"There is no need for an apology, Brianna, you reacted bravely and with the other's safety in mind. For that I thany you as do the others as well. Now sit and lean against the wall. Lets us see what we can do about your ribs." Lac said

Lac knelt at Brianna's side and slowly lifted her tunic to just below her breasts. Exaiming the bondings Jack has made to hold Brianna's ribbs in place, he turns to him and says. "You have done well, this bonding would hold for many days." slowly Lac began to unwrap the bandages. Having removed them he placed them aside, to use to rebond the ribs. He looked at the bruising and frowned slightly then quickly smiled. Looking around he he saw a small stream of water seeping through the ruined stone walls. Reaching into his cloak Lac withdrew a small pouch. Opening it he removed several herbs and laid them on a small square leather cloth. Cupping his hand under the stream he filled is palm and then poured the cold water over the herbs. Mixing them into a paste, using his Elven dagger, Lac spead the paste onto about six feet of the wrappings. He then began wrapping Brianna's ribs, back and torso, pulling the wrappings tight. After he had used all the wrappings he secured them by folding the end and tucking it in the wrapping securely. Pulling her tunic back down he smiled and said "Eat some jerky and rest, we must be off this watchtower before dawn." Lac rose then turned to the others. "Eat and rest I shall take the first watch, we must be off this watchtower before dawn." Lac then moved off and stared back across where they had come.

Tiphereth sat upon the edge of the wall, perched like a raven as he watched the dark clouds roll in from the southeast, his golden hair brilliant against the deep blue of the fast approaching storm. He thought to offer an herbal tonic to ease Brianna's pain, but returned his concoction back into his satchel feeling it was best to keep his magics and potions to himself. He assured himself that the others no doubt possessed healing herbs and had the necessary skills to treat her injuries so there was little need for his interference. The more time he spent among the group the more apparent it was that the affairs of mortals were best left to the hands of those who understood them, and so he would remain a bystander until fate lead him to what he sought.

As the winds picked up, the Phaerie delighted in their play, watching them dance about the tower amidst the fiery flicker of the distant sheet lightening. The haunting sound of thunder rumbled low, announcing the tempest's presence and as a fine mist begins to coat the black stone with a thin layer of water, Tiphereth, still as a stone gargoyle allowed the cool water to coat his skin. A loud crack, caused him to stir, and deftly he made his way to find shelter in an alcove beneath a stone rampart, away from the others.

He leaned his back to the wall, and procured from his satchel, a book and a writing utensil from his lands, called a 'fountain-pen', which held the ink within it, replacing the need for a well. Watching the others, he began to document their tale thus far, recounting their brief time together which seemed to stretch into months. He mused to himself as he wrote, imagining what his old friends back in Arkauld would think of this adventure, should his time in the world of Gladsheim allow him to see it to the end.

The mist continued to blow across the watchtower, and the Dwarf, relishing the weather made his way up the worn stairs to look across the valley and found the foreign Elf nestled between two pillars writing down his thoughts.

"Ye be a bard?" Asked Beldegir in passing.

Tiphereth looked up, acknowledging his presence but said nothing, since the answer seemed so obvious he assumed the Dwarf's question to be rhetorical. Beldegir, huffed at the silent reply and continued on his way, leaving the Phaerie to his writing and gazed out across the valley, watching the impending storm.

As he wrote down what they had thus far experienced, Tiphereth let his mind delve into the past of the watch tower called Rohanathila and attempted to decipher the images frozen in time. As a timeless being of the 'other world', he could sift through what was and sometimes, what may be, but had to interpret what was revealed to him, rather than simply being granted the knowledge. He then recalled the 'ghost-walker' displaying a similar skill and pondered whether or not his accuracy allowed for greater detail and if so what a wondrous resource he could be.

Tiphereth slipped is book back into it's case and tucked it away into his satchel, then rose and made his way down into the main area of the ancient tower. As he passed before, Brianna he quickly crouched down and gave her a peculiar stare, his eyes in the shadow of the storm neither fiery nor black, but almost human-like, his irises a bright purple with a luminescent quality to them.

"I pray you are feeling better." He inquired. "My master always used to say, 'It has to hurt if it is to heal'.", he then offered a gentle smile.

Tiphereth cocked his head to the side, causing his wet locks to spill over his shoulder. He then looked remorseful, almost as if he were able to see far more than Brianna could possibly imagine, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Outcast." He repeated, like the word had far more meaning to it and for brief instant anger or possibly even rage leapt into his eyes, then bowing his head briefly he rose calm and relaxed. "To say that I am Elven, makes the most sense." Tiphereth explained, "But in truth, I am far more and also far less." Tiphereth then laughed at his own cryptic words.

He thought for a moment how to illustrate what he was, and picked up a rock and held it before her. "This stone, is just a stone, but once long ago in the lands from which I hail, all was conscious." He let the stone go and it remained floating in the air, slowly spinning. "Nothing had form, until the Elementals came to be and they so coveted the semblance's of the physical that they mimicked the forms of a world very much like this one." Tiphereth plucked the stone out of the air and held as if it were a precious gem, "Everything was once alive, even this rock and within it yet sleeps that which was once Elemental, as I could be considered to be an Elf that is still part of the Faerie realm from whence they were made. You see, Brianna, no living creatures in my world are born as you were, we come into being by the Will of the Aelaeydium and while some strive to become as you are, others choose to remain as we were." he gestured to himself to denote that he was what his kind began as.

Tiphereth rose to a standing position, looking down upon the ailing woman. "I thank you for your concern but I shall always be an outsider, but I am no outcast." He corrected then smiled to show that he had taken no offense to her terms, for they were only just that. "We all carry our burdens, and nothing shall ever break that yoke. We either grow stronger and pull our ghosts or collapse and perish."

Jack nods to the ranger then moves away quietly past the others but not too far away. He stands quietly just staring across the plains. The wind picks up a bit, blowing the cloak and revealing the sword and bow on his back now. Then as the rains pick up he looks up to the heavens. At this point it a refreshing sensation to feel the rain on his face again. As he stands there with his eyes closed in the rain memories begin to come back. He sees a warrior on a battlefield fighting against horrific creatures that would be more at home in ones nightmares. The memory ends abruptly with the warrior being struck down. Jack places his hand over his stomach as a sharp pain comes then goes. The pain passes quickly and the ghostwalker becomes still again.

"I am fine. It was nothing more than a memory of a long dead warrior." Looking over at Brianna with sunken eyes full of sadness he takes the hand. "Friends. I don't have many of those among the living. Very few wish to associate with one such as me."

Jack watches Brianna return to her spot then looks back across the plains. The spirits here are becoming restless and he can feel it. For some reason though, they will not tell him why. Looking back at the others again he fades from sight to find some reason for the spiritual restlessness he senses.