Song of Heroes IC

[Radea]

---

Arden Rooke
Red Hill Company Caravan – The Dust has settled
-------------------------------------------------
Rooke grunted as he flung a slain beast over his shoulder; a single arrow shaft jutting out from its upper torso the only sign of its demise. Despite their size, these things were heavy. Perhaps it was the dead weight. The human chuckled to himself briefly at the play on words and literal meaning crisscrossing.

“Think you’ll survive next time?”

Arden chuckled merrily. He didn’t need to even look at who had spoken. Only Vulluin would rib him that way among this group. While marching over to the fire, Rooke pointed to the arrow protruding from the carcass over his shoulder.

“With you watching my ass? I might live to be a hundred.”

With a heave-ho, the dead beast was fed to the flames. It’s skin blackening and curling up. Placing a boot on the chest, Arden tugged the arrow out of the creature before it caught flame. The shaft was a little ashy, but no worse for wear. The Heartlander swiveled his head to return the weapon to Vul but froze before he could speak.

His eyes stared at the wound on the ranger, wet with his lifeblood. “Gods…” Rooke’s voice was soft, “Vul… how bad is it? I… I’ll get help.”
Arden seemed to turn panicked, “HEALER! We need a healer over here!”

In the seemingly emergency situation, his mind finally flipped through all the people and experiences he previously had. He remembered the Paladin saving the life of Hadrian. “Yvonne! Healer! We have wounded!”

[Bentus]

Yvonne Lafaille

---

The deafening screech of the pale creature was suddenly silenced, the entire battlefield freezing for a moment as its featureless head collapsed onto the ground. It seemed to convulse one last time, expending the last of its energy in a futile attempt to reach for the heroes who had bested it before finally falling motionless to the forest floor. The chaotic whirl of the gathered combatants ceased for a moment, an eerie silence settling under the canopy. As the dust from the body’s impact began to settle, the first of the smaller beasts let out a shriek as it turned to race towards the safety of the treeline. The actions of that first coward, the first fearful retreat at the sight of pale creature’s demise, was the first spark of an all-out rout.

Plunging her dagger into the neck of another of the beasts that had drawn too close, Yvonne scowled as she saw her foes turning to run. The creature at her mercy desperately tried to claw weakly at her gauntleted hand, gurgling on its own blood as the sickly liquid began to gush from its wound. Disgusted at the display, the Paladin twisted her blade. The action tore open the wound in an instant, quenching what was left of the light in the creature’s eyes. Turning her attention to the backs of the surviving creatures as they fled, Yvonne wasted no time in reaching down to pull the head of her axe from where it lay embedded in another corpse’s chest. Wrenching the weapon free, she ignored the wet blood dripping from the blade as she tried to sight a target. Settling on one of the creatures that had waited just too long to run, Yvonne pulled back one of her arms before hurling her axe with a cry. Although not designed to be thrown, at this distance the weapon still proved to be an effective tool as its blade buried itself in the creature’s back.

Thrown forward by the momentum behind the heavy weapon, the beast was knocked off its feet and ended up sprawled on the ground. Writhing in agony, the dying monster squirmed as it tried to reach the weapon’s shaft, unaware of the heavy footfalls that approached it. Seething at the missed opportunity to fell more of the vermin, Yvonne stamped her armoured boot on the small of the beast’s back. Pinning it down, she ignored its shrieks as she pulled her axe free before silencing its cries with a swift downward swing towards its neck.

As the last of the creatures escaped into the treeline, their inhuman chirps and shrieks growing increasingly faint before vanishing entirely, the merchant slowly moved to peer out from his sheltered wagon. Yvonne eyed the man suspiciously, even as he congratulated the Legionnaires on their victory. She bit her tongue, knowing that it was not her place to interfere when this was a Legion contract, but inwardly she began to feel a sense of unease settling on her chest. Although the company of guards had been more than enough to best their foes, this attack was far larger than would have normally been expected. And why would the creatures have risked attacking such a large party when far easier prey was plentiful on the roads?

Such thoughts were pushed to the side of the Paladin’s mind as she met Sylanna’s eyes. Immediately glancing away, Yvonne nevertheless saw the purplecloak begin to make her way towards her. Grimacing, the Paladin hung her head in shame as she recalled her disorderly actions during the battle. She had acted inappropriately as a member of the party, disobeying an instruction from her commander without even so much as advising her in the midst of a battle. That was selfish, Yvonne. This is why you have not had a party in so long. How can you expect to be trusted as an ally when you leave your comrades vulnerable at every turn?

"You did well in opting to go and tend to our wounded ally. I'm sure a more authoritative Purple Cloak would berate you for defying orders, but I appreciate your initiative."

The warm praise was a far-cry from the harsh scolding that Yvonne had expected. Glancing up with a look of surprise, the Paladin was greeted by the older elf’s friendly smile. Studying the woman’s expression for a moment, Yvonne found that she was indeed being sincere. Before she could even think to respond, Sylanna continued to ask for Yvonne’s help.

"I'd hate to impose on you, but if any of our fellow legionnaires have serious injuries as well, could I ask you to look after them?"

“Certainly!” Yvonne blurted out, perhaps a bit too eagerly as she quickly tried to reign in her enthusiasm. “I mean, of course. It would be irresponsible of me to stand by idly when I could help my comrades.” The Paladin paused for a moment, smiling slightly as she accepted the elf’s warm words. She hesitated for a moment before lifting her gaze once more. “Sylanna, than - “

Yvonne stumbled over her words as she realised that she was now standing at the elf’s back. Stopping herself mid-sentence, she realised that the woman’s attention had already turned elsewhere. Chastising herself for inflating her own sense of self-importance, Yvonne turned to immediately seek out the wounded Hadrian. What had she been thinking, keeping the purplecloak by her side longer than had been necessary would have distracted the Knight from far more pressing priorities. Yvonne was not even a member of the Legion, she should have been humbled and satisfied with the undue kindness that the elf had shown her already.

That was when she heard a male voice cry out from the far-side of the camp. Without hesitating for a moment, Yvonne quickly began to jog over towards Arden Rooke and the elf that seemed to stand weakly by his side. She could feel her armour rubbing slightly against the wound in her own side, but the tiny injury had mostly been mitigated by her chain mail and was little more than an inconvenience compared to the gash she saw on the archer’s back.

“I am here.” She turned to the ranger with a look of determination on her features. “Please, if you take a seat I will do my best to tend to your injuries. I may not be a Priest, but I will see what I can do.”

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Radea]

Arden Rooke
Red Hill Company Caravan – The Dust has settled
------------------------------------------------------------------
Don’t worry, it is but a flesh wound.

Despite the injury, the wood elf archer didn’t convey any distress or pain in his voice when he spoke to Arden. His eyes glanced once again to the gash. Rooke was a lay person when it came to wounds, especially those of other races, so if Vulluin was suffering, he wasn’t able to sincerely tell. That ignorance alone coupled with Vul’s spoken confidence helped the Heartlander relax.

“Right. Right. It’ll be fine.” Rooke seemed to be getting a better grip on himself, “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re made of tough stuff.” Part of that seemed sincere belief, another part seemed like hopeful prayers being disguised as self-comfort.
Prayers, though Arden wasn’t particularly religious, seemed to be answered in the most literal sense. Seemingly bounding in heavy armor, Yvanne the Paladin. She might have arrived on angel’s wings for the help she offered in the eyes of a non-magic user like Arden. He didn’t say much; just observing the exchange between the wounded and the healer.

As Vul moved to sit down, Rooke looked at the back of the Paladin, then back to his own shoulders. She lacked a red cloak of the Legion. In fact, she lacked any marking of the Legion at all. In all the action, he had forgotten that she had been recommended by the Caravan company as an additional guard. Clearly, her expertise in the healing arts and with slaying steel were above and beyond what Rooke could do. The human man got down next to Vul on one knee, switching his gaze from Vul, to Yvonne’s hands, to her face.

“Sorry for getting a bit ahead of myself, Vul. I just… I’m not used to fighting or seeing people get hurt.” Rooke’s over-talking habit seemed to be kicking in to fill the quieter air. His face shifted from speaking to Vul to looking at the focused Paladin.
“You know… a lot of people could have gotten hurt worse without recourse if not for you, Yvonne. Hadrian might be dead, Vul might have the ugliest scar I’ve ever seen,” Arden jested at the wood elf before returning more serious, “I’m not a Purple cloak or anything, but the Legion could use someone like you.”

[Bentus]

Yvonne Lafaille

---

Yvonne grimaced slightly as she assessed the elf’s wound. There were three parallel gashes that stretched across nearly the whole of his back, each of them bloodily tracing out the path of one of the monster’s claws. While the two shallower cuts would be fairly easy to heal, she deepest one in the middle was bleeding profusely. Fortunately, Vulluin was unable to see her concerned expression as he faced away from her. His body was likely in shock, masking the true extent of the damage from his mind. Yvonne forced herself to smile confidently, not wanting her surprise at the injury to slip into her voice as she made to place her hands on the elf’s back.

“Please, even a minor wound such as this is worth mending. We wouldn’t want to have it impair your abilities if we were to suffer another attack.” The Paladin ignored the fact that some of the elf’s blood was already beginning to drip onto her hands as she concentrated on the injury. “Divines, lend me your compassion to heal the wounds suffered by the righteous. I call upon you to allow me to be the instrument of your will.” As soon as she had finished her prayer, a blue light once again began to emanate from the palms of Yvonne’s hands. She smiled happily as she felt the magic begin to flow through her body. It was then that the other legionnaire broke his silence.

The Paladin’s felt her pride rise at the legionnaire’s praise, pleased to know that her efforts were appreciated by her allies. Yvonne had feared that she could have gotten in the way of the legionnaires during the battle, unused as she was to their tactics and fighting styles. A part of her had silently feared that she had intruded upon the party, but thankfully it seemed like that was not the case. Glancing towards Arden, Yvonne offered the man a sly smirk.

“Not too bad for someone who looks like they might drag you all on a Crusade at a moment’s notice?”

The Paladin winked at the warrior, making it clear that she was speaking in jest. She had overheard the pair talking back in the city when the caravan had first gathered, although she had decided not to interrupt their conversation at the time. Concern about her loyalty to the Church was nothing new for Yvonne, although it had taken her by surprise when she had first decided to journey beyond the Holy order’s heartlands. Thinking that her comments may have mistakenly made the pair of legionnaires think that she had taken their words to be hurtful, Yvonne chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I am not a missionary for the Church. As a Paladin, I serve the Divines by caring for the righteous and innocent - whether they be servants of the faith or not.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “I do not believe that we were ever properly introduced. You’re names are Arden and Vulluin, yes? What brought you both to the Legion?”

[Absolon-7]

Frey

Roxana Ma'gonid

---

"Don't mention it Frey," said Roxana before raising her voice to a more authoritative tone, "Now let's get moving. The next section should be downstairs."

Roxana let out a relieved sigh as Frey took out the last remaining bit of the monster. Blob like monsters were just tedious things to fight. All attack and no tactics. How trite they were compared to other monsters. No matter now as the gibbering mouther was dead with its deflated corpse filling the room with its stink and its puss like fluids seeping through the floors tiles. Roxana swung her bow back and using her ungloved hand she pinched her nose closed as she approached the corpse. She bent down to rip out her arrows and burned off the slime and gunk off them with her wisp. The arrows were warm to the touch from the ethereal fire from her wisp that cleansed them she noticed as she turned to Simion behind her.

"Now I think we both can settle on the fact that I won our little game?" she coyly said to the white haired marksman.

The group followed her lead around the circular railing and downwards into the stairs from whence the gibbering mouther had come from. She took care to avoid stepping on the trail of slime and mucus the monster had left behind in the middle of the stairs. At the stone pit's bottom there appeared to be five different doorways all dimly lit with torches at the far ends. Getting her sunstick out she illuminated the basin before walking past each doorway to check them. Most led of to an eventual darkness since they were caved in with rubble but the one that faced the front of the stairs which intrigued her. If she remembered correctly this was the one that led to the greater complex. Silently she waved the rest of the group to the doorway holding the sunstick in front of her to reveal the hallway.

The decent sized passage way seemed to be in the clear but to make sure Roxana bent down to pick a stone and threw it so it skip along to floor hopefully triggering any traps. Thankfully nothing happened so the coast was clear as they walked down the passage way in into a very large and open assembly hall or something. Petrified wooden tables and broken decayed chairs were strewn everywhere along with random ornaments and bloody equipment from the workers up above littered the floor and it seemed there were bejeweled necklaces. There were some chests at one corner of the room whose locks seemed frail enough to break. Dust caked plates and clay pots and shards were absolutely everywhere and just beyond the decrepit tables was a raised platform with stairs on either side and at the center was a frail wooden door. But something was off as a faint screaming could be heard just beyond but it could easily be something else.

"Alright people, spread out and investigate the room but stay away from the door. We'll go through it together. See if there's any sort of traps in here that could hinder us in a rushed escape back though that door," said Roxana watching them scatter about. She stood there eyeing the door as she felt that something was up. Almost immediately her suspicions where confirmed when a bloodied worker burst out of the door and ran off the raised stage and came crashing down onto a pile of random where below. Before Roxana could raise her bow a black, grimy looking creature came leaping out of the door and hurtled right at Roxana knocking her down. It clasped it hands around her neck and pressed down hard as it strangles her in hopes of ending her life. She feebly tried to grab onto on of her knives but her body made her try to rip off the monster's hands form her throat.

Meanwhile at the moment the monster's presence entered the room, the bejeweled necklaces glowed a bright blue shimmering light before exploding into a loud burst of water sweeping away all the grime and objects on them as well and swallowing up whichever unlucky Legionnaires where investigating the tables in a surge of ice cold water that could probably fit in three or so barrels.

---

McDooggle Bluff, Red-Eyes Goblin Tribe
The horde of goblins was easily dispatched by the wayward adventurers and by this point this hideout was as good as dead. Garsnag Craktoof
watched in disgust as they were cut down to a man. His hot breath escaped though his Soisson great-helmet as walked near a precariously placed lever. He lumbered to it as a the goblin horde was easily slain. Cracking his knuckles, he reached out and swiftly pulled it down and in almost domino like manner runes at the top of the tunnel's roof began glowing one after another. After a few seconds the cave system's first entrance collapsed before working its way down to the Legionnaires' location. The tunnels cracked and crunched as they nearly blew apart at the seems in a wave of motion. The only escape being a distant hole in the distance that would lead the adventures to a long narrow cavern that would inch away into a large open pit that would lead up into the bluff's top if it was scaled. They could reach it theoretically that is if they weren't crushed by the collapsing cave. Meanwhile Garsnag made his escape through his own tunnel and would meet them in said open pit.

[Finland SSR]

Roxana Ma'gonid

---

Simion Valerin, the marksman from Nur!

---

"You sure about that? How about we count who took out how many?" Simion responded to Roxana's coy comment with a slight smirk on his face, pulling up his hand cannon over his shoulder by its belt. Well, at least they took care of that god damn mouther and without any casualties - the marksman wasn't sure how long he would be able to stand staring into its deformed physique. Carefully walking down the stairs to make sure he doesn't step anywhere on the creature's trail, Simion followed the team towards a lower floor of the complex, with five doors in front of them and one which Roxana designated as the one they'll be heading down right after they investigate the room.

There were plenty of things to check. The petrified tables and the necklaces strewn across the room, and several chests at the side of the room with worn down locks which seemed like they could be broken with a few well placed kicks. That's what Simion considered, walking up to one of the chests and tapping it with the tip of the foot, ready to smash at the lock with his heel and see if it works - only for all hell to suddenly come loose.

A worker, followed by a disgusting one-eyed creature - which Simion quickly recognized as a nothic - burst through the door they were supposed to descend, and the latter leapt straight at Roxana, collapsing her to the ground and lashing out at her with the elven archer clearly struggling to get the stronger creature off herself. Not only that, but the discarded jewelry across the floor suddenly began sprouting water, washing across the floor - that was... random, but don't question it. One of his teammates being in danger takes priority here.

Unfortunately, however, Simion's options were limited. He's not going to pull out his weapon and pull the serpentine lock in time to fire away, this was a matter of seconds. So, instead...

"Roxana!" the marksman exclaimed, running forward, each step splashing with water underneath, and pulled out the sword attached to his belt, lashing out at the one-eyed monster with a wide arcing horizontal slash. The sword cut through the nothic's skin and reveled white blistering bone underneath, but even though it forced the creature to shriek and leap back in pain, it didn't seem enough to take it down in one blow. Dammit.

"Get up, Roxana, I deny you the option to die to something this primitive," the marksman muttered, offering his hand to the elf to help her up.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

After playing his part in ending the gibbering mouther's life--if such monstrosities could be considered alive, anyway--Frey took his knives off the slimy corpse and cleaned them with a piece of cloth he kept on hand just for such occasions, before sheathing them and walking over to retrieve his twin butterfly swords, repeating the same process. It was only slightly more disgusting than cleaning someone's guts off of his blades, so he went through the motions mechanically while listening to Roxana's instructions. Once he was done, he caught up with her and the others and followed towards the large hall central hall at the end of the only open tunnel, quickly surveying the area upon arriving.

Mostly abandoned furniture, huh... Oh, are those chests I see? Promising!

Needless to say, while their leader stayed by the door and continued observing the room, the former pirate headed straight to the chests in the corner, as they held the promise of treasure beyond the pay the Legion offered him. A single well-placed kick knocked the lock off one of them, and the young man eagerly opened it, only to be met with a few old statuettes of nameless heroes and some dull coins that looked like they were more valuable due to their age than their actual worth. Certainly not the cache he had been expecting.

Well, that's disappointing.

Still, a quick look at the statuettes and the coins was enough for him to convince himself that he still stood to gain a decent little extra coin if he attempted to sell them to collectors, of which there were plenty in a large city like Velathri. With that in mind, he began pocketing the most valuable-looking of the bunch; however, this activity was interrupted when, all of the sudden, a monster broke through the door and attacked the party's High Elf leader. What the hell?! The blond man questioned silently. Fortunately, Simion was quick to move to her aid, but the monster was far from dead and the marksman was distracted. It was up to him, then, to finish the job.

Again.

Alright, let's do this. He thought as he unsheathed his cutlass, moving towards the nothic. In an instant, he disappeared from sight much like he had against the mouther, his boon now active. Unseen, he approached the monster from behind and stabbed it through the chest, hoping to have hit some vital point.

"I deny you the option to die to something this primitive? Really?" Frey repeated Simion's words questioningly. "Not the most comforting thing to say to someone who was just attacked."

For good measure, the rogue used the knife he held in his off hand to stab he nothic again, before removing both blades from its body. It was definitely dead, if the fact that it quickly collapsed to the ground was any indication, and so Frey kicked the carcass aside and turned around to look at the now open door. "I'm more of a flanker than a frontline warrior, but seeing as I'm the one versed in hand to hand combat here..." He gave the knife a twirl for effect. "Stay behind me."

---

---

While the others had mostly gathered around the pyre created by Inquisitor Strauch in order to dispose of the corpses, Sylanna had opted to move a bit further away from the caravan, just inside the clearing and still clearly in sight of the other legionnaires, but away from them. On the off chance that this cursed beast's carcass was still dangerous to the living, it was best if she was the only one exposed to it.

Dropping the carcass on the ground, she let out a sigh of relief--the pale monster was certainly not a lightweight, especially not while dead--and put her hands on her hips. "Not so loud-mouthed now, are you?" She said before taking up her lance, a mental command prompting her wisp to fly out of her body and meld with the winged spear, the tip quickly becoming wreathed in flame.

"Back to the elements with you." The elven knight spoke as she pressed the blazing spearhead against the monstrous carcass, which was quick to react; instead of catching on fire, however, it quickly began melting away into a thick black ooze that looked anything but sanitary. Unlike before, no translucent white goo came out of the creature's wounds to seal them, so for the next several minutes, Sylanna watched as the flames of her wisp ate away at the pale beast's corpse until, finally, it was reduced to nothing.

I'll be surprised if something ever grows there again. The Snow Elf thought. With her duty fulfilled, she looked around to see what her fellow legionnaires were up to. Putting away her spear, she walked towards the group located near Wilhard's pyre, noticing that Yvonne was tending to the Wood Elf's wounds with Arden nearby. Despite Vul's wounds, it seemed the three of them were conversing fairly amicably, something that was nice to see. Bonds forged in hardship are always the strongest. The purple-cloak thought as she approached.

"Asking the elf to marry you? You have strange fancies, Rooke." Sylanna teased, poking fun at the fact that Arden was kneeling next to Vulluin. With that said, she turned her gaze to the Wood Elf. "How are you holding up? Will you be alright, or shall I borrow a shovel?" She asked with a chuckle.

[Tomia]

Annabelle
The fight against the goblins ended fairly quickly, and Annabelle fortunately did not have to show her true skills. She was about to put away her blade when suddenly she heard and felt a massive tremor throughout the cave. The tunnel was collapsing and they were in grave danger. "Get out!!!" She shouted to her quest mates before running to save her own life. Quickly examining her surroundings she realized the only way to escape was a narrow path dug out of the dirt wall. Annabelle had no idea what was on the other side, but it was likely better than certain death beneath a goblin cave. She ran towards the path and though it was hard to move through its narrowness she was making progress towards the end, still she felt the path get more and more unstable, and Annabelle decided she couldn't take a risk of being trapped. Suddenly she disappeared in a flash of black smoke and appeared a second latter flying out of the whole and into the pit.

"What the fuck?..." She muttered under her breath as she looked around the pit for the others in her group. She didn't know any of them of course, but she didn't want them to get hurt or die in this pitiful place.

[Segral]

Oberon Klask

Luckily, Frey was able to dispatch the mouther before serious consequences could occur and he was badly hurt. It wouldn't have been a positive sight for the Legion to find that one of their party members had been badly injured by a small, minor creature, on the first battle of the contract no less. Oberon had tried his best to distract the mouther from attacking Roxana, Frey, and Blast-Brain, but it had intently ignored his wooden staff and had instead seemed more fixated on the sharp, glinting knives. That was something to remember; shiny sharp objects helped distract attention.

Their pilgrimage soon continued, as they headed down the now-cleared staircase, a wide, soft spiral that plunged down into a thick, murky blackness. The mouther had left the staircase slippery, and it was difficult to maintain the step and balance, especially with the deadly combination of the spiral stairs, roughly hewn steps, and the thick layer of slickness. He had to brace himself against the walls to prevent himself from slipping. He tried to avoid the parts where it was very wet, but it was difficult, and most of the steps were some level of dampness.

Eventually, they managed to crawl their way into a moderately-sized chamber, with five doors etched into the curved wall. Unfortunately, they mostly led to a thick wall of darkness and pebbles, except for one. Unlike the rest, the darkness seemed to stretch on, and there was no visible wall of rocks barricading the way. A quick check from Roxana confirmed there were no traps, and, through necessity over their choice, they quickly shuffled through the doorway, eventually emerging out into one of the largest rooms yet. The entire room looked as if a force had violently wrecked it, furniture tossed in every which direction, bloodstained gear piled on the floor, unidentifiable clay shards caking the floor. Something terrible had happened, something that they could possibly never understand.

But suddenly, the forces made themselves apparent. A worker, stained with gore and reeking of fear, leapt off a raised dais in the center of the room, crashing hard into several objects on the floor. Before he could even say "Hail Mary", a vile, stringy black creature leapt out of a ramshackle door, leaping upon Roxana and reaching for her throat with its sharp-tipped claws. Oberon attempted to move towards her, but was distracted by the faint, luminous glow of the jeweled necklaces lying around, a distraction that would prove to be devastating as he felt a massive tide of water strike him hard, pushing him down onto the floor. The icy water rushed over him, stinging his exposed hands and feet and face, causing him to splutter and choke. Panicking, he dived forward for the edge of a nearby table, miraculously still upright. After a few failed attempts, he managed to get a firm grip on the rough tabletop and pull himself up, feet slipping on the wet stone.

Rotating his head, he managed to see Blast-Brain cutting a thick swathe of flesh out of the creature, causing it to release its grip from Roxana and hiss in pain, trying to lick its wounds. A skillful maneuver. Seizing his opportunity, Oberon shuffled upright, gripping with the balls of his feet in order to avoid slipping, drawing his staff. However, before he could respond, Frey dispatched the creature quickly, leading the way with barely a pause. Admittedly, it was annoying how much Frey was running the team, but it was alright so long as they got the job done. No hard feelings.

"With certainty, Rogue." Oberon solemly replied to Frey's insistance that they stay behind him, gripping the floor with the balls of his feet in order not to slip. With a quick, nimble step, he followed after the dual-knived warrior, his staff firmly clenched with his hand, amulet cool against his collarbone.

[Radea]

Arden Rooke
Red Hill Company Caravan – The Dust has settled
-------------------------------------------------------------------
If nothing else, Arden Rooke was a simple peasant with a lot of luck. The difference between powers of the Divine and that of magic were indistinguishable to most peasants and he was no exception. As Yvonne spoke solemn prayer, her hands began to glow. Rooke’s eyes widened in wonder and curiosity; the blue light reflecting back into his own blue irises. Whatever power Yvonne possessed, it was nothing short of miraculous. Only the Singing Stone, the very power that gave Rooke his Heroic Boon, came close to what he felt he was experiencing.

“Not too bad for someone who looks like they might drag you all on a Crusade at a moment’s notice?”

Rooke couldn’t tell if it was the previous near-death experience or the calming influence emanating from Yvonne’s hands, but he felt a sudden ping in his gut, like when one jumps from too tall of height, when he looked back at her face. Yvonne’s features were illuminated in the blue glow of her healing light, almost highlighted by it. The wink at the end of the jest was merely the cherry on top. The young man had travelled to many places and seen many girls of all types, but in this moment, Yvonne the Paladin was –

Oh. The Paladin.

Rooke scolded himself in his thoughts for a brief moment, only expressed externally by the quick averting of his eyes from Yvonne’s face to the ground, where Vul sat.

Her following statement on the mercy of her mission pulled the Heartlander back into the conversation, pushing his previous thoughts back into the recesses of his male mind. Compared to Strauch… Witch Hunter Strauch, he found Yvonne’s religion (or her interpretation of it) much more welcoming.

”I do not believe that we were ever properly introduced. Your names are Arden and Vulluin, yes? What brought you both to the Legion?”

The Paladin’s question about what brought Arden to the Legion brought his thoughts to a crossroads. The practical, long-winded answer or the truth? How he had tried everything else? How he had always taken the direction of others when it came to the paths he took in life? Gold? Fame? Power?

“Purpose. I guess.” Rooke answered slowly, as if discovering the answer for the first time, “And yeah, you got it. I’m Arden, but many hail me as Rooke.”

Just then a voice whimsically taunted from over Arden’s shoulder.
”Asking the elf to marry you? You have strange fancies, Rooke.”

The lad, if nothing else, was brash. Rooke couldn’t let such a ribbing go unpunished. With false bravado, he snickered and replied in a rising crescendo, “Say what you will about Vul, but at least he doesn’t have an ugly mug that’s only good for a drunk f—"
He looked over his shoulder in anticipation of the reaction his punchline would give, but stopped himself cold when his gaze met Sylanna’s; the commanding purple cloak. “Uh… A drunk… mhm,” Arden coughed and slowly turned his head back to the ranger and paladin before him, “Good to see you’re alright, Ma’am.” His tone suggested a verbal retreat.

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Bentus]

Yvonne Lafaille

---

Both Vul and Arden seemed to hesitate after Yvonne’s question, and for a moment the Paladin worried that she may have somehow stepped out-of-line by prying into their motives. It would not have been the first time that she had been blindsided by the etiquette of a foreign culture, but thankfully it appeared as if the two Legionnaires had simply taken her curiosity to heart. Arden was the first to respond, his words coming out slow and careful as he seemed to have been searching for the answer himself. Yvonne blinked at the man’s honesty, the uncertainty and doubt in his response causing a soft smile to appear on the woman’s features.

“Seeking purpose is a noble cause, Rooke - especially when you choose to devote yourself to helping others. Some are fortunate enough to be born into the role which the Divine have chosen for them, while others must go out in search of it.” Yvonne stated her words confidently, thankful not for the first time that her faith made her assured in her duties. The Paladin seemed to be oblivious to the man’s gaze, his eyes having lingered ever so slightly longer than usual on her features. “I know that the opinion of a stranger may not matter much, but I am glad that you were here today. We were fortunate to have you as an ally in this battle.”

Offering Arden an encouraging grin, Yvonne turned to listen to the other Legionnaire. She smirked as the elf tried to find the words to explain his reasoning for joining the famed group of adventurers, his verbal grasping for the right vocabulary successfully communicating what he meant. Yvonne could relate to his desire to explore and discover. It was an intoxicating drive that pulled men and women from across the world to take up trades which would allow them to venture beyond the horizon of their towns and villages.

The Church’s Paladins were no strangers to travelling wherever they were most needed, although only a handful decided to journey beyond the boundaries of the Church’s land like Yvonne. She would be lying if she said that the prospect of meeting new and strange cultures had not been part of her reasons for leaving her home for the Legion. The Paladin’s lips twisted upwards slightly as she thought of how her younger self may have reacted to Vul. The dark-skinned elf, with his pointed ears and strange attire would have been a truly novel sight. However Yvonne’s smile soon faded as the elf’s words trailed off, his tone shifting uneasily as she realised that he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the topic. Surprised, she realised that there must have been more than simply a curious spirit which had pulled Vulluin from his home. Not wanting to overstep or pry where her curiosity was not wanted, Yvonne hesitated. Opening her mouth to respond with what she hoped would be comforting words, the Paladin found herself interrupted as Sylanna made her presence known.

A look of confusion flashed across Yvonne’s face as it took her a moment to realise that the Purplecloak was making a joke. Grinning, and holding her laughter along with Vul, she watched as Arden blundered straight into the Knight’s verbal trap. As soon as Rooke turned around to see Sylanna standing behind him, his eyes widened in horror as his tongue began to stumble over itself. Yvonne couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the man’s shocked expression, the weight of the battle and the fatigue lifting from her shoulders. Rolling her eyes, the Paladin found herself feeling increasingly at ease among the Legionnaires.

“Please Vul, Rooke could do so much better.” She playfully elbowed the embarrassed warrior. “I am sure that he has countless admirers seeking his attention.”

Yvonne’s cheer wavered slightly as the conversation shifted to the large beast which Sylanna and the Witch Hunter had defeated. Glancing towards the flaming corpse, the Paladin once again felt a stab of regret for her previous actions. Despite Sylanna’s reassurances, a part of her still felt guilty for leaving her comrades in the middle of the battle - even if she did so for a righteous cause.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

---

The Snow Elf simply crossed her arms and watched with due amusement as the realization dawned on Arden that he had been about to insult his superior on the mission and his senior on the Paean Legion, holding back a laugh. Seeing him turn away and change his tune completely, Sylanna's expression changed to a wide smile that was only slightly sardonic. "Thank you, Arden! I'm glad to see you're fine as well. Looks like it'll take more than a few monsters to put a dent in that pluck of yours." She replied. While her intention was not to belittle a fellow legionnaire, the way he had left himself open for a retort was just too tempting to ignore.

Oh well. He shouldn't take it personally.

Turning to look at Vulluin, this time the elven knight couldn't hold back. "Well, I certainly can't deny that!" She laughed heartily upon hearing the ranger's reply before glancing sideways at Yvonne as the paladin chimed in on the conversation, seemingly speaking up to support the teased legionnaire for a change, though her tone was no less playful than the others. "Yes, I can believe that. He looks like just the sort of man that makes country girls swoon at the sight of him--perhaps country boys too." The Snow Elf stated, offering another mixed compliment as she gave the man a friendly pat on the back.

Sylanna then turned back to Vul as he assured her that he would be fine, thanks to the paladin's aid. Regaining some of her usual, more composed demeanor, the knight nodded at him, offering a warmer smile that was far more efficient in communicating her thoughts than simple words. Seeing the Wood Elf's gaze wander to the blackened remains of the pale monster she had faced earlier, Sylanna glanced back and then shrugged. "Slightly harder than it looked, perhaps. It could not lay a hand on me, but I was hesitant to commit to an attack while not knowing what it was capable of." She explained. "When the opportunity presented itself, acting on it was a simple matter. But had Strauch not been there fighting the beast as well, said opportunity would've never come."

Pausing, the Snow Elf raised her index finger, and a tiny flame appeared on top of it. "Of course, that only means I would've been forced to cremate it on the spot instead." She concluded, a confident smile on her face. She was not one for arrogance or hubris, naturally, but even she wasn't going to deny that it was fun to flaunt her strength every now and then. It had been rightfully earned, after all.

[Nuridia]

Annabelle
The fight against the goblins ended fairly quickly, and Annabelle fortunately did not have to show her true skills. She was about to put away her blade when suddenly she heard and felt a massive tremor throughout the cave. The tunnel was collapsing and they were in grave danger. "Get out!!!" She shouted to her quest mates before running to save her own life. Quickly examining her surroundings she realized the only way to escape was a narrow path dug out of the dirt wall. Annabelle had no idea what was on the other side, but it was likely better than certain death beneath a goblin cave. She ran towards the path and though it was hard to move through its narrowness she was making progress towards the end, still she felt the path get more and more unstable, and Annabelle decided she couldn't take a risk of being trapped. Suddenly she disappeared in a flash of black smoke and appeared a second latter flying out of the whole and into the pit.

"What the fuck?..." She muttered under her breath as she looked around the pit for the others in her group. She didn't know any of them of course, but she didn't want them to get hurt or die in this pitiful place.

"I'm over here!" Pan managed to call, and her shout was accompanied by the sound of barking. Apparently Cerb had made it out okay too, it was something to be said about being a wizard's familiar. Annabelle was way tougher than she let on, that was for certain "Where did everybody else go, I have absolutely no idea. But we should go and try to find them before something way worse finds them before we do." Pulling herself up by leaning on her staff, Pan managed to crawl her way out of the pit with Cerberus following behind her, she lifted him the rest of the way when he couldn’t climb it himself. “Do you remember what happened? Y’know, with Edward and Yvonne and the others? Or is it just you and me for now?”


Caravan Mission
The fight seemed to happen so fast. Like...crazy fast. Like, blink-and-you-miss-it fast. So fast, that Azra and Alcide barely got any blows in with the upcoming monsters. And this was the first time they were hearing about Arden getting injured...but now that it was brought to their attention, the scent of blood seemed almost abnormally heavy in the air.
“We should probably get out of here, just for now. My head is swimming.” Al whispered.
“Good idea...” Azra clenched her jaw when she felt her teeth elongating, taking a deep breath of air to steady her nerves.
“But...we should most likely ask if he’s okay first l. From a distance.”

[Auropa]

Corven Roche
On the main roadway to Aliala

The sun was shining, birds were singing and Corven was in a surprisingly good mood. He’d admit that his day had a rough start, especially when he realised that what he believed to be his last gold coin turned out to be some cheap bronze counterfeit. Though things had recently turned around for him, first he was able to win a free meal after a not so luck-based victory in a game of chance, before finally finding a good contract at the guild’s tavern. Good for Corven meaning easy and with a decent pay. It was a simple courier mission to a nearby city by the name of Aliala in the duchy of something something-lius. Admitedly the titles never really mattered that much to Corven, to him, traveling like this was just another chance to see some sights, explore the land and meet new faces, though the promise of profit didn’t hurt either.

Interrupting his thoughts was a series of neighs from his mount followed by a swift shake of its head. “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’re just as damn greedy as me.” He chuckled as he stroked the horse behind its ears. The horse called Hoarse had been his travel companion for several months now. Originally won in a dice game, the beast was small, lazy, shaggy but loyal and quite possibly one of the only living creatures able to stand Corven’s endless, one-sided conversations.
“Apples, mangoes, bananas, coconuts, pineapples and your own weight in hay, I swear Hoarse if you’re not gluttony taken form then you’re damn close. Either way you’ve got no morale high ground in this. Besides, if I didn’t go after coin then you’d still be stuck down south.” Whether from the calming strokes or his less than sound argument, Hoarse gave its head another shake before a more appreciative whine.
“That’s what I thought.” Corven said proudly with a quick pat.

“And speaking of coin, wasn’t this the route that caravan group was going to take?” After being answered by silence, Corven took the opportunity to continue “Yeah I’m certain. The ugh, dammit, what was their name? Blue Mountain? Red Cliff? Black Hill? I wonder if they’ve finished the trip. Who knows, we might even run in to them heading home.” As much as he enjoyed his space, he wouldn’t deny that spending days on end with no one to talk to but Hoarse didn't exactly do good for his sanity.
“Then again, the guild did say they had to take a detour up north. Can’t imagine why though?” As he leaned back into his saddle, he couldn’t help but notice the soft breeze blowing against him and tranquil sounds of life as it passed around him. As far as he could tell, the road was nigh on perfect for travel, a little visible and maybe a bit too open sure, but with a team of Legionnaires providing escort, it wouldn’t exactly be seen as a target to any sane bandit. If anything, taking a detour seemed like it would just end up costing the caravan time and money he thought to himself.
“What do you think Hoarse? Think I could do better? Can you see me running my own caravan or even a whole mercantile guild?” After a few more seconds of silence Corven clicked his tongue in mock disgust “Well a pox on your unwanted opinion anyways. What do you know about business? You’d eat yourself into poverty within a day without my expert guidance.” As he rode on, it wasn’t long before he crossed a sign hammered into the ground pointing the way forward and the distance from his goal.

“Hmmm, what do you think? We could make it there by nightfall if we push, or we could take it easy and set up camp along the way.” As Hoarse let out another neigh, Coven decided to take it as an answer. “Well we could get a bonus for delivering the papers early and if I’m being completely honest, you don’t get a vote.” As he spoke he tapped his heels against Hoarse, encouraging the horse to slightly increase its pace.

[Radea]

Arden Rooke
Red Hill Company Caravan – The Dust has settled
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rooke listened to the Wood Elf’s explanation of why he joined the Legion. Gold. Exploration. That seemed practical, given Vulluin’s talents. Though, the human felt some hint of discomfort on the topic. Was this elf more like him that he first realized? In all, was he doing okay?

"Strange fancies? If anything he has excellent taste, Ma'am."

Arden smirked, huffing an air of amusement out of his nose. Then he released a laugh, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. “If Vul can still be so cavalier, he’s gonna be fine,” Rooke declared as he dusted off the knee he sat on. As the others chatted, the Heartlander leaned against the nearby wagon, folding his arms with a clear view of everyone who had gathered. The Legionaries and the Paladin talked about the slain monstrosity. He didn’t have much to say on that grueling encounter. At the first sight of that thing, he had felt nothing but the desire to flee. It seemed out of his pay-grade. Rooke had performed admirably, if not completely out of luck, against the screeching broodlings.

His vision drifted to Sylanna, proudly balancing one of the most dangerous natural elements - fire - like it was a harmless lady bug. Magic was as mysterious as the ether of the night sky and it enchanted him. The purple-cloaked warrior had beheaded the monster with a fighting skill the human had never seen. He was envious of that talent; perhaps he could learn from her. The Snow Elf may have been a superior, but she seemed to blend well with the grunts.

"Yes, I can believe that. He looks like just the sort of man that makes country girls swoon at the sight of him--perhaps country boys too."

Arden scoffed and couldn’t help but reveal a smile. The teasing from everyone felt natural and was certainly welcome. In merchant caravans, farming fields, and logging camps, these kind of jokes showed you were one of the crew. To Rooke, this was a comforting sign.

Out of the corner of his eye, his attention turned to Yvonne. Subconsciously, the hand under his folded arm laid on the spot where the paladin had elbowed him. “Countless admirers, huh?” He thought to himself. Truth be told, Arden admired her. Yvonne seemed like she had everything Rooke had struggled to find. Determination, commitment, drive, and purpose. She had joined a Holy Order when Rooke was still hawking goods with some salt trader for drinking money. Like Sylanna, she was an incredible fighter. Though, she wasn’t a member of the Paean Legion. The young woman may not even been on their next mission - or ever again. Rooke slouched, a small bit of sadness panging against his chest. That feeling of being let down. The plunge of excitement or interest to regret. Life was often this way.

...But it didn’t have to be. Too often he had drifted through life on the whims of fate and the shrugs of others. The road was still long for the caravan. If he could convince Yvonne to join the Legion, it could be different. Maybe, with friends like these and more within the Legion, Arden Rooke may just yet become the man he always wanted to be.

[Bentus]

Yvonne Lafaille

---

As the gathered legionnaires all exchanged stories, building up a sense of camaraderie in the night-time air, Yvonne couldn’t help but smile as she focused on Vul’s injury. The playful teasing was welcomed after the hard-fought battle, and the Paladin could feel the tight tension in her shoulders give way. Hearing the hearty laughter from her companions, Yvonne couldn’t help but relax as it seemed like the heat of battle had brought them all closer together than the hours spent travelling on the road ever could. Illuminated by the faint blue glow emanating from her hands, Yvonne was content to listen to the boisterous conversations. As she felt the magic course through her system, her eyes patiently watched the gashes on the elf’s back steadily begin to stitch themselves back together. How long had it been since she had been in this situation?

The thought echoed around for a moment in the Paladin’s head. When was the last time that she had really found herself settling in with a party that she could call her own? If she really sat down and allowed herself to dwell on the question, her mind would work itself back to her earlier days in the Order, before she decided to leave the Church’s lands to explore the world on her own. Blinking for a moment, the conversation surrounding her faded into a bit of background noise as Yvonne was increasingly lost in her own thoughts and her work.

Since she had left the primary domain of the Church, the young Paladin had effectively been on her own. Certainly she had been met with no shortage of kindness and compassion, not to mention the genuine offers of thanks from those who she helped. But even if Yvonne was devout, she was far from oblivious. She had felt the divide between her and those around her grow increasingly wide the further that she travelled. She noticed the stolen glances, the whispered comments on the religious symbols that adorned her armour and clothing. Even Vul had commented on her obvious religious affiliation with a snide comment back in the town, not that it had affected the Paladin’s opinion of the legionnaire. Although she was treated with kindness and respect, Yvonne was only ever kept at arm’s length, and never fully welcomed into a community. And yet somehow this felt different.

The light from the Paladin’s hands faded as she let out a tired sigh. Assessing the elf’s back, Yvonne noted with satisfaction that the wound was well on its way to being healed. If she spent another hour or so, she could probably fix it up in its entirety until Vul was left with little more than a painful bruise. But she could feel her supplies of manna beginning to wear thin, and she needed to make sure that she was still able to tend to Hadrian’s potentially more serious injuries. Blinking away the physical fatigue from using her powers so soon after a battle, Yvonne offered Vul a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“There you go, my friend. That should be more than enough to allow your body to heal the wound on its own. Although you must try to get some rest or it will reopen. If you can, see a proper priest or healer when we arrive in town.” Yvonne smiled at Sylanna and the other legionnaires. “I apologise to depart in the middle of the conversation, but I should check on Hadrian. He was badly hurt in the battle and I did not have a chance to properly mend his wounds. If I do not see you for the rest of the night, please do not hesitate to wake me for my turn on watch.”

Bidding the rest of the proud warriors good night, Yvonne left the small gathering to find the injured Sword-Singer. Making her way towards Hadrian’s wagon, the voices of the gathered legionnaires faded more into the distance until they became another part of the campground’s background noise. As she made her way around the covered wagon, Yvonne paused as soon as she was outside of the small group’s sight. Leaning an arm on the wooden transport, Yvonne glanced down at her side. Sliding her free hand between the gaps in her chest plates, the Paladin scowled as she felt a fresh layer of warm liquid coating her fingers. Pulling her hound away from the injury in her side, Yvonne looked in annoyance at the red of her own blood. Sighing at the inconvenience, the Paladin ignored the dull pain from the reopened cut as she pulled a waterskin from her waist. Using her powers on Vul must have undone her own body’s efforts to heal, but she had more pressing duties to attend to before she could allow herself to relax. Pouring some of the clear liquid onto her hands, Yvonne spent a few moments scrubbing both Vul and her own blood from her fingers. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to accidentally infect Hadrian’s injuries, Yvonne stepped up and into the wagon.

Pulling aside the cloth covering that blocked the entrance, Yvonne wore a calm smile on her face. “Sir Hadrian, I am sorry for the delay. Vul was also injured and - “ Yvonne’s voice trailed off as her eyes gradually adjusted to the wagon’s interior. She hesitated as a still silence greeted her. “Sir Hadrian?” Still nothing. Narrowing her eyes, Yvonne’s gaze fell upon a motionless body slumped over against the wall - a steady drip of red growing into a pool around them. “Sir Hadrian!”

The Paladin darted to the unconscious warrior’s side, wasting no time as she placed one of her hands to feel for a pulse. It was weak. Weaker even than when she had found him during the fight. Cursing under her breath, Yvonne realised that he must have suffered internal injuries that she had missed earlier. Running her eyes over his body, her gaze settled on his right leg and arm. The armour on both limbs was clawed and twisted pretty badly, and the Paladin could see a slow but steady drip of blood creeping out from between the man’s plate. Pulling a dagger from her sheath, Yvonne swiftly cut away the armour’s attachments to reveal Hadrian’s red-stained undercloak. Grimacing at the extent of the damage, Yvonne gently placed her hands on the deep cuts before a pale blue light once again emanated from her palms. Immediately, a wave of fatigue washed over the Paladin as her already depleted mana reserves were once again being called upon. Ignoring the physical exhaustion weighing down on her shoulders, Yvonne once again prayed to her Gods to plead for their strength. It was her duty to help her allies and the innocent, to bear some of their pain and suffering herself in order to lighten the burden on their shoulders.

[New Finnish Republic]

Edward Brunwulf
Goblin Camp

---

Edward let out a series of coughs, the dust and debris in the air filtering through the slits of his visor and filling his lungs. His eyes stung as he tried to blink away the particles, his vision blurry as he reached out with his hands to get a sense of his bearings. His sword and shield, each possessing a layer of dirt and wooden splinters, hung loosely by his sides. He had just been in the midst of several goblins when all of a sudden the cavern had begun to collapse. He, like the others, had done their best to scramble for what seemed like the only safe exit, barely avoiding being crushed like the scores of goblins behind them.

“Do you remember what happened? Y’know, with Edward and Yvonne and the others? Or is it just you and me for now?”

"Alive," he curtly said, groaning slightly as he made his way to the sounds of familiar voices. Glancing around, he saw the rest of the party had miraculously survived the collapse of the cavern, protruding green arms and legs showing that a few goblins had not quite done the same behind them. Edward was glad that they hadn't made it, as in his current state he could hardly walk around let alone fight.

Shaking the debris off of his armor, he reached for his waist and retrieves his leather water pouch. Taking care to first wash his blade off of the dirt and grime that had accumulated on it, he sheathed his sword after a quick flick to get rid of the dirtied water that remained on it. With his hand free, he opened his visor with one hand and poured some of the water onto his face. The water washed away the thick layer of dust and sweat that had dirtied his face, revealing his pale complexation underneath. The coolness of the liquid on his skin was refreshing to say the least, as was the case when he took a small sip of the water in an effort to hydrate himself briefly. Once this was done, he returned the water pouch back to its spot and flipped his visor back to its normal state.

Before anyone else could speak, the sound of heavy footsteps reached Edward's ears, causing him to instantly draw out his sword. As he had feared, out of a seperate exit appeared a massive goblin, its size and equipment making it clear it was the one in charge of the horde, or rather what was the horde seeing as it had more or less been completely wiped out.

"Big one. This will be tough," was all Edward could say, glancing around at the rest of the party. They had done well enough against the hordes, only taking minor damage throughout the whole process. Still, he knew that they weren't in the best of shapes to be going up against this opponent. Drained mana, low projectile ammunition, and most importantly fatigue were all factors that they would have to overcome.

Their strategy, however, would more or less be the same. Close-combat fighters keep it contained while the ranged users harass it from afar. The only difference this time, however, would be that they'd need to work together a lot more effeciently, as while they may only have one opponent, it looked to easily be worth at least thirty of the minor goblins from before. Twirling his sword in his hand, Edward gave a nod to the others, the sentiment among them conveyed through his minor action.

It was time to end this goblin infestation once and for all.

[Absolon-7]

Aliala, Duchy of Alius
Caravan Group, next morning
Northward of the Great Tarchuna Forest sat the reasonably sized city of Aliala at the crossroads of many dirt roads that converged into its own paved roadways. Like a great green quilt, farmland wrapped around the city's modest walls which housed a peculiarity of the settlement in which every single rooftop was colored a dark red color as per a mandate of its ruler's whims. Crimson banners depicting the ruling family's sigil of a red bull head overlooked the city gates and any building belonging to the government. The city was roughly shaped like a trapezoid hugging the meeting place of several rivers as they converged on the way to the sea.

The city itself was mostly human dominated with scantly a nonhumanoid among its busy streets. The stands and markets that lined its streets were more more modest then the ones where the caravan originated from and contained more rustic goods reminiscent of the city's landlocked nature. As the caravan moved closer to the central forum it would be possible for them to spot several of the city's attractions such as the nearby podium's where city officials, madmen, and charlatans made their case, right behind the stands appeared to be some mystical shop as indicated by the tacky crossed broom and wand on the display glass, there was even an exotic animal shop possibly arising due to the city's centralized nature with a cacophony of bizarre sounds coming from the inside, and there were a myriad of other sights that could be seen but the caravan took a sharp turn and moved onwards to a more run down and seedy part of the town before stopping at a Red Hill office that was oddly far away from the markets and forum. Crows cawed in the rooftops and the roadway was nowhere maintained as the rest of the city.

The head merchant, both hands carrying a heavy satchel, of the caravan jumped off the first wagon nearly tripping over into a puddle before correcting himself. Guidantonio the second in command similarly jumped off with a heavy satchel in hand but landed in a much more refined and collected manner without tripping over. With a grunt he walked to the building opening the crooked door but just before entering he turned around to the collected guards. Coughing into his hand he worryingly looked at them squinting his eyes as if to see if there was someone behind the wagons and guards.

"Alright you grunts, I have business to do in this office and it will take a while. Normally, I would have ordered all of you stand guard even at the cost of pissing yourself standing but my associate Guidantonio convinced me otherwise. Feel free to go the forum if and only if you need to go a public restroom or to go buy food. Nothing else capiche!" nervously snarled Pier eyeing the group before turning around and entering the building.

Guidantonio nonchalantly looked back at them and raised one hand to wave at them, "Ciao," before he himself entered.

Some time passed possibly allowing some of the Legionnaires to go and explore but before long a large group of men equipped with clubs, slings, and cestus as well as a mix of armor types. At the forefront was a more decently armored fellow with a spear and shield. He and his dozen or so men separated into too groups with one holding up the front of the caravan and the other blocking the back. The man stepped forward and bowed to the Legionnaires while a cocky smile filled his face.

"Now ladies and gentlemen, I think I must release you all of these wagons. Not personal just business as my employer said. Don't worry chant a paper cut shall befall you if you cooperate. And I assure you that whatever you're being payed I can double it. Any leaders here? I would like a more traditional parley."

"Oi you think if we bring him some spice, Byron is gonna pay us more" could be heard from one of the men.

"Shut the fuck up, Horton!" said another.

Simion Valerin, the marksman from Nur!

Frey

Oberon Klask

Roxana Ma'gonid

---

A massive weight on her throat seemed to have been lifted as Roxana struggled to open her eyes with her sunrod, where ever it was, illuminating some distant corner of her vision. Her throat felt as if it was mushed to a slice of smoked salmon reminding her of dinners back in her childhood home. This was honestly quite weird as she wouldn't have expected to reminisce on a fond childhood memory in a damp dark burrow after almost being killed. Speaking of killed, Roxana was going to stab whatever fool was shouting in her face right now. Opening her eyes she was startled by Simion reaching out to her with a fear filled face. Carefully she grasped his hand and slowly stood up. She brought up her ungloved hand up to her throat to see if the skin was broken and thankfully it wasn't. Raw and definitely bruised but intact.

"Thanks," quietly said Roxana to Simion not waiting to strain her voice, "Kinda funny almost getting killed on my first contract after coming back from my vacation. In a grimdark sort of way, eh? But really, thanks for the hep up," She offered a smile to the marksmen before straightening her back to not be hunched her anymore. She looked around the room to see a tremendous amount of water spilled everywhere and the nothic had been slain by Frey.

"I'm sure that's just Simion's way of showing he's worried, Fray. Ain't that right?," cheekily said Roxana nudging the white haired legionnaire's arm with her elbow. She let out a small coughing fit while hearing Frey offer taking point with Oberon in agreement. "Very well. That seems our best option. Lucas you watch our back."

Roxana signaled the group to head upwards where the nothic had come from as the next location was located beyond. Strangely the worker's body had melted into a puddle of sinewy refuse. The sight of it made her gag in disgust. She shook her head and walked with the group onto the raised platform and ever onward with her bow ready in hand. The group walked through the nothic's point of entry into the room before coming before a large open hall with a great door on the other side. In between the Legionnaires and the door was a group of the armor creatures describe by Byron. They apeared to be a more primitve styles of armor with a square chest plate, shoddy grieves, and simple helmets altough they had some random assortments of other things as armor too. This was all held together by long black sinews of pulsating tendrils of very thin flesh reminiscent of wet jerky. Around the chest area there appeared to be a pulsating mass but she couldn't be sure.

"So there appear to be around 7 of those uhm things," coarsely said Roxana getting ready her bow to fire, "Anyone think they can take those things out before me and by bow can?"

[Solisian Union]

Arialista

The events that allowed her to spill blood for the first time on this land rolled around in her mind like a wave crashes on the shores of her home island. The battle mage of the Eastern parts of this world could not sleep for more than an hour and remained awake for the most of the previous night and day. Only in the morning, when their employers had told her and her fellow mercenaries that they are free for now to do as they wished until they were called upon again.

Great, she thought. This was a good time to catch some sleep to at least get her in a better shape. If anything else happens this morning, she might not be able to---

"Now ladies and gentlemen, I think I must release you all of these wagons. Not personal just business as my employer said. Don't worry chant a paper cut shall befall you if you cooperate. And I assure you that whatever you're being payed I can double it. Any leaders here? I would like a more traditional parley."

She turned around as she left the safety and comfort of one of the wagons. She felt danger flow through her veins and her hair stood at attention as much as her hands transformed into fists, knuckles turning white. She glared at the man in decent armor and at his companions.

Why am I getting suspicious of them? Is this my fear acting against me or simply my boon acting for me?

She kept her eyes on them as she stepped into position, facing the ones blocking the back. If things went wrong, she wanted to carve a path through these fools and provide escape for her fellow mercenaries.

At this point, she made a show by summoning a shield in her left hand and a spear in her right hand. She went into a ready position, shield forward, legs anchored and spear pointed upwards as the shaft rested on the top of the summoned shield. She warned them

"Threats are for desperate men."

[Union Princes]

Inquisitor Strauch

Yvonne Lafaille

---

As the gathered legionnaires all exchanged stories, building up a sense of camaraderie in the night-time air, Yvonne couldn’t help but smile as she focused on Vul’s injury. The playful teasing was welcomed after the hard-fought battle, and the Paladin could feel the tight tension in her shoulders give way. Hearing the hearty laughter from her companions, Yvonne couldn’t help but relax as it seemed like the heat of battle had brought them all closer together than the hours spent travelling on the road ever could. Illuminated by the faint blue glow emanating from her hands, Yvonne was content to listen to the boisterous conversations. As she felt the magic course through her system, her eyes patiently watched the gashes on the elf’s back steadily begin to stitch themselves back together. How long had it been since she had been in this situation?

The thought echoed around for a moment in the Paladin’s head. When was the last time that she had really found herself settling in with a party that she could call her own? If she really sat down and allowed herself to dwell on the question, her mind would work itself back to her earlier days in the Order, before she decided to leave the Church’s lands to explore the world on her own. Blinking for a moment, the conversation surrounding her faded into a bit of background noise as Yvonne was increasingly lost in her own thoughts and her work.

Since she had left the primary domain of the Church, the young Paladin had effectively been on her own. Certainly she had been met with no shortage of kindness and compassion, not to mention the genuine offers of thanks from those who she helped. But even if Yvonne was devout, she was far from oblivious. She had felt the divide between her and those around her grow increasingly wide the further that she travelled. She noticed the stolen glances, the whispered comments on the religious symbols that adorned her armour and clothing. Even Vul had commented on her obvious religious affiliation with a snide comment back in the town, not that it had affected the Paladin’s opinion of the legionnaire. Although she was treated with kindness and respect, Yvonne was only ever kept at arm’s length, and never fully welcomed into a community. And yet somehow this felt different.

The light from the Paladin’s hands faded as she let out a tired sigh. Assessing the elf’s back, Yvonne noted with satisfaction that the wound was well on its way to being healed. If she spent another hour or so, she could probably fix it up in its entirety until Vul was left with little more than a painful bruise. But she could feel her supplies of manna beginning to wear thin, and she needed to make sure that she was still able to tend to Hadrian’s potentially more serious injuries. Blinking away the physical fatigue from using her powers so soon after a battle, Yvonne offered Vul a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“There you go, my friend. That should be more than enough to allow your body to heal the wound on its own. Although you must try to get some rest or it will reopen. If you can, see a proper priest or healer when we arrive in town.” Yvonne smiled at Sylanna and the other legionnaires. “I apologise to depart in the middle of the conversation, but I should check on Hadrian. He was badly hurt in the battle and I did not have a chance to properly mend his wounds. If I do not see you for the rest of the night, please do not hesitate to wake me for my turn on watch.”

Bidding the rest of the proud warriors good night, Yvonne left the small gathering to find the injured Sword-Singer. Making her way towards Hadrian’s wagon, the voices of the gathered legionnaires faded more into the distance until they became another part of the campground’s background noise. As she made her way around the covered wagon, Yvonne paused as soon as she was outside of the small group’s sight. Leaning an arm on the wooden transport, Yvonne glanced down at her side. Sliding her free hand between the gaps in her chest plates, the Paladin scowled as she felt a fresh layer of warm liquid coating her fingers. Pulling her hound away from the injury in her side, Yvonne looked in annoyance at the red of her own blood. Sighing at the inconvenience, the Paladin ignored the dull pain from the reopened cut as she pulled a waterskin from her waist. Using her powers on Vul must have undone her own body’s efforts to heal, but she had more pressing duties to attend to before she could allow herself to relax. Pouring some of the clear liquid onto her hands, Yvonne spent a few moments scrubbing both Vul and her own blood from her fingers. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to accidentally infect Hadrian’s injuries, Yvonne stepped up and into the wagon.

Pulling aside the cloth covering that blocked the entrance, Yvonne wore a calm smile on her face. “Sir Hadrian, I am sorry for the delay. Vul was also injured and - “ Yvonne’s voice trailed off as her eyes gradually adjusted to the wagon’s interior. She hesitated as a still silence greeted her. “Sir Hadrian?” Still nothing. Narrowing her eyes, Yvonne’s gaze fell upon a motionless body slumped over against the wall - a steady drip of red growing into a pool around them. “Sir Hadrian!”

The Paladin darted to the unconscious warrior’s side, wasting no time as she placed one of her hands to feel for a pulse. It was weak. Weaker even than when she had found him during the fight. Cursing under her breath, Yvonne realised that he must have suffered internal injuries that she had missed earlier. Running her eyes over his body, her gaze settled on his right leg and arm. The armour on both limbs was clawed and twisted pretty badly, and the Paladin could see a slow but steady drip of blood creeping out from between the man’s plate. Pulling a dagger from her sheath, Yvonne swiftly cut away the armour’s attachments to reveal Hadrian’s red-stained undercloak. Grimacing at the extent of the damage, Yvonne gently placed her hands on the deep cuts before a pale blue light once again emanated from her palms. Immediately, a wave of fatigue washed over the Paladin as her already depleted mana reserves were once again being called upon. Ignoring the physical exhaustion weighing down on her shoulders, Yvonne once again prayed to her Gods to plead for their strength. It was her duty to help her allies and the innocent, to bear some of their pain and suffering herself in order to lighten the burden on their shoulders.

The fires that burned away at the corpses sooth the old man's spirit. His charms, well, worked like a charm in terms of burning and alerting. Wilhard stared hard into the light as he cursed at himself for not taking the warnings seriously. First, the screams and then the glowing light from his trinkets. But alas, even the gods themselves are bound by time. While the others dragged the slain bodies of the monsters to add to his pyre, Strauch looked on as if they were offering sacrifices to the Gods and Goddesses of the Hunt. This was the party's first victory thanks to righteous fury of the Snow Elf. The Inquisition would shower her in honors if she ever came to the Free city of Faith.

But while his teammates celebrated their victory, Strauch kept watch of their surroundings. Pride after a victory could lead to downfall in a counterattack and, if the gods demanded trials, everyone will be forced to fight again. Not everyone was in fighting shape as Sir Hadrian was out of commission. Poor bugger. He needs a priest or monk or any sort of dedicated to heal him back to full strength in case if the beasts plan for another go at them.

Strauch looked beyond and saw Yvonne having to lean onto a wagon. Of all his years of witch hunting, Wilhard knew what pain that she was going through. Figured it was enough time for sentry duty, the Inquisitor walked over to Yvonne to offer his services. His services as in grabbing her and moving her away from Sir Hadrian. It was a rough gesture but not of ill-intent. "Paladin, tend to your wounds and get some rest!" he ordered. "You can kill more heretics and demons alive than dead."

He pulled whatever wrappings he had in his pouch and handed it over to Yvonne. "Leave Hadrian to me. I seen too many injuries to let him die of mere bleeding." Strauch reached into his punch for more papers and began drawing more intricate runes and symbols.

[Auropa]

Corven Roche
Aliala, Duchy of Alius

“… I have absolutely no idea what to call you.”
After passing through the fields of farmland and entering Aliala’s rather unique sea of red roofed houses, it didn’t take long for Corven to become distracted and start exploring the city’s many districts. After a brief, less than successful visit to the magical shop, he turned his attention to the strange animal store. Since then, he had been aimlessly walking back and forth across the cages attempting to decipher or improvise foreign sounding names for the many creatures he could not recognize. Now he knelt in front of an oversized, armoured lizard-like beast adorned with cat like eyes, a set of viscous teeth and a deep green tinge to its scaled flesh.

“Well you definitely look like a disaster in the making…” He muttered as his eyes passed over the name plate “How about, Plateblade?” He eventually asked. in response, the animal maintained its wordless stare.
“… Because of the scales… They shine like fresh plate-mail does. And ‘blade’ could be for either your teeth or your grassy pigment.” After a few more seconds of silent staring, Corven rose to his feet with a grunt and attempted to stretch out the lingering stiffnesses from his previous ride. “No love for the arts nowadays. That’s this world’s problem.” he muttered to himself as he looked about the store once more. Saying he was so much as browsing would be an overstatement, considering his current job would barely pay off his debts, Corven’s actions were more akin to a form of free entertainment hunting. Of course, his red cloak happened to lend him some credibility to the unknowing store keep. After a short story on searching for a potential travel companion and sentry, he had been left relatively free to browse the store’s many inhabitants but as much as he enjoyed the company of the creatures, he still had a job to do. Breathing out an unexpectedly aggravated sigh, Corven started towards the exit pausing only at the slightest of whimpers and coming face to face with a northern snow white pup and its cautious, sharp-eyed mother. For a few moments Corven stared back at the mother. It had a set of deep blue eyes that almost seemed as cold as the mountains she was born to, even from within the cage it showed a fierce natured determination burning within and betrayed violent, desperate spark he knew all to well. With an expressionless face, Corven rose his covered arm to the cage’s door and mouthed a voiceless word of power. As he spoke, the small steel door steadily bent backwards with a muted creak and eventually started to tip as the last strands of its hinges struggled to hold it upright. At the same time the white and black creature shot upright, placing itself between the opening and her young as she let out a low, threatening growl towards the human. In response, Corven gave a small bow of his head and left.

From there, it was a quiet walk to an unmarked office followed by a simple exchange, a courteous thanks and a purchase of supplies. n less than an hour Corven was ready to head off, his mind lost in thoughts of the past and a million other ‘could haves’ and should haves’. Bringing him back to the present however, was a single oddity. In a city like this it wasn’t uncommon to see armoured adventurers perusing through weapons and armour or providing escorts, what was less common, was a group of armed individuals of differing statures pushing through the crowd with their eyes trained forward. Deciding he had enough regrets as it was, Corven re-tied his mount, tucked in his tell-tale cloak and slowly set off after the group.

Following the large armed band of warriors wasn’t exactly difficult and without his bright armour, it wasn’t too hard to keep unnoticed. Though it wasn’t until they stopped in front of one unfortunate caravan did the pieces fall into place.
‘Red hill’ he thought to himself as he saw the trading group’s ensign. The caravan protected by the legion.
While he wasn’t close enough to make out all the words the group spoke, he could understand their meaning. Whoever they were, they wanted the caravan and were willing to pay or fight for it. Not wanting to set off the rapidly rising tensions, Corven slowly edged closer to the group flanking the caravan until he was able to duck into an alley with a relatively clear view. From there, he could see the individuals and plan his actions more carefully. With the exception of their leader, the group’s weapons appeared rudimentary, and while it could be a promising advantage, he knew just how effective they could be from experience, and with their superior numbers and positioning, they could still quickly turn any sudden fight into a slaughter. Making up his mind, Corven leaned deeper into the shadows, hand on his sword, and waited, depending on how the next few seconds would go, he needed to be ready.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

Sylanna scoffed at the head merchant once he was out of sight, shaking her head at his arrogance and nerve. While it was true that the Paean Legion took their contracts in exchange for coin, they were far from simple-minded grunts one could hire for added muscle: they were talented warriors, hand-picked and gifted power by the singing stone. The way the merchant treated her and her comrades irked her, not just due to her pride as a warrior, but also her pride as a legionnaire.

Still, she knew that lashing out would just jeopardize the Legion's reputation, and this was far from the worst employer she'd had since enlisting.

With a sigh, the Snow Elf turned to address her party, placing a hand on her hip. "Well, you all heard the man." Assuming he's even worthy of being called a man, anyway.

A slight growl informed her of an unforeseen issue; fortunately, she was far enough from the others and the city was noisy enough that the other legionnaires wouldn't have heard. Clearing her throat, she continued. "Now then, I'll take my leave momentarily. I trust you will be able to keep things orderly here without me. You're all free to head over to the forum as well, like our employer said, but I want no less than four of you guarding the caravan at all times." She instructed. Her tone then softened and she smiled briefly at her fellow legionnaires. "I'll be sure to bring back plenty of food in case anyone is hungry."

And with that, Sylanna turned around and left. A lone woman navigating the run down areas of the city would normally be an invitation for trouble, but between her heavy armor and her purple cloak, the lowlifes in the shadows knew that it would be suicidal to stand in her way.

---

A short time later...

"Thaf would be me." The Snow Elf's voice sounded just behind the brutes that accompanied the spearman. Swallowing the dumpling bite she had in her mouth, she calmly walked past the mercenaries and towards the caravan. "Pardon my manners, I was just famished. Luckily for me there's plenty of good food in this city." She stated as she approached the wagon that was nearest and dropped a cheap but decently large satchel full of edible goods on it, free for anyone to take, though it was unlikely that anyone would stop to grab a bite in the middle of a confrontation. With that done, Sylanna turned around to face the mercenary leader, hands resting on her hips, right by her hilt.

"Now then, I'm here and willing to listen to what you have to say, good sir, but I can't promise we'll reach a compromise that is to your employer's liking. We take our contracts very seriously, you see. I'm sure you understand."

---

---

Frey chuckled. "I bet I could take out a few quite easily with my daggers... but I think I'll have to pass up on your challenge, m'lady. Ever since a minute ago I've had the growing suspicion that it would be more convenient for everyone involved if I didn't leave your side." He stated. As if to illustrate his point, he sheathed his cutlass, better suited for more aggressive combat due to its longer reach, and instead grabbed his second knife, holding both daggers in a loose defensive position, albeit one that he could easily consolidate the second he saw something approaching. If one of the armor creatures tried to reach Roxana, or Simion if he opted to stay behind as well, they would have to get through him first.

The rogue twirled his knives in his hands and threw them up once for effect, easily catching them. For all of the sins and bad habits he was trying to leave behind, he was perfectly fine with showing off. "Oberon, Lucas, give these guys a good thumping on my behalf, will you? And if you need backup, just say the word. I'm sure I can provide a little distraction without leaving our leader unprotected."

[Finland SSR]

Frey

Oberon Klask

Roxana

Simion Valerin, the marksman from Nur!

---

Frey's statement about Simion's words to Roxana being completely unfitting for this place and time forced the gun-wielder to stop in his tracks, staring towards the pirate with wide opened eyes. Right, he did go a bit unreasonably heavy-handed with that comment. Roxana barely escaped from death thanks to him, and he responds with a thinly veiled insult and a brag. Yeah, he's good at that. The bluntness and lack of regard for others, that is...

You tossed your family into the street for a few extra coins.

"Yeah... sorry, I did go too far there." Simion suddenly spoke up, his expression having turned a lot moodier, while pulling Roxana up back to her feet. Surprisingly, the elven archer did not feel slighted at all, even teasing the marksman with an elbow nudge and a statement that this is how he expresses worry. "No, no, that's simply not how you express respect to your superior, Roxana."

Hold it together. I know it's a pain, but it's simply what you have to do, no questions allowed.

With the nothic eliminated by Frey, who also offered to take point, the team moved on lower to the dungeon, and after descending a yet another staircase, the team ended up faced off with several... things, which looked like fleshy beings possessing sets of armor. Which is what, as Simion recalled, something which Byron mentioned before they actually went in. Roxana opted to stay behind and start picking them off with her armors, Frey decided to stay back to guard the two ranged members of their team and instead offered Luca and Oberon have a go at the armors instead.

Alright.

Simion pulled onto the serpentine lock on his hand cannon and stood behind Frey, speaking:

"It's alright, Frey, we'll dispatch of these bastards faster than you can say 'backup' again."