. I wish you all prosperity in life and victory in battle. May the All-Father, the Great Mother, and the Spirit of All bless you.”

Gently, Turin nudged his horse forward. Passing more than a few who bore him looks of disdain, one in particular stood at the gate, with glaring hatred in their eyes. Turin says nothing, gives a brief wave, and then passes through the main gate.

It wasn’t long before he found a few others already on their own paths, with a wave and promises of some future time, he continues on until he has left the borders of this realm and into the unknown regions of the world.

(OOC - that is it, there will be no more posting by me. If anyone cares to reach me at a future time, my email is wallacekoalace@comcast.net, if not then I thank all of you for the memories.)

[Aethelwulf]

*weep*
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Ancient

[Wilhelm]

The tall red-haired Paladin shook Turin's hand and wished him well.

"May the Light be with you always, my friend!" said Wilhelm.

From the window, a saddened Wilhelm watched Turin mount up and ride away into the Light of the morning sun.
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Viscount Wilhelm von Schlussel, Noble Vizier
Curia’s Medal of Leadership, Ancoran Medal of Lore, Medal of Expedition

[Kestra]

Hidden within the branches of an old oak tree, the amazon watches in silence as Turin makes his way through the gate. A single tear slides down her face as her eyes follow his journey.

"Goodbye my friend, remember to check the canopy, she whispers."
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