Elementals 3: The White Rose (IC, Sign-ups only)

[Olthar]

Gwen watched the strange man perform his strange magic upon the wall. She had never witnessed anything like it before, and though she didn't know what it was, it felt...wrong. the man's scarred arm seemed to fuse with the shadows, themselves, and Gwen's stomach started turning. He held out his hand for her, but she backed away. She had done many terrible things on the battlefield, but she was not so guilty as to start cavorting with demons.

Gwen backed up out of the alley, not saying a word, then turned and fled. Whatever ill fate awaited her in the city, it was preferable to this.

[Kassaran]

"A shame... I was hoping not to have to make this a scene."

In her haste to run, the woman had turned to flee, but an outstretched arm to keep her balance moved into his reach. It wasn't that he felt like being particularly rude, nor that he even cared too much about whatever plight she might have been in, he just hated to leave loose ends which would bite him from behind later on. An iron-grip closed around the woman's wrist as she turned, and if she looked back, she'd see the last corner of his grin disappear into the darkness now enveloping the wall and consuming everything beyond. Dark tendrils writhed along the length of his arm before wrapping around her own, and taking hold with similar grip to the hand of the Dark Elemental, rushed quickly up and over her as they pulled her into the portal. Beyond was nothing, perhaps if she looked the darkness would stare back and inform her that she too was nothing. It was a sensation Erosen had come across many times before, and thus his preference for keeping trips through the shadows short and brief.

As time seemed to unwind, the perception that perhaps not everything present in reality was present here. The only anchor to reality for Erosen was the wrist he'd grabbed of the woman whom had tried to run, pulling her along though the lack of ground beneath their feet would become another sensation to acquiesce to. In all of his travels he'd only ever known the fall. There was no howling of wind in his ears or rushing of air against the skin, and as time would seem to stretch on in this dimension beyond what most mortals ever had known, the air would taste slightly of bitterness and perhaps sulfur would taint the odor of this realm of nothingness. Just as soon as it had begun though, the sensation was gone and light spilled into view from a gap in front of him. It wasn't a great amount of light, but rather dim and as he grew closer the silhouette of someone just beyond the opening in the darkness became apparent. Wavering, large, and familiar perhaps only to the few whom had ever seen one of her kind before.

As he forced himself to step out once more, solid footing was found as he slowly emerged from the portal, pulling along the unwilling companion he'd taken. As his face emerged into the room, he let his free hand reach up in a casual wave as his hood fell back revealing his usual long locks of darkly colored hair. The darkness behind him slowly began to recede as finally the woman he'd abducted also came though. Letting the age old sensation of the freezing cold beyond seep away from him, his muscles still rigid from the shadow-travel, he looked over the woman for a moment to assure she had not lost any part of her body while crossing through. He'd known only one or two demons to exist in that realm beyond the walls, and all too often he'd taken to having one attach itself to him en route. Another motivator to reduce the usual time it took to travel.

Looking away from her, sensing nothing of the Dark Element but himself attached, he let go of her wrist and stepped forward to greet their host.

"I apologize for entering unannounced, but I fear I was on the verge of revealing my own presence here in the city on account of my guest here. I was hoping to stay a minute before moving along. I believe she's in need of a place of refuge and respite. Poor thing took me for but a vagrant wanderer on the street."

[Lazarian]

Glancing at Katya, he motioned for the Garmiccian to come over, wishing to continue their conversation. "So if I'm understanding what you said correctly, there was a war and the North separated from Gallia?" He asked, finding it very strange that this was the first he heard of it. Then again, that's partly my fault too. It's not like international news have been the greatest of my concerns as of late.

"And you say Garmiccia was involved in the war too? Well, that sounds like an issue, but if your business over there is important, I'm sure you'll find a way to make it there." He tried to reassure the girl. "If nothing else, we might be able to do something about it. The old man, Lis and I had a little bit of rapport there three years ago."

"Of course Katya, I'm sure we can get in there some way. We helped get the Aurenheim's son Kroisoto back to Auregen, and the Duke and Duchess came to our wedding, so they still remember and like us!" chimed in Lisoette, immediately afterwards.

"Yes, you understand correct." she replied, blinking in surprise. "I'm very surprised you haven't heard, Frosts. I myself don't know what incident caused it, but I heard that Northern provinces seceded, and South refused to accept it. Garmiccia entered the war on side of the South, because the Eresilnnians were allied with the North, and Eresilnnian ships were frequently trespassing in our waters, cutting off our trade routes and regularly attacking fleets of innocent merchants." she said, quoting what was common belief in Garmiccia.

She sighed.

"Needless to say, the North was able to hold its ground quite well, and after delivering crushing blows to the Eresilnnian armies, the Emperor decided to temporarily declare a ceasefire, as our objectives in the war had been fulfilled. Unfortunately, the North still remembers our involvement, which was technically against their allies, despite the fact that we were merely defending our own assets against a piracy-condoning naval power. I was sent by my father as an envoy, as the Emperor has set the rebuilding of the relationship with the Commonwealth in the North under his duties. However, we attempted to make our way there by ship initially, but were not permitted to set foot on their land, likely due to our flag. We were dropped off by merchant in one of the port cities, and we've been trying to find a ship that will take us there since then."

She slumped forwards onto the table, resting her face in her hands, elbows planted onto the wood, clearly upset.

"It has not gone well, Tristan. South is upset with Garmiccia for exiting war and withdrawing support early. Few ships go to North and those that do refuse us boarding, due to my inability to hide foreignness. I have been trying aimlessly for months now." she moped glumly, before removing her head from her hands and continuing. "Anyways, we have been discussing land journey for quite some time, but we do not know lay of these lands, and the journey may be perilous. However, with Master Eric's connection to the divine, I trust in him to lead us there safely." she said, confidence returning to her voice.

"And if you would be so kind as to accompany us, you as well!" she said, smiling at Tristan.

Meanwhile, Ivan scratched his ass aimlessly, as he stood in a nearby alley with Timur, guarding the mule which carried their supplies. He had finally recovered after seeing Belle Lame - although his ego had not, as Timur had mocked him mercilessly for his wailing and moaning. After he had gotten up, he saw the Baron's stupid bitch of a daughter go running towards the old man that had summoned the power of the gods, and internally groaned. Great. As far as guides go, the man probably wasn't a bad option, but he seemed like the chivalrous knight type, and Ivan...didn't quite care for those types. Alexei had bailed soon after, instructing the two former soldiers to guard their supplies. They had been sitting in the alley for a while now, throwing pebbles at stray cats and bantering back and forth.

"You know, these Watchtower folks have a point." muttered Ivan, throwing the pebble several yards off target and missing completely. "I read their pamphlet and honestly, it's not too unreasonable. Nonhumans are dangerous, and I think it's reasonable to say that spellborns may not be human. I helped hunt some that didn't register, back in the day."

"Ha. Say that in front of the Baron sometime. I'd enjoy the promotion." Timur replied in thick, near incomprehensible Garmiccian.

[Ameriganastan]

Lisoette would have moved on to more questions about the war she had missed, but Belle collapsing to the floor took her by surprise. The Daemonness approached the Angelle cautiously. She had never heard of one of their kind losing their powers. She had also never heard of one getting stuck in a sword for centuries though, so perhaps this was related to that strange curse?, "Come on Belle Lame, let's get you seated over here."

"Aw, thanks. You're alright for demon scum, Lisoette. That's why I didn't disembowel you the day we met."

"You didn't disembowel her cause you didn't have a body when we met her, you brainless chicken."

He helped her to a table and sat her down...and not two seconds later she faceplanted onto said table.

"Okay, how exactly are you losing your powers?"

"Well, they didn't leave me much power when they trapped me. It took a 300 year nap to charge what I had when you found me. And since then I've spent 17 years using it to keep you from either breaking all your bones or dying of some henceforth unknown STD that they'll probably name after you..."

In a tiny fishing village in the north, there was a condition known as 'The Lumen Itch'. But that's a story for another time...

...And oh Gods, it's cause I have my body back now. Angelle's can't dwell among mortals for too long or our divinity begins fading. You hear about it all the time when some horny one gets the hots for a human and decides to stay down here with them. I've been down here for three years with a body..."

"...Wait, do you have the hots for me?"

"Not with a stolen vag, you old buzzard."

[Rupudska]

Catrin was surprised to say the least about the sudden arrivals to her humble domicile.

It wasn't that Erosen had shown up unannounced, she knew Erosen and he did that all the bloody time, rude as it was a thing to do. She had long ago given up even attempting to correct this behavior; besides, as he was a Darkness Elemental, it was best that normal people had one less way to figure out where or when he would be.

She wasn't normal people, but whatever.

What was surprising was the woman she absolutely did not recognize, but absolutely did recognize she was currently armed when she came through the strange portal. As Catrin turned her body around to face Erosen more fully she damn near blasted her with a ball of webbing.

Still, she composed herself.

"A normal person would knock on the door before entering, Erosen. And they'd announce they had guests."

[Hanafuridake]

“Uesama, who was that strange woman?” Himegawa walked up to the shōgun and courtier as the indignant daemonette stormed away to find her friend in the tavern. She had gotten bored waiting in the litter, and had lost some of her sulkiness from being scolded for the accident that occurred earlier. When Fumi merely shook her head, Himegawa sighed. “Well this was an unexpected turn of events, did the swordsman and kami agree to join our cause?” when Fumi nodded her head, Himegawa smiled. “So that means you'll take me for drinks to celebrate?” she asked in an obnoxiously high pitch cute voice that she knew the shōgun loved, despite everyone else in the entourage finding unbearable.

“Do you really need any more drinks...?” Nekoyashiki murmured, he was not privy to the secret meetings that happened between the elder members of the entourage, who did not trust him not to have a naive sense of loyalty to their liege and report everything. For all he knew, their meetings were just a pretext for Himegawa to get drunk and see girls behind the shōgun's back.

“W H A T W A S T H A T?” Himegawa glared viciously, her cute and docile demeanor changing to pure wrath.

“N - n - nothing, I was silly commenting on the weather.” Nekoyashiki replied.

---

“I hate it here,” the courtier scowled as he took a seat next to old men Yamada and Yamashiro at the tavern. “Why in the Sun's Name did we agree to enter this trash heap bar?” the two men next to him were less displeased to be here, quite the opposite. They were eagerly ordering alcohol and drinking it down merrily, forgetting that their main task was to keep an eye on Eric and Belle Lame in order to keep anyone else from buying the duo's services.

“I - I - I WANT TO MAKE A TOAST,” Yamashiro bellowed, raising his glass to the air and looking over at Eric and Belle Lame. “To our new friends, may they fight the usurper as victoriously as they vanquish their bottles.” Nekoyashiki simply muttered something about how he would be the one to kill the usurper and rose to leave. “W - w - what's the m - m - matter, my boy?” Yamashiro struggled to find the words, he wasn't as strong with his alcohol as he used to be. “Cat demon get your tongue?”

“You know why when you sober up.” the courtier snapped, before walking out of the tavern.

[Woodstovia]

To Aerion the worst thing in the world wasn't spiders or mondays or being awoken in the middle of a nice dream. Oh no. To Aerion the worst thing in the world was being ignored.

Aerion. Could. Not. Stand. Being. Ignored.

His blood was boiling, his vision went haywire, the wounds from the old war felt like they were split open and hot crimson was suffocating his lungs, his brain began cycling through every battle, every raid, every ambush, every kill, every murder.

He bit his glove so hard he could feel it tear and the flesh beneath it too. He stopped when he felt blood and went to follow the others. Drink. He needed drink.

Aerion began slamming down cup after cup, drinking whatever the tavern owner would sell to him, caring naught about it's make, year, quality (which he usually obsessed over) he just needed drink.

He could feel them, feel them all. His eyes started darting around, he could feel them staring, they all knew, he could feel the souls of the dead, the armies he'd vanquished, with their phantom swords driving into his stomach, he could feel their dead eyes, he could see the Champions Field, he could see the dead, he could see the Watchtower now, and every Elemental or suspected Elemental they had strung up or burned, he could hear the screams. If he hadn't been turncoak he could have saved them, the North would have been crushed, they wouldn't have died.

His light golden locks which had been neatly tied into a ponytail began to fall around his face as he no longer cared about his appearance, his hands were shaking manically and his eyes were wide and alert. he looked pale, his hair silvery and brittle. More like a child of Froenstia than ever before. Then the laughter started, it was loud and cruel and harrowing and went on and on and on.

"I think you've had enough." the tavern keeper muttered

Then the laughter stopped

"Do you know how many of your kind I've killed?!" his eyes were alight with the wildest of fires "I remember one who looked like you in some shithole, I remember the noises his wife made as I slit his throat." One of his daggers was out and at the mans throat as he leapt onto the bar "I saved the North! I gave them their independence!" he declared brazenly, his words slurring slightly as he waved the sword around "If your northern come up and kiss my feet!" the laughter started again "Funny! It's so funny! Did you know the Gods want me dead?" another howl of laughter "Laugh!" he hissed, his words coated in venom before his eyes suddenly danced with light and a grin formed: wide and broad "They couldn't, they can't! I'll never die! Isn't that nice?! Isn't that funny?!" this time the laughter was more sustained and continued as Aerion fell off the bar and onto the floor, laughing even harder.

[Lazarian]

"Do you know how many of your kind I've killed?!" his eyes were alight with the wildest of fires "I remember one who looked like you in some shithole, I remember the noises his wife made as I slit his throat." One of his daggers was out and at the mans throat as he leapt onto the bar "I saved the North! I gave them their independence!" he declared brazenly, his words slurring slightly as he waved the sword around "If your northern come up and kiss my feet!" the laughter started again "Funny! It's so funny! Did you know the Gods want me dead?" another howl of laughter "Laugh!" he hissed, his words coated in venom before his eyes suddenly danced with light and a grin formed: wide and broad "They couldn't, they can't! I'll never die! Isn't that nice?! Isn't that funny?!" this time the laughter was more sustained and continued as Aerion fell off the bar and onto the floor, laughing even harder.

"THAT IS ENOUGH." snarled Alexei, picking up Aerion off the floor by the back of the throat with a single meaty hand.

Alexei had initially meant to challenge Belle to a contest of drinks, but after watching her drink the first man under the table without even blinking, he turned away, shuddering. It was most likely a wiser decision to decline, and to preserve his honor. Discretion was the better part of valor, and all that. He had sat on a stool near Katya and watched over her as she talked to Tristan, making sure nothing threatened her. Although he was here due to the mandate of his liege, he did care deeply for her. He had never had the time to settle down and have a family - not that he really wanted to, anyways - but he had trained her in the arts of the sword and spear, and they were fast friends, despite all their differences.

The time they had spent in the bar had been pretty uneventful...until the man named Aerion had followed them inside. Alexei watched him closely, observing his handsome visage fade into hateful sneering. The man had made claims to be a brave noble and legendary warrior, but Alexei didn't quite believe him. Aerion hadn't been able to hold a conversation with Katya, Eric, or the blasted squint-eyed foreigners, and it had clearly riled him up. "I figure he's short on money, and is attempting to join up with a noble to receive a comfortable paycheck." Alexei thought to himself as he watched the man slam drink after drink, starting to laugh in a disconcerting way in his revelry. He had started to mutter, his hands shook, and he was clearly losing himself in his drinks. The bartender moved to cut the man off...and then he had a dagger at the bartender's throat. Alexei surged up from the stool, drawing his sidearm, a short axe - his halberd would be no use here. There was a solid crack as he smashed his head into a hanging lamp above, and he winced, but strode towards the man, who, bless the gods, had taken the knife away from the hapless bartender and was rolling around on the floor.

"I don't know who you are, Aerion of the Cold One," he growled into the man's ear, "but this innocent has not wronged you. Put away your weapons this instant."

[Woodstovia]

Aerion’s eyes lit up with fury and he sprung out of the mans grasp and into a crouching position, the laughter had stopped and now he moved his dagger impatiently from hand to hand, his tongue tracing his lips as he savoured every drop of the sensations of fear and anticipation and anger which flooded into his mind.

“And Who are you to touch me or even speak to me? If you’re a northern monkey you should have just kissed my boots for securing your freedom and have been done with it.” He slurred, trying desperately to keep a balance which didn’t seem to be working at the moment, his weight shifting arbitrarily from foot to foot.

“Why do I need a reason for hurting him? What does it matter what he’s done to me? I’m invincible! If the gods can’t kill me I can’t die that makes me a god! And if I’m a god I can do whatever I please, you’re all just puppets on my strings!” He laughed sharply “isn’t that funny! You’re all mine! And that means I want to shove a dagger under some fat worms chin I can do it! I can do whatever I like! Do you think a single regular human could even scratch me? They’re all mongrels... all filth! But even then I don’t lack a reason! He has hurt me! Wounded me mortally! He has forced my eyes to stare at such ugliness, such filth! My eyes were only created for beauty but all they stare at is filth!” Tears were welling up now as he looked to be on the verge of crying.

And if I’m not strong, if I don’t purge the filth then the phantoms get you! See ones over there staring at us!” He waved the knife at the ceiling “I think I bashed that ones skull in at the field and he’s come back mad! And he!” He growled, pointing at the tavern owner. “Is a human, and humanity failed me. I’m a brave and noble and beautiful knight and mankind dirtied me! Can’t yoi see how dirty I am?” He asked, holding out his hands.

[Hanafuridake]

"Do you know how many of your kind I've killed?!" his eyes were alight with the wildest of fires "I remember one who looked like you in some shithole, I remember the noises his wife made as I slit his throat." One of his daggers was out and at the mans throat as he leapt onto the bar "I saved the North! I gave them their independence!" he declared brazenly, his words slurring slightly as he waved the sword around "If your northern come up and kiss my feet!" the laughter started again "Funny! It's so funny! Did you know the Gods want me dead?" another howl of laughter "Laugh!" he hissed, his words coated in venom before his eyes suddenly danced with light and a grin formed: wide and broad "They couldn't, they can't! I'll never die! Isn't that nice?! Isn't that funny?!" this time the laughter was more sustained and continued as Aerion fell off the bar and onto the floor, laughing even harder.

“Have you considered showing some restraint?” Himegawa said, entering the bar hanging on to Fumiko's shoulder. Despite being known to herself drink somewhat excessively at times, she couldn't bear to see someone turn violent from alcohol. “You're just going to throw shame onto your family's name and bring disgrace onto your descend - ” she caught sight of the people laying black out drunk on the floor and the angry woman from earlier speaking with the swordsman's daemon. Her arms tightened around Fumiko's in a mixture of shock and fear. “I'm not sure I want to drink against that thing...” she glanced at Belle Lame. “Uesama, can we return to the palanquin?”

"I don't know who you are, Aerion of the Cold One," he growled into the man's ear, "but this innocent has not wronged you. Put away your weapons this instant."

“As distasteful a man as this one is,” Fumiko glanced at Alexei in distaste for the man's rough mannerisms. “His words are undoubtedly sincere and true. If you persist in attacking innocent people and threatening their livelihood, then I will join him in making sure you won't do anything of the sort ever again.” the woman holding her arm pessimistically sighed at the prospect of having to deal with a fight. Today it seemed that the shōgun was destined to end up in a fight. She just needed to keep Fumi alive until the retinue could lead her into the bandits' clutches. Then she could retire and enjoy what little life there was to be had in exile.

[Lazarian]

Alexei jumped backwards from the man as his hand seemed to freeze, his grasp weakening. Aerion had somehow burst free from his grip. Damn it. Either he was getting old, or the man was significantly stronger than he seemed. Perhaps there was some truth to his stories. He took a step back, centering his weight, holding his handaxe in front of him to keep the madman at bay. The majority of the bar's patrons had quickly scrambled out of the bar, seizing the opportunity to leave their tabs behind and escape these precarious circumstances. There were several tables further back into the building though, that gazed on with interest, looking on to these newest events as entertainment.

"And if I’m not strong, if I don’t purge the filth then the phantoms get you! See ones over there staring at us!” Aerion wailed, waving the knife at the ceiling. “I think I bashed that ones skull in at the field and he’s come back mad! And he!” He growled, pointing at the tavern owner. “Is a human, and humanity failed me. I’m a brave and noble and beautiful knight and mankind dirtied me! Can’t you see how dirty I am?” He asked, holding out his hands.

"I sure can, lad. It matters not, though. Put your weapon down and take a seat." stated Alexei, wishing he was wearing armor. While the man had clearly lost his wits to either drink or the war, he was a servant of the ice goddess...which meant he was powerful. Spellborns had a knack for being much stronger than they seemed. Katya was a frail lass, but the Goddess of the Tides made her a significant threat - and it seemed that the Cold One had given this power to Aerion, in some way or other.

“As distasteful a man as this one is,” Fumiko glanced at Alexei in distaste for the man's rough mannerisms. “His words are undoubtedly sincere and true. If you persist in attacking innocent people and threatening their livelihood, then I will join him in making sure you won't do anything of the sort ever again.”

He looked at Fumiko briefly, making eye contact for a moment, before looking back to Aerion.

"Foreign queen. I understand we got off on wrong foot, yes. But please. I cannot accost a spellborn by myself, as I am but a man. Perhaps we can have positive working relationship, no? Help me restrain him, I beg you, lass." he said nervously, a hint of fear present in his voice. This was not his first perilous situation, nor his second, nor even his tenth or twentieth. He had been in plenty of fights in his life, growing up as a peasant boy in the Northern Province of Garmiccia, and then proceeding to spend most of his working life as a guard, soldier, or sergeant. But there was always the risk that this fight would be his last - especially now that he was getting older, and considering his opponent was a spellborn. Damn it, where was Katya? He spotted her sitting in the back of the bar, talking to Tristan, far enough away to where the commotion had not reached them yet. Curses.

[Kassaran]

Catrin was surprised to say the least about the sudden arrivals to her humble domicile.

It wasn't that Erosen had shown up unannounced, she knew Erosen and he did that all the bloody time, rude as it was a thing to do. She had long ago given up even attempting to correct this behavior; besides, as he was a Darkness Elemental, it was best that normal people had one less way to figure out where or when he would be.

She wasn't normal people, but whatever.

What was surprising was the woman she absolutely did not recognize, but absolutely did recognize she was currently armed when she came through the strange portal. As Catrin turned her body around to face Erosen more fully she damn near blasted her with a ball of webbing.

Still, she composed herself.

"A normal person would knock on the door before entering, Erosen. And they'd announce they had guests."

"Well, it's funny how neither of us are normal then, and neither is she. Poor girl ran at the first sight of an Angelle of Pryastar. I'd had half a mind to run witless like she did, but that only got us to the same point," the Dark Elemental turned his head slightly, fixing the woman in his right eye as it still faintly glowed a violet hue, a few last tendrils of darkness seeped off of him before dissipating into the air of the Attic. She didn't look like she was too severely affected by shadow-stepping, more than likely an elemental. The few times he'd tried with those not gifted by the gods, it hadn't gone too well and recovery had required a day or two of rest before they could comprehend even the act. The world beyond was an abyss, and it wasn't meant to be tread through lightly by the likes of those here on terra firma.

"She's likely going to be snapping out of the temporary muscle stiffness, if not paralysis, the shadow-stepping caused. Gods know I hurt even after all this time just stepping through walls, she's never even seen a gate from how she reacted," turning to more squarely face the woman, he dug into a pocket at his side, fishing out something that seemed to resembled dried meat, though a slightly sour smell emanated from the flesh as he chewed on it, almost absent-minded about the whole matter. The sensation of the Dark Element, still left as a residual trace in the wake of the time it had spent separated from any living demon, flowed through his body, rejuvenating what felt to be numb or stiff joints and nerves. His free hand reached to run a hand through his hair, which slowly took on a more clean shine, and color slowly began to return to his cheeks as he continued to consume the meat.

Erosen was a Darkness Elemental, the only one of his kind he'd ever met, though apparently there were others. None like him as far as he knew though, none still fighting the daily call of the Dark Lord himself with every usage of his powers. He wasn't going to stop using them just because their origin was bad, he'd long-since learned that not everything of hell was evil. If the couple he'd seen in the square earlier was any indication that he could be redeemed, he was going to chase that redemption with everything he had. The matter at hand, however, was dealing with what no doubt was about to be one, very annoyed, and very unwilling, visitor to the home of someone he'd often abused the kindness of. He readied himself mentally as mulled over what to say, clearing his throat before addressing the woman," Well, I'm sorry I had to drag you here under such... unfavorable circumstances, but you'd seen too much to just have running around. If the Watchtower knew I was here, I'd hate to have figured out the damage they would have done to this city too.

"I am Erosen of Arnyek, a demon hunter and Dark Elemental. You really don't need to know much more than that, and that this here is a friend of mine. She's good people and can help get you on your feet given the time and courtesy for it. Oh, and Catrin, I actually had something to talk with you about, but it'll have to come up later. I need to pursue a potential lead on a significant presence here in the city. Possibly some people from the incident I told you about a few years ago, a couple of my old travelling companions per se. I don't think I'll be able to stay here too much longer in town if the Watchtower is truly as active as it seems."

As he finished chewing on the first strip of what could only be interpreted as perhaps some form of Demon Jerky, he reached into another pocket and soon withdrew yet another strip of meat. It slightly larger than the first, but nonetheless food for him as his physical appearance seemed to improve with every bite. By the end of the first strip, the deathly pallor that had clung to his cheeks had gone and his eyes had ceased to shine with any hint of topaz yellow. Now, deep indigo hues stained the man's irises as his grey and shaggy hair seemed to even out and lengthen, his hands reaching up behind his head and fixing the locks into a ponytail which sat low on the back of his head. Even his clothes seemed to appear cleaner in comparison to when he'd first met Gwen, and his speech no longer held a sinister undertone- though it was quite obvious he still was wary of the woman with the sword.

[Ameriganastan]

Aerion’s eyes lit up with fury and he sprung out of the mans grasp and into a crouching position, the laughter had stopped and now he moved his dagger impatiently from hand to hand, his tongue tracing his lips as he savoured every drop of the sensations of fear and anticipation and anger which flooded into his mind.

“And Who are you to touch me or even speak to me? If you’re a northern monkey you should have just kissed my boots for securing your freedom and have been done with it.” He slurred, trying desperately to keep a balance which didn’t seem to be working at the moment, his weight shifting arbitrarily from foot to foot.

“Why do I need a reason for hurting him? What does it matter what he’s done to me? I’m invincible! If the gods can’t kill me I can’t die that makes me a god! And if I’m a god I can do whatever I please, you’re all just puppets on my strings!” He laughed sharply “isn’t that funny! You’re all mine! And that means I want to shove a dagger under some fat worms chin I can do it! I can do whatever I like! Do you think a single regular human could even scratch me? They’re all mongrels... all filth! But even then I don’t lack a reason! He has hurt me! Wounded me mortally! He has forced my eyes to stare at such ugliness, such filth! My eyes were only created for beauty but all they stare at is filth!” Tears were welling up now as he looked to be on the verge of crying.

And if I’m not strong, if I don’t purge the filth then the phantoms get you! See ones over there staring at us!” He waved the knife at the ceiling “I think I bashed that ones skull in at the field and he’s come back mad! And he!” He growled, pointing at the tavern owner. “Is a human, and humanity failed me. I’m a brave and noble and beautiful knight and mankind dirtied me! Can’t yoi see how dirty I am?” He asked, holding out his hands.

Eric finally had enough. He rose from his seat, skulking over to where the loudmouth nutcase was rambling.

"Kid..."

He wrapped Aerion in a solid hug, giving him a few gentle pats on the back.

"It's alright. It's all gonna be alright."

He released him, quickly pilfering the knife from his hand when he did.

"You've seen some terrible things in what little time you've been around, haven't you? You were probably like me. Wanted to see the world, but found out seeing the world as a soldier is a horrible thing. I was younger than you when I killed my first man. I still see his face sometimes when I close my eyes."

He sat down beside him.

"You'll never forget it, either. Killing a man stays with you no matter how much you try to forget. And some people just can't handle it. I could barely handle it. I was close to losing it before whatever stopped Kayarost happened. It felt like a second chance. I've been walking the lands ever since, taking in the beauty of a world I didn't notice as a soldier. You can do that, too. Sure, the world failed you. But the world is big. And there's a lot to enjoy. So how about you come with me and this little entourage? A few months partying with Eric "Thunder Scrotum" Lumen, and you'll feel right as rain."

[Woodstovia]

“They aren’t innocent! They’re guilty! All guilty! They disgust me! They should answer for their crimes!” He snapped before he was enveloped by a soothing hug. Aerion seemed enraptured by the man and simply nodded weakly at his comments, looking a little more relaxed before the man mentioned his nickname. “Mocking me. You’re mocking me!” He roared, jumping back to his feet “see? This is humanity! You only get hurt by humanity, they’re like hedgehogs! You can never get close!” He maintained a healthy distance from his enemies.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Having said his piece to the young Garmiccian, Tristan smiled as he noticed Lisoette slipping into the seat next to his and helping him reassure Katya that they'd be able to get her to the North, citing their service to Auregen in the past as well as their good standing with the heads of that northern state. He glanced at her as she left again to tend to Eric's companion, raising an eyebrow at Belle Lame's behavior. I didn't know Angelles could be that clumsy... He thought, glancing between her and Lisoette. ...Eh, I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised.

The white-haired man turned his attention back to Katya as she spoke, confirming what he had already suspected. According to her, the North tried to secede from the Federation for reasons unknown - though given the contents of some of the conversations the party held with the Duke and his people three years ago, he could guess at least a part of it - and Garmiccia entered the war on the Federation's side to get back at the Eresilnnians, who supposedly pirated Garmiccian vessels regularly. He raised an eyebrow at this, having heard a much different story during his time in Erilhall, but opted to say nothing about it - right or wrong, it didn't terribly matter at the moment.

The girl went on to describe her mission, to help mend relations between the Commonwealth of the North and the Garmiccian Empire, as well as the difficulties that led them to settle on a land journey, before inviting him to join in the quest. Surprised at how quickly she recovered from being crestfallen moments earlier, he quickly found himself infected by her smile.

"Sure thing. Lis seemed eager to help you out just now, and we don't have any other plans, so we'll be happy to tag along and help you out with your goals." He assured the noblewoman. It was hardly the most orthodox of honeymoons, but what better way to start off their return to Gallia than with another noble quest? "Hopefully we'll be able to get ourselves a wagon or something similar, though... I'd rather not have to drag this the whole way to the North." He nodded in the direction of his luggage.

His attention was then dragged away from his conversation with Katya to a commotion going on some distance away, near the counter. The other Ice Elemental, Aerion, seemed to be causing a ruckus, shouting like a maniac and brandishing a knife. Katya's giant companion had risen to put a stop to him, but didn't seem too eager to fight.

WIth a sigh, Tristan stood up. "Excuse me." He said to Katya before walking over to Alexei's side. His breathing became more controlled and methodical, and he began exhaling icy white mist that would aid him if things took a turn for the worst. Reaching the tall man, he glanced at Aerion, who was continuing with his mad ravings after Eric's failed attempt to pacify him - although he noted with some relief that the old soldier had succeeded in taking away the knife.

"Relax, mister. I'll help you out if he gets out of hand." He said to the tall man with a nod, before glancing at Aerion and the old man. "Eric, don't touch people without their permission, they just start freaking out."

[Lazarian]

"Sure thing. Lis seemed eager to help you out just now, and we don't have any other plans, so we'll be happy to tag along and help you out with your goals." He assured the noblewoman. It was hardly the most orthodox of honeymoons, but what better way to start off their return to Gallia than with another noble quest? "Hopefully we'll be able to get ourselves a wagon or something similar, though... I'd rather not have to drag this the whole way to the North." He nodded in the direction of his luggage.

"Wonderful, Tristan!" she said, smiling and clasping her hands together, cocking her head slightly to the left. "You sure know how to make a woman happy! Perhaps my country's beliefs about ice spellborns are wrong after all." she joked, cracking a grin.

Suddenly, with a sigh, Tristan stood up. "Excuse me."

"Of course." replied Katya, taking a sip of her drink. She had ordered some ale earlier, while the Angelle was drinking the locals under the table. It was much easier to down than the drinks from home - most Garmiccian spirits were grown from potatoes, or were medovukha, a type of mead. She had never particularly cared for either much, but the wheat beer here carried a good taste without being too strong. It was very nice. Suddenly, she looked up, hearing a commotion in the distance.

Oh dear. The handsome knight from earlier (was his name Aeryon? Aerion? Aryone? She couldn't remember.) was ranting and raving like a maniac. Perhaps he wasn't a legendary hero after all. She sighed, shaking her head. She really needed to trust Alexei on these things. The man was almost always right, leaning on his decades of experience. But, well...he was an uneducated peasant. He couldn't be right all the time now, could he? "Speaking of Alexei," she thought to herself, "where is he?"

She turned around and stifled a gasp - he was standing a few feet from Aerion, brandishing his handaxe, towering over the Gallian lad. Something was off, though - he was clearly afraid. Most of the others most likely wouldn't have been able to tell, but he was standing back much further than he usually would in a confrontation, and his posture was much more defensive, with his center of gravity lower to the ground and the axe held in front not to strike, but to block. Thankfully, it looked like Aerion had been disarmed - Sir Lumen stood nearby, holding a knife, attempting to calm the situation down. The foreign princess with the squinty eyes was standing nearby as well, glaring at Aerion. Clearly, he had done something to set everyone off in his drunken rambling. She turned around, back to her drink again. The situation looked handled relatively well, and this drink wouldn't finish itself!

"Relax, mister. I'll help you out if he gets out of hand." He said to the tall man with a nod, before glancing at Aerion and the old man. "Eric, don't touch people without their permission, they just start freaking out."

"Thank the gods." rumbled Alexei, still holding his handaxe so tightly his hands were pale white underneath his gloves. He had seen men like Aerion on the battlefield before - the man was clearly battlemad. From his experience, some soldiers couldn't handle the sights and sounds of battle, and they would lose their wits, becoming madmen foaming at the mouth and drowning themselves in mead. The rate of this varied vastly per Garmiccian legion - the stronger the camaraderie between the men, the less of them turned battlemad. Alexei had been blessed enough to avoid it for the most part - sure, he had nightmares every once in a while, but what experienced soldier didn't? His sanity and constitution had remained remarkably sound throughout the years...unlike Aerion, clearly. Alexei squinted and looked over the situation at hand - Eric was to Aerion's left, Fumiko was slightly to his right, and Tristan was with them as well. They had him covered thoroughly, and they had an advantage of numbers as well, so Alexei was relatively confident that the situation was under control at this point.

"Aerion," Alexei said loudly and firmly, mustering up his commanding voice from back in the day, "leave this tavern at once. If you wish to take Sir Eric up on his offer, you can find us tomorrow before we leave. Do you understand me, soldier?"

[Woodstovia]

Aerion twitched, his hand slowly feeling at the hilt of his sword “you talk to me like that? Do you know what I did for your country? Know what I’ve fought, What I saw. There’s a reason why they call everyone that experienced champions field mad! Because they can’t handle the truth of what we went through! All to save a country and a people who spit at me! You think the grey ones are bad? Us southerners have much much worse up our sleeves.”

His hand moved away from his sword “hell it’s not just the north, I saved mankind! if the south and the... things within its army had won the day mankind wouldn’t exist. I saved this race you hear me?! I saved you all!” With that Aerion slunk out of the tavern. He knew when to fight and when not to fight. That was the art of the mercenary captain, to know how to juggle blood and coin. Aerion was better than them all. But he knew he was drunk and knew he couldn’t fight a whole bar, even if they were all scum.

He stalked through the back alleys, looking similar to the rest of the scum who stayed around here at nights. When did he become one of them? He wondered, trying to tie his hair back up but being unable to because of clumsy, drunk fingers. Avoiding the fight seemed like a better and better decision. And it wasn’t cowardice. He was the son of a god. He wasn’t a coward, no he was tactically advancing away from the fight. But that tavern had been his lodging he remembered dimly. As he lay down in the street some part of him hoped the watchtower would scrape him up and throw him into one of their big bonfires.

[Hanafuridake]

His hand moved away from his sword “hell it’s not just the north, I saved mankind! if the south and the... things within its army had won the day mankind wouldn’t exist. I saved this race you hear me?! I saved you all!” With that Aerion slunk out of the tavern. He knew when to fight and when not to fight. That was the art of the mercenary captain, to know how to juggle blood and coin. Aerion was better than them all. But he knew he was drunk and knew he couldn’t fight a whole bar, even if they were all scum.

Despite the perilous situation that did not need to be escalated further, Fumi scoffed. “Pathetic,” she remarked, to the wide-eyed surprise of Himegawa who hoped that she would not throw fuel onto the already tense fire. “You did your duty to your liege, and now you expect to be pitied, when you have done no more than what's to be expected of your station. You are nothing but a petty criminal who's sullying your family name and your country out of pride and egotism. If it were up to me, you would be beheaded here and now.” the contempt was clear from her voice, any interest in Aerion's services were smashed.

As the mercenary captain fled the tavern, Fumiko turned toward Alexei. “You showed remarkable courage and virtue in standing up to that ruffian when he threatened an innocent man,” she said, her demeanor toward him becoming warmer and more receptive. “You mentioned a 'positive working relationship' earlier and now I want to offer you what I did Rumen-san: enter my service and help me drive the usurper Hayashi out of my ancestral seat. You will be rewarded with whatever is within my power to give, that I can promise you.” she bowed her head in a rare show of humility that most would likely never see again. “With you and that other man at my side, there is no way that I can be defeated.”

“You ought to take the Shōgun's suggestion into consideration,” Himegawa added in an attempt to seem helpful. “The magnanimity of the Hanafuridake dynasty is well known in our homeland.”

[Olthar]

Gwen had tried to get away from the creepy man with the unnatural powers, but as she was running away, she felt something grab her wrist. It wasn't a hand or anything else she recognized. The tendril wrapped around her like a rope but not, gripping her not with friction and force, but adhering to her skin like honey. She tried to scream, but before she could, she had been yanked into the wall, and all became dark.

Floating for what seemed like days, Gwen was in a state between unconsciousness and hallucination, and she couldn't tell what was really happening, if anything at all. For a time, she even thought she was dead, and this was her punishment. When she emerged into the shadowy attic, she was paralyzed by the experience, still unsure of reality.

Attempting to compose herself, Gwen tried to pay attention to what was happening around her. The man who had abducted her was here, and he was talking to someone else: a woman? And she heard a name: Ero-san? Was that the woman? She heard another name, too: Catrin. Who was that? Gwen's paralysis began to wear off, giving way to pain all over, and her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. She began to make out the shapes in front of her and the image of a giant spider came into focus. At first, she thought she was still funny in the head, but she soon realized that this was reality. And did the man's eyes just change color?

Terrified, Gwen began reaching for her sword and stumbled backwards. She tripped over something she couldn't see and fell back, landing hard on her ass. She pulled out her blade and held it in front of herself, her hand shaking wildly, as she scooted backwards until she reached the wall.

"W-what's going on?" her voice trembled, "W-who are you? Where am I? What...what did you do to me?"

Gwen's entire body shook as her eyes darted between the two monsters in front of her.

[Ameriganastan]

Aerion twitched, his hand slowly feeling at the hilt of his sword “you talk to me like that? Do you know what I did for your country? Know what I’ve fought, What I saw. There’s a reason why they call everyone that experienced champions field mad! Because they can’t handle the truth of what we went through! All to save a country and a people who spit at me! You think the grey ones are bad? Us southerners have much much worse up our sleeves.”

His hand moved away from his sword “hell it’s not just the north, I saved mankind! if the south and the... things within its army had won the day mankind wouldn’t exist. I saved this race you hear me?! I saved you all!” With that Aerion slunk out of the tavern. He knew when to fight and when not to fight. That was the art of the mercenary captain, to know how to juggle blood and coin. Aerion was better than them all. But he knew he was drunk and knew he couldn’t fight a whole bar, even if they were all scum.

He stalked through the back alleys, looking similar to the rest of the scum who stayed around here at nights. When did he become one of them? He wondered, trying to tie his hair back up but being unable to because of clumsy, drunk fingers. Avoiding the fight seemed like a better and better decision. And it wasn’t cowardice. He was the son of a god. He wasn’t a coward, no he was tactically advancing away from the fight. But that tavern had been his lodging he remembered dimly. As he lay down in the street some part of him hoped the watchtower would scrape him up and throw him into one of their big bonfires.

Eric sighed.

"Always sad to see that. Some people just never come back from battlefield trauma. Heck, he never even got to hear how I got that nickname...have I told you that story? Fun one, if a little wacky. See, there was this fishing village..."

"Eric, please. No one wants to hear how you acquired the moniker of Thunder Scrotum. I still shudder thinking about how you got nicknamed 'Ironhole'."

"Oh, that was a crazy one. See, there was this thief guild who kidnapped a duchess..."

A few minutes later, he finished his story. A story that would haunt the nightmares of anyone in earshot for years to come.

"And that's why they tell tales of Ironhole Eric in that guild to this day. Funny postscript to that: Me and the bandit king were married for a week after that incident. He still writes me sometimes...not sure how his letters keep finding me. But I don't mind. Nicer than ex-wife #3. See, she took this dinner fork and..."

"No more! For the love of the Gods, no more. Even Kayarost would quake in disgust as your stories."

[Rupudska]

Terrified, Gwen began reaching for her sword and stumbled backwards. She tripped over something she couldn't see and fell back, landing hard on her ass. She pulled out her blade and held it in front of herself, her hand shaking wildly, as she scooted backwards until she reached the wall.

"W-what's going on?" her voice trembled, "W-who are you? Where am I? What...what did you do to me?"

Gwen's entire body shook as her eyes darted between the two monsters in front of her.

Catrin expected this to happen. She didn't want it to, but she expected it. Dumbass Erosen just dropped someone through a Darkness portal or whatever the heck he called it. She couldn't help herself. She facepalmed.

"Really, Erosen? You don't ever explain anything, do you? This sort of bullshit is gonna get the both of us killed or executed, you know."

Counting off on her fingers, she listed out her answers to Gwen's questions. "You've just been introduced to the only non-evil user of the Darkness element I know of, My name is Catrin Eberhardt, you're in what passes for my apartment, and Erosen over there sucked you through a Darkness portal because he has an allergy to conversation."

[Lazarian]

“You talk to me like that? Do you know what I did for your country? Know what I’ve fought, what I saw. There’s a reason why they call everyone that experienced champions field mad! Because they can’t handle the truth of what we went through! All to save a country and a people who spit at me! You think the grey ones are bad? Us southerners have much much worse up our sleeves. Hell it’s not just the north, I saved mankind! if the south and the... things within its army had won the day mankind wouldn’t exist. I saved this race you hear me?! I saved you all!” spat Aerion, before beating a hasty, drunken retreat from the bar.

Alexei raised an eyebrow at this. The South had worse than the greycloaked men? Interesting. He didn't know much about Watchtower, despite having been in town for quite a while, but from what he had gathered, they were some sort of anti-spellborn movement. He wasn't surprised - it was only natural, if the spellborns weren't regulated by the government like they were in Garmiccia. Men blessed with that much power would inevitably inspire fear among others. He had rumors that Watchtower had demons among their ranks, but that was typical peasant bullshit right there, though. He'd heard the supernatural blamed for all sorts of nonsense up in the northern provinces of Garmiccia. But in his experience, men were the real ones to be feared, not mystical beings which may or may not exist. Still - Aerion was clearly a veteran, if the battlemadness was anything to judge by. "Perhaps the South has something up their sleeves. Might be worth reporting to the Baron." he thought to himself, taking a breath of relief that the threat of Aerion freezing his innards had passed.

As the mercenary captain fled the tavern, Fumiko turned toward Alexei. “You showed remarkable courage and virtue in standing up to that ruffian when he threatened an innocent man,” she said, her demeanor toward him becoming warmer and more receptive. “You mentioned a 'positive working relationship' earlier and now I want to offer you what I did Rumen-san: enter my service and help me drive the usurper Hayashi out of my ancestral seat. You will be rewarded with whatever is within my power to give, that I can promise you.” she bowed her head in a rare show of humility that most would likely never see again. “With you and that other man at my side, there is no way that I can be defeated.”

“You ought to take the Shōgun's suggestion into consideration,” Himegawa added in an attempt to seem helpful. “The magnanimity of the Hanafuridake dynasty is well known in our homeland.”

"Honestly, m'lady?" he said, looking over to Fumiko as he sheathed his axe to his belt, tying the cord through the hole in the handle. "I'm tempted."

He stood up, lost in thought for a couple moments, and then he continued. "After this journey, my military contract to my liege is over. I certainly wouldn't mind going on yet another campaign for a small fiefdom of my own. But lass - two men does not an army make. As far as I'm aware, neither Sir Lumen nor I are spellborn - just experienced soldiers. I guarantee you that a unit of men trained well in pike square, or a cavalry brigade, would be a much greater asset than my strength alone. How large is your ancestral kingdom? How many armies and levies can the usurper raise? How legitimate is your claim to throne? How many can you rally to your side? I hate to be rude, but war is complex matter, and I would hate to pledge my service to a suicidal campaign. With all due respect of course, your highness." he stated, crossing his arms and looking her over keenly.

---

"And that's why they tell tales of Ironhole Eric in that guild to this day. Funny postscript to that: Me and the bandit king were married for a week after that incident. He still writes me sometimes...not sure how his letters keep finding me. But I don't mind. Nicer than ex-wife #3. See, she took this dinner fork and..."

"No more! For the love of the Gods, no more. Even Kayarost would quake in disgust as your stories."

"Yuck." muttered Katya, finishing her sixth drink, tipping it up to get the last drops at the bottom. "I'll raise glass to that, Belle Lame. Ironhole Eric, you're quite the experienced man. In more ways than one. I think I may understand context of Backwards Eric now."

Despite the disgust she felt from hearing the story, she was still fine with her choice as him as a guide. As evidenced from his tales, he had been all over the continent, and men like that had connections. Whether these connections would be good or not was...well, debatable, from what she had heard, but it seemed quite likely that he would be able to get them across the border in one fashion or another.

"I think I will head to room now." she drunkenly stammered, rising unsteadily from her chair. "How about we leave in morning, yes?"

Before even receiving an answer, she headed shakily towards the stairs of the tavern, tossing a couple coins to the bartender as she made her way past. He seemed surprisingly unfazed by Aerion's rampage - for a man who had a knife at his throat a couple minutes ago, he was remarkably focused on washing the mugs rather than contemplating his life decisions. "Foreigners are a strange bunch." she thought to herself, bracing against a stool for a moment to not lose her balance. They had picked this tavern to drink in because they had reserved a room here to stay in - quite convenient, honestly. She finally made it to the stairs, and started heading up.

Halfway up the stairs, she stopped, grasping on to the railing.

"Tristan! We plan to leave tomorrow, and will rent cart for your luggage! Cost is on me. If you lack place to stay tonight, my room has room for other occupant!" she said, winking at the handsome Ice Elemental.

---

He stalked through the back alleys, looking similar to the rest of the scum who stayed around here at nights. When did he become one of them? He wondered, trying to tie his hair back up but being unable to because of clumsy, drunk fingers. Avoiding the fight seemed like a better and better decision. And it wasn’t cowardice. He was the son of a god. He wasn’t a coward, no he was tactically advancing away from the fight. But that tavern had been his lodging he remembered dimly. As he lay down in the street some part of him hoped the watchtower would scrape him up and throw him into one of their big bonfires.

Footsteps echoed in the alley nearby, getting closer and closer, until two figures emerged.

"Well, vhat do we have here?" said one of the scum who stayed around here at nights. Ivan poked Aerion's leg with the toe of his boot, looking him over. "Looks like another drunk about to be separated from his purse." he said, grinning devilishly.

"Careful." said Timur in Garmiccian, replying hastily. "I think this one's still conscious." He still stood in his military uniform, helmet obscuring his eyes, but the mouthguard was up, revealing a pasty complexion. His poleaxe uneasily sat in his hands, as he scanned the streets, looking for observers.

"Not that it matters, does it? Listen, we've got to come up with more coin in one way or another, and while pocket-pilfering is one way to do it, this is so much easier. Shut up and stand guard in case the watch heads our way." Ivan replied, stooping down to snatch any valuables off Aerion. They had only been given funds for a few months by the Baron, and they had been in Gallia for almost a year now...so if you did the math, well, someone had to do something about it. Thankfully, the Baron's stupid bitch of a daughter hadn't caught on to their unsavory activities, and it certainly didn't hurt that he was able to pocket most of the coin for himself. Alexei probably knew, but he seemed to turn a blind eye, so...Ivan was free to do what he did best. Well, before he was conscripted into the army as punishment, of course.

[Woodstovia]

Aerion had never really learned how to play dead or hide, it was something the other swordsmen talked of sometimes during training. Aerion wasn't sure if it was a fighting technique or their plans for the future. Laying face down, not moving as the enemy looted everyone around you, how to hold your breath. Then they'd say they'd run to the nearest village, pick the first name that came to their head and settle down. He had soon old Othar and a few of the youngest who looked up to him like a father gut a pig and crawl around in it's innards to steel themselves, to make sure no matter how much blood and piss and guts lay around they'd still be able to hold their nerves. Aerion had always laughed. He didn't need to hide, didn't need to play dead. He was special, he'd never lose a battle, never run away from a fight.

But now he heard Othar's voice in his head. He breathed slowly, held his nerve. and when one's hands began feeling around for any valuables he made the other's boots freeze to the ground, when he heard a noise of shock or panic he exploded into a flurry of action. He may have looked like a pretty boy but he always maintained his fitness, was stronger than might be expected and he had the element of surprise on his hand, hoping it'd be enough to carry the day. He grabbed the arm Ivan was patting with and pulled as hard as he could, flipping the man over him and onto the ground.

"My what do we have here?" came his voice, as cold as Timur's boots. His knee was digging into Ivan's chest, pinning him to the ground as two eyes which looked more like bullets scanned him up and down. His look of scorn turned to confusion and then to amusement, a sick grin twisting over his features and a sharp laugh rang out. "Oh I thought you two were thieves but it's much much worse you're both guards!" he laughed, his eyes narrowing as he examined his face and body. "You're with that girl who followed the others into the tavern aren't you? The one in the blue cloak?" his thumb was idly rounding Ivan's eye socket as he spoke. "You know how fast I can pop out this eye? I can demonstrate for your friend over there so he knows in advance! Watch!" he sat up and hovered his thumb over the eye before laughing and drawing his sword.

"Did I really look like that easy of a target? Come now I may be drunk and stupid and so beautiful I don't look like a threat but I am a weapon of the gods you know?" he giggled, resting the sword's point under the man's chin "Now." he began in a more serious tone "If you want to get out of here in one piece you tell me everything you know about your employer. Who is she, who her father is. A girl with clothes like that has a rich father. Where she's going, how much money she has, if she fights, any other friends of yours she keeps hanging around. Everything." he growled, wondering if his plans to rob Fumiko had simply been delayed and switched to a new target.

[Lazarian]

---

"Fuck!" yelled Ivan as the presumably unconscious man threw him onto the ground, pinning him to the ground in an instant. His knife flew out of his hand, scraping across the cobblestones, landing far out of reach. Timur lurched forwards, ready to attack - and found his boots frozen to the ground. He was several feet away, too far to reach the two with his poleaxe, and essentially useless in this situation. "I told you, you bastard! It's a spellborn! This is what you get for not listening!" he yelled in Garmiccian, struggling against the boots locked to the ground.

"Oh I thought you two were thieves, but it's much much worse - you're both guards!" Aerion laughed, his eyes narrowing as he examined his face and body. "You're with that girl who followed the others into the tavern aren't you? The one in the blue cloak?" his thumb was idly rounding Ivan's eye socket as he spoke. "You know how fast I can pop out this eye? I can demonstrate for your friend over there so he knows in advance! Watch!" he sat up and hovered his thumb over the eye.

Ivan gulped, nearly pissing himself in fright. They had messed up. He had fought spellborns before, in the most technical sense - him and a platoon of other miscreants were sent to go hunt down ones which refused to register with the government. He was well aware of what they could do if they caught you off guard - and he had been caught like an absolute fool. Even worse, the man knew who they were. Thankfully, the gods had mercy, and Aerion pulled out his sword, resting it under Ivan's chin, threatening to gouge him like a fish. Still not a great situation to be in.

"Did I really look like that easy of a target? Come now. I may be drunk and stupid and so beautiful that I don't look like a threat, but I am a weapon of the gods...you know?" Aerion giggled, poking Ivan in the chin with the sword. "Now." he began in a more serious tone, "If you want to get out of here in one piece you tell me everything you know about your employer. Who is she, who her father is. A girl with clothes like that has a rich father. Where she's going, how much money she has, if she fights, any other friends of yours she keeps hanging around. Everything." he growled.

"I told her that she was still dressed too nicely to blend in." muttered Timur in his home language, dropping his poleaxe to the ground and raising his hands in the air. He was surprisingly unfazed by his partner's imminent death, but, to be quite fair, it wasn't his life on the line. "Told you we should have stuck to merchants."

"Don't try anything! No talking that I don't understand!" said Aerion angrily, driving the sword further into Ivan's chin. Ivan whimpered. They had tried to steal from a master brigand. What a horrid mistake. Drops of blood dripped onto his chest, staining the blue surcoat he wore. "I'll talk, I'll talk! Don't kill me!" Aerion raised an eyebrow, drawing away the sword slightly. Ivan took few moments to catch his breath, gasping, before he continued.

"We're from Garmiccia. The empire in the North of Elcresia. Northernmost province. The bitch is Katya of House Kuznetsov. Her father is Baron Kuznetsov, governor of the Northernmost Province. He's a spellborn of metal, General of the Third Regiment, briefly fought in the last war on the side of the South. One of the Council of Nobles. She's going to the Commonwealth in the North as a diplomatic mission-" he said, before suddenly being interrupted.

"Tell truth to him, damn it!" Timur interrupted in halting, broken Gallian. "No fucking around!"

"You bastard!" gasped Ivan, eyes bloodshot and bulging in panic. Aerion smiled, teeth glinting in the torchlight, and the sword went back to Ivan's throat. "No, wait, don't kill me! SHE'S the diplomat. Really just an excuse to get us there. We're there to...remove a few heads. You know how politics is. What...what else did you want to know?"

"You heard me, idiot." sneered Aerion, pushing the sword ever closer to Ivan's throat. "How much money she has, if she fights, any other friends of yours she keeps hanging around. Everything."

"Of course, sir! Of course!" said Ivan quickly, trying to back away from the ever present threat of the blade. "She's not nearly as wealthy as you would think. We were supposed to be home by now, but there's been some difficulties on the way, and I've been providing the majority of our money through petty theft. The majority of our money is with her, but it isn't much. Maybe a year's worth of a soldier's wage. Honestly, I think you'd be better off robbing the other woman. She may look small and frail, but she's a spellborn of the wind. The bitch is more capable than she looks. I tried grabbing that arse of hers once and she beat me until I was bloodied and nearly broken. I'd personally try the other woman. Probably has more money and doesn't put up such a fight. The only other person in our group is Alexei...if you know her, you've seen him. Big fellow. Bald, beard, stands at least a head above your average man. Singlehandedly turned the tide of the Battle of Butcher's Brook back in the day. Is that enough for you?" he whimpered, praying to the gods that the spellborn would spare his life.

[Woodstovia]

"Garmiccians huh? Explains why you're stealing and explains why you're so shitty at it all in one." he sighed. "The daughter of someone that important and you two are the best your little Empire has to protect her?" he let out a sharp laugh but in truth was filled with disappointment. He wasn't going to capture an Elemental. Not for long at least, and if her father was one too he probably wasn't a fan of negotiations. Plus sending payment all the way from the Empire to here would take far too long.

"I guess I can't do much can I? What does her dad have to offer? A few twigs? I heard you don't even have castles over there just shitty little huts. I wonder if she can use a knife and fork to eat or if they haven't progressed that far where you're from... Then again..." he considered. "Up boy up!" he told Ivan, standing and melting the frost that covered the other one's boots. "Us uh... Spellborn have super human hearing. So if I hear a blade getting drawn or even a sharp exhale of breath I'm freezing your innards up got it? And if that greybeard who's cock you so thoroughly sucked even looks at me the wrong way I'm sending all three of you back to your continent in pieces. Now hurry up we're going to see just what our little noblewoman was up to." he led them, with a sword at their backs to the tavern and quickly forced the tavern owner to tell him where Katya's room was. She had thankfully left the door unlocked (for Tristan) and Aerion shoved them inside.

"Katya of House Kuznetsov! I should have known better than to let a horde of Garmiccians onto this country's streets." he scoffed, "So entitled. You just swagger about sending your pawns to go and slit the throats of vulnerable Southern citizens is that it? I'd have expected an Elemental to at least try and do some good for the gods, even if their veins was filled with scum. But I guess Aewiallia will have to do with one less daughter. You know what the Watchtower will do when they learn a foreign elemental is murdering their citizens? I hope the Baron has deep deep pockets or you'll be thrown into one of their bonfires. Then again..." he muttered, feigning reluctance. "I'm a reasonable man, give me these two's wages and I might just forget you sent them to murder me."