A Decent Funeral for an Unrepentant Sinner

[Karuka]

Closed to Grim.
A/N: My books on Celtic lore have failed me in this, so these rituals? Yeah, making them up. You aren't going to find these prayers if you look 'em up.
It had been a pretty good day at the beginning, Karuka reflected. She had been wandering through Underwood after having spent the previous evening teaching an Elf and a grump how to drink and be merry...and then she'd been approached, almost randomly, by a stranger. Apparently some poor fellow had gotten himself killed, and they wanted someone to take care of the remains.

"An'...y' couldnae do i' yersel'?"

"Well..." the man stammered, "the individual in question...he's...well...not to speak ill of the dead -- he was evil...and everyone is afraid to touch the body."

"Why?" the red-head rolled her eyes. A corpse was a corpse, evil man or good. A corpse didn't kill.

"He killed many people...he was...he was a vampire! And since you seem to be more than a poor peasant girl --" here again he stammered. This man was a coward, he had stuttered through explaining that he'd wanted her to take care of a corpse, stuttered on the road...and he kept looking around as though someone was going to jump out and slit his throat at any minute. His hands -- fine, like a woman's -- wrung nervously, and his skin was pale, bloodless, as though he were frightened out of his mind.

Such a man shouldnae ha' come through th' fores'. He dinna ha' any business in here. The Irish lass's thoughts ran irritable.

"We...we'll pay you, like I said," the man finished lamely, looking at her through his oily brown hair.

"Ay, y' sai'. How much further is i'?"

It was somewhat irritating, being brought out because people hadn't enough respect for the dead to do them the decency of a proper funeral, whatever that was around here. A Jewish man in the Carolingian Territories had made her promise to bury him in a simple coffin...her mother had been cremated.

"Here." The man shoved aside some brush, leading her through a thick green dimness...the trees were so thick that sunlight struggled to find its way to the ground. No far from the road they came upon the body...or what was left of it.

If 'twere he tha' did this, he'd ay prolly be in Valhalla...

There was a little shack nearby, absolutely wrecked from a battle a day or three before. The earth at the scene of battle was also torn up, as though both combatants had been thrown around roughly. Karuka stepped into the light of the clearing, glancing about as she heard water trickling over rocks -- a little brook coursed through...other than the charred and skeletal corpse left behind, it was a very peaceful little scene.

The corpse itself was bare -- completely stripped of everything save the shreds of flesh hanging from its fire-blackened bones. Obviously a vampire...the pointed teeth were too long and sharp...there was a little hair left, and some ivory color was still left to the bones. The cremation had been incomplete...and spontaneous.

That wasn't really what bothered Karuka. She'd handled bodies before, many times. But as she approached the corpse, the red-head's face contorted as though she were sickened, and then in rage. She whirled around at the man who had brought her, grabbing him by the collar as he tried to edge away.

"So, he were ay too bad luck t' give a decen' funeral, bu' nae t' rob o' everything he ha'?"

"N-no...but...don't...." he kept on stammering. She'd forgotten his name, but he was too spineless to really need one.

Karuka shook the man a couple of times to get his attention back on her. "Now...there are ay a few things I wan'. Fers', I wan' a hatchet. I also wan' a large white sheet or lots o' long linen cloths. Then y'll get me a jug o' oil an' either a bottle o' good wine or a jug o' good ale. I dinna care if y' bring i' all a' once or in hal', butcha'll ay bring i' all, or I'll findja an' y'll be sorry t' ha' crossed me. Is tha' clear?"

He stammered out a yes, and she let him go, watching as he vanished.

Sighing, the lass knelt down by the corpse, looking over him a moment in thought before spreading her hands out in front of her and closing her eyes, beginning to recite a prayer in her native Gaelic.

Gods of Heaven and Hell, of Land, Air, Earth and Water,
Have pity on this fallen soul and do not let him wander long.

That said, she gently lifted the skeleton and carried it to the brook, setting it down respectfully and taking water in her hands to wash and cleanse it as best she could.

"I won'er...what sorta fella y' were in life...I canna put up an Ogam so tha' no aon'll fergetcha...I dinna know yer name or whatcha've done. 'Paren'ly...y' werenae th' type t' really get along wi' people...bu'...'tis all righ'. No matter how bad th' man, he deserves t' ha' a decen' funeral...an' I'll give y' tha'."

By the time she'd finished washing the corpse, and had restored its bones mostly to white, the things she'd asked for were strewn about the clearing, and the man looked at her nervously, shuffling his feet.

"Can...is...is that all?"

"Ay, y' cowar'. Y' can run. GO! Be outta mi sigh'." A little cruel, perhaps...but a corpse-robber that wouldn't give the body a burial -- the body he was too frightened to leave out in the open lest it reanimate and kill him...or something of the like -- that just disgusted her.

The man rushed off, dropping a tiny sack of coins as payment. Truth be told, he was glad to have gotten away so easily.

Karuka sighed, picking the skeleton back up and setting it down by the long strips of linen so she could shroud the corpse before she started building his pyre.

Translations

"And...you couldn't do it yourself?"

>>>Such a man shouldn't have come through the forest. He doesn't have any business in here.<<<

"Yes, you said. How much further?"

>>>If he were the one that did this, he's probably in Valhalla...<<<

"So, he was too much bad luck to give a decent funeral, but not to rob of everything he had?"

"Now...there are a few things I want. First, I want a hatchet. I also want a large white sheet or lots of long linen cloths. Then you'll get me a jug of oil and either a bottle of good wine or a jug of good ale. I don't care if you bring it all at once or in half, but you WILL bring it all, or I'll find you and you'll be sorry to have crossed me. Is that clear?"

"I wonder...what sort of fellow you were in life. I can't put up a grave stone so that no one can forget you...I don't know your name or what you've done. Apparently...you weren't the type that really got along with people...but...that's all right. No matter how bad the man, he deserves to have a decent funeral...and I'll give you that."

"Yes, you coward. You can run. GO! Get out of my sight."

[grim137]

“So this is Concordia.”

Though it had been a few days since his revival, Xanbata was still getting used to the idea of actually seeing Althanas. It was weird in a sense that despite spending years on Althanas and had traveled all over it, he had never actually seen anything on it since he had lost his sight long before coming to the primitive planet.

In no other place than the forest of Concordia was this evident. The bloodsucker couldn’t count the days and nights he had spent hiding and hunting within the depths of the forest. Yet he had never seen the trees, never seen its wild life nor the ever seen the way the sunlight sprinkled through the leaves, many of which were still wet with the morning dew. In some ways this new perspective made Xanbata Grim realize why mortals were scared to venture to deep into the confines of the forest, and yet in other ways it only served the make him realize how truly foolish the mortals were for having such pathetic fears.

Clad in his mythril armor, navy blue pants, brown leather boots, and long, navy blue coat, the vampire headed through the forest towards Radasanth. Several times he had to stop and close his eyes to get his bearings. He was not yet used to the sights of Althanas, so he still had to close his eyes and let darkness envelope his mind in order to get a feel for where exactly he was.

The next several moments of Xanbata’s trek were rather uneventful as he moved through the forest, taking in the scenery. However as the vampire let his mind wonder a bit, as it seemed to have a tendency to do a lot lately, he must have wondered off the beaten path. It wasn’t until he no longer felt the shade of the massive oak trees that he realized that he was out of the forest and into a small clearing.

“Son of a bitch,” thought the vampire angrily as he realized that in his musings caused by his newfound sense of sight, he had wondered off and gotten a bit lost.

With an audible sigh, the frustrated blood sucker started looking around the area to see if he could figure out where he was, completely ignoring the female human not far from where he had emerged into the clearing. Yet when he realized where he was, the vampire was actually a bit shocked and within his mind he tried to deny it for second. Still the destroyed shack, the signs of battle, the slight smell of tried blood and other fluids, which were now attracting some mighty big bugs made it impossible for Xanbata to ignore where he was. He was in the clearing where he no, where Tarry Wheeler, had died.

It was once the realization of the fact that the vampire had stumbled on to the scene of where his former self had died, that he truly noticed the human girl in the area. Of course far more important to the bloodsucker than the fact that she was in the area was what she was doing in such a place. What he noticed was that she was pilling materials around a corpse, his corpse.

“No it can’t be,” thought Xanbata, seemingly mesmerized by the skeleton “But it has to be, how many other dead vampires could there be in this particular area? Now what the fuck could this wench being doing to it?”

“You, mortal women,” said Xanbata walking over the young female finally acknowledging the fact that she was even there, “what are you doing with that body?”

[Karuka]

While she'd shrouded a body two or three times before, Karuka had never shrouded a skeleton before, and she hadn't worked very often with cloth strips. That made it necessary for her to be very careful. She'd bound the feet at the ankles and the arms at the wrists, and had very carefully wrapped the feet and hands, careful not to break or disturb the delicate framework of bones making up the extremities.

When that was done, she heaved a sigh of relief and breathed a prayer of thanks. She'd worked so hard to not desecrate the body (more than it had been when she'd found it), and was grateful that her efforts had paid off. That done, she started shrouding the rest of the body, briefly looking up when someone else entered the clearing, but since he just seemed to be looking around, stupefied, she continued her work, letting him be.

She was about halfway done wrapping the corpse when he came over and demanded what she was doing, and Karuka looked up and gave the man a cheery grin.

"Poor fella seems t' ha' run int' a wee bit o' trouble," she explained, "an' some'un from th' town came an' got me t' deal wi' th' remains. Sin' he dinna ha' any'un t' give him a decen' funeral, I decided t' give him 'un misel'. I'm shroudin' him, righ' now...once that's done, I'll build a pyre, an' hopefully I can ha' him cremated by t'nigh'."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized the man carefully. He looked much different than she supposed the skeleton she was kneeling beside had, but she could just see the hint beneath his lips of longer, sharper teeth. That, and since he'd addressed her as a mortal, he was probably not exactly human.

"Are y' kin o' his? I dinna know his name, so I canna make any sort o' an Ogam fer him...but if y' do, then I coul' carve i' int' a tree, or somethin'."

And here's what she really said:

"The poor guy seems to have run into some trouble, and someone from the twon came and got me to deal with the remains. Since he doesn't have anyone to give him a decent funeral, I decided to give him one myself. I'm shrouding him right now...once that's done, I'll build a byre, and hopefully I can have him cremated by tonight."

"Are you family of his? I don't know his name, so I can't make him any sort of Ogam (grave marker)...but if you do, then I could carve [his name] into a tree, or something."

[grim137]

The human girl spoke with an odd accent that reminded the vampire in a strange sort of way of the elves of some of the dwarves he had met in Haidia. Still as obnoxious as her voice may have been, Xanbata could tell that what she was saying (though it was exceptionally hard at times) was true. It also erased any doubts in the bloodsuckers mind that it was indeed the skeleton of his former self he was seeing.

“Yep, its my skeleton, though it shouldn’t be this naked. Filthy fucking grave robbers,” thought Xanbata as he kneeled closely over the skeleton, observing every small detail that he could notice.

Though most might imagine that seeing one’s own skeleton would be quite a surreal experience, and in many ways it was. Still, for Xanbata at least, it wasn’t all that weird. Looking over the body all the newly reborn vampire really saw was a charred and lifeless skeleton. In fact if it weren’t for the young human girl, he would have been skeptical of it actually belonging to that of his former self.

“Kin? Not quite,” said Xanbata in response to the girl’s questions “though we certainly were close. His name was Tarry Whealer. Damn shame he had to let the bloodlust drive him crazy though. Guess it’s a good thing he mostly murdered humans so I doubt he killed anybody that wasn’t expendable. However what bothers me was that this vampire had a lot of valuable equipment, do you know where the grave robbers who took it might be?”

[Karuka]

Humans are...expendable? Can a life mean ay so little t' some'un tha' i' dinna matter? How can any'un say tha'...abou' a life?

Karuka blinked at the vampire slowly, the smile fading from her face as she realized that she was face to face with something evil. Even though she normally didn't judge people so swiftly, anyone that could so casually dismiss murders...it just boggled her mind. How anyone could kill or accept killing when there was no need...that had been the only reason she had been able to come to terms with the slavers she'd killed on the boat from Akashima to a port near Radasanth...she couldn't understand this man's perspective.

She knew that she should be afraid. If he dismissed murder so easily, nothing was stopping him from doing the same to her. But instead, what she felt was pity. Pity that there was a force that could drive people to murder...and if the tales she'd heard of vampires were at all true...it wasn't necessarily their choice to become what they were, and they couldn't control the needs they had. That fact, above and beyond the fact that they DID feel the need to kill...it gave the red-head a deep sense of sorrow on behalf of the man she was shrouding, the man standing over her, and all their type.

"I dinna know where th' grave robbers went," she said at length, answering the question. "Th' man tha' came an' got me left here less than an hour ago. He tossed down a wee bag o' somethin' an' ran th' way opposite. He isnae any business o' mine."

That said, Karuka looked back at the corpse, picking up the next strip of linen and resuming her careful work with the shroud. The sun suddenly seemed to beat down a little more oppressively, and the hum of insects in the clearing suddenly seemed strangely loud. The Irish lass didn't like being alone in the clearing with the vampire. It felt uncomfortable, and not because he could kill her with barely a thought and no remorse...it was that he could kill with barely a thought and no remorse.

>>>Humans are...expendable? Can a life truly mean so little to someone that it doesn't matter at all? How can anyone say that...about a life?<<<

"I don't know where the grave robbers went. The man that came and got me left here less than an hour ago. He tossed down a bag of something and ran in the opposite direction. He's none of my business.

[Karuka]

Right, Grim left. I got permission to bunny his character. So...I'm gonna finish this out as a solo.

Xanbata glared down at the girl. How dare she ignore him? He could kill her without a second thought, could drain her blood and leave her just as lifeless as the skeleton she was shrouding. And why should he believe that she wasn't the grave robber, and just stupid enough to stay behind to try and save the blood-sucker's soul?

Leaning down, he grabbed her wrist and hauled her up, hearing a crkk from the bones as he gripped her hard enough to hurt. He looked into her eyes for a moment, glaring, letting her know beyond all doubt that if she crossed him, he'd kill her.

"Give me what was on the body, girl, unless you want to die."

Karuka didn't know what this man's problem was. Did he honestly think she was stupid enough to rob a corpse and then stick around? That would have been stupid beyond her normal wont. Was it so commonly unacceptable to do a courtesy for a stranger here on Althanas? That was the saddest thing she'd ever heard.

"D'y' ay wan' th' charcoal tha' I washed off o' him? If so, y' can find i' in th' river. He dinna ha' anythin' else t' him, an' if y' wan' t' prove i'...I dinna own anythin' other than what's in mi wee bag o'er there."

She felt threatened by the man that held her, but she wasn't really afraid. She was angry. To accuse her of robbery and desecration of a body that he should have taken care of himself? That was beyond unforgivable.

The glaring match between girl and vampire lasted several more moments before he dropped her and overturned her satchel, dumping the contents to the ground. There really wasn't much that Karuka could call her own: a slightly shorn gray wool cloak, a canvas that had likely had strips cut out of it, a little wooden flute, some bread, a water skin, some battered cloth strips that had been cut into bandages, and a few little gold coins.

Other than that, all she had was her vlince suit, sturdy leather boots, bronze sword, a pouch on her hip, and a necklace. The pouch...the pouch could be hiding anything, and Xanbata stalked back over to swipe it from her.

"Easy. I willnae ha' what's in th' pouch tossed on th' groun' like bits o' garbage."

Karuka opened the pouch to prevent having her head ripped out, showing the little clay tablets to the vampire. There was his proof...she had nothing of his. Even the gold was too little for her to have taken it from him, and no grave-robber would be stupid enough to return to the corpse they'd robbed from.

As the red-head tied the rune pouch back to her hip, Xanbata stepped closer, towering over her threateningly...although he wasn't really surprised when she just glanced up at him in irritation.

"Tell me where they went," he growled.

"I already told y'. Th' aon tha' hired me went t' th' west an' a wee bit sou'ard."

The vampire put his hand to the girl's throat, squeezing gently -- just tightly enough to constrict her breathing.

"If I do not find this man, and you are here when I return, I will not spare your life."

That said, the heretofore blind vampire turned, dropping the red-head with the annoying accent, and walked off, kicking a little satchel as he left.

Karuka rubbed her throat and sighed irritably, kneeling back beside the corpse. "An padir," she started, looking to the area where the brown-haired vampire had disappeared into the thick foliage, "agam, corruichae, air chall." Turning back to the corpse, she shook out her wrist and picked the strip of cloth back up, starting to wrap his spine. "Yer frien'...t'was ay an angry fella."

"Do you want the charcoal that I washed off of him? If so, you can find it in the river. He didn't have anything else on him, and if you want to prove it...I don't own anything other than what's in my little bag over there."

"Easy. I won't have what's in the pouch tossed on the ground like bits of garbage."

"I already told you. The one that hired me went to the west and a little southward."

"A prayer for you, the angry and lost." <-- from the Gaelic.

"Your friend...was an angry fellow."

[Karuka]

It took less than an hour to finish shrouding the skeleton, and after that, Karuka sat back, wiping her forehead and sighing. That had been quite a job for a lone woman. Normally, four or five women created the shroud, while several men built the pyre and others said the prayers for the dead. Instead...she had to do everything.

"Bound for the final time, to be released into death, where there is nothing but freedom. May the life you find in death be more peaceful and happy than the one you knew while here. May you walk the paths of your ancestors in the fields of your gods."

"All righ'...now tha' tha's ay done, I need t' buildja a pyre."

Grabbing the hatchet, Karuka left the clearing to go collect wood -- hopefully dead and dry at the bottom of the forest.

Gathering the wood didn't take too long -- Concordia was an old forest, and while very much alive, it also had more than its share of dead branches and logs readily available for the red-head to claim. She made sure that she didn't see any of the red Soema flowers marking Moontae territory -- while her last encounter with that race had been fairly peaceful, she had no desire to encounter the ire of the guardians of the forest.

[Karuka]

From the massive pile of wood that she brought into the clearing, Karuka sorted out three piles -- kindling, short, and long. From those piles, she started building the pyre, rolling the long, heavy logs to the center of the clearing in order to align them strictly east and west, piling the branches from the short pile in even layers on top of the base layers, and sticking bits of kindling in between.

For every pile, she took the jug of oil and poured some over the wood.

"Burn bright and true, oak wood, wood of life, and hemlock wood, wood of death. Guide this man safely to the world beyond, where he may live again in joy."

Five times she repeated this ritual, and on the fifth she poured the last of the oil over the wood with an extra recitation of the prayer. Now there lay a pyre six layers high, coming a little lower than Karuka's waist. If she'd had stone, it would have been a higher pile, but bare ground was the foundation for the unfortunate Tarry Whealer's funeral.

"Common clearing, made sacred by death, may you embrace the bones of man and tree that will soon be ash, and continue life with them."

[Karuka]

Pyre built and all preparations made, Karuka gently lifted the shrouded skeleton and set it on the pyre. The sun, which had been approaching its zenith when she'd arrived in the shady clearing, was now casting soft reds and oranges around the deepening shadows of the forest. She'd timed it perfectly...the best transition point for a soul was at sunset.

The pyre was almost ready to light, there was just one more ritual to attend to -- it was the reason she'd requested the ale or wine. What she'd been given was a large jug of ale, which was fortunate for the lass. There would be more than enough for libations and the body, and a little left over for her.

Hefting the jug, she approached the pyre respectfully and made two slow counter-clockwise circuits around it before stopping at its North side and turning to put the pyre behind her. She opened the jug and held it high for the gods to see.

"May the North see what has happened here today and hold it in its records. May it reflect upon the life of Tarry Whealer and not hesitate to honor it accordingly. May it accept this offering and the soul for whom it is made."

That said, she poured a generous amount of ale on the ground, and continued counter-clockwise so that she was facing the setting sun, dimly visible through the thick foliage that made up Concorida.

"May the West view the setting of this life as the setting of its orb, may it guide him to the life beyond and show him his place there. May it accept this offering and the soul for whom it is made."

Again, she poured the libation, and then continued to the South side of the pyre.

"May the South accept the soul resting here, may it keep him in peace in the halls of his ancestors until the day comes for him to return to life. May it accept this offering and the soul for whom it is made."

After pouring the libation, she made her way to the Eastern, and final side of the pyre, and here she held the jug higher than ever before and keeping it aloft while she spoke.

"May the East acknowledge the departure of this life. May it guide many others into and through the light, and shine through their deepest darknesses. May it allow the light of the sun to appear evermore, and never prevent it from coming, as the West never shall deny its passage. When the time comes that Tarry Whealer's soul returns to Althanas, guide him as well in the light of life and of love. May it accept this offering and the soul for whom it is made."

Karuka poured a generous libation to the East, before turning back to the pyre and pouring ale over the corpse. She then closed the jug and went back to the pile that was her belongings. From these she extracted three gold coins and a loaf of bread.

Holding up the gold coins, she looked to the West. "Here is his payment to cross the way." She placed the coins over his eye sockets and mouth.

Then she unwrapped the loaf. It had been her only securely wrapped loaf -- the bugs had gotten into the other, but it just meant she'd have some juicy protein with her bread and ale. Setting it on the shrouded corpse, she addressed him.

"Well...y' ha' bread an' drink t' startcha off, an' yer way paid. Fin' a better en' th' nex' time, ay?"

Her job was almost done. She just had to light the pyre and watch it burn, and that was easily enough done. She stepped back a few paces and dug through her rune pouch until she found the rune she was looking for, Ken. Holding her hands out, she looked at the pyre and started her prayer.

"Brigid, goddess of the hearth,
The fires you preside over guard both the living and the dead.
Release the soul from the body,
By the flames of Ken, grant to him peace."

A little ball of flame appeared between the red-head's hands, and she sent it to the pyre. The oil and alcohol had soaked into the wood and body, and the entire thing ignited brilliantly and brightly.

With a sigh, Karuka picked up the hatchet and walked up to a tree. She'd almost forgotten the Ogam. Who forgot to put an Ogam? It would have been unforgivable.

Slowly she etched the grounding line into the living bark, and then carefully chopped the hash marks that made up the common Irish written language. The Ogam was simple...translated, it said: "Tarry Whealer died here."

"Well...you have bread and drink to start off with, and your way is paid. Find a betterr end next time around, all right?"

[Karuka]

Sitting against the ruined shack after she'd replaced her belongings in her satchel, Karuka watched the pyre burn while making a meal of some bug-infested bread and a little ale. To tell the truth, she was grateful to have a meal at all, despite the occasional crunch or squish. She'd come too close to starving too many times to disdain even the humblest of meals.

The vampire's burning pyre cast dancing lights and shadows around the small clearing, and they seemed to grow more contrasted as the sun completed its journey over the horizon. The birds were silent now, only the insects spoke, with their various chirps and squeaks.

Washing down the last bit of bread and what she was pretty sure was beetle with a mouthful of ale, Karuka twirled her runes through her fingers before thinking of a worthwhile question.

"Th' man burnin' there...what kind o' a man were he?"

She laid out a spread until it seemed to be done, and then flipped them over to see what they meant.

The first one was Neid. Tarry Whealer, it seemed was the type of man who would stab people in the back. Or the front. A violent, dark figure.

The next was Mann-inverse. He didn't trust anyone.

The third was Wynn-inverse. He wasn't happy in life.

The fourthand final, was Tir. He'd lived violently, and angrily.

"No wonder th' man tha' hired me tol' me t' nae give him a good funeral. He werenae a good fella. Bu', perha'," she thought aloud, sweeping the runes back into their pouch, "i' jus' mean' tha' he needed a good funeral, an' th' padirs said, more'n any'un. Fer a good man or woman ay ha' their record goin' fer 'em when they go b'fore th' gods. Th' bad 'uns...an' th' unloved 'uns...they dinna ha' any'un t' say padirs fer 'em, an' people think they dinna d'serve 'em. Bu' who wishes any'un t' freeze in Hel?"

Satisfied that she'd done something doubly right, for once, Karuka put her hands behind her head and continued to watch the fire burn. If any of the skeleton survived the cremation, she'd bury it in the morning and then go on her way. There was no harm in a kindness done to an unkind stranger.

"The man burning there, what sort of a man was he?"

"No wonder the man that hired me told me to not give him a good funeral. He wasn't a good fellow. But maybe it just means that he needed a good funeral, and the prayers said, more than anyone else. For a good man or woman has their record going for them when they go before the gods, but the bad ones.... The bad and unloved ones don't have anyone to say prayers for them, and people think they don't deserve them (funeral rites). But who really wants anyone to freeze in Hel?"

((Joke's on Karu, no? Spoils: Whatever wee bit of ale is left in the jug. And the jug itself.))

[Massacre]

Too bad grim stopped in the middle of this, that fool. Anyhow, I judged this as a solo since the majority of it was.

STORY

Continuity 6/10 ~ It's really just sort of there. I know that she was just passing by from somewhere, it left off nicely for a quest in Concordia or somewhere near, though.

Setting 7/10 ~ Nothing to complain about, you mentioned the dead wood despite the forest being rather lively, which happens. Not much else was mentioned except the shack. I'm sure the corpse didn't exactly smell dandy.

Pacing 6/10 ~ No real complaints here, just a short little scene basically. Though with grim staying I'm sure it could have been better. You seemed like you just wanted to get it done.

CHARACTER

Dialogue 5/10 ~ You did Xanbata's well, I thought, though I think that you could let up a bit on the apostrophes in Karuka's speech. Usually, saying she has an accent will be enough -- it gets confusing to have to go down to see what she says and then losing my spot.

Action 7/10 ~ I don't think Xanbata would have kicked her bag, he seems more ancient vampire-like. What I mean by that is that while he might abuse mortals and be a misanthrope, he doesn't seem the type to take it out on inanimate objects. Karuka taking her bag of runes gently and showing him was a nice touch.

Persona 7/10 ~ Both were played well, Karuka's slight nervousness was good and Xanbata's misanthropic attitude was nice. Her respect for the dead, bad or good, is played well I thought.

WRITING STYLE

Mechanics 4/10 ~ There were no spelling errors but I have two little pet peeves in there. The...first one...is this. During a description, commas work just fine, reserve the ellipses for dialogue only. The second is during a description/dialogue using a capitalized word. Using italics is what professional authors do to stress points and I think that's the way to go. This is me being nit-picky. I just realized how nit-picky I am.

Technique 5/10 ~ Nothing one way or the other, everything seemed in order. Most of your sentences were put together well but again, this...makes stuff...seem like a big...run on.

Clarity 8/10 ~ I understood everything well, you did just fine in the clarity.

Wild Card 7/10 ~ No one writes about funerals, it was a nice little change.

And the total is: 62

Karuka Tida earns 915 EXP and 150 gold, she also receives requested spoils!

Congratulations!

[Letho]

EXP/GP added!