Beyond Light's Reach (IC)

[Finland SSR]

Theo

Theodor Arnulfsson

---

"It's a fine compromise between fighting bare handed and with real, sharp weapons." Theo calmly explained when Francis started complaining that the two of them were using wooden weapons. Of course, even children use them, but does that really make them less valuable. "We're not here to beat the other side to a pulp or to draw blood from them - just show what sort of techniques you have and how good you are at using them."

Theo stepped away from Francis, counting ten steps distance in accordance to Dascian training procedure, then turned towards the hunter and raised his sword.

"Training with real weapons comes later, when you prove that you're adept at wielding one. I'll let you have the first strike and do exactly that."

---

Brialya

Tenna

Riki Farinhait

---

Immediately as he lowered the elven woman back to the ground, Riki let go of her waist and shrouded himself with his pitch black cloak yet again. Alright, he did the thing which Tenna dragged him here for, can he finally leave and go back to what he was doing? Nope, the elf began speaking to him, introduced herself as Brialya and asked for his name. And the way she spoke to him... she seemed to be amused and interested in him. Dear Goddess... please...

"I'm Riki..." he replied. Can he leave the dance floor now? Again... no. This time, it was Tenna's fault - suddenly, the two couples dancing switched partners and Riki found himself almost tackled by a drunk silver-haired elf. She immediately pulled closer to him, wrapping her hand around his waist and starting to direct his movements - clearly, she was trying to be the one in control, unlike Brialya, who mostly just let Riki dance her away.

Even though she was clearly still drunk, Tenna was clearly the more experienced one of the two dancers, but that didn't mean the necromancer was letting himself look like a fool in comparison. He immediately started analyzing his peer's movements and repeated them to the best of his ability, quickly catching on to the rhythm.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Archeno
Temporary Encampment, After Haden Hill

Archeno brought up the rear behind Prax and Natasia. The Ga'el kept up a fast pace, either from his size or his training, and Archeno had to quick-step to keep up. He supposed Natasia was simply used to it. He ended up standing next to Prax, on the opposite side as Natasia.

During the curt introductions, Archeno looked over this Siona and Rithi. Siona had an unfamiliar sound to it, probably from a place he hadn't visited, but Rithi might be Dascian, and that would fit her accent. Siona seemed to have the air of a practitioner of an arcane art, and calling Rithi her apprentice would work with that. Neither one seemed to be carrying equipment for trades armies could use, though.

He squinted into the darkness behind them. No mounts or pack animals: definitely not tradeswomen, at least not the sorts of trades that required tools. Hmm... They seemed too poorly dressed for that, though. Oddly dressed, really: pieces of good clothing and lots of cheap clothing. Who were they? Beggers? Thieves? Just poor, and looking for work, buying what they can afford when they can afford it? Fallen on hard times? He'd seen all kinds over the years, and retold the better of their stories.

"As for what you can do for me," continued Siona, "frankly that all depends on who in this camp you know."

Oh. Archeno's heart sank, and with it his face. They didn't recognize Prax, which was bad enough, and meant they didn't spend too much time around soldiers: Ga'el fighting alongside humans was rare enough, and they should have heard something about him. And Siona's statement... oh, he knew where that was going.

“I think that between the three of us, we know everybody significant there is to know here.” Probably true, Archeno thought as he said it: there were only so many leaders, warriors, priests, and magi with the army. “If there's a person you seek, name them, or name their rank or title. If there's a job you seek, say so. But please, don't play games with us, hoping you'll pull up a morsel of information to try with other sentries after you leave us. The Hammer could use good people, but not trouble.”

[The Twelve Isles]

Archeno
Temporary Encampment, After Haden Hill

Archeno brought up the rear behind Prax and Natasia. The Ga'el kept up a fast pace, either from his size or his training, and Archeno had to quick-step to keep up. He supposed Natasia was simply used to it. He ended up standing next to Prax, on the opposite side as Natasia.

During the curt introductions, Archeno looked over this Siona and Rithi. Siona had an unfamiliar sound to it, probably from a place he hadn't visited, but Rithi might be Dascian, and that would fit her accent. Siona seemed to have the air of a practitioner of an arcane art, and calling Rithi her apprentice would work with that. Neither one seemed to be carrying equipment for trades armies could use, though.

He squinted into the darkness behind them. No mounts or pack animals: definitely not tradeswomen, at least not the sorts of trades that required tools. Hmm... They seemed too poorly dressed for that, though. Oddly dressed, really: pieces of good clothing and lots of cheap clothing. Who were they? Beggers? Thieves? Just poor, and looking for work, buying what they can afford when they can afford it? Fallen on hard times? He'd seen all kinds over the years, and retold the better of their stories.

"As for what you can do for me," continued Siona, "frankly that all depends on who in this camp you know."

Oh. Archeno's heart sank, and with it his face. They didn't recognize Prax, which was bad enough, and meant they didn't spend too much time around soldiers: Ga'el fighting alongside humans was rare enough, and they should have heard something about him. And Siona's statement... oh, he knew where that was going.

“I think that between the three of us, we know everybody significant there is to know here.” Probably true, Archeno thought as he said it: there were only so many leaders, warriors, priests, and magi with the army. “If there's a person you seek, name them, or name their rank or title. If there's a job you seek, say so. But please, don't play games with us, hoping you'll pull up a morsel of information to try with other sentries after you leave us. The Hammer could use good people, but not trouble.”

Siona Willun, The Black Raven

Rithi Stoneswallow, Apprentice To Siona

Siona narrowed her eyes at the last man to approach, studying him up and down. He wore fine clothing, Siona might go so far as to even call them bordering on fanciful, and carried himself with what could be called a certain dramatic flair. He looked like a dandy, the type who might try to proposition her in a bar with wild, improbable tales of their certainly embellished heroism. But despite that, underneath his flowery clothing and dandy mustache, he carried a confidence as well that gave Siona pause. She couldn't quite place it, maybe it was in his eyes, but he struck Siona as being truly experienced.

Rithi lowered her head some, looking up at the adults from under her eyebrows with eyes that seemed a little unsure, but desperately trying to remain scrappy and pugnacious. Siona saw this out of the corner of her eye, and leaned slightly on one foot so she was closer to Rithi. She doubted any violence would come from this, but Rithi seemed uncomfortable and so she did it all the same. Weather she liked to admit it or not, she had grown to like Rithi.

"Im not playing any games with you," said Siona, "so there's no need for accusations, especially considering this is just a simple conversation. I just simply dont know the name of the person Im looking for, or for that reason if they are even real. Im simply following up on some small leads and rumors that lead me here, about a possible Keeper Of The Glass being amongst your army."

[The Republic of Atria]

Theo

He did have to remember that not everyone had the ability to survive and heal from gashes and cuts as well as he could. Though he did feel like it would be rather dull since there was no real risk. "I apologize, where I'm from we do use real blades to spar. Though it's much easier to deal with because we have superb alchemists to patch up." He explained, testing the crude wooden toy a bit to get used to it. It was off balance and there was clear evidence that the thing was

"Hmmm. I think the fact that you only want to use toys has already determined who's more adept with their weapons." Francis replied into a bantering tone as he got into his combat stance. "But I'll humor you." With a half smile, Francis swung with the same inhuman speed and precision he demonstrated fighting the demons earlier.

[Theyra]

Sayyida ul h'Ehlam
Passing the Time

"You can call me Ivaran, Sayyida and why yes, I would like some tea". It would be a break from the alcohol he has today and he did not remember the last time he had tea. Though he was puzzled by her, Ivaran could not place her accent and nor why she called herself we. Where is she from, he wondered, it must be a place he has not heard of. Which he thought he knew all of the human lands from school, guess they missed one or Sayyida's people are a lesser group that he has not heard of. But, he did not feel the urge to pry Sayyida just yet, maybe she may say something about and for now, he focused on relaxing while he can.

"About how other elves have treated you, well most of my people do.... feel a certain way towards other non-elves. Especially mages and as for myself...., I do not wish to rock the boat seeing how we all are working together against the demons. We already had a near incident today if you saw that and I do not wish to make another". He calmly said he looked around the camp. "Hopefully there will be no more fights and we can focus on the working together". Ivaran stopped looking around and looked straight at Sayyida with a curious look. "I have a question for you Sayyida, where were you during the battle? You do not look like a soldier or a mercenary, why were you here before all the chaos started?

[Tomia]

Quentin

Neferis Lahari

"Yes, we have tents set up for the wounded, follow me." Quentin told Neferis as he started to calm down. The two of them headed over the corner of the camp near the stream. Once there, healers approached and took Lena from Neferis, placing her down on a cot to rest. Quentin still looked nervous, but less so now.

"Well, thank you, I very much appreciate your help." Quentin told the she wolf. "I am Sir Quentin. I'm sorry if I was brash before, Lena is a dear friend of mine. I was worried about her having over exerted herself, I shouldn't have left..." He ran his hand through his hair before turning back. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to ramble. I realize I don't actually know your name."

Brialya

Saelaam of Trelia

Brialya returned Saelaam's smile, "Well when you ask so nicely, I can't refuse." She said as she took his hand, chuckling as he asked if she preferred a posh dance. "Believe me, it's not my style to prefer posh anything so any dance is fine with me." She told him, allowing him to lead the dance. She certainly hadn't expected to be dancing after facing the demon apocalypse, but this group of people were actually quite fun.

"What say we get some drinks after this dance?" She asked her new found friends.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Archeno
Temporary Encampment, After Haden Hill

"I just simply dont know the name of the person Im looking for, or for that reason if they are even real. Im simply following up on some small leads and rumors that lead me here, about a possible Keeper Of The Glass being amongst your army."

Archeno's face slowly rose into a smile. “Aha! That's more like it!” Not having to toss them out on their ears immediately was an improvement. Perhaps these do had their own gifts to give to the Hammer, even if they seemed slippery.

His tone became conversational. “But it does raise a question: while you may want to talk to a Keeper, why would one want to talk to you? Many people want their advice, and of course, they have their own duties and interests besides.

“I have spoken to a Keeper before, and a matter that seemed of great importance was partially indeed vital, partially beyond what the Keeper had seen, and partially dismissed as a trifle. Why would your concern be indeed vital? What would it be, in fact?”

He turned to Rithi, still smiling and conversational. “Do you want to speak to a Keeper as well? Do you have your own reason for visiting us?”

[The Twelve Isles]

- Snip -

Siona Willun, Master Summoner

Rithi Stoneswallow, Apprentice To Siona

Siona stepped back on her heal some, leaning away from Archeno at the sudden rise in his spirits. Going so fast from confrontational and demanding to acting like a happy host struck Siona as equally slippery as he seemed to see them as. She wasn't quite sure what to expect when someones attitude towards her could switch on a dime like that, and it put her on edge.

He spoke fast, stating multiple things at once which Siona had to concentrate to process so quickly, asking her what her reasons were for seeking out a Keeper. Siona opened her mouth to speak, before catching herself, not sure weather she should say or not. Finally, fixing Archeno with an intent gaze, she said, "I have dreams, which seem to be prophetic. I don't always know what these dreams mean in the moment, but all of them so far have in some way or another predicted future events. I dont pretend to understand everything about the Keepers, but I have heard the stories about them just like everyone else, and I figured they would be the proper people to seek out for help understanding this, er, gift." Siona chose her words carefully, not wanting to five away any more information than was necessary to a stranger. At heart she believed in the goodness of people, but years on the road had also taught her to be wary, and to play her cards close to the chest. Though she hoped in the future her and this Archeno man could move beyond this tense first meeting and become friends, for now she preferred to keep him at arms length.

He turned to Rithi as well, talking to her in the same breezy and conversational tone he had used for Siona. While Siona knew enough to not always trust those she met on the road, Rithi seemed all to happy to tell him all her plans as soon as he was done talking. "Im Siona's apprentice," she stated, somewhat defiantly. "I follow Siona, help her with things, and in return she is gonna teach me magic. All the stories Ive heard tell me Siona is the best summoner around, and I intend to only learn from the best."

Siona breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in an exasperated sigh, and shrugged when Rithi explained everything to those in front of her, giving a what can you do sort of expression. She had intended to keep as much to herself as possible, and weather or not any of that meant anything to these people, she still would have found it preferable to keep that to herself. But it seemed Rithi was more excited to brag, and now there wasnt much else she could do about it. She would have to tell Rithi not to just tell people things like that, but it could wait till later tonight when there was no one watching.

[Segral]

Claire Dione

"Great blood has been spilled here, Donnell." Claire gravely said to her steed, nuzzling his flank as she stared in awe at the chaos. She did not know the name of this place, nor did she know what had gone on, but she knew that a battle had broken out, and that many had died. Humans, elves, dwarves...and something else as well. She could clearly see the human bodies, the elven and dwarfish bodies, but something else stood out among them. Strange clumps and figures on the ground, clumps that looked like piles of scorched rock, still glowing red from the heat. Indeed, a fire had been here, for swathes of grass had been burnt away, leaving ugly rashes in the soil. Smoke still coiled in the air. But there was more to these clumps than that, the heat felt...unsettling, strange.

Demonic.

Of course, she had never seen a demon before. But when visiting Molokai in disguise, she had seen pictures, drawings of them. Terrible monsters, creatures made of fire and brimstone and unholy things that one should never speak of. And these clumps, these bodies certainly seemed to fit that description. But how could it be? Demons hadn't been seen for decades, centuries. They were legends by this point, myths. Were the demons stirring again? Was this...skirmish the result of a demon horde? Too many questions, and too few answers. There was nothing to be found on this bloodstained battleground, she had to press on. Perhaps the survivors had moved upstream to camp. Perhaps they could answer her many questions.

Claire took one last look at the brazen ground, surveying the damage. Magic most likely caused the fires brimming across the landscape, they were too precise to be natural. They burned, but they burned in small patches as if a meteor came down and had struck the Earth. Where there was no fire, there was only burnt grass, burnt soil, and bodies, many bodies. Some looked peaceful, others gored terribly. It sent a shiver down her spine, causing her to grip her trident hard enough to make her knuckles white. Donnell seemed distraught as well, as he made a gurgling noise deep inside his throat, splashing the stream gently with his tail. "Breathe easy, Donnell." Claire purred, stroking his head to calm the swordfish down. He clearly understood the carnage that had taken his place, but perhaps he didn't understand why this had happened, or how it happened. And neither did Claire.

---

It had been a quick ride through the stream. Claire had pushed Donnell to a quick speed, and they had spent the time gliding through the current, floating and cresting on the occasional wavy ripple that pushed through the river. The landscape had become natural again, with deep forest to her left, bordered with brambles and thick undergrowth. On the right, the landscape was a plateau of rugged rock and more thorny branches poking out like skeletal hands from the mud. There were clear signs of footprints on either side, meaning that at least some survivors had come this way. And on the distant horizon, smoke. Campfire smoke. There was still hope.

She pushed Donnell to his maximum speed, gripping his reins as tightly as she could. The threads were worn after months of travel, so was his saddle. She needed to make new ones, but she was far away from any supply of byssal threads. It was concerning. All she had was a few paltry coins, some food, and a sleeping mat. There were so many things she needed to do. Fix the saddle and harness, find new food, fashion a new shield, build new nets, repair her pack. There was plenty of seaweed around the coastline of the continent, but no reliable supply of thread. Before, she could've simply put a disguise on and go into the shallow seas to buy some thread. Let alone finding the bones to make shields. She needed supplies, she needed people.

And soon enough, after a short while at maximum speed, a clearing came into view. It began as a dark smudge on the horizon but soon became larger and larger as the minutes passed. Dark humps came into view as tents, the smoke smell became stronger as the cloud became larger. Finally. After months of the open sea, months of just her and Donnell, she was finding others, finding company. She had almost forgotten what it was like to speak to someone else, have another to communicate with. A knot of anxiety began to form in her stomach. Would she be foreign to a conversation? Would others see her as strange? She didn't want to show weakness, but inside she desperately longed for outside communication. There wasn't much in the way of intellectual stimulation from a swordfish, no matter how much she loved him.

However, she shoved those thoughts out of her mind as she slowed Donnell with a light pull, now slowly riding into the section of the stream directly bordering the campsite. It was bordered by the stream on one side and the forest on the other, nestled in a small patch of clear space. Through the gaps in the tents, she could see a large campfire, radiating warmth and letting smoke flow in the air. Still, she did not let her trident down, holding it crossed by her breast as she held Donnell's reins with a single hand. She was quite a menacing figure, with her height and bone helm, but enemies were everywhere. She could see people of all types milling about, walking between the campsite and gathering around the fire, but it wasn't as if she could walk. She simply would have to wait before someone noticed her.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Saelaam of Trelia
Hammer of Eboris Encampment

---

Saelaam grinned as the elf accepted his offer with a smile. She seemed like a fun person as well seeing how readily she had taken to dancing with the necromancer earlier, so he was glad to have become acquainted with her, despite having his suspicions initially - after all, Athelaians were not known for getting along with other races, and she was dressed like one when he met her.

Relieved as Brialya mentioned that she didn't mind and even preferred a simpler style, the cleric reached out with his free hand to take hers instead of placing his hand on her waist as would be customary in a court or ballroom. "I wouldn't mind some drinks after this, though you'll have to excuse me if I don't indulge too much. I need to keep my wits mostly about me." He replied to the elf's suggestion, preferring not to get drunk when he had yet to replenish his magika reserves and make preparations for tomorrow's journey.

Having said that, Saelaam pulled his partner away from the other two to give them some space and began spinning the elf girl around in a dance that was somewhat childlike yet simple and lively.

---

Neferis Lahari
Hammer of Eboris Encampment

---

---

Neferis gave the leader of the newly founded Hammer a curt nod and then followed him towards the tents near the stream, where a pair of healers took away the unconscious woman and began tending to her. With that done, she turned back towards Quentin with her arms crossed. Much to her surprise, the man thanked her for her assistance and then introduced himself, explaining why he had acted so aggressively earlier. While she did not appreciate it, she could sympathize with being so concerned about someone dear as to ignore everything else - even one's sworn duties. A somber look appeared on her face for a fleeting moment, only to vanish as the Knight of Shotarr asked for her name.

"I am Neferis Lahari, of the ruling dynasty of Amarkar." She proclaimed, with pride in her voice. "Although I am far from home, I've decided to join the crusade against the demons in the name of my people. I-" She continued, but something suddenly caught her attention, and she looked in the direction of the stream, though she could not quite see it from behind the medical tents. "I smell something strange." She pointed out flatly as she turned and began heading towards the stream. Her nose picked up a scent that was very odd amidst the encampment: it was of fish and saltwater.

Sure enough, as she approached, she noticed the merfolk woman sticking out of the water, appearing to ride some sort of massive swordfish.

"Who are you?" The she-wolf demanded.

[Tomia]

Brialya

Saelaam

Brialya smiled as Saelaam accepted her invitation. She understood his view, however for her she felt the need to relax. If she didn't distract herself, the dire nature of the situation might overwhelm her. The threats worrying about the threats that might lurk in the distance or about the problems you might face in the future could burn you out before the battle even starts. Because of this the faithful had always preached that you not fear the unknown but rather embrace the moments that you have in the present.

"That's fine, it'll be good enough to just have your company." She told her dance partner as she spun gracefully.

"What about you two? Join us for a drink?" She asked in the direction of Riki and Tenna before turning back to Saelaam.

"So, the Chosen, how did you come about that path if you don't mind me asking?"

Quentin

Neferis

"Well Neferis, we're certainly lucky to have you here. We'll need skilled soldiers in this fight, and leaders even more so then that." He was about to inquire about her homeland when she her attention was suddenly caught by something else. It seemed to be a mer-woman who was waiting around in the nearby river. As Neferis questioned her, Quentin stood silently, given that he didn't have much to add. He hadn't seen many merfolk before, given that they often kept to themselves in the sea, and didn't venture onto land much. However given that demons had spilled out from the ground, there wasn't going to be much that would be able to surprise him on that day.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Saelaam of Trelia
Hammer of Eboris Encampment

---

"What, you don't think the Goddess revealed herself to me and guided me to a life of piety?" Saelaam joked as he briefly let go of his partner's hands. Twirling on the spot, he took a step closer and took Brialya's hands into his own once again, switching to something much simpler and slower-paced so that they could converse comfortably.

"To be honest, the full answer to that is... a bit too serious for an occasion like this." He stated, his smile becoming somewhat awkward - the circumstances under which he had first found the Chosen were not something that haunted him, something that he didn't want to talk about, but even so it probably wasn't a great idea to bring up his near-death while dancing, amidst all the merriment.

"Suffice to say, when I was injured and alone in Tashar - a land that does not take kindly to my people, and with good reason - a priestess came to my aid. That was the first time I met one of the Chosen, and I told myself that I wanted to save others just like she saved me." He explained. "I also felt indebted to the Goddess whose powers had kept me from death, so really, the choice was easy after that, and I haven't once regretted it in the past eight years." He smiled brightly.

"What about you?" The cleric asked afterwards. "I can't help but wonder what made a happy-go-lucky girl like you dress up like an Athelaian."

[Finland SSR]

Francis

Theodor Arnulfsson

---

Hearing Francis comment that the mere fact that Theo chose to fight with wooden weapons already proved which one of them was more adept, the Dragon Killer struck a faint smile. At least he did not seem to lack confidence in his skills - although, in a bount, that can be a hindrance as well as an advantage.

"A novice warrior draws attention to the weapon rather than its wielder, sir." Theo calmly replied and raised his sword, watching Francis advance forward and bracing for impact. The hunter struck with inhuman speed and force, his blows sharp and precise enough to throw off even an adept swordsman. Theo deflected the first of the strikes, then, to avoid getting hit, opted to trade space for safety - the Dragon Killer began slowly backing away, using the distance as well as his weapon to protect himself from his opponent's attacks.

However, he knew very well that this was only a temporary measure. The time will come when his back will press itself upon a tree, or a rock, or a tent, or he would simply slip up while backing away - and Theo could not afford that to happen. So, instead, after pushing Francis's sword to the side, he suddenly went for an offensive, swinging straight towards the hunter's neck.

[Galnius]

Tenna
There was something to say for keeping up with Tenna when she got going, and Riki did manage to do it quite well. Her feet moved rhythmically with the speeding percussion, constantly moving in and out from between her dance partners. Her eyes were closed, letting the music speak purely to her joy, so the fact that he managed to avoid injuring her feet or getting injured was a feat in of itself. The she elf kept her hand on Riki's waist while gripping his right with her other. She was entranced, simple as that.

However, all good things must come to an end. Sometimes, it ends with the beginning of another good thing. For Tenna, it came with an invitation for alcohol. Finally opening her eyes, she winked at Riki as she released him in a spin. It didn't take long for her to seat herself next to Brialya and grab a drink for herself. It seemed as if, for now, the world was as peaceful as it could get around her. The real question became if she would sleep tonight.

[Ihsalihna]

Sayyida ul h'Ehlam
By the Fire

---

"A peace and pleasure to meet you, Ivaran." This name was strangely easier for her, even if she had little chance to speak Elvish very often. Sayyida carefully lifted the boiled kettle and looked up at the elf, wisps of steam curling up past her face as she filled a cup with a deep reddish-brown liquid that smelled of saffron.

"Those with wisdom in their heart do not look upon the individual and see only their ancestors," she said simply. "It can be expected that there may be more such incidents... but perhaps we will be smiled upon."

Sayyida poured a cup for herself, looking down to watch the curling mist rising from it as she set the kettle aside. Alas, she sought out the Keeper of the Glass in the hope of finding some comfort, and now she found more cause for worry. Before she had looked upon the unity of the armies, who had once been intent on slaughtering each other, as a blessing - even in the heat of war they banded together to face a greater threat. But how long would this fragile alliance last without the enemy in sight? Hm...

She shifted slightly, and met Ivaran's eyes once more. She was used to hiding her discomfort, and didn't show the internal twisting that question raised. Where was she during the battle? Hiding while others fought for their lives of course, why do you ask - though she reminded herself that now wasn't the time for assaulting herself. It wasn't as if her steel was unbloodied. And she would have opportunities to prove her worth. Hopefully. "You are correct. We are neither warrior or sellsword, no. Our purpose at the battlefield was one of business... and it shall be admitted, curiosity. A military encampment is a bottomless stomach for liquors and spirits, and other odds and ends. But a temple is a bottomless wellspring of mysteries..." Sayyida slipped her fingers around her cup and produced a sugar rock, placing it within to dissolve as she blew on the warm drink from behind her veil.

She smiled, and it showed in her eyes. "Perhaps you can guess our preoccupation with curiosities, being something of one ourselves?"

[The Republic of Atria]

Theodor Arnulfsson

"Indeed the man makes the weapon, unfortunate that there aren't any nearby." He bantered back as the fight started. So far, Theo proved to at least have the basics of blocking and footing down, backing away to give himself space. His best bet would be to counter via a deflection. Which is exactly what happened. Theo deflected his sword to the side and went to counter with a slash at his throat. Francis thought about grabbing the blade around the hilt to force himself closer at the cost of cutting the hell out of his hand. Normally, the stab wound would be fixed up right after from the blood of his attack, but he got the impression that Theo's rules for sparring weren't his rules for sparring.

Child's play. Francis ducked and thrust his toy sword back up toward's Theo's abdomen.

[Finland SSR]

Francis

Theodor Arnulfsson

---

Francis reacted to Theo's counterattack swiftly and on instinct - the hunter ducked away from his thrust and instead struck straight at his abdomen, aiming to take advantage of his hand still being outstretched and him not being able to react fast enough. And, indeed, Theo's approach to combat was different from that of, say, Francis. High octane dodging was never his forte, he was a wall rather than a rogue - this would be the moment when he raises his shield to endure the blow and then continues attacking.

He had no shield, so, instead, he braced for impact and took the wooden weapon's strike in full. The blow was sharp and painful, but its energy got absorbed by Theo's flesh and muscles - and the Dragon Killer immediately took advantage of this, reaching out with his free hand to try to grab Francis's outstretched arm and yank it to the ground.

---

Tenna

Riki Farinhait

---

The dance routine came and went, and Tenna was clearly left satisfied by it, leaving Riki off with a spin and a playful wink. The necromancer did not respond in kind, merely shifting his eyes to the side to avoid contact, backing off and immersing his body back underneath the cloak.

The seemingly enthusiastic, yet actually unwilling dancer was gone. The real Riki was back - and he immediately began walking away, to escape from the annoying rut, from the stench of alcohol, from the lines of carefree dancers, from the entire unwelcome atmosphere. And yet... as much as he attested to himself that he wanted to leave and do anything else, he... didn't actually hate this dance break as much as he should have. Hey, at times, there was even a modicum of fun in there.

Riki pulled out his diary. Okay, no, I take it back, I hated it. The fresh ink he had written his excerpt with got smeared all over during all the moving and the spinning, leaving him with no choice but to rewrite the whole page.

"Sigh..."

[Segral]

Claire Dione

And sure enough, she was soon greeted. There were two, one going straight up to her and demanding to know her identity, and the other hanging back sullenly, the slightest look of curiosity upon his face. The one who came up to her was a woman, a Thalari, one with long purple hair and massive ears poking through. Her face was sharp, with high cheekbones and a pointed nose. The one who stood behind was a human man, an older one, with short gray hair and a ragged beard. Claire posed a stark contrast to the two, with her tail, golden trident, and warrior's armor. No wonder their greetings were so hostile, she probably looked like a foe or an intruder! It would not do good to act stiff, she needed to show she was not an enemy.

"My name is Claire Dione. As you can clearly see, I am a mermaid from Molokai, although I am separated from my pod." she calmly said, lowering her trident and pulling Donnell's reins back slightly, forcing him to stop. The stream was a small one of slow current and little power, so there was no risk of her being pushed away. "I have been alone for many years now, but I heard news of conflict brewing on the border between Dascus and Athela. I swam up this stream, only to find bloodshed. Many bodies, violence, and gore. And what appeared to be slaughtered demons. I came up further, hoping to find survivors that could explain this situation, and that is how we have met. I promise to you, I am no foe, nor am I an intruder. I am simply one of curiosity. The swordfish is my steed, he has been with me since I was a child. Now who are you?"

[Skyggeheim]

Traven Faust
Survival Calls for Merriment

It had been one hell of a day. Truly, Traven could only describe it as exhausting. Fighting an apocalyptic enemy had a certain way of sapping the energy out of you, and Traven was certainly feeling the fatigue of the battle. However, that didn't stop the smile that slowly crawled across his face as he approached the campfire where his battle-buddy from earlier, Sayyida, was seated. She had saved his hide several times, and he had returned the favor just as many times. Despite the fact that they barely knew each other, she had stuck her neck out for him against an enemy that defied the Gods themselves. That type of quality of character is something you rarely find, and Traven just felt fortunate that he was in the presence of dozens of individuals with the same standard of selfless sacrifice. After all, you rarely find these folk in a travelling circus.

Traven was truly a long way from home.

"Sayyida!" Traven exclaimed as he sat down, flashing his sparkling smile at the rest of the folk around the campfire, "Not surprised you survived the day, if I'm being honest."

He then looked around at the rest of the folk at the campfire. He hadn't had the pleasure of meeting them yet, and so he extended his hand to shake.

"Traven Faust, s'my pleasure. I fought with Sayyida in the battle, and she saved my sorry arse more than once," He said, now procuring a small flask. Unscrewing it, he took a large gulp. It was his own personal moonshine, and he had made sure to brew a few extra bottles before he had set out on the Path after his last bonafide stop. Now, of course, seemed like a perfect time to break into it. After all, he had survived another day. To be honest it was a wonderful feeling, knowing that he was alive.

Or perhaps this was the moonshine talking. He had probably drank too much of it over the course of the night, but it hadn't felt like it. The burning taste was sweeter than honey to a man that was simply thankful to be alive. Overturning the flask and watching only drops come out confirmed his suspicion. He had drank far too much. And now, as does happen when he was drunk, he felt a song coming on.

"I have a feeling I know what might brighten this evening just a bit." Traven said, his words coming out a bit slurred, "A little melody I learned in the fair!"

After a few enthusiastic nods, and some turned heads from other campfires, Traven sat down and drew a small knife from his belt. He looked around momentarily, deciding to thump the hilt of the knife on the solid log underneath him. It banged out a quick pace, and Traven let loose with a cheerful tune.

Well, some Tashar clad in robes left a tavern one everning fair,
And one could tell, by how they walked, they'd drunk more than their share!
They stumbled 'round until they could no longer keep their wits,
And they tumbled low into the mud to sleep right in a ditch.

Ring-ding didle idle I de-o! Ring dye didley I oh.

They tumbled low into the mud to sleep right in a ditch.
And about that time two pretty Dascian girls just happ'n'd by,
One says to the other with a twinkle in her eye,
"See yon young handsome Tasharens, eyes a-softly closed?
I wonder if its true what they don't wear 'neath the robes."

Ring-ding didle idle I de-o! Ring dye didley I oh.

I wonder if its true what they don't wear 'neath the robes."

The song seemed to bring soft laughter from some, and snorts of disapproval from others. And as the verses carried on, the contents only got more lewd. Some were sent into roaring bouts of laughter, and others simply glared at Traven for the display. But none could deny that he had a talent for singing. His voice seemed to carry, and the highs and lows of the song were not a challenge. After all, it was merely a drinking song. When he was finished, he took a quick - but sardonic - bow and sat back down.

[Theyra]

Sayyida ul h'Ehlam
By the Fire

"Hmmm" was all he said before taking a sip of his tea. Which he paused as he tasted the tea, that flavor, he can not place it. But, the tea itself was good, Ivaran wondered where Sayyida where she got this tea. Perhaps it was a favorite of hers. He did not feel like asking and choose to take another sip before talking again.

"So you were here for the temple and the artifact inside." He sighed as he carefully placed his tea on the ground. "I can wager a guess to why you would be attractive to... magical artifacts. You are unlike any human I have met or have heard of. He picked up his tea and took another sip, holding it casually in his hand. "Though I imagine how brave you are for coming to this temple with three armies huddle around it. Not many would have come here if it meant dealing with a large battle. Ivaran started to stroked his chin, he figured it would not matter now on talking more about the temple and the artifact. Since the artifact is now in Quentin's possession and Ivaran did start to wonder on what kind of artifacts Sayyida may have.

As he was about to speak, a human approached and sat down next to them. Ivaran accepted the handshake that the human was giving and wondered who this human was. Then he introduced himself as Traven Faust and that he had fought with Sayyida during the battle. So Sayyida was not alone during the battle, that is good considering how chaotic it was he thought. As Traven started to sing his song, Ivaran annoyingly covered his face with his free hand and sighed. Certainly a character this one, Ivaran opted to just finish drinking his tea and try to relax before the night's end.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Finally, fixing Archeno with an intent gaze, [Siona] said, "I have dreams, which seem to be prophetic. [...] I dont pretend to understand everything about the Keepers, but I have heard the stories about them just like everyone else, and I figured they would be the proper people to seek out for help understanding this, er, gift."

That's a better story than I expected from this pair! Even if it is just a story, may get better in the telling. Archeno gave Siona another look, seeing her in a new light: glimpsing what will come to pass may be something of a mixed blessing. “I think we can--” His gaze leapt to the girl as she started to speak.

[...R]ithi seemed all to happy to tell him all her plans as soon as he was done talking. "Im Siona's apprentice [...] Siona is the best summoner around, and I intend to only learn from the best."

Rithi's claim about Siona drew a grin from Archeno: she and Siona either had an excellent con-and-shill act going for backcountry marks, or there was something to them. He indulged Rithi, as Alexius would doubtless get to the truth one way or another. “Training you in Magika? I can see why you'd follow her.”

He shifted his gaze back to Siona, grin fading to just a trace. “The Hammer may have good use for a summoner. What sorts of things do you summon?” One way or another: I'm harder to trick than the average mark.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Neferis Lahari
Hammer of Eboris Encampment

---

Neferis continued staring at the merfolk woman as she lowered her weapon and introduced herself as one Claire Dione, of Molokai. It was quite odd, to see one of the people of Molokai this far inland, but she supposed stranger folk had been drawn to the brewing battle of Haden Hill, whether in search of riches, power, glory or, as in her case, something else entirely.

That most of them were slaughtered by demonkind instead of each other's hands was just an ironic twist of fate.

"You will have to forgive me if I don't trust the word of a stranger." The she-wolf's voice was harsh, even if her words were polite, but this was just the manner of the desert wolves. Soon enough Neferis appeared to relax her stance as she decided that this newcomer was indeed no threat to them - even if she had hostile intentions, it was unlikely the mermaid would be able to do much, as she and any potential allies were bound by the stream and there were hundreds of warriors of the newly reformed Hammer of Eboris nearby.

"...But if all you seek is to satisfy your curiosity, I can indulge you." She said with a nod. "What you saw at Haden Hill were indeed the corpses of demons. They spewed forth from the bowels of the earth when an expedition disturbed the temple atop the hill and all three armies had no choice but to fight back the tides of darkness." The Thalari spoke, before gesturing towards the camp, where nearly a thousand men and women rested and tended to the wounded after a battle barely survived. "Those you see gathered here are those who decided to put aside their allegiances to rid Eboris of the fiends from below." She stated solemnly, and then gestured towards the knight next to her in a far less solemn manner.

"This is our... leader, Quentin." She said, as if she wasn't quite certain of it. "I am Neferis of Amarkar, servant of the sun."

[Tomia]

Brialya, at Camp
"Well, that's understandable. Apologizes if I came off as prying." She told Saelaam as he hesitated to share the story of his coming to the chosen. "Your reasons for joining the healers are noble. Sadly few are willing to dedicate their lives to the service of others. The world would be a better place if more people acted like you." She told her new companion. "Faith can be a powerful motivator if you let it."

Then he asked about her, and the peculiar fact that she wore Athelaian armor. "Well, it's quite a long story. However, you shared a bit with me, so its only right I do the same. As you know I'm not actually a member of the Athelaian army. Goddess knows I would jump into a raging river before I would ever join those holier than tho sycophants in earnest. In truth I was spying on them. Trying to learn more about a particularly dangerous faction that lurks within their ranks." She revealed, choosing to omit her allegiance to the Faithful for now. It wasn't uncommon for people to react negatively to the faithful, and it was neither the time or place to make the true nature of her identity known. Besides, they were sharing this camp with many Athelaians many of which would be more than happy to skewer her or report to their commanders that the Faithful had been spying on them.

Quentin, the Next Day, On the Road to Tharan's Keep
The camp broke early the next morning, and Quentin road at the head of make shift army as it made its way out of the forest and onto a road that passed through mostly hills and grasslands. Next to Quentin was Lena, who had recovered from her fatigue. He also had asked some of the more prominent soldiers he had met during the battle and at the camp to join him, such as Neferis, Prax, Theo, and Francis. The day was a bit sunnier than the day before, but colder with a stronger breeze. After a few hours of traveling, the tips of a large castle loomed over the tall hills. Smoke was rising above them as well, and the sounds of shouting and clanging steel filled the air.

Something is wrong. Quentin thought grimly, and sure enough, a lone rider on horseback was approaching their now stalled army.

"Thank god, reinforcements!" The man shouted as he approached Quentin. "You have to help us sir. These things, they came out of nowhere. They've besieged the castle. We have a few hours at best until they breach the walls!"

Quentin turned to Lena and a few of the Knights of Shotarr under his command. "Ready the troops to fight, hold formation until I give orders." He told the knights before they headed off to fufill his orders. He then turned to Lena, as well as the others he had gathered. "We need to discuss a strategy. I want you to gather the best warriors we have here, we're going to need them. Find who you can and report back to me. We have another battle upon us."

[Skyggeheim]

Danica Tryss
Fall From Grace

The night had not treated Danica well, to say the least. Saying goodbye to two of her closest friends, one permanently, had left her body and her mind in a state of senseless disarray. She had managed to maintain her composure long enough to establish camp with the Fangs, slightly separated from the rest of the rag-tag army, before she had stored her armor and disappeared into the darkness of the new moon. She spent much of the night simply moving through the woods, tracking and hunting whatever game she could find. It brought her little peace of mind, and she almost felt as if her rage built as the night had went on. She was angry, but she couldn't quite place a finger on what she was angry at. Was it herself? Her comrades? Qor'nath and Tayne themselves? Whatever it was, burned at her heart and made her feel sick to her stomach. And so she had ran onwards, until she felt she could no longer take another step and the red rage boiling inside her was replaced by debilitating fatigue. She had slogged back to her encampment just as dawn was on the horizon, and had laid down for a measly two hours of sleep before rousing herself for what she assumed was a long march ahead.

The morning was a storm of activity as the Fangs broke camp and fell in with the rest of the survivors from Haden Hill. Danica made the decision to ground the Fangs for the march, lest any new enemies appear and send more magical attacks their way. And so, the Fangs occupied a space in the middle of the formation, snarling and hissing at any foreigner who dared stray close to their ranks. By mid-morning, there was a solid 10 meters between the front and rear of the Fangs and the rest of the force. Danica didn't really mind the space, as it offered less chance to mingle with those that had no appreciation for Ko'el - and by extension Hercynian - culture. Yet, she pondered the idea of the demon enemy and what it meant for the entirety of Eboris. In a way, she felt as if making brief allegiances with the other kingdoms and races may be necessary to actually stand a chance.

That doesn't mean they're skilled warriors. Every army needs its fodder. She mused to herself as she walked, casting a harsh glance at the mixed contingent of other races that were in the formation. Perhaps, in a different time and place, they would be her prey. But today, and for the foreseeable future, they would have to be her working partners. She hesitated to use the term "allies", because for some reason it made her nose crinkle in disapproval. Except, perhaps, for the Eshonie riders. They showed the same warrior spirit she expected from every one of her soldiers. Danica could see herself fighting side by side, and admittedly relished a chance to share stories of war with their commander, the one known as Zog.

Unfortunately, her thoughts were interrupted by the flapping of heavy wings and the rustling of foliage over her head. Snapping her head skywards, she watched as at least a dozen massive avian forms lazily made their way down into the center of her formation. As they landed, they slowly transformed into their more humanoid form to reveal robes, armor, and sharply tipped weapons. Their clothes bore the mark of the Eagle King, a standard that only the King's closest confidants and most elite fighters were permitted to bear. Despite the fact that Danica had manhandled many of the King's best in personal combat during her examination to become Dragoness of the Fangs, she was denied the blessing of the King's standard. Therefore, she was only filled with suspicion when the three robe-clad bird-folk, two Falcon-kin and an Eagle-kin, approached her and offered her a curt bow.

"Dragoness," cawed the Eagle-kin, in the stereotypical loopy and scratching voice that squeaked its way past the Cre'el's beak. Despite the fact that the eagle was a fully-grown male, he stood almost two feet below Danica. She narrowed her eyes in response, flicking her gaze to the two other diplomat-types and their armed guard.

"Strange of the Eagle-kin to be so close to the scene of a battle," She growled in response, though she was honestly curious as to what business this party had...not to mention how they located her.

"We took flight as soon as the crows whispered of the...situation...at Haden Hill," The Eagle-kin said, seeming to ignore her blatant insult, "We thought it best to deliver you news from the homefront in person."

"Then deliver your report," Danica replied. The Eagle-kin seemed to clear his throat and ruffle his feathers before reaching deep into his robe and procuring a piece of parchment bearing the King's seal. He seemed to tense up before he opened his beak to report his news.

"The Eagle-King is extremely disappointed with the poor leadership qualities and outright foolishness displayed by the Dragoness of the Fangs during the Battle of Haden Hill. The tremendous casualties inflicted on the Fangs of Hercynia represent a clear lack of an inspirational and competent commander, and the Eagle-King is saddened to know that this needless loss of life is attributed to one general's boastful overconfidence," The Kre'el said, pausing to sneak a glance up at Danica before continuing, "Effective immediately, the Dragoness, Danica Tryss, is to be removed from her status as a Hercynian General. In addition, she is to be labeled as a detriment to Hercynian military, cultural, and political superiority. The political and administrative powers associated with her status as the Ascendant are hereby terminated. The Dragoness is an image of a fading era of Hercynian warfare, and her contribution to our tactical and strategic victories are no longer required. Signed, Akki Cloudstrider, Sovereign Ruler of the Ouranocracy of Hercynia."

The Kre'el shut the parchment with a finalizing swoosh and tucked it back into his robe, craning his neck and staring up at Danica. For what seemed like an eternity, Danica simply stood there. The words that had been read to her ricocheted around her skull and burrowed themselves deep into her mind. She could feel her hands balling up into fists, and her muscles began to tense and quake with something far greater than rage. Yet, she didn't feel as if she was in control of her own body. Before she knew what she was doing, her arm shot outwards and she wrapped her gauntlet around the throat of the Eagle-kin in front of her. The Kre'el squawked in fright and surprise, and opened his wings to try to flee the crushing grip. She could just barely make out the rasping of blades being drawn from their scabbards, but noticed on the edge of her red-tinged vision that the Eagle King's soldiers were hesitant.

"Take another step and I'll make you my dinner," Came a growled threat from behind her. She realized that her Fangs had drawn their own weapons, and were preventing the Eagle's from advancing.

Placing her attention back on the Kre'el in her grip, she drew him in close, almost touching the tip of his beak to her nose. Then suddenly, she opened her mouth and buried her sharp teeth deep into the eagle's throat. She felt her elongated fangs punch through skin, muscle, and tendons, and finally scrape against bone. Blood poured from the wound and dripped onto the ground. Slowly, with effort, she ripped out a massive chunk of the eagle-kin's throat, then pulling on his beak to snap what little skin and flesh kept his head attached to the rest of his body. Dropping the dead Eagle-kin's body like a pile of scraps, she threw his head forward. It landed with a sickening thump at the feet of the other two diplomats, who looked on in abject horror.

"Deliver that report to your King," Danica spat, then wiping a dribble of blood from the corner of her mouth. The birdfolk wasted little time in departing, one gripping the severed head in his talons and immediately taking to the skies. The other stayed behind, his eyes burning with hatred.

"You'll pay for this. Savage dragon bitch." The Falcon-kin hissed, before he himself transformed and flew off to join his comrades.

Slowly, Danica felt the hot rage inside her burn away. Her vision seemed to return to normal, and the deafening silence around her became all the more evident. All at once, the realization that these soldiers who had fought and died for her and Hercynia were no longer under her command struck her like a tidal wave. She almost felt like sinking to her knees and wailing, but decided against it. With a stoic face, she reached over and began undoing the straps on her left pauldron - the one bearing the mark of the Ascendant. The Eagle King had thrown down the gauntlet. He had made his move to finally eliminate the last political and military adversary that could challenge a thousand years of Kre'el dominance over Hercynia.

But Danica was not one to be topped in terms of spectacle.

"Imleran," She commanded, and the Ko'el warrior stepped forward. In Qor'nath's passing, Imleran had become the second-in-command of the Fangs. Danica trusted him almost as much as she had trusted his predecessor, and so she issued him perhaps the biggest task she could think of, "Take the eastern winds and fly to Hercynia. Before you reach our borders, turn north and begin finding Ko'el villages. Bring them my pauldron and rally them to war. The Eagle King will not respond in good heart to what I have done, and every Dragon-folk will be a target of opportunity for him. As soon as you can, prepare them for a long and bloody conflict."

Imleran nodded, a Ko'el of few words. He then bowed his massive head and gripped the back of Danica's head with his palm. She returned the gesture, a blessing of good skies and glorious battle, before he turned to rally the Fangs.

"Imleran," She said before the Ko'el had taken to the sky, "Build me an army worthy of Zahhak."

The Dragon-kin need not reply. He simply nodded, then sprouted two massive wings and rocketed upwards. Soon after, he was followed by the rest of the Fangs of Hercynia. As Danica watched, they slowly became nothing but tiny blots in the sky. Turning her gaze back downwards, she realized that every foreigner within earshot had turned to investigate the commotion. She was in the middle of a massive crowd of foreign soldiers, and she was completely alone.

Sighing, Danica trudged forward and shoved past the crowd to make her way to the front of the formation. She was certain by now that word had reached that Quentin fellow of blatant murder in the ranks of his army. She would rather explain to him herself the situation than have it briefed to him by some haughty officer. As she walked, something nagged at the back of her mind. A thought that she would dread with every step she took away from her homeland.

Hercynia was going to burn.

[The Twelve Isles]

Rithi's claim about Siona drew a grin from Archeno: she and Siona either had an excellent con-and-shill act going for backcountry marks, or there was something to them. He indulged Rithi, as Alexius would doubtless get to the truth one way or another. “Training you in Magika? I can see why you'd follow her.”

Rithi nodded proudly, standing a little taller and puffing her chest out, while putting her hands on her hips. She grinned at the others around her, showing off a chipped tooth, her top left canine. It made her look like a sneaky and tough kid, though she would probably take pride in that sort of image. "Thats right," she said. "All the stories I heard say that Siona is the best. She sealed away the Damned Lord, fought giants, and has walked the dreams of princes and kings and lords and everything, right Siona?" Rithi looked over at her master at that, gesturing over at Archeno as if to say can you believe this guy?

"Those are just stories Rithi," said Siona, a pointed look out of the corner of her eye, "and most of them are made up in bars by the patrons." Rithi's quickly stopped talking, getting the message to let Siona handle this, though she still gave Siona an indignant look and crossed her arms over her chest. What Siona's issue was she wasn't sure, why someone wouldn't want to be famous was beyond her.

“The Hammer may have good use for a summoner. What sorts of things do you summon?” One way or another: I'm harder to trick than the average mark.

Siona could see that Archeno wasn't totally convinced of her story. Or at least, he was questioning of it. He didnt question her statement about prophetic dreams, but at Rithi's statement about how Siona was the best summoner around, she could see the gears in his head turning again. When he asked her what types of things she could summon, it seemed almost more like a test of weather or not she was telling the truth than a question of genuine curiosity. Siona crossed her arms under her cloak, and paused a moment before she responded, choosing her words carefully. She looked Archeno up and down to try and figure out what it was that was making him so squirley. She at first thought he was trying to get something out of her, but the more she thought about it she figured maybe that wasn't the case. All his questions seemed casual, but were clearly meant to get some kind of information out of them. It might make sense if they were suspected spies, but this army was fighting demons, not another army, so what use would there be to worry about spies? Suddenly, it dawned on Siona. This man thought he was a mark to them, and that Siona and Rithi were trying to con him. It was an honest mistake, Siona tended to keep to herself and she understood why that make some people wary of her. But it was simply a way to protect herself, from the exact people Archeno thought she was. After all, not everyone you met on the road had your best intentions in mind, and if Archeno was able to recognize something like that, it meant he was probably more like Siona than they had originally though. With that realization, Siona smiled. It was a slight smile, but a genuine one, and brighter than most would expect from a wandering magi in a fancy cloak.

"Spirits, mostly," said Siona in answer to his question. "I make contracts with the ones who will let me, or seal away the dangerous ones. Though I also can summon a familiar, a few weapons, and the northern winds." Siona smiled again, trying to calm Archeno, and show that she was not a threat to him. It was all a simple misunderstanding, and so she was trying to close the rift as quickly as it had formed.