The Fool's Company (IC)

[Vesperis]

~OOC~
Character Ref

---

Everyone had heard of Courtyard Day, but it seemed like nobody ever remembered but Captain. It wasn't a difficult day to remember, residing on the first harvest days of the year. The days were warm, the nights were cool, and the sun's golden kiss coated the Near-Greenbacks in a midsummer's embrace. Beneath his mask, Captain smiled. He loved Courtyard Day.

The leader of The Fool's Company strode through his "palace" with a spring in his step. He was in one of the more narrow corridors, the dim lights of torches directing him towards his destination. The rotten wooden floorboards, a deep caramel brown color, creaked and groaned under his steps, as light as they were. Captain was a light person, and almost glided across the hall. As he walked, his eyes flicked across the broken, dirt-and-mold-smeared painting on the walls. The walls at some point were white, but were now a washed-out pale, scratched and torn in many places. When they had moved into the House years ago, Captain had guessed that it was once a place of great beauty. When he was younger, he had imagined the old Rapturemen dressed in fine colorful robes, walking across the very floors he walked on. He felt historic. And like a badass.

The rattling of metal behind him caught his attention. As if on cue, two boys, both young and donned in colorful masks, swung past his head. They were yelling and laughing, and one appeared to be chasing the other. Using their legs and arms interchangeably, they flipped and swung across the ceiling in an impressive feat of acrobatics. Captain smiled and continued walking. The one ahead suddenly slipped, and with flailing limbs, fell from his monkey bars into a small table resting against a wall. He slammed into it, the ancient piece of furniture collapsing and shattering into multiple pieces. The other boy laughed merrily and continued swinging. "You're it!"

Captain turned a corner, and entered a small doorway. Though it seemed small, the room that stood behind it was large enough to fit the entire guild. It wasn't the largest bedhall, of course. That title belonged to a room three times this size. Most members would sleep there, if they weren't propped against a wall or crashed on a seat somewhere. Captain, however, was looking for a specific person, and knew exactly where to find her. Allyssa always went to this hall. Less crowded, more security. She really should have diversified, it was becoming too easy to track her movements.

Quickly scanning the room, Captain located his target. There were few in the hall, despite it being relatively early in the morning. He navigated through a maze of beds, some made of rusted metal, others of wood. Finally, he made it to the back corner, where a large shape rested under a blanket. As he approached, he realized the sheet was only half draped, revealing the naked upper body of a woman. He rolled his eyes. She never was one for abstinence. Then again, most in the Company weren't, especially when drunk.

He looked around quickly, and saw a medium-length wooden stick laying across the floor. Grabbing it, he took a deep breath, looking over his third-in-command and her partner of the day's sleeping body. And then he went to work.

"RISE AND SHINE, LITTLE BIRDS!! IT'S A BRAND NEW DAY OF MERRY AND CHEER!"

He swung the stick down with all of his might, onto the mystery man. Instantly, they both jolted awake, and the naked man yelped in pain. Captain raised the stick again, and swung repeatedly. Each blow sent a torrent of curses spat from Allyssa, and a cry of pain from her lover. Eventually, the man had had enough, and grabbed his mask off the floor and ran bare into the halls. Captain smiled, and returned his gaze to Allyssa. Her eyes raged with a white-hot inferno.

"Must you do that...every time you need something." she hissed, her jaw clenched. "I mean, vauk." She sighed deeply, gazing out the window, before rolling over and grabbing a sleeveless tunic off of the floor. "What do you need, Captain? You know, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Clearly." He smirked, and tossed her her mask. "It's Courtyard Day. Get ready."

Allyssa rolled her eyes, and groaned heavily. "God damn it, and Old Man Jesus too." She collapsed back onto the bed. "I'm not taking care of maggots, I'm not in the mood today."

"Three days, actually. You're in charge of them for three days."

"Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh." She buried her head in her hands. "You know how much I hate this, right?"

"Well, that's why you're the best woman for the job." He remarked, grinning from ear to ear. He enjoyed this all too much.

She smirked back, her gaze ice-cold. "I'm going to give them every layer of hell."

"Oh, I'm counting on it. They arrive by midday. Have fun." he replied, and turned to walk down the hall. She donned her mask, adjusting it snugly to her face. She knew the guards would already be at their posts, by the two massive entryways to the House.

Let the games begin.

---

By the time Alyssa had arrived outside, looking slightly more pleasant than she had about a half an hour ago, the gates to the courtyard were open. She pushed open the grand doors that led outside to the courtyard from the foyer. In the process, the door bumped one of the two guards stationed there to keep newcomers from entering the House. The girl turned and opened her mouth to protest, but the sight of Allysa shut her up and send her sinking in to the corner.

Allysa stood on the steps, arms folded in front of her and eyes scanning the courtyard. The few that had been waiting at the gates first thing in the morning were being let in. They were desperate, she didn't like that. She knew some would arrive moments before they began. Lazy, she didn't like that either. And those who arrived right on time irked her too. Attempting to be perfect little wing-children was so god-damn annoying. She stood there, an annoyed glare making itself well known across her eyes as she watched for newcomers to mingle.

[Horgrif]

Rikkard had been pacing for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for others to arrive. Nearby, Nathin sat in the shade of one of the outlying buildings, pondering over a series of vials. Every so often the angry young giant would look over at his younger friend, just long enough to make sure he wasn't suffering in the daylight that would normally herald Hel and pain upon his eyes. A pair of packs laid beside Nathin, all their combined worldly possessions that Rikkard had carried a couple dozen miles on the trip to this sanctuary. Rikkard paced continually again, taking some small note of humor in the footprints he was digging into the hard dirt after another hour of walking from spot to spot reminded him of the ballad of the "Everywhere man*"

Meanwhile Nathin sat, his eyes squinting behind the black veil he commonly wore now to compare one vial to another. The glass tube in his left hand, full of crushed Fernen root and finely ground Genger with water had served as a great reliever of pain or at the very least helped to calm down whoever he was treating. The right hand vial however was a concoction he had yet to test, held within was a mixture of berries and finely chopped herbs that he had found on the journey to the Fool's Company that seemed reminiscent of those he used to deal with pain before removing fishing hooks or dealing with cuts. He pondered what these "Trials" could be that he and Rikkard had heard about so much. Nathin felt content all the same, who better to allow into a group of warriors than someone whom could treat a warrior's pain and suffering?

Both Rikkard and Nathin's heads snapped up when they heard a door opening nearby. Rikkard turned, looking over the woman in front of him, she was certainly far from hard on the eyes. A small part of him stirred to attention but he quickly shunned the thoughts, stopping mid pace to give her his attention. While his attire was far from the clean rubbish he had seen in larger villages, he hoped the iron chestpiece and leggings he wore would help him stick out amongst the others for his craft. He waited and watched, calmly, watching her but taking care not to look her in the eyes. He wasn't in the forge any longer, here he was under her gaze.

*A nod to Johnny Cash's "I've Been Everywhere"

[Lancearc]

The day had been a pleasantly warm one, even since the early morning, when Aldon had been up in just enough time to make sure all the cattle were accounted for, no chickens were made off with by sly foxes, and the pigs were kept well fed. All of this, before the sun had risen high enough to claim the dew that accumulated on the stalks and leaves of short grasses and what shrubs dotted the area. Times had been hard, there could be no doubt, but the animals were all healthy again after an odd stretch of sickness. After the village decided to see Ms. Bugler publicly burned, it was almost as if Tolsa's ailing livestock were cured. Witchcraft often came to effect the health of the village when its presence is strong enough, Aldon has heard, explained to him by his father. Father had cleared things up for him. "Witch magic is an evil force, and unholy forces are known to cause sickness in the crops, the animals, and even affect the weather. Only in the most extreme cases is it able to begin causing harm to us." Father told him.

Now he rode with his uncle. For years now, Uncle Radrik had been insisting that Aldon be sent to join the Fools' Company, pitching to his parents that they had plenty of farm hands with Aldon's two younger brothers growing into capable boys. Having all of them there was just another mouth to feed too, and Aldon's skill in craftsmanship and at the forge was surpassing even that of his master. Clearly, Uncle had argued, he should be given more of a shot in life to do something greater than farm the same field year after year. And so, he said his goodbyes, to a ready mother and a father he always had trouble reading, and hopped onto a skinny horse, just behind his uncle.

"Uncle..." Aldon asked as they continued their trot, a journey which had been the longest he'd ever experienced. "Father told me that you're only given one chance at your entry trial...if I fail, I could face being exiled...are you sure I'm ready for...whatever may happen?" Alison asked, a bit timidly. These were things that frightened him. Exile. Failure. His uncle only sighed, not looking back as his spoke. "The Old Man Jesus says that through him, everything is possible. Eternal life. Flight. You just have to believe hard enough. There aren't many people who believe hard enough to achieve those things, I guess...but you are blessed with great skills. I think the Old Man Jesus has big plans for you, and being a poor farmer isn't one of them."

---

That use ended rather unceremoniously, after many hours and more than a few restroom breaks, it seemed. Although he knew his life would be changed permanently after he hopped off that horse, he found that he wasn't filled with hesitation or anxiety. He was actually quite excited. The relatively solemn ride that ended just outside the courtyard of the largest building that Alson had ever seen, so ornate and well constructed it must've been a palace for an emperor. He was in awe, eyes agape at the majesty of it all. The world outside Tolsa, was as he'd hoped, so much grander, so much...better. Life was better out here, he could tell. No one went hungry and no witches were burned. He knew that to be true, it had to be.

He turned to his uncle, a man he looked in the eyes although he was 20 years his senior. "Aldon," he began, "your mother always thought I was a real bastard. And now that I've taken her eldest son from her home and cut him out of her life entirely, well...this may be the last time I ever see you. Your mother is going to see to that. I want you to do your damnedest to make this all worth it, right? I know you e got that much in you." his uncle smiled, a grin mostly hidden behind a bushy beard as a firm hand clasped the boys shoulder.

Alison only nodded. "I understand. And I will. Thank you, so much." Aldon replied, a short, but seemingly very final embrace with his uncle sent him on his way. As the older man returned to his steed, he left his young companion to wander into the courtyard, curious, and optimistic.

[Tuernia]

The sky began to lighten, though the sun had yet to break the horizon, and Abel woke up. His internal clock was finely attuned; he’d been waking up at this time nearly his entire life. Abel’s father had woken him up at this hour since he was five years old, just as his grandfather had done for him, and so on, and so on.

The air was cool and damp as he got up, looking around him he could see that dew was settled on everything. The embers from the campfire he’d made last night were entirely extinguished. He didn’t look forward to the next part of his daily routine, but he got on with it anyway. He took his pail down to a nearby creek and scooped up some water. It was cold as he washed his arms up to the elbows, colder as he washed his feet up to the ankles, and coldest as he splashed it onto his face. He was fairly sure a priest would think that too rowdy for the ablution, but there were no priests around, and it helped him wake up in the mornings.

Now ritually purified, he reached for his most treasured belonging. Pulling gently out of a leather bag, it was the worn old prayer rug that his mother had made for him all those years ago. The colors were faded, and the edges a little frayed, but for an eleven year old piece of fabric it was doing pretty well. In his mind’s eye he could see the beautiful reds, blacks, and whites as they had looked in his earliest memories of it. Embroidered with geometric patterns, flowers, and at the top, a small image of the Temple of New Jerusalem, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He was glad to already be outside, no room in his shack back in Rowley for prayers. Well, maybe for Kristians, he thought. He swept off a patch of dry ground with a leafy branch, and gingerly put down the rug. He hoped he was facing the direction of New Jerusalem. During his years of travels he’d done his best to remember the right direction, but it had gotten harder and harder, and he was less and less sure that he was correct. However, he hoped God would understand, and that his intention was the most important thing. Starting in a standing position, he raised his open hands to shoulder levels, palms faced forward.

“God is great.” He said quietly. He placed his arms over his chest.

“In the name of God, the Mighty, the Merciful.
Praise be to God, the Lord of the worlds,
The Mighty, the Merciful,
Peace be upon his servants, Jesu and Mahmud.
Thee do we serve and Thee do we beseech for help.
Guide us on the right path,
The path of those upon whom Thou hast bestowed favors,
The path of thy prophets, Smith, Yung, and Garell.” He recited from memory. Now he bowed, palms on his knees.

“Glory to God, the God of Nefi.” He said, standing upright again. “God is great.” He said.

Abel now prostrated himself, nose and forehead touching the prayer rug. “Glory to God the most high, glory to God the most high, glory to God the most high.” He said in quick succession.

Rocking back into a sitting position he said. “O my Lord, forgive me! O my Lord, forgive me!" before prostrating himself again and repeating his earlier exaltation. He rose into a sitting position once more. To his right and left he said “Selaam.”

This last part of the prayer always made him the saddest, because there was never anyone beside him to whom he could wish “peace.” In the old days his brothers or his father would’ve been there. Three times a day he was guaranteed a moment of peace and fraternity, a moment of tranquility from the never-ending work of the farm. That was all gone now, of course, though time seemed to be doing a poor job of healing that wound. He was lost in thought for a moment, but then the remembrance of what today was dawned on him.

It was Courtyard Day! He might actually be joining the Fool’s Company. After years of being alone, he had a chance to join something bigger than himself, perhaps even… a family? Don’t get your hopes up, he told himself, they’re just as likely to kick you out as accept you… probably more likely, he thought. He’d been hearing tales about the company even since he arrived in the Near-Greenbacks two years ago; they were adventurers, mercenaries, or troublemakers, depending on who was telling the story. Either way, he knew today was the day he had a chance of getting in, and he was going to take it. He’d taken off from the village of Rowley three days ago, and made it here on foot.

He packed up his meager belongings. A leather rucksack and another bag contained his prayer rug, a few spare clothes, his flint and tinderbox, a hammer, an old knife, some sewing implements, and some random tidbits. He also had what remained of his provisions, a half-eaten wedge of cheese and two crabapples. He attached his metal pail to the rucksack, put it on his back, and slung his bad over his shoulder, across his chest. Then he took off down the road, knowing he was just minutes from the “House.”

As Abel approached the company’s headquarters, he could see other aspirants already waiting in the courtyard. He smiled at them all as he walked in, but didn’t say anything. Moments later, a woman with an expression that could curdle fresh milk swept open the doors of the House and looked down on them. Abel looked at her for a moment, but didn’t stare too long.

[Totulga]

Clarise was curled up lost deep in sleep as the black sky began to grey. Her body moved gently up and down to the rhythm of her breathing completely at peace with the world around her. It would however not last. She awoke with a start her arms and legs moving violently around grasping at nothing. She became twisted in her greatcoat and she opened her eyes to look around. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was and what was happening around her. She sighed and unwrapped herself, freeing one arms at a time and then sitting on the coat. She reached into her small rucksack and retired the water skin from it, her supply was not dangerously low but it had been steadily decreasing since she fight set out for the Fools Guild 2 days earlier.

The walk had for the most part been rather uneventful. The first day she followed the trail from her village in Grimsby crossing several small streams that helped to feed water from the north down to the more arid south. She notice how the trail from her town was over grown and uneven from lack of use while as she went onward and passed other small settlements the roads became visible, dirt paths with the brush cleared aside by horses and boots. She had never seen a larger settlement before and was excited at the prospect of seeing an actual large building.

She took a sip from her skin and poured some of the water into her hands. She used it to splash on her face and wash away the dirt from the past two days as best she could. She recapped he skin and got up from her coat and stepped into her sandals. The first signs of day were beginning to appear over the horizon and she still had a few miles left to travel. She grabbed her coat and dusted it off with her free hand and then swung it around herself. She picked up her ruck sack and put it over one of her shoulders and then set off down the road once more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She eventually spotted the old building on the horizon. She had heard what it would look like by some of the elders of her village but even their descriptions could not take away from its grander. It was truly monolithic in size and seemed eclipse everything around it with its sheer size. It was, to her eyes, beautiful.

She saw a small group was standing just outside the gates waiting somewhat less than patiently for admittance. The day was already started and she wondered how long it would take before the trials would start. She stepped into the courtyard right as the gate had begun to open. The woman standing at its threshold seemed rather less than pleased to see everyone standing there. She quickened her pace to join with the group.

[Empire of the Rising Moon]

The sky started to take a nice orange tinge as the sun was rising over the horizon. The village that layed just a little down the path started to lite up, and the first of its morning farmers lumbered out the doors to go feed their livestock. Aliz would lead the charge on this village for once, this being that it is the last raid that she will participate in with the Kik band. Aliz was sitting on a stump watching the farmers go about their early morning duties, and kept flicking her eyes up to the storehouse that contained some dyes. Aliz had heard they had some purple dyes in the storehouse.

One of the bigger men came up behind Aliz and put his hand on her shoulder and said with a big ol' grin on his face, "Ready for the last raid of your life miss fool?" He was referencing how they were traveling so that their leader, Aliz, could try her hand at joining the fool's company. Aliz slowly cranked her head back and let it hang as she responded with a blood lust in her voice and eyes, "Get the others up, we are going to have some fun for once." The man laughed and headed back to the other men and woke them up from their slumber. "Get up you insane cowbrains, we got a raid."

Once the men gathered around Aliz, they quickly approached the village in the long shadows created by the buildings. As they closed the distance, several cows moo'd and a crow kawwed, however they still got to the storehouse without anyone noticing the rather large group. Aliz and the group quickly went through the storehouse and took a great deal of dyes, around 9 pouches, and quickly ran off. The small raid went down uneventful, however it did give Aliz one last memory for her to remember her village by.

When they made it back to their camp, the men packed up and they started off towards the village where the fools company was, which was a good while away still. "Let's get on the road Maggots!" Aliz yelled as she lead the way with her bag filled with her stuff, and a bow with an arrow on the string ready to be loosed.

---

Aliz eventually caught sight of the castle of a building off in the distance. It really was awe striking, almost godlike with the way it looked in the light. Aliz almost forgot to keep moving and before anyone could comment on it yelled some really harsh words towards each individual member. They then started walking with a brief pace towards the building that would contain Aliz's fate.

They approached the massive gates, which had some interesting looking characters as well as a rather annoyed and more than likely pissed woman in front of the gate. When Aliz got to the few people standing in front of the gate, she heard in the background some of her men talking. "Go on, go tell the mistress what you think of her." "Yeah, yeah, go tell her. Its your last chance." This caught Aliz's attention due to her being the only girl in her group, and when she turned around she saw the youngest out of the group walk up to her. "I-I really l-like you. I-if it doesn't bother y-you, could you maybe" Aliz cut him off with a mighty back hand across his face before he could finish his sentence. "Who do you think I am? I will not just date you because your around my age. Now if your serious come back in two years." The boy didn't looked surprised, just a little depressed as this wouldn't be the first time this had happened. "I didn't think you would. It was worth a shot though." He then walked back into line as the other men snickered at the boy. Aliz then pointed to the oldest out of the group and said, kind of pissed off, "Now, If I don't pass this I will return as your leader, if not, then your the leader."

With that the men gave a wave and turned around to go back to their village a few days away from this place. Aliz then turned around and looked at the others and noticed that she was slightly anxious. "This is a first, when was the last time I felt this way?" she asked herself. She then looked up to the woman who stood at the gate and detected a sense of domination coming from her. Aliz then looked right into her eyes for several long moments, until breaking eye contact to look at the other optimistic people who surround her.

[Tuernia]

It was quiet in the courtyard, everyone seemed nervous. Rightly so, Abel supposed, this might be one of the most important days of their life. However, he was growing tired of simply waiting in silence. Men are, that they might have joy, he thought, quoting to himself from the United Holy Bible. Abel surveyed the others in the courtyard so far.

Big guy with iron armor, probably not too chatty. Weird guy sitting in the shade, wearing a veil, and looking a tubes, probably not a good choice either, thought Abel. He continued to look around, seeing Clarise. Pretty girl? Hmm, possibly. Don't want people to think I'm flirting though.

He then saw Aliz come in, and saw her stare directly at the woman at the doors. Probably gonna be a troublemaker, she looks tough anyway. Finally, he saw Aldon. Now there's a normal enough looking fellow, best to start with a friendly face.

Abel approached Aldon. "Good morning friend. I'm Abel Halim, who might you be?"

[Lancearc]

Aldon was still taking in the building in front of him and, unlike the others, was seemingly completely disregarding the woman who made herself so visible to the rest. Really it was all just wanting to know more. In his own village and, in many others he expected, there was nothing like this. Everything was wooden homes and thatched roofs. How could anyone be skilled enough to carve the very stone from the ground and into such an intricate form? The people responsible for this must have possessed powers far beyond anything anyone today was capable of even dreaming of...

It took him a moment to realize that he'd been approached, and that he'd been standing there, gawking at this structure. "Oh!" Aldon started, already a bit embarrassed now. "H-Hello! I'm Aldon, of Tolsa. It's good to meet you!" he grinned just slightly.

"That's a very...uncommon name, I take it? Halim, I mean. It doesn't sound like an Inglish name...that's what the people in my home used." Alden pointed out. Surely this person was from some far away place, but...he didn't appear to be some kind of monster. No tail, no horns from his forehead, not even claws for hands, just...oddly normal, save for his surname.

[Tuernia]

It took him a moment to realize that he'd been approached, and that he'd been standing there, gawking at this structure. "Oh!" Aldon started, already a bit embarrassed now. "H-Hello! I'm Aldon, of Tolsa. It's good to meet you!" he grinned just slightly.

"That's a very...uncommon name, I take it? Halim, I mean. It doesn't sound like an Inglish name...that's what the people in my home used." Alden pointed out. Surely this person was from some far away place, but...he didn't appear to be some kind of monster. No tail, no horns from his forehead, not even claws for hands, just...oddly normal, save for his surname.

"I suppose it is, around here anyway." said Abel. "I was always told it meant "gentle" in old Erabic."

His strange last name was something Abel had dealt with a lot in his time in the Near-Greenbacks. People were naturally suspicious of outsiders, and it surely marked him as one. He'd considered changing it on many occasions, but had always decided to be truthful. One the one hand, he wasn't supposed to lie, and on the other, it was one of the few links he had to his parents.

"I'm not exactly from here. I was born many leagues from here, although I've lived in the Near-Greenbacks for a while, in Rowley village. I don't suppose you've heard of the New-Day Saints?"

[Lancearc]

It took him a moment to realize that he'd been approached, and that he'd been standing there, gawking at this structure. "Oh!" Aldon started, already a bit embarrassed now. "H-Hello! I'm Aldon, of Tolsa. It's good to meet you!" he grinned just slightly.

"That's a very...uncommon name, I take it? Halim, I mean. It doesn't sound like an Inglish name...that's what the people in my home used." Alden pointed out. Surely this person was from some far away place, but...he didn't appear to be some kind of monster. No tail, no horns from his forehead, not even claws for hands, just...oddly normal, save for his surname.

"I suppose it is, around here anyway." said Abel. "I was always told it meant "gentle" in old Erabic."

His strange last name was something Abel had dealt with a lot in his time in the Near-Greenbacks. People were naturally suspicious of outsiders, and it surely marked him as one. He'd considered changing it on many occasions, but had always decided to be truthful. One the one hand, he wasn't supposed to lie, and on the other, it was one of the few links he had to his parents.

"I'm not exactly from here. I was born many leagues from here, although I've lived in the Near-Greenbacks for a while, in Rowley village. I don't suppose you've heard of the New-Day Saints?"

"That's very interesting...I was always taught that Erabics and their faith were demons in disguise...there were many great wars fought against them, to stop them from raping and pillaging across the land, and to stop them from tearing down holy places. But...you aren't a demon under there, are you?" Alden laughed a small bit, a quiet one that was only half-joking. In his own mind he still had reason to be very suspicious of this new person and the apparently unholy name that he carried with him, though...if it was such an unholy thing, then why would he go around, telling everyone willingly.

Aldon began to suspect he hadn't met a demon, truthfully.

"No, I can't say I have. People in my village are very angry, when people teaching new faiths come in. Sometimes they're burned, even...tell me, though." Aldon insisted. "I'm curious about them, I imagine you're one of them yourself?" Aldon asked.

[Horgrif]

Somewhere behind him, Rikkard took note of a pair chatting away. He craned his neck to look back at Aldon and Abel, couple of kids, probably younger than Nathin even if he had to take a guess. He had heard them arrive but his attention had been more drawn to the woman in front of him and the building until he noticed the small group. The smithy looked over at Nathin, whom didn't even seem to notice the arrival of anyone, too engrossed in his studies. He swore to himself quietly. One of these days he was going to be the death of Rikkard if he couldn't even notice such simple things. He looked back at the building again, far more impressive in person than the stories let on. He wondered what kind of materials he'd have to work with if the "Fools" could get their hands on such craftsmanship...content he'd pondered it long enough he turned about, looking the others over. The 2 already talking he would introduce himself to later, the 2 girls on the other hand...that one had a certain fire in her eyes...he made his way through the growing group towards Aliz,sizing her up as he walked.

As he walked past the others his mind contemplated what these supposed "Trials" might entail. A small part of him felt sorry for Nathin, he knew if even the smallest piece of it required physical prowess he would be done before day's end. The part that pained the smithy most however was if Nathin failed to be taken in here, there was little Rikkard could do for him. Perhaps give up his food and water, point out the nearest village and wish him the best of luck. The only alternative to find good work would have been to find one of the farming or hunting villages and he'd heard....stories...of what happened to one such village that came on hard times from a traveler a while back. He pushed these thoughts away as he got close. Rikkard stood upright and pounded one of his fists against the chestpiece before offering his large hand to her, palm up, a sign of respect and courtesy back home. "Rikkard Jameson, of Ayvalon" he told her plainly before lowering his hand "I suppose you're here for the trials as well?"

[Flimxanthia]

Lorens approached the building, duffel bag lazily slung over one shoulder, the weights inside bringing it down with some force. Yet this did not seem to burden Mr Jouns, who seemed far more pre-occupied by the large gathering of youths before him.
You're a youth too, I'm not entirely sure why you're referring to them like that.
Lorens made an effort to ignore that last comment, though it did raise a valid point. No, there's a time and a place for discussions with one's internal monologue.
That's horribly impolite.
He readjusted the bag upon his shoulder, the weight now getting to him. The sledgehammer was probably the heaviest thing in there, most everything else being specifically light-weight. Sometimes he questioned why he kept a hammer. Then he reminded himself that it was for breaking down walls. Then he thanked himself for paying attention.
He would frequently converse with himself. Presumably, it was a by-product of his isolation. He'd gone a good six years or so without much human interaction. What did you expect?

The youths stretched out before him. There were so many. At least five. Most likely more.
He couldn't count particularly well.
Sweet Old Man Jesus, he couldn't take nearly half of them if they noticed him.
But they weren't hostile.
This wasn't a job.
He felt a growing sense of dread. To those of us in the audience, this is what is commonly known as a low-key panic attack.
What audience?
He reminds himself that he is a real human being. He is not a writer's plaything.
Or so he thinks
Why do you have to make comments like that?
Because it means that we don't have to think about that crowd, or the trials at hand.
Sorry. Carry on.

Lorens straightened out his jacket and took a deep breath.
Wow, this place is a shit-hole.
It's fancy and the like, but the landscape is so...
Perhaps there's still time to leave?

[Empire of the Rising Moon]

Aliz was watching as two of the men started talking to each other, and took note to talk to the individuals later. She might need to make some allies before the trials, maybe make a servant or two while she was at it. She also noticed another girl there, someone she might go and talk before the trials start, nothing is more inspiring than having a fellow girl with you to help you pass right? She then gave out a sigh and noticed a big man with burns coming towards her. Oh this is going to be fun isn't it? She thought to herself as she kept an eye on him.

When he got close, he said suddenly after pounding his chest,

"Rikkard Jameson, of Ayvalon" he told her plainly before lowering his hand "I suppose you're here for the trials as well?"

Aliz looked coldly into his eyes, and after a second of thought gave an answer in a cold, yet somewhat enchanting voice, "Aliz Kik, of the Kik band." She raised her right hand to show she was not armed, as a show of peace. Her tone of voice then changed to sound somewhat normal as she continued, "I am here for the trials. I find the whole thing exciting and mysterious don't you think?" She then looked around to the others who have gathered and then went back to the conversation, "Quite the turn out for people wanting to join in the trials huh? I'm pretty sure that I will pass, and more than likely you considering the shape your in. But some of them.. I just don't think they will make it. Hey, do you think you can help me out if we encounter each other in the trials? You know, because it would benefit both of us right?" She then eyed the mans burns, and not wanting to sound rude, but out of a half-faked curiosity said cautiously, "I noticed you have some burns, where might you have gotten them?" She hoped that it would be something interesting

[Totulga]

Lorens approached the building, duffel bag lazily slung over one shoulder, the weights inside bringing it down with some force. Yet this did not seem to burden Mr Jouns, who seemed far more pre-occupied by the large gathering of youths before him.
You're a youth too, I'm not entirely sure why you're referring to them like that.
Lorens made an effort to ignore that last comment, though it did raise a valid point. No, there's a time and a place for discussions with one's internal monologue.
That's horribly impolite.
He readjusted the bag upon his shoulder, the weight now getting to him. The sledgehammer was probably the heaviest thing in there, most everything else being specifically light-weight. Sometimes he questioned why he kept a hammer. Then he reminded himself that it was for breaking down walls. Then he thanked himself for paying attention.
He would frequently converse with himself. Presumably, it was a by-product of his isolation. He'd gone a good six years or so without much human interaction. What did you expect?

The youths stretched out before him. There were so many. At least five. Most likely more.
He couldn't count particularly well.
Sweet Old Man Jesus, he couldn't take nearly half of them if they noticed him.
But they weren't hostile.
This wasn't a job.
He felt a growing sense of dread. To those of us in the audience, this is what is commonly known as a low-key panic attack.
What audience?
He reminds himself that he is a real human being. He is not a writer's plaything.
Or so he thinks
Why do you have to make comments like that?
Because it means that we don't have to think about that crowd, or the trials at hand.
Sorry. Carry on.

Lorens straightened out his jacket and took a deep breath.
Wow, this place is a shit-hole.
It's fancy and the like, but the landscape is so...
Perhaps there's still time to leave?

Clarise stood there at the back of the crowd not quite sure where to begin. She had never been the most social of people, then again it was for the best back home. Most people did not look at her with much sympathy back there. She was viewed as an out cast, as someone who didn't belong, she often felt lonely but could never show it.

Now here, trapped but dozens of observing eyes, she felt desperate to be part of something. She didn't want to be viewed as weird or strange, she had to find someone to talk to. It was in this moment of mild panic that she spotted a rather peculiar looking chap approaching the crowd. "Now is her chance," she thought and rushed forward to great him, her coat whipping about her legs at the sudden change of pace. She marched right up to him and said, "hi my name is Clarise. It is a pleasure to meet you." She gave him a general smile and cocked her head to the side trying to seem cute and more approachable. She hated awkward situations.

[Horgrif]

Aliz looked coldly into his eyes, and after a second of thought gave an answer in a cold, yet somewhat enchanting voice, "Aliz Kik, of the Kik band." She raised her right hand to show she was not armed, as a show of peace. Her tone of voice then changed to sound somewhat normal as she continued, "I am here for the trials. I find the whole thing exciting and mysterious don't you think?" She then looked around to the others who have gathered and then went back to the conversation, "Quite the turn out for people wanting to join in the trials huh? I'm pretty sure that I will pass, and more than likely you considering the shape your in. But some of them.. I just don't think they will make it. Hey, do you think you can help me out if we encounter each other in the trials? You know, because it would benefit both of us right?" She then eyed the mans burns, and not wanting to sound rude, but out of a half-faked curiosity said cautiously, "I noticed you have some burns, where might you have gotten them?" She hoped that it would be something interesting

[/quote]

Rikkard watched her hand, raising an eyebrow as she made an offer to "Help each other out". He contemplated her offer, glancing over his shoulder at Nathin. A creeping voice at the back of his mind told him " Be wary of the woman"....but maybe....He looked down at her hand "On one condition" he said back, staring her dead in the eyes "Nathin, over there" he lifted his left hand, pointing behind him at the younger man in the shade, the healer's interests now turned to other vials, sniffing their contents, making sure they were still viable for use. "I'll get in just fine..You help him pass? I'll stay out of your way, he gets in? bring me Stayle*,I'll make sure your blades never dull. Your armor will be as well finished as my own" He made this declaration with no hint of doubt in his voice. He rolled his shoulders, pushing the breastplate out as if to show off it's craftsmanship "As for my markings....Lets see if you're around long enough to earn that story"

*Stayle pronounced "Stale" (Stay-el), Ayvalon's and surrounding village's slang word for Steel. The different pronunciation helps tell the words apart (Steal from Steel). Origin came from an angry farmer (just after breaking a tooth on extremely stale/hard bread) "THITH BWEAD IS HAAD AS STAYLE

[Flimxanthia]

Clarise stood there at the back of the crowd not quite sure where to begin. She had never been the most social of people, then again it was for the best back home. Most people did not look at her with much sympathy back there. She was viewed as an out cast, as someone who didn't belong, she often felt lonely but could never show it.

Now here, trapped but dozens of observing eyes, she felt desperate to be part of something. She didn't want to be viewed as weird or strange, she had to find someone to talk to. It was in this moment of mild panic that she spotted a rather peculiar looking chap approaching the crowd. "Now is her chance," she thought and rushed forward to great him, her coat whipping about her legs at the sudden change of pace. She marched right up to him and said, "hi my name is Clarise. It is a pleasure to meet you." She gave him a general smile and cocked her head to the side trying to seem cute and more approachable. She hated awkward situations.

Holy fucking shit on a stick someone's talking to you.
Fuck. Words. Yes. Them.
"HI. Yes. Hello." Lorens raised on hand awkwardly and waved slightly.
Smooth, dipshit.
Oh fuck off.
The young man shuffled awkwardly for a second. People were so much easier to deal with when he was taking from them, or incapacitating them whilst their backs were turned. Hey, maybe you could inca-
This is why you have no friends.
Just ask her how she's doing. Just do that and see how you go from there. Maybe offer her a knife. People like knives, right? And it's not like you're lacking in them.
Lorens is considering this suggestion, but he soon realises something. His internal monologue has less experience with people than he does. Logically, it would make sense for him to ignore himself and instead cut the bit about knives.
Ha... Cut the bit about knives.
I'm hilarious.

He brushed some dirt from his jacket.
"You like knives?"
Nailed it.

[Totulga]

Clarise stood there at the back of the crowd not quite sure where to begin. She had never been the most social of people, then again it was for the best back home. Most people did not look at her with much sympathy back there. She was viewed as an out cast, as someone who didn't belong, she often felt lonely but could never show it.

Now here, trapped but dozens of observing eyes, she felt desperate to be part of something. She didn't want to be viewed as weird or strange, she had to find someone to talk to. It was in this moment of mild panic that she spotted a rather peculiar looking chap approaching the crowd. "Now is her chance," she thought and rushed forward to great him, her coat whipping about her legs at the sudden change of pace. She marched right up to him and said, "hi my name is Clarise. It is a pleasure to meet you." She gave him a general smile and cocked her head to the side trying to seem cute and more approachable. She hated awkward situations.

Holy fucking shit on a stick someone's talking to you.
Fuck. Words. Yes. Them.
"HI. Yes. Hello." Lorens raised on hand awkwardly and waved slightly.
Smooth, dipshit.
Oh fuck off.
The young man shuffled awkwardly for a second. People were so much easier to deal with when he was taking from them, or incapacitating them whilst their backs were turned. Hey, maybe you could inca-
This is why you have no friends.
Just ask her how she's doing. Just do that and see how you go from there. Maybe offer her a knife. People like knives, right? And it's not like you're lacking in them.
Lorens is considering this suggestion, but he soon realises something. His internal monologue has less experience with people than he does. Logically, it would make sense for him to ignore himself and instead cut the bit about knives.
Ha... Cut the bit about knives.
I'm hilarious.

He brushed some dirt from his jacket.
"You like knives?"
Nailed it.

Clarise gave a mental sigh of relief, they did have something in common. She smiled and laughed then said, "yes I absolutely love them. I was an heir for many years in my village after all." She lifted her hand as if holding a blade, "they are truly a form of artistic expression . The way they feel in your hand, the glint on the tips of the blade in the candle light. The feeling of resistance when the tip first pierces the flesh," her hand gently closed around some invisible blade, her finger pressing tighter against the hilt, "it is like a gentle kiss against the flesh before you slide the blade delicately into the soft tissue and feel the squirm as if even long dead tendons wished to resist your will. Oh the power in your hands, how a simple delicate touch of one finger can cut so deeply and methodically." She was practically brining before she composed her self and gave a slight chuckle," I hope I am not sounding too excited by the idea, I just work with knives all the time and have come to appreciate a fine blade. What did you say your name was again"?

[Flimxanthia]

Clarise gave a mental sigh of relief, they did have something in common. She smiled and laughed then said, "yes I absolutely love them. I was an heir for many years in my village after all." She lifted her hand as if holding a blade, "they are truly a form of artistic expression . The way they feel in your hand, the glint on the tips of the blade in the candle light. The feeling of resistance when the tip first pierces the flesh," her hand gently closed around some invisible blade, her finger pressing tighter against the hilt, "it is like a gentle kiss against the flesh before you slide the blade delicately into the soft tissue and feel the squirm as if even long dead tendons wished to resist your will. Oh the power in your hands, how a simple delicate touch of one finger can cut so deeply and methodically." She was practically brining before she composed her self and gave a slight chuckle," I hope I am not sounding too excited by the idea, I just work with knives all the time and have come to appreciate a fine blade. What did you say your name was again"?

Sweet Old Man Jesus, she's absolutely insane.
Marry her.
Literally fuck off, mate. You are not helping.
Neither is that attitude.

He took a breath, and ran a dusty hand through his dirty and damaged hair. Those within went quiet, which was convenient, to say the least. Those fuckers can get incredibly rude. Obnoxious, too.
Lorens grinned. Knives were something he knew. He hadn't killed before, but he'd definitely made some people's lives very difficult. Like, bleeding out in the wastelands difficult.
"You're fun. I like you. I'm Lorens."

[Totulga]

Clarise gave a mental sigh of relief, they did have something in common. She smiled and laughed then said, "yes I absolutely love them. I was an heir for many years in my village after all." She lifted her hand as if holding a blade, "they are truly a form of artistic expression . The way they feel in your hand, the glint on the tips of the blade in the candle light. The feeling of resistance when the tip first pierces the flesh," her hand gently closed around some invisible blade, her finger pressing tighter against the hilt, "it is like a gentle kiss against the flesh before you slide the blade delicately into the soft tissue and feel the squirm as if even long dead tendons wished to resist your will. Oh the power in your hands, how a simple delicate touch of one finger can cut so deeply and methodically." She was practically brining before she composed her self and gave a slight chuckle," I hope I am not sounding too excited by the idea, I just work with knives all the time and have come to appreciate a fine blade. What did you say your name was again"?

Sweet Old Man Jesus, she's absolutely insane.
Marry her.
Literally fuck off, mate. You are not helping.
Neither is that attitude.

He took a breath, and ran a dusty hand through his dirty and damaged hair. Those within went quiet, which was convenient, to say the least. Those fuckers can get incredibly rude. Obnoxious, too.
Lorens grinned. Knives were something he knew. He hadn't killed before, but he'd definitely made some people's lives very difficult. Like, bleeding out in the wastelands difficult.
"You're fun. I like you. I'm Lorens."

Clarise gave a small laugh and covered her mouth as if embarrassed, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said giving a small curtsy. "You must tell me all about yourself," she said and laid her coat on the ground and sat down on one side of it. "Please, have a seat. I want to know all about you." She was very happy to be talking to someone who she could relate to. She wondered if he had also had to drag members of his own village out of bed by the hair, slit their throats, and then serve them to the rest of the town. "So," she said, "where are you originally from"?

[Flimxanthia]

Clarise gave a small laugh and covered her mouth as if embarrassed, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said giving a small curtsy. "You must tell me all about yourself," she said and laid her coat on the ground and sat down on one side of it. "Please, have a seat. I want to know all about you." She was very happy to be talking to someone who she could relate to. She wondered if he had also had to drag members of his own village out of bed by the hair, slit their throats, and then serve them to the rest of the town. "So," she said, "where are you originally from"?

Before you say anything, I've got this.
If you're sure, Captain Brainypants.
He's totally going to fuck it up.
Oh for sure

Lorens awkwardly removed his bag from his shoulder, laying it down gently on the dirt. Sounds of metal brushing against metal came from within. He paid no mind to this, however. Instead, he chose to sit down.
"I have absolutely no idea where I was from. Everyone I knew is dead and I can't remember much about them anyway. It's a good time."
That could have gone worse, actually. Given the rarity of his conversations with people other than himself, it could be said that this went great.
Or it could be said that you're totally useless.
Or it could be said that you should ask her a question about herself.
Shit, you're actually right.
"How about you?" He asked hesitantly. Because apparently that's how he does things. Christ, this kid needs some self-confidence.
Actually, he needs hobbies.
But now we're getting off topic.

[Empire of the Rising Moon]

Aliz looked at the younger man in the shade that Rikkard pointed to. She observed him for a few moments while he sniffed at vials filled with some sort of liquid or goo or something. She quickly noticed that he did not look like one that would be able to do much in the way of physical applications. "That might be a little difficult" She paused and gave it a few moments of thought as she observed Rikkards breastplate. Would it be worth risking myself more to get the help of a single man? Although it might be two men if both of them succeed. This is a tough decision that might influence who I can control at this moment. She then gave out a deep sigh and responded to Rikkard, "Fine, I will try my best but he doesn't look like a man that would be able to pass even with a little assistance." Although he looks like someone that would easily be dominated, so that's a plus.

She gave out her hand for a handshake. "I hope we will become well acquainted. When we're through this, we should do something fun."

[Totulga]

Clarise gave a small laugh and covered her mouth as if embarrassed, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said giving a small curtsy. "You must tell me all about yourself," she said and laid her coat on the ground and sat down on one side of it. "Please, have a seat. I want to know all about you." She was very happy to be talking to someone who she could relate to. She wondered if he had also had to drag members of his own village out of bed by the hair, slit their throats, and then serve them to the rest of the town. "So," she said, "where are you originally from"?

Before you say anything, I've got this.
If you're sure, Captain Brainypants.
He's totally going to fuck it up.
Oh for sure

Lorens awkwardly removed his bag from his shoulder, laying it down gently on the dirt. Sounds of metal brushing against metal came from within. He paid no mind to this, however. Instead, he chose to sit down.
"I have absolutely no idea where I was from. Everyone I knew is dead and I can't remember much about them anyway. It's a good time."
That could have gone worse, actually. Given the rarity of his conversations with people other than himself, it could be said that this went great.
Or it could be said that you're totally useless.
Or it could be said that you should ask her a question about herself.
Shit, you're actually right.
"How about you?" He asked hesitantly. Because apparently that's how he does things. Christ, this kid needs some self-confidence.
Actually, he needs hobbies.
But now we're getting off topic.

"Oh," she said a bit embarrassed, "I didn't know, I am sorry". Behind her words of sympathy she could hardly stop from jumping for joy. They had so much alike, though she was the one who had killed a good portion of her village to feed the other half.

"Well," she said not wanting to give too much away, "I am from Grimsby, it is a village to the far north of here." She pointed in its general direction. She kicked out her legs and stretched her arms, she was stiff from all the walking and was not looking forward to the days trials. None the less, the felt she would have to be polite and make conversation, especial with such an interesting and cute boy like Loren. "Tell me what made you want to join the Fools Guild?"

[Horgrif]

Aliz looked at the younger man in the shade that Rikkard pointed to. She observed him for a few moments while he sniffed at vials filled with some sort of liquid or goo or something. She quickly noticed that he did not look like one that would be able to do much in the way of physical applications. "That might be a little difficult" She paused and gave it a few moments of thought as she observed Rikkards breastplate. Would it be worth risking myself more to get the help of a single man? Although it might be two men if both of them succeed. This is a tough decision that might influence who I can control at this moment. She then gave out a deep sigh and responded to Rikkard, "Fine, I will try my best but he doesn't look like a man that would be able to pass even with a little assistance." Although he looks like someone that would easily be dominated, so that's a plus.

She gave out her hand for a handshake. "I hope we will become well acquainted. When we're through this, we should do something fun."

"The physical part is all i'm concerned with, up here he reached out with his right hand, shaking her's almost a bit too firmly tapping his own head with his left before letting go of her hand A mind as sharp as my blades, that one. He stated with some hint of pride. Why wouldn't he be proud of Nathin? Despite all the hell Makas and the others had tried to give the 2 Nathin still managed to treat every plague, cut, or other injuries with little help from anyone else. You would've never known the injuries that idiot Makas had gotten from that fishing spear accident even existed....at least until that raider popped his head like a ripe melon with that hammer of his. And hes not COMPLETELY helpless...out here though? he pointed up at the sky, to the sun hanging overhead "His eyes act up without that cover, they're funny like that" he added, a note of concern to his voice.

I'd rather not let him out of my sight. he stated plainly Anyway, what 'bout you? what brings you here to try out? Village kick you out? looking for something new?

[Empire of the Rising Moon]

Aliz almost winced at the handshake as she was expecting it to be friendly, and not as firm. This man is going to be interesting, I shall try to keep him close to me as he will be quite the fun one. She kept listening to Rikkard as he told her about his friend being as sharp in the mind as his blades. This shall make him somewhat useful to me as well then. So to tame this man, the best way might be to make his friend a pet, however if he is as smart as Rikkard claims, that will be extremely difficult. I guess I could just become friends with them? Maybe, although I would rather dominate him.

"What brought me here? The mystery and the potential to have plenty of fun. As for if my village kicked me out, that would be a no. I run the village. Hell, I even lead them into some rather fun excursions into other villages. It's always fun to-" She caught herself, she really had to watch what she says when it comes to her village. Not many people would associate with a bandit leader now would they? "Maybe I'll tell you some other time. How about we converse with some others, the more the merrier right?" She then started towards Lorens and Clarise waving for Rikkard to come with her.

[Aona]

A small camp rested on the dusty path, nothing more than a loose collection of dirt and weeds winding up the hill. It was modest, as campsites go: A small makeshift fireplace was decorated by two cowhides. Two back-mounted packs rested against a particularly large boulder, stuffed lightly with essentials. Two souls rested on the trail, one bent over in the dust, the other staring towards the clouds.

"Jaume. Jaummmmmmmmmme. Vivi! We need to get going!" Charlytte called in the direction of her companion. She was hunched over in the dirt, small stick in hand. She had been making a makeshift sundial, and it told her that the time was nearing midday. The time where their lives would change forever.

Jaume said nothing, and continued looking at the clouds curiously. "What d'you suppose.........suppose clouds are made of?" he asked. Charlytte shrugged, and walked over to the cowhides. "I haven't the slightest idea. Well, actually, I once heard they're made of the same stuff steam is made of. I think an old woman told me that, once." she pondered.

"An old woman? Hmm." he replied, closing his eyes. "I don't know about that. They seem fuller than steam."

He drew his breath in, and focused. For a moment, the world around him melted, his body devoid of all feeling. Then, suddenly, the trail rushed back to him, but sharper than it had been before. The wind, previously undetectable, pricked his skin in a refreshing chill. The chirps of birds many miles away made his small, misshapen ears twitch with placid interest. And just like that, it was gone, the dullness rushing back to him. He blinked twice in quick succession, and was back to normal. He was greeted by Charlytte, standing in front of him holding the two bags. "Done?" she asked, in a jokingly nagging tone that one might hear in a young mother. Still, there was an overtone of understanding in her voice. Jaume smiled lightly and nodded. "Good. Let's get going." She tossed him a bag.

He caught it with one hand, and quickly slung it onto his back. "How far are we?" he asked.

She dismissively tapped her palm to her forehead and twisted it outward, the sign for <I don't know>. "Most likely only a few miles. Shouldn't be long."

The two gathered themselves and set out on the path, towards their objective.

---

Reaching the gates, they cautiously stepped inside. Jaume stuck close to his much more sociable companion, gazing around at the other recruits. None looked particularly out of the ordinary, and they had seen many children on their few travels. He wondered if he had passed any of these faces on the road.

<Many people.> he signed quickly to Charlytte. She nodded, and kept walking in. He followed her, trusting her interactions to be the one he would contribute to as well.