Beyond Light's Reach (IC Reboot)

[Theyra]

Brialya
Brialya raised an eyebrow at the Guardian who seemed to deny any involvement with the plot that had gone on. "So you spent all that time with those men and didn't know what they were up to?" She said in a skeptical tone. "But fine, I'll play your game. Those men were following some called the Purifier, the name ring any bells? He's some corrupt higher up in Athela. I thought that he was just the typical officer, killing people for sport or for political gain. But I interrogated the commander back there at the temple and he revealed there was something much more nefarious going on. They released those demons on purpose. I don't know why or how they even knew they existed. You're telling me you had no idea about any of this?"

"I was only recently assigned to that group at the last moment before we left for the temple. I did not know anyone in that group and they did seem strange. They did seem more... fanatical then what I normally see and now that you have said it. I do remember overhearing someone mention the Purifier but, not much else". Ivaran stroked his chin, "this is concerning that anyone let alone even this cult would want to unleash demons on the world". Ivaran shook his head, "It can be hard to believe but, I had no knowledge of this cult or their plans and if I did, I doubt I would have not helped blocked the temple with the others or join the Hammer of Eboris".

Ivaran had a serious expression and he stared directly at her eyes. "This cult must be exposed and eliminated before they do more harm to the world and I do not anything about this cult other of what you have told me. So if you desire I would like to help you with tracking down and learning more about this cult. Less my countrymen make more betrayals and are unaware of a dangerous cult in their midsts". Who knows what else this cult has done, Ivaran thought. How long their influence was allowed to spread and who else this cult has touched. While the while demons are invading the land, finding this cult will be more difficult because of the invasion. Just their luck and maybe fighting with the Hammer will him find the answers that he needs to bring down this cult. Before they do any more harm to the world.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Chrysanthea Blackwood, Neferis Lahari & Saelaam of Trelia

After spending some time holed up inside the large tent his fellow Chosen had set up to take care of the wounded, Saelaam emerged from it, left to his devices. The priests and priestesses of Oadot had done all that they could for the few patients they had, and now it was only a matter of waiting for them to recover. Ordinarily, the crow would have been among the few that stayed behind to keep an eye on their patients and tend to them in case something happened, but, in light of what he had already gone through that day, the other Chosen had decided to assign a different priest to look over the wounded by near-unanimous vote, insisting that Sael should go and relax for the rest of the evening. Though apprehensive, he had no choice but to accept. Serving himself a bowl of the stew that one of the Chosen had cooked for the wounded as well as his brothers and sisters, he walked out onto the camp.

Looking around, the young man noticed that most survivors were gathered around the main fire, where it was warm and pleasant - Saelaam shuddered as the chilly wind blew and covered himself with his wings once more, his robes still drying after being washed by the stream. A select few people were either by themselves or engaged in private conversations near their own tents, but they were the minority. He saw a few familiar faces in the crowd, mostly from those he had found sneaking into the temple after the elves had turned on the expedition, but he did not know them well and he was not terribly inclined towards conversation at the moment, instead simply looking for a quiet spot to eat his meal. He found a good place rather quickly, a spot slightly further away from the main fire, where a slender woman dressed in the garb of a Repentant knight sat on a log in the company of a large wolf.

"May I sit here?" He asked politely.

After her brief conversation with Quentin, Chrysanthea had simply kept to herself, eating a meal consisting of a piece of stale bread and some strips of spiced, dried meat. She was eventually joined by a large grey wolf that had clearly gone hunting earlier and then visited to the nearby stream to bathe, and now a winged young man joined them as well. Chryssa looked up, noticing that it was the same man who had declared his allegiance to the Hammer alongside the rest of the Chosen. As one who greatly appreciated the services of the men and women of Oadot's flock, she was quick to nod.

"Of course. Sit down, brother. A priest of Oadot deserves what little hospitality I can offer." She said softly. Saelaam smiled at her and sat down.

"You're too kind, sister. Oadot's blessings be with you." He told her, before digging into his meal. A pleasant silence followed around the fire.

"Are you the Chosen who they say closed the portal the demons crawled out of?" The Repentant asked, curious about the affair. She had heard plenty about it from a few of the other survivors, and it was painfully obvious that the descriptions she had heard, of a Chosen with black raven wings, were referring to this man who was just a few years younger than her. The crow nodded at the question and put his spoon down for a moment.

"I am." He said, his mouth remaining open for a moment as he found himself wanting to continue, but at a loss for words. "It... was not easy or pleasant for sure." He said with a light chuckle. As if anyone expected otherwise. "I wasn't sure it would even work, really, but... when you're in the middle of such a catastrophe, with people dying all around you and one chance to stop it... what else could I do?"

"Many would have tried to run before risking life and limb to save others." Chryssa replied. "I think you acted with courage."

Sael smiled again, briefly. "I hope I can act with courage again when the time comes." He said before returning to his meal.

It wasn't long until the trio heard the singing and merriment coming from closer to the fire, from a certain dwarf that had suddenly decided to lighten up the atmosphere and was promptly joined by several of the men and women nearby. The priest of Oadot smiled for a moment before returning to his meal, and the wolf likewise looked over with a sense of curiosity but didn't bother moving otherwise. But the Repentant knight found herself staring at the scene, a look of recognition flashing across her face.

"That's the author of Love in Littletown!" Chryssa spoke in a hushed gasp. Both Saelaam and Neferis turned to look at her.

"Do you know him?" The crow asked, and the wolf let out a soft whine as if echoing the question.

"Do you not know him? He's world-famous!" The Repentant knight replied. One of the few things she regretted about becoming a Repentant, perhaps the only one, was that giving up her material possessions implied also surrendering her prized collection of books, though she took solace in the fact that, with them now in a library, others would be able to access them freely. "Should I go talk to him?" She asked her companions. Saelaam didn't seem to feel too strongly one way or the other and simply shrugged before returning to his meal, while Neferis looked at Chyrssa and gave a brief howl, as if to encourage her to take action. That was all the knight in black needed to make a decision, and she promptly stood up.

It only took a few seconds for the Repentant to arrive at the main fire, though the dwarf seemed to have a companion nearby. Not wishing to seem impolite and make a poor first impression, she waited on the sidelines until he finished telling his tale before finally approaching.

"Good evening sir." Chryssa greeted. "You are Dulen Varcan, correct? The world-famous author?" She asked, attempting to remain collected.

[Tomia]

Brialya
Brialya gave the Guardian a kind of examining look. He seemed sincere enough in his desire to help fight these cultists but that could just as easily be a ruse. Of course not all Guardians were monsters but she couldn't just ignore the great differences that exist between him and her. Under different circumstances he'd kill you without hesitation. Brialya thought to herself. However options right now were slim and turning down the help of a trained soldier just didn't seem practical.

"Alright Guardian, I'll work with you but don't think that means I trust you yet. But for now, I'll take you at your word. I'm Brialya." She said offering her his hand in greeting. Soon after their conversation was cut off by a beast folk who approached them. She didn't like that he was listening to them and turned to face him. "If you don't mind, this is a private conversation stranger. No offense but I don't know you."

Dulen
While Dulen was talking to Ella he was approached by a knight in sleek black armor. It was the same one that had made that impressive showing back at the temple. Her face was covered but the dwarf could tell by her tone that she seemed a little nervous. He smiled when she asked about his identity and claimed that he was a world famous author. "Your words are very kind, but in some places on the continent they're less world famous and more reluctantly tolerated." He said with a hearty chuckle. "But aye, Dulen is my name. Join us knight, take a seat." He said gesturing to one of the logs nearby. "So you were the one who sliced open the big one back there right? I've got to say that was some pretty heroic stuff." He told her with a smile.

[Auropa]

During the temple speach

After the battle’s end Ylva listened the knight commander’s speech with more than a hint of scepticism. For one thing, she still wasn’t convinced that the battle here meant some cataclysmic danger had spread across the land. Sure demons weren’t exactly common and the fight they had just survived was a good story and all but a full re-emergence? That sounded like a stretch. Though even on the off chance that something really was happening, she couldn’t help but think about how while glorified, the tales of the Hammer’s army were eerily close to that of the horde. Interrupting her thoughts though was the uncharacteristically chipper voice of her ashen haired travel companion.

“Ylva! This is amazing! The Hammer of Eboris is being re-forged right before our eyes and we’ve been asked to join the first of its number! Can you imagine? Gwendolyn Sirade, saviour of Eboris, hero to all! Forget being a captain, at this rate by the time the order begs for my return they'll need to make me a commander.” Gwen stated practically drooling at the thought of it.

“Hmm? I’m sorry was something important happening?” The goliath teased in response.

“Was something impotant? Ylva! The Hammer of Eboris, the greatest army in all of recorded history, is being reformed to fight the demonic scourge threatening the land. How could you possibly miss that?!”

“Dunno, made some friends, watched the elves start a fight, shared a nice meal, got into a small fight, then wandered around a bit. Next thing I know some human starts yelling about joining an army. I mean, I don’t want to be rude but do you know how many people have asked me to join an army or mercenary band. Its flattering sure, but at some point you think people would take the hint.”

“Hammer-Of-Eborris Ylv! How are-?! What are you? The fact you think this is like some, some sort of mercenary band is beyond absurd! I honstly can’t-! And you were eating during all that! There were, we had to – demons were in the temple and the outside. People were being turned into monsters. There was even a…a... You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“In my defence, you make it very easy.” Ylva said with a wide grin as she leaned towards her less than pleased but now admittedly more grounded friend.

Giving another glare in response, Gwen took a moment to compose herself, make a note to get back at the goliath somehow, then did her best to continue like nothing had happened. “As I was saying. This is an exceptional opportunity and-”

“Well, I don’t have any plans going forward.” Ylva stated casually interrupting the smaller womand as she spoke “If you want to tag along with this lot then I’ll come with. Wandering alone is no fun and besides, you as a commander? Now that is something I have to see.”

Giving a nod in response, Gwen turned on the spot and went off to gather her things but not quite fast enough to fully hide her smile.

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Yasema

Ylva Pathmaykr
Campsite

Once camp had been set, Gwen fell back into her usual blur of activity and left to help perform any helpful but visible task she could push her way into. Ylva meanwhile, took the opportunity to enjoy the air and meet the members of this newfound warband.

After carving the temple battle’s story into her hammer and taking a walk across the camp, the familiar scent of roasting meat chanced upon her and her destination was set. Before long she came across the gathering of troops eagerly waiting for a deer to finish cooking as the strange magic shooting dwarf from before begun to sing a bittersweet song to those around him. Despite not knowing the words or story behind them, Ylva couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of it as a slight twinge of nostalgia passed over her and brought her back to the days she would teach her younger siblings the songs of their tribe. ‘Maybe this lot’s worth something after all’ she thought to herself as another unique figure caught her eye. A goliath much like her, but still very different somehow, calmer. Putting aside her hunger for the moment, she went to introduce herself but just before being able to offer a greeting however, a small pendent around her neck caught Ylva’s attention. It was a small, seemingly insignificant piece of metal bearing an old symbol and signifying more danger than even a dozen warriors could.

“That’s a dangerous necklace to wear friend.” She said dryly as she studied the goliath in front of her.

“I won’t ask about it and I won’t act on it but attempt to harm these people and I will kill you.” She added flatly and simply before shifting her stance and casually turning back to the roasting deer as more from nearby began to join the group.

“Though fightin’ em for the fun of it from time to time is fine. Everyone needs a hobby and frankly a lot of people need a to learn how to block better.” She added in a complete tone shift and back in her usual spirits as she took a seat beside the woman. “So now that the nasty business is all out of the way, what brings another goliath around these corners?”


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Gwen Sirrade
Campsite

“This is your equipment list?” Gwen asked with clear disgust in her tone.

“Aye, that’s it. Got a problem with it?” The dwarf shot back

“No, it’s lovely. So lovely in fact I came to get it framed.” She stated with her voice practically dripping with sarcasm. “My personal favourite part though, is this log you made right here. 'Food stuff, 2 weeks worth'.”

“…And?” The man impatiently asked.

“Precisely! What exactly do you expect anyone to do with ‘food stuff’?! What even is that?”

“It’s food!”

“Oh, of course. How could I not see that until now? It’s food and 2 weeks’ worth of it no doubt! Are you honestly this incapable!? A soldier needs proper nutrition to fight and an army is useless if it can’t provide any. To do that, it needs the food to be properly accounted for and stored. We need to know what’s perishable, what’s compressible, whether the goods are liquid, solid and how much it weighs. Can it be stored in sunlight or does it need covering? Does it have a scent, could that smell attract harmful wildlife? And don’t even get me started on the whole ‘2 weeks’ part. We need usable units, not an estimate of how long it takes for you to complete a thought.”

“Now you listen here girly! I didn’t join up so I could have some prissy little know it all trounce in on my work and-”

“I’m sorry did I hurt your feelings? I was only trying to make sure we don’t starve to death. We are in potentially dangerous territory with wounded. If we get attacked and need to move, then knowing how much food we have is essential. So grab another quill, some parchment and do your job properly this time, and tell your friend he can’t count! I’ve had to redo nearly half of his troop counts and if I need to redo another then he’ll find himself fighting alongside one of his imaginary units!” Then, before the man could say another word, Gwen turned on her heel and marched out.

‘Imbeciles, absolute imbeciles!’ She thought to herself. After all the losses in the temple, figuring out exactly what the newly formed Hammer of Eborris did and didn’t have was proving to be as frustrating as it was time consuming. With dead leaders, missing soldiers and damaged equipment the already chaotic job of merging forces together was proving to be a tangled mess. Breathing out a pent-up sigh, a wave of fatigue passed over her. Ever since the fight she had stayed on her feet and had been doing whatever she could to help pull this force together, but in doing so, maybe she had pushed herself a little too far. Deciding there was little else she could do for now, she went off in search of a place to rest.

Sure enough, and like many of the other survivors, Gwen eventually found herself coming across the bonfire and those surrounding it, she saw a few familiar faces in the group and even noted the chosen who sealed the portal among them. Deciding the spot was as good as any other, she found a free log to call her own and took a seat. Some dwarf seemed to be handling entertainment well enough for but rather than join in on the conversations, Gwen instead kept to herself and pulled out a small notebook on magics. It wasn’t the most interesting or inspiring of things to do, but she had learned that study and preparation would get her further than any meaningless conversation ever could.

[Awesomeland012345]

Tarkin

The march had been long and hard. They were heading toward the knight's fortress or something. Hopefully that would be enough to keep the demons at bay...

The group stopped. Tarkin pitched his tent and reflected on the events of that day. There were real demons... he would have to get some more harmful potions ready. And also fashion some kind of pouch that he could grab his potions out of. His knife was already in an accessible place, but what good would they do against a hulking demon? It would harm a crook, sure, but a beast...

That golem had a huge sword that could kill the beast. And it had saved him. He should probably go thank whoever saved him. Tarkin grabbed a potion at random and walked around, trying to spot the massive golem. Most people were around the campfire or at their tents, but the shadowy figure of the golem was more to the side. He walked over.

"Hey, just wanted to thank you for saving me back there. This potion... uh... ignites when you open the cap. Like an everlasting lantern. It's helpful. Anyway, thanks, or I would be dead." Tarkin handed the potion over.

[Segral]

Claire Dione

The dummy was already worse for wear. Its head had been split open, the folds of cloth that had previously formed an ugly, misshapen face having been torn down the middle and causing a thick wad of straw to begin pouring out all over the muddy, damp ground. Its torso was tilting to the right as if in a drunken stupor, thanks to the wooden mast that supported the dummy's body being knocked loose in the soft, marshy earth that made Claire's bare feet slip and slide as if it was not soil at all, but thick, slippery blood. The dummy bled too, bled straw from the many holes in its chest, ones that extended into even deeper holes, and then even further into thin, chipped notches in the crooked mast. Its left arm was hanging by mere scraps of cloth, which was a kinder fate than the right knee, completely severed from its parent thigh. There were few spare spaces that had not been gored through with the pike, and they grew fewer by the second, as Claire continued to weave and bob, landing strike after strike that stuck deeper and deeper within the ragged bundle of straw. The lynching was done, but she would not stop until the body no longer desecrated the mast, or both came down together.

The latter event proved to be the prevailing. Claire moved for her signature thrust, intending to drive the pike through the dummy's abdomen. Instead, the pike took the abdomen and then some, ripping out through the dummy's back, and slamming hard into the already-thinned mast. A sharp "CRACK!" rang out as the wooden pole snapped in two, the two halves' nails tugging the dummy apart. After a few moments of deliberation, the top half slid off, a sharp ripping noise ensuing as the dummy was torn apart at the waist, the upper body falling face-first into the mud, and the legs toppling backwards with the pole's base. Straw poured everywhere, thin strands dusted the muddy ground.

Another opponent slain.

With a sigh, she backed up on her heels from the torn dummy, taking comfort in a nearby log. It was mossy, and was dotted with holes where insects' hungry mouths had eaten away at the bark, but it would suffice as a resting place. She had told herself that training would help her forget of her woes, let her cut them away as easily as she had the dummy, but they would not fall apart. Their poles stayed fixed in the ground, their straw remained within them, they never stopped rearing their ugly, misshapen heads. She laid her chin on her fist, wincing as the elbow pressed into her leg. Those Chosen had been clinging onto her the second she had so much as stepped foot into the camp, and it had taken threats to run them, their mothers, their wives, and their daughters through to convince them to unhand her. A Zhorian did not rely on the pity of others to correct their mistakes in the battlefield; a mistake was to be born openly, and healed only through time. As such, the wounds on her leg, her arm, her spines, her tassels, and her forehead remained untouched, aside from white, cloth wraps on the former two and latter one. It was the only thing they could convince her of.

It was quiet now, and the light was fading fast. The only remaining disturbances of both were the fireflies, buzzing and humming as they swarmed across Claire's small training pitch, and the rest of the campsite beyond. Tents had been pitched in tight, layered rows, with occasional clearings set apart for sparring and the occasional communal fire. A tightly-knit, well-mannered society, but one that Claire bore no good manner towards. It was alien, unfamiliar, full of those who would rather socialize than arm themselves for what could only be a bloody war against these demons.

They were allies, but not companions.

All she had was herself in this chaos, herself, and her quest. But she could not prepare herself to embark on that quest, because she was injured, because her limbs ached terribly, because she had destroyed the only training dummy. So she remained rooted in place, unmoved from her logged perch. Continuing to ruminate. As she had always done.

---

Krook Tolasthes

Fires were always the best places. Nice and warm, full of people and food and chatter. It was good for ice-bloods like him; without the warmth of a good fire, he did not know if he would even be alive today. How many nights had he slept through with nice, hot coals under his belly? How many meals had he ate that were cooked by a strong, warm fire? How many gambesons had been made from the hides of his hunt? He liked fire, but only when it was contained. When foolish people, or evil creatures used fire without controlling it, it had the potential to be deadly, to tear apart the trees and murder the animals, to destroy...everything. It spread fast, and killed even faster. It was hot enough to numb and freeze your skin. It was hungry, and had a bottomless appetite. When a responsible, level-headed mind such as himself was fixing a nice campfire, it was a beautiful thing. When a crazy follower of Qrodia was fixing a massive wildfire, it was a terrible, evil, destructive thing.

Fortunately, this campfire was set up by responsible, level-headed people, and it was perfect for keeping warm as the cold night crept ever closer. He had been especially hungry from chasing the wagons back to the camp, and he hadn't been able to find his leftover deer after the battle had ended, giving him no choice but to eat the deer raw. However, he had kept a few parts nice and safe, including the hides, the sinews, and, of course, the bones. He always saved the bones, they were so useful! They were arrows, but they were also dreamcatchers, needles, scrapers, tools, and, of course, instruments. Krook had brought a small bundle of bones with him to the fire, and had begun whittling them down with his claws, in the hopes of creating a nice flute, or maybe a whistle. However, his claws were also very big, and thick, and they kept crushing the fragile ends, or poking big holes through the bone that forced him to start over. Each time, he would get so close, only to make one tiny slip with his littlest claw, and tear the whole thing apart. Oh, the patience needed!

Although, it seemed as if his waiting would finally come to an end. This was his fifth bone, and it looked...perfect! A nice, long, perfectly shaped bone tube, with lots of little holes dotting the top and sides, and one end closed at the top. A clean little flute. He couldn't wait to try it!

With a happy yelp, Krook brought the flute to his lips, placing his claws over the small holes and his mouth over a large, ovular hole, placed near the topmost part of the tube. After a few puffs, he let out a full wisp of air between his lips, a wisp that caused the flute to let out a low, slightly shaky tone. He shifted his claw, covering a hole at the side of the flute, and puffed again. A new tone, slightly higher. He shifted his claws again, this time covering three holes. Another new tone. He began to play new tone after new tone, and soon, he was stringing them together into a pleasant-sounding, if slightly clunky melody. That is, until not a minute later, when he heard a slight crunching noise come from somewhere to his right, followed by the flute's pitch suddenly turning into a thin, off-key whine. He pulled the flute from his lips with alarm, only to see a half-flute in its place. He had pressed too much with one claw, and accidentally crushed right through the end of the flute. No fixing it.

"Oooooh!" Krook groaned in frustration, throwing his fifth bone directly into the fire. However, unlike with the last four attempts, Krook did not pull another bone from his pack, instead deciding to cross his arms and sulk, murmuring some curses under his breath as he aimlessly scraped at the ground.

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

"Good, and I can understand why you do not trust me yet and I am Ivaran". So far, his life has gone a route he would never have thought of. Battling demons and now working with a Hurelan to take down a cult that exists in his county. Makes him think what would have happened if he did not get signed to the temple at the last minute. Well, probably still fighting demons but, not apart of the Hammer and unaware of this cult and who knows. Maybe be taking orders from them as they try to enact their plans. Just something to think about when not fighting.

As Ivaran was done shaking her hand, he noticed that a beastfolk was listening to their conversation". Surprised, by the sudden interruption and he turned his head to the stranger. "Uh, who are you and this is between me and her". He did not like that someone randomly was just listening to their conversation. Ivaran studied the newcomer, he did not look like one of the surviving beastfolk though Ivaran could just have missed one he supposed. Though this beastfolk seeks to learn more about the cult and maybe help to end it. That if Brialya is willing to tell this stranger the details and accept the beastfolk's help.

[Zjaum]

Werakoya Eyeketrau

Wera sat in as close to a "corner" as was feasible in a wide, open space. She'd lived in the cold for decades; she could tolerate it far more than being cramped with other people in a fire. The cooked mash in the bowl in her hands was all the warmth she needed for the time being. It was an old friend, a time-honored classic of a dish. Best to savor the moment before eating. She felt the grass. It could make for a substantial pillow; smooth but ample. She smelled the air. A few dozen adventurers didn't particularly smell nice. She didn't take another deep breath, and transitioned quickly to her ears. Krook was transferring his physical strength into musical prowess, with just a little bit too much physical strength left over. The sharp trill of a flute's dying note was both sad and hilarious.

The music died, and her eyes took over. Ylva was staring down... another female goliath, how odd. How was it that the only goliaths she saw on the trip were all female? And three of them in the same band, no less! The tall recruit seemed to be having about as much fun and comfort around Ylva as Wera had when Ylva'd approached her. Perhaps the new recruit and she would become good friends, united not just by tribe but by appreciation of isolation and aversion to intrusion.

Still, the last of her senses had yet to report. She looked down at the mash and picked up the spoon. She let the food sit in her mouth for a whole four seconds before spitting it out. Poison! No, there was no bitterness. What was the error? She'd had food like this her entire life. It seemed well-made; it couldn't possibly be her... oh. By taking Krook's strips of meat, she had subjected her mouth to higher standards of cookery, standards that consciously were discarded but that subconsciously overrode her original preferences. What was once a perfectly life-sustaining meal was now cheap swill.

"Confound it! I should never have taken that third piece of deer meat!" she shouted, throwing the bowl to the ground. The vessel was caught carefully by the grass, but she made no effort to track the bowl's safety as she approached the camp. She strode past Krook, tapping him on his shoulder to catch attention. He looked like he needed something to do, regardless. She moved into the far orbit of her fellow two goliaths, neither obnoxiously close nor outside hearing distance. "Attention, fellow adventurers!" she announced. "I dream of a better meal! I am going into the wilderness to fetch herbs, and berries, to make our gruel more palatable! If anyone feels likewise, follow me!"

[Galnius]

Tenna

Tarkin

Syn of Ashar

Tenna found that her presence seemed unwelcome by the Golem's master, who said that his name was Syn. The unwelcome feeling was not a new one, and was downright common in her early years, but it still irked her.

Her brow furrowed in annoyance as he referred to her like some child in awe over his craftmanship. She couldn't really care less about the golem, or if he made it or not. She was there because he was alone, and that made him a convenient person to be around. Still, she had to resist causing a scene.

Fighting her temper, Tenna pulled out the same notebook she had shown the leader, Quentin. A poorly scrawled name covered almost half of the paper.

The elf pointed to her name, then back to her. If he made the golem he would hopefully be quick to understand her motioning. If that failed she wasn't too positive on what to do. He definitely did not look like someone who hung around thieves.

Before Tenna could find out if he was even paying attention though, another man approached to give Syn a potion. Or at least, Tenna assumed it was a potion. She supposed it could be anything if disguised well enough. After all, she'd done the potion/poison trick a few times in her life. Still, the man seemed genuinely grateful.

Tenna, however, was once again aggravated. The point of even sitting close to Syn was to avoid others. Now he had someone giving him gifts. The new development, coupled with Syn's previous dismissal of her, pushed her just enough to throw caution to the wind. Using the new person's arrival as a distraction, Tenna's hand quickly shot out, honed by uears of practice, aiming to wrench Syn's journal from his unsuspecting grasp.

[Finland SSR]

Tenna

Tarkin

Syn of Ashar

---

Of course, the girl was mute. Syn figured that out back in the temple, but now she made it fully obvious, and then pulled out her own notebook to point at her name written and introduce herself.

"Tenna. Nice to meet you." Syn repeated the name written and blurted out a laconic response. It wasn't actually nice, but still... "If I'm mispronouncing your name, feel free to not-yell at me until I get it right."

She was not the only person to suddenly show up and interrupt the runesmith when he wanted to focus on his work. The alchemist who tagged along with him back in the temple and whom the Golem saved at least once suddenly came up to Syn, with a potion at hand, offering it and explaining that it works like a permanent lantern.

"Uh..." Syn muttered, blinking a few times, not sure if this was a practical joke. "Thanks." he muttered and accepted the potion, carefully picking it up from Tarkin's hand. For what it's worth, at least it could be useful to give light to his lap during long nights... "My name is Syn, I am-"

Then, he realized that his notebook was no longer in his lap. Frantically looking around from side to side for a second, Syn found it in Tenna's hands. The little thief snatched it from his hands while he wasn't looking! They don't even know each other, what does she want from him?

Syn sighed, held out his hand, and ordered:

"Give it back."

[Tomia]

Quentin Tours the Camp Part 2
After Quentin visited Sael he noticed a patient there that he didn't recognize but he was in purple robes that he did recognize. "You there, you're a Merry Man of the Vine. You were injured in battle? How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling alright." Festus said, though wincing as he pulled the bandage more tightly around his knee.
He shook his head in disbelief. "I've seen a lot of things, but I don't think I've ever seen anything like this. I'd heard of demons as a child, but we all knew they were only a myth. And now they're here." It's just hard to believe. I'm blessed enough to come out alive from this whole scrap, though. The demons attacking the baggage train weren't so lucky." he said, with a surprisingly cheery wink.

"You're not alone friend. I wasn't expecting to be fighting bedtime stories anytime soon. But maybe it shows we should take the stories you bards tell more seriously."

He smiled when the man implied he had killed a number of demons. "Well so you're a fighter as well? I've yet to know a Merry Man who wasn't good in a bar fight. I am Quentin friend, what's your name?"

"It's Festus." the Merry Man said with a grin, extending his hand. "And I didn't think I was, but it turns out that when things get dicey, I've got a bit of a knack for it."

Quentin shook the knight's hand. "Well I'm sure we'll have use for that knack in the future. I'm glad to have you with us. There's another Merry Man here, Dulen. I'm not sure if you've met him before."

"That I have! Talked briefly before this whole thing went down. I'm glad to hear that Benthoral has smiled upon him as well." Festus said, noticeably relieved at the news.
"Care for a drink?" he offered, gesturing towards a barrel of water nearby. "It can be whatever you'd like. I've been helping calm the nerves of the men. I'm sure you could use some respite as well."

Quentin raised an eyebrow at that offer. He knew of the merry men's abilities but hadn't experienced it in person. "Anything you say?" He asked as he picked up a nearby mug. "I could go for some Ashari wine I suppose."

"Of course." Festus said, filling the mug. He furrowed his eyebrows, lost in focus, and then snapped his fingers. The water roiled for a bit, before slowly changing the deep red of Ashari wine. "A pious man, aren't you? It's almost never that easy." he mused, handing the mug over to Quentin. "The gods' favor shines upon you, Quentin."

"I try to be. But I fear it might just be luck in this instance but I appreciate the words Festus." Quentin said as he took wine, its sweet flavor a refreshing change of pace. "Thank you for this. You are right that I needed it. It was good meeting you Festus."

"It's good to meet you as well. I just wonder...what's next after all this?" he mused, looking into the fire. "I heard them in my mind, and I'm sure you did as well. I saw visions of cities burning...not just Dascus, but the Freelands, and even as far as Athela. Perhaps it was a mere trickery of the senses, but..."

"I heard them as well." Quentin said grimly. "For now we head to my fortress. We wont have an army but it'll be a start. From there.... well we'll need to do some learning I imagine and hopefully others will join us."

“Well, you can count me in.” Festus replied, topping off Quentin’s drink and shaking his hand. “Don’t think I can just walk away from here without doing anything about it.”

"I'm glad you feel that way. Never knew a merry man to walk away from a good fight or good drink after all." Quentin said with a chuckle, patting the wounded man on the shoulder. "Well I best leave you to your healing. We shall speak again soon Festus, perhaps over another drink."

---

As Quentin walked he saw a large beastfolk dragging a buck through the camp. The man was... a crocodile, and not a small one. Quentin had never seen such a beast folk before. He approached him, though admittedly a bit more cautiously than he did others.

"Hello there, I am Quentin the one who called for this journey." He called up to the massive beast.

The crocodile-man seemed surprised at the sudden visitor, looking all around to find the source of the voice before eventually seeming to realize that it had come from below him. He peered down at the much shorter man with curious eyes, giving him a toothy grin and a wave with his free arm.

"Hullo there, 'Quentin-the-One-Who-Called-For-This-Journey'. I'm Krook, nice to meet you!" he said cheerfully, his friendly words clashing oddly with his deep, growling baritone of a voice.

Quentin wasn't excepting such a friendly greeting but nodded anyway. "Nice to meet you Krook. I assume you were a mercenary on the expedition before everything went wrong. So what made you decide to come with us?"

Krook pondered the question with a thoughtful scratch of his chin (or whatever the equivalent was for a crocodile) as he flopped down on a nearby stone, seemingly tired of lugging the buck over his shoulder. "Well...actually sir, I hope you do not take offense to this, but I had no plans of joining your Hammer at first." Krook said sheepishly, offering Quentin an apologetic grin. "I do not really care for war. I'm just a Forester, I'm no brave warrior or knight! And I missed my family terribly. I wanted to see them as quickly as possible, and I had prepared to leave by nightfall with the other Tasharans."

"But then I thought to myself, 'What if the demons become too strong, and they reach the Great Swamp?'. Then, both the natural world, and my family would be in danger! I...I couldn't bear to come home to r-ruin one day, knowing I may have helped banish those villains!" he explained, his lip now beginning to quiver slightly as if he was about to burst into tears. "So, I...snuck out of the Tasharan camp, followed the way the wagons had went, and snuck right into this camp! Nobody had even noticed!" he said with a fervent nod, a hint of pride decorating his words despite his still-glum demeanor.

"Well that's thoughtful reasoning Krook. You're right, these demons will effect the whole continent." Quentin said, noticing the crocodile was getting a bit emotional. "Well I'm glad you're here Krook, we can certainly use someone of your...impressive stature."

"...Thank you sir, I'm touched by your compliments." Krook said in a slightly brighter tone. Quentin's reassurances seemed to cheer the hulking Thalari up slightly, giving his eyes a new glow and his tail a stiff wag. "Although, I am not one to use my size in battle. I prefer to use my bow when I can, it's much more accurate. Besides, you're far from unimpressive yourself, you're quite tall for a squishy. A little bit more, and you would be quite the strapping young bachelor!" he said with a wise, almost sagely nod punctuating his praises.

"Well, thank you Krook..." Quentin told him, not sure how he felt about being called a squishy. "I should get going now, and you seem to have a meal to attend to. Have a good night friend."

---

Quentin heard some strange noises as he walked and he realized a soldier he recognized from inside the temple was harshly striking a practice dummy she had set up. "Uh hello, I'm Quentin. I appreciate a warrior's dedication but isn' this a strange time to be practicing one's sword work?"

The woman froze at Quentin's words, letting out a few breaths as she did so. Her pike was still hanging mid-stab as she turned to face Quentin, her head moving around to look at him over her own shoulder, but her body staying locked in its combat stance, pointed away from him.

"Well...Quentin." the woman started, a hint of venom lingering in her voice. "I wield the pike, and the trident, and the shield, but no sword. Is it strange time for those tools as well?"

"My mistake, but yes I would say that is still strange." He said, wondering why it sounded like this woman hated his guts.

"Perhaps it is." the woman admitted, licking her lips to reveal a full set of filed teeth, shaped into points that resembled those of a shark's. "But do you not agree that we have seen even stranger erupt before our eyes, and that we must prepare in the face of such strangeness? After all, how else did you grow to your position of command, if not through training, through discipline?" she asked, as she finally broke her stance, turning her entire body to face Quentin and allowing her pike arm to hang loosely by her side.

Seeing her teeth, Quentin realized he was likely dealing with a beastfolk though he had no idea what kind. "Well if you plan on aiming that pike at demons then I have no complaints. May I ask my lady, where is it you come from?"

"I am of Antora, but my pride does not belong there." she replied curtly. "I belong to Zhoria, the clan of warriors that flock through Eboris' shallow seas, its green waters. It is not uncommon for men to know not of our existence.

"So you live in the sea?" Quentin asked curiously. He had heard of such beastfolk but had never met them. "What brought you on this exhibition then? What interest did the Zhoria have in the temple?"

"Indeed, the sea is my dwelling." the woman said, her tone just as frosty and stiff. "As for what brought me, I prefer not to say, for I myself was not privy to our General's reasons, and to give a reason would be a half-truth at best. Personally, I wished that I was never to leave Zhoria, to stay out of the mainland's games."

"Well whatever the reason, the more warriors we can get the better. But I can assure you, the journey we embark on now is no game. It is a fight for the world itself."

"Aye, which is the reason why I stay within your Hammer. But I know of nations' desires for power, for glory, even in a fight for the world. I will not be swayed by any faction or nation but my own, for I am independent, and without my independence, my...my honor, I have nothing." she said, a slight crack briefly worming its way into the hard flint of her voice. Very briefly.

"Now, will I be permitted to return to my strange actions, or do you require more from me?"

"I can appreciate that. Honor is a person's most important possession after all." When she curtly asked if he needed anything else from When she curtly asked if he needed anything else from her he shook his head. "No I will leave you in peace but before I go I realize I didn't get your name."

An unidentifiable expression crossed her face as Quentin asked the question, as if a vast internal debate was going back and forth in her mind. However, it seemed as if the internal argument was a brief one, as she soon straightened up and looked him directly in the eye for the first time in that conversation.

"My name is Claire Dione, Quentin. I have no doubt that you will become familiar with it soon enough."

Quentin nodded and smiled a bit. "I'm sure I will Claire." He told her before walking off.

---

Through the array of people getting themselves settled Quentin saw a Golaith sitting in front of her tent. She held a knife and seemed to be doing some carving into the hammer that she wielded. I sure have some...interesting people here he thought to himself as he approached her. "Hello there, that is a unique weapon you have there. I am Quentin, what brings you here?" He asked her. He certainly wasn't used to seeing many Goliaths, especially when not facing them on the field of battle.

"Unique is one way to call it." Ylva chuckled as she carefully smoothed out her work. "Smalls here has had quiet the history. He's one of those, weapon of my father and his father before him sort of thing. Still, I'm pretty sure I've got the others beat in demon kills now." She added with a smirk as she blew off a few loose scraps of wood and finally rose to greet Quentin.
"Ylva of the Pathmaykr clan, pleasure to meet you. As to what I'm doing here, I was wandering the land a bit before landing this temple job, now I'm figuring what comes next as I go. What about you? Takes some guts and what I'd hope is a good reason to come out of a fight and tell a bunch of your enemies to nut up and fall in line."

"An ancestral weapon huh? It must be strong to survive all those battles." He told her as she rose to meet him. "Are those demons not a good enough reason? When I was child I was told stories of the Hammer of Eboris. They were heroes but before that they were enemies just like all of us here. I believe my gods are testing me, and I'll be damned if I go to the after life having let these demons take over the world."

Looking at the man before her, Ylva tried to place him. He was small, sure but he seemed honest and driven enough as far as leaders went. "Well, I'm not one to turn away a few extra hands. Being honest, I reckon people tend to hold onto their grudges too much as it. And hey so long as the side I'm on has some interesting drinking buddies and good fights then I won't complain. Still, I hope you know that most people don't exactly share my ideas on this stuff, its not exactly going to be easy getting help, even if these demons are as bad as your stories say."

"You might be right." Quentin agreed grimly. "Many will likely oppose us. But hopefully more will join us, we'll have to fight regardless. But as you say, good company can make even terrible odds seem appealing." He said, giving a smile at that last part. "Speaking of that, there's a few Merry Men around here that probably wouldn't refuse being a drinking buddy if you're interested. In fact, they've probably already gotten started."

"No point standing around here when I can go show them how you're supposed to down a drink." She stated back with a smirk as she picked up her hammer. "I've seen a few different armies now but this one is definitely shaping out to be the strangest so far, definitely helps making it worth sticking around though. Welp, when those odds get terrible and you need a vanguard, give me a shout. TIll then, I'm gonna go humiliate some of your men." She added as she began walking off.

---

As Quentin continued his rounds across the camp, his movement and progress quickly caught the attention of one silver haired knight. Seeing an opportunity as clear as day, Gwen gave up on hassling a small group of guards for their scheduling mistakes and took to chasing down the commander.
"Commander!" She called out as she approached and steadied herself "We um, we met in the temple. I was fighting with the Chosen and I, I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank you for pulling everyone together afterwards. I grew up with stories about the Hammer and being a part of it was always a dream of mine." She added with a surprisingly real sense of honesty to her words.

"Oh, well you're very kind...Gwen." He said, pausing a bit as he just managed to remember her name. She was the competent yet over eager knight who he had fought with in the temple. "I thank you for joining us. We will need every honorable knight we can get in this coming conflict."

Having her eyes go wide at being called a knight by the famous wolf and nearly forgetting the whole reason why she approached him in the first place, gwen let out a small cough to clear her throat and hold back a giddy smile as she pushed on. "That's, that's very kind of you to say sir and I'm thankfull to hear it, but speaking of the coming conflict, I wanted to know how you were planning on putting some more, structure into this organisation. It's nothing too important at the moment I'm sure, but there are a number of logistical and personel issues that I've seen around the camp. Materials are being lost and misused, inventories and troop counts are being done to different standards or just flat out incorrectly, not to mention the rotation of guards and lookouts is subpar at the best times. Not that I'm meaning any disrespect of course! Its just with all the casualties the standard chain of commands are in dissaray and with so many groups undermanned, it becomes difficult to ensure tasks are done properly. Now I've been doing what I can to keep things running as they are but I figure that if I had some sort of authoritative rank behind me, then maybe I could start implementing a few ideas to try and streamline everything a bit and sort out these issues early. "

Quentin was a bit taken a back by Gwen's enthusiastic response. She was speaking quickly and very much as a stream of consciousness. She was clearly ambitious and zealous. Quentin appreciated that but decided he needed to find a way to gently calm her down for now. 'You're not wrong, our retreat from that place was sloppy at best but unfortunately that was the best we could hope for. Right now we need to focus on getting to my fortress alive. As for the infrastructure of our organization... That will have to be a conversation for when we are safe behind walls and can begin to grow. I appreciate your interest Gwen and I'm sure we will find a role for you suitable to your skills."

While Gwen was a little disappointed by the commander's response, he also didn't technically say no. "I look forward to it Sir, and all things considered I think it's fair to call the last fight a victory. I mean, we had some losses but the portal was still closed in the end."

"We lost a lot of people." Quentin said grimly. "I lost most of my men. It's difficult to see that as victory. But you're right I suppose. It certainly could have ended worse. Now we must avenge those we lost and assure it wasn't for nothing."

"ahem Yes, tragic, definitely tragic but we'll make sure it counts. Now then, I'd hate to take up any more of your time and there's a certain dwarf I need to talk to about a supply list. So until next time, best of luck with your rounds sir. You know where to find me if you ever need something taken care of!" Gwen added trying to match Quentin's tone. Then after a quick bow and salute, turned away to track down another victim.

---

Quentin waded through a few camps until he noticed a woman sitting at the base of a tree on the edges of the camp. It was an elven woman, Quentin didn't recognize her but she certainly didn't seem Athelaian. He decided he would investigate though.

"Hello, I'm Quentin. What are you doing sitting out here by yourself?"

Tenna raised her head towards the source of the voice to discover the person who had recreated the Hammer. She tilted her head to the side, confused as to why he had shown up here. Did he wasn't something from her? No, that didn't seem right. They definitely had not met prior to the expedition either.

So, that left two options. One, he was looking around the area. Two, he sought her out to talk. The latter would prove difficult, but it would be suspicious to avoid him. So, she simply tried to get him to get bored of conversing.

The first thing she did was raise a hand to a pale, large scar on her throat. Then, slowly, she tapped her lips and shook her head. If he didn't get the message there, he was on his own. She followed this by pointing to the treetops above, then scanned the camp with her eyes covered by her palms. It was a simple explanation, so hopefully he would take it.

Quentin's eyebrows scrunched as he watched her motions. The first part was quite clear. Some kind of injury had left her unable to speak, it didn't seem fresh. The second part required a bit more guessing on his part.

"So you are keeping watch? Is that it?"

Tenna sighed in relief and nodded. He was quick so far.

"Alright... Well it seems you can't tell me your name, but at least we're getting somewhere. Anyway, I'm the leader of... well whatever this currently is. So I wanted to introduce myself."

Tenna paused for a moment. With a small gesture, she signed something that she had seen even non-thieves know. A simple "my name is". Then, holding up one finger, she hoped he would wait as she dug through her bag. Pulling out a small quill and a notepad that had seen better days, she messily wrote one word.

Tenna.

Quentin leaned down to read the scribbled note, seeing what he made out as "Tenna" or "Tema".

"Tenna is it?" He said not entirely sure. "Those handmotions you did. That's. Thieves...whatever right? Does that make you a member of the Street Crawlers?"

Tenna shook her head vigorously. It was too early for someone to know, and though it was thieves cant she hoped that he would believe her. She once again motioned to her scar, then tapped her mouth. Would a mute not need to communicate?

Quentin eyed her a little skeptically but ultimately nodded. "That makes sense I suppose. Being mute means you don't really have a chose I suppose. I apologize for the assumption. It's just I've seen that type of speaking before in Ashar. In fact there's a dwarf here who taught me a bit of it. Though I don't remember any of it really."

The elf was not amused when Quentin informed her of her lack of knowledge. A dwarf apparently knew in the camp, but that didn't help her here. Writing below her name, she did her best to end the conversation.

I'm done looking around. Going to go rest now.

Quentin nodded, looking a bit puzzled as he watched the elf walk away.
What a strange woman...

---

Aymeri had time to rest at camp and took some time to think about what had just happened. He wasn’t sure exactly what all of this meant but he knew it was bad. Aymeri had only ever heard of demon spoken in children’s stories. He could never imagine them being in front of him. He also thought about his family and the home he had left behind. He had never thought this would turn into the disaster it has if he knew he’d have to go through this much he would have asked for a larger payment. “Maybe his daughter’s hand in marriage?” Aymeri chuckled a bit.

Eventually, Aymeri stood up and decided to walk around the camp. He walked around a bit to clear his head and to feed Aquarius. The horse had worked hard today and deserved something nice. As he sat beside his horse, eating the snacks Aymeri had brought he spotted Quentin and got up to speak with him.

Aymeri waited until Quentin seemed to be unoccupied and approached him.

“Hello? Sir Quentin.” Aymeri paused a bit before speaking again.
“I wish to join you on this journey but I must return home to handle unfinished business in Halsha and warn them of what is to come. I have some questions for the man that sent me here. He may have known more than he let on.”

Quentin turned as he was approached while walking through the camp. It was a young man he didn't recognize.

"Hello there, you say you wish to leave? Well I understand the desire to warn Daacus of what is coming, but who is this man who sent you? And what is your name?"

Aymeri was glad to finally get his chance to speak with Quentin. He had seemed to take led and Aymeri was glad he could get some advice.

"Well my name is Aymeri. I'm just a courier who got tied up into all of this." Aymeri spoke humbly. "This man's name is Mr. Ashbrook. A high end merchant from Halsha. He deals with a lot of luxury items and he sent me here to retrieve pieces of value from the Temple." Aymeri was a bit worried he didn't want to disclose too much about his client but considering the circumstances he'd have to break this rule.

"I see," Quentin said pensively. "This seems risky Aymeri. Whatever these demon creatures are, we have reason to believe they are out and who knows how many of them. Can't you send a letter once we arrive at the fortress or a courier? Besides I'm sure those Dascian nobles that survived will tell their kind what happened or at least some version of it."

"Yea you might be right… it's just weird that I ended up in this situation." Aymeri understood his answer but he was still worried mostly about her. "When we get to the fortress I'll write a to her I guess…" Aymeri rubbed his neck, he needed to get a little sleep. As he thought about resting he remembered the dreams he had constantly. "Hey Quentin do you know any mages here or at the fortress that could help me out with a sleeping issue… I keep having this strange dreams and they're really messing up my sleep cycle."

"Strange dreams? What kind of dreams?" Quentin asked, wondering for a moment if the man before him might be a future keeper of the glass. "I have some mages under my command yes, and there are a few here as well. Tell me more about these dreams first."

Aymeri thought for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well… I keep having these dreams that I'm being crushed. I don't know some immeasurable force is just crushing me. I feel powerless against it."

Aymeri thought for a moment and decide to tell him anyway.

"It also happened today when I was taking my arrow from the demon. I don't know why but for a second I felt the same way a just a glimpse caught my eye."

Quentin rubbed his chin in thought, "Curious... I can't say I have any answers. I would speak to the Keeper, Yasema. She is a bit strange but if anyone knows anything about dreams it's a Keeper of the Glass."

I guess I'll ask her then and she what she can tell me. Thanks a lot… this is all new for me so I'm a little lost but I hope to help and prove myself worthy."

Quentin nodded and through a hand on Aymeri's shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. "This is new to us all friend. Your effort and your loyalty is all I ask." Quentin told him before heading off on his way and letting Aymeri search out the Keeper of the Glass.

---

Quentin approached a young human man who was sitting at a fire. He seemed nervous, even for this crowd that had just been surrounded by demons. "Hello there, I wanted to thank you for joining up with us. What's your name? Where are you from? I like to know a bit about the soldiers under my command."

"Hi, my name's Tarkin. I'm from Dascus. I guess I should probably tell you a little about myself. I'm a self taught alchemist, except I learned some from a book that I thought came from this temple. That's why I joined this expedition. And this big scar came from a dragon that burned down my village. Then I joined a group of wanderers, found that book, and came to get more."

"Well Tarkin, it's good to have an alchemist among our ranks. Though I'll admit your reasons for being at the temple are unique. You say you were after a book? I can't imagine wanting to risk all that for a simple book."

"Erm, well, I didn't know about, y'know, the demons and all that when I came. And I wasn't after a book, I already have the book. I thought that this would be some kind of alchemy temple or something. If I'd known about the demons, I would've gambled all my money away, run as far as I could, and get drunk. Demons are kind of a big deal."

Quentin chuckled at that. "Yes, they are a big deal. Still can't fully believe it myself. Well, you're here now Tarkin, so welcome to the Hammer of Eboris."

Brialya
Brialya turned to Ivaran, not interested in letting the beastfolk into their discussion further. "Well Guardian we will speak again I'm certain. For now I shall leave you in peace." With that she left Ivaran's tent area and as she walked to her own tent she noticed a familiar beast-folk sitting in front of a tent with what looked like a large wolf. It was the healer who had helped her during the temple. She decided to approach him and stopped in front of where he was sitting.

"Hello there, it seems we're in need of proper introductions. I'm Brialya. I wanted to thank you for your help back there. You didn't have to trust me but you did, and I appreciate that." She said, eyeing the wolf a little curiously as she spoke.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Chrysanthea Blackwood

---

Underneath the helmet, Chryssa was grinning. Far from interrupting the dwarf's conversation and making a bad first impression, Dulen seemed pleased with her words. Laughing along with him, she sat down as he asked before listening to his question. She hadn't paid much attention before, focused as she was on the demons, but now that she recalled, when she jumped in to slice off that creature's leg, she had seen a dwarf, likely Dulen himself, and a few others standing nearby. She supposed that meant she had made a great first impression, but for some reason, it only made her feel more self conscious.

"Yes, I was the one who did it. I wouldn't say I sliced it open however, I merely crippled it so that another would deal the final blow." She stated softly. She had never been one to bask in the glory of her deeds or openly flaunt them, and this was no exception. "But I appreciate the compliment, master Varcan. Your words are no less kind than my own." She continued, smiling softly, though of course he would not be able to see it.

"May I ask, what brought a writer of renown such as you all the way out here to an expedition like this?" She asked the merry dwarf. "I realize none of you knew that the demons would return to our world, but even so, a temple in the middle of nowhere seems like an odd place to be."

---

Saelaam of Trelia

---

After the knight in black had departed from their little silent group, Saelaam found himself alone with the wolf from before, who did not seem to be too interested in conversation, resting as she was after feasting out in the woods near the stream. So instead of conversing, the young crow simply resumed his meal, finishing the stew one of his fellow priests had made earlier and placing the bowl and spoon on the log before looking towards the fire. It was clear the people gathered closer to it were having a good time in spite of the nightmare that they had all lived just a few hours earlier, with their laughter and their songs drowning out the horror and the sorrow and loss of their desperate battle against the demons.

The Chosen smiled softly at this, but a voice suddenly called his attention elsewhere, and he turned to see the elf woman he had met inside the temple during the crisis, albeit in a much different attire. She wore not the intimidating golden armor of the Athelaian Guardians, but a simple, unassuming and much friendlier looking blue robe, and what appeared to be a set of form-fitting leather armor underneath. More on instinct than consciously, Saelaam's wings moved to better cover his bare chest and his wounded arm as he listened to Brialya's words.

"You have nothing to thank me for, Brialya. I only did what my conscience dictated." The priest told the elf. "I'll admit, even though I helped you in the temple, I had my doubts as to whether I should fully trust you. But I see now that my suspicions were unfounded." He added with a smile.

"My name is Saelaam. You can call me Sael if you want, it's what most people do. It makes no difference to me." He said, before making a small gesture towards the log where he sat with one wing. "Feel free to sit down if you want. I'm sure she won't mind." He concluded, stealing a glance at the wolf, who didn't seem to pay any mind to the ongoing conversation.

[Segral]

Krook Tolasthes

"And I will aid you in the pursuit of your dream!" Krook said with a valiant air upon hearing Werakoya's words, getting to his feet with an uneasy totter. This whittling business was clearly not suited for his strengths. He certainly held talents in the musical arts, the melodies that he had been puffing through the flute were simply lovely, sweet to the ear with a woody tone. Unfortunately, he held no talents in the art of craft, and if he was to be honest, his proficiency at the art of hunt was far superior. There were many arts in which he possessed talent. Archery, hunting, swimming, natural potioneering, and Tyr'el mate-singing, among others of course. He had already found a mate, so there was no need for that art, and he doubted his talent in the art of potioneering would be useful. Hunting and archery would not help much either, which left one art. Swimming. Perhaps there was some nice, water-side greens or herbs that he could collect by swimming. Surely there was a river, or at least a stream, even a pond. Granted, he could always pluck the greens from the land, without having to make his body wet, but if he did that, there would be no art!

He had been so busy considering how best to utilize his arts that he had forgotten to follow Werakoya as she strode off, her formidable stature growing smaller and smaller in Krook's field of vision. "W-wait, Werakoya! Slow down!" he cried in her direction, setting off on all fours towards his companion. It was much faster than using his hindlegs, which wasn't very quick to begin with. Another art he did not possess talent for: the art of sprint, the art of running. He could not swing like the Kong'el, or hop like the Cro'el, but he could crawl very fast on his legs, and that made him gifted in the art of crawling. Perhaps that was an art that he could contribute to this search! Perhaps he could convince Werakoya to allow him to utilize his talents in the art of hunting as well. Herbs and greens were nice, and they tasted good, but for big creatures of her and Krook's size, it was never enough. They needed meat! He knew that she enjoyed buck, perhaps she would enjoy a sweet elk, or a fat rabbit? Maybe later, it would be rude to disrespect her quest so soon. Perhaps if they completed her quest, they could start a new quest, for an even better meal.

"So, where shall we go?" Krook said eagerly, finally having covered enough distance to fall into step beside Werakoya. "There are many forests and bushy bracken around here, many things grow around these parts."

[Tomia]

Dulen
"Well, I don't get much inspiration for books sitting around in my vineyard so occasionally I come along for things like this. You know, anytime something feels important or it might make for a good story. Magical artifacts sounded interesting so I tagged along. Ended up being a little too interesting for my taste." He said with a grim chuckle. "If I'm being honest if I knew what was going to happen I'd probably be back at my vineyard right now. But I'm here now, so I might as well make the most of it."

"What about you knight? You've certainly got a mysterious aura around you, with the closed visor and all. What's your story? How did you come to that temple at a very convenient time?" He asked her sipping on the beer Ella had offered to him.

Brialya
Brialya smiled and returned Sael's smile. She sat down next to him as offered. "Alright then Sael." She said giving another glance at the wolf nearby. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what made you decide to become a healer? I haven't met many beastfolk who were chosen after all. Most I've met feel that fighting is the best way to gain honor and reputation." She said to him. She noticed his wings curling up around his chest. She seemed to notice for the first time that he wasn't currently wearing a shirt. She grinned a little as she found herself blushing ever so slightly.

"By the way, do you always sit around shirtless? Not that I mind of course." She said playfully with a smile.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Chrysanthea Blackwood

---

Chryssa listened to Dulen explain his motives for joining the expedition, nodding along as the dwarf spoke. Everything he said made plenty of sense - of course, it was obvious that in order to write stories as fascinating and well-thought-out stories, such as the Tale of the Magi and the Dragon Killer Chronicle, he would have needed to see plenty of adventures of himself, real life stories of romance and great deeds to inspire the stories of great deeds and romance in his books. Quite frankly, it embarrassed her slightly to not have realize this before, but she supposed that was just another on top of the many reasons she was not a world famous artists like the ones under her father's patronage.

The knight in black frowned underneath the helmet as Dulen mentioned that he had gotten far more than he had bargained for by signing onto the expedition, and that although he couldn't turn his back on the situation now, he would much prefer to be elsewhere. While she didn't presently share the sentiment, as she had freely chosen to accompany the Keeper of the Glass to the temple while knowing what she would find there, she still sympathized with the dwarf. There had been many times in her life when she had wished she could be anywhere else.

"My story?" She repeated the author's question, an then glanced in Yasema's direction, noticing that she had been joined by a fellow goliath woman. "My arrival had very little to do with my own initiative, to tell the truth. I have no love for the artifact hunt that has been kindling the fires of war as of late. But one day, she found me. The Keeper, Yasema is her name. She told me of what was to come and that I would be needed to stop what was coming. How could I have ignored something like that? Fate is not easily defied, and Sualdir's will has touched my life in the past already. So when I heard about the demons, about the coming war, I could not refuse the call."

After a moment's pause, Chryssa reached up and removed her helmet, revealing her face and her fiery red hair, which currently flowed freely. "As for my mysterious visage, I must apologize. When you travel alone for a long time, you tend to forget some details of social interaction, like showing your face." She said with an apologetic smile.

---

Saelaam of Trelia

---

The young priest smiled as Brialya took him up on his offer and sat down next to him, on the spot where Chrysanthea had been before running off to meet her idol. He listened to her question, mildly surprised that she had gone and asked something like that right at the start of the conversation. It wasn't that the question was too personal, or that it involved anything he preferred not to talk about, and it certainly made sense to want to know more about someone's allies, but, at least for him, the answer was a little loaded. Still, he had no reason to shy away from talking about his past and began formulating an answer in his mind, only to find himself taken off guard by the elf woman's playful comment.

"Oh... no, not at all." He replied sheepishly, his wings clinging more tightly to his body as if to hide it. The situation was somewhat embarrassing, but he found Brialya's grin oddly reassuring. "Only on days I have to fight demons to save the world." He quipped afterwards.

"Anyways, you asked why I am a Chosen, yes? I'll try not to bore you with my life story. I suppose the first thing to say is that I was never born to be a warrior like other Thalari. Not like the wolf maiden here, or the crocodile man over there." He nodded in Krook's direction. "Do you know anything about Hercynia? It's renowned for its ruthless warriors, but not every flying tribe that exists there is equally well-suited to combat. The crow tribe, in which I was born, instead consisted of schemers and conspirators, and they tried to raise me to become like them." He explained.

"I hated every minute of it, and I ran away when I was thirteen. But while crossing Tashar I was spotted and nearly killed by a group of soldiers." He related grimly. "I don't blame them, they have every reason to hate my people. I should've died back then, but I was saved by the kindness of a Chosen and the grace of Oadot. And I realized I had a choice, I didn't have to be what I was born to be or what other people wanted m to become."

Saelaam chuckled briefly at his own choice of words before continuing. "I had a choice... so I became a Chosen. A decision I've not regretted to this day." He stated proudly. "What about you? What led a Freelander to become a spy and join the Athelaian expedition?"

[Tomia]

Dulen
"Ah, a noble knight drawn into battle by the whims of destiny huh? Well that's certainly the premise for an interesting tale. Those Keepers are... well their purpose is noble I suppose. You just can never be too trusting of them, they always know something you don't after all." He then let out a soft whistle when Chryssa removed her helmet. "A shame to hide such a pretty face my lady. But I know what you mean about being on the road. That's why I always prefer to travel with company, being alone with your thoughts too long is a good way to find madness."

"You know, funny enough I actually know the guy running this thing? Met him back in Ashar, we got into a....disagreement we can say with some members of the Street Crawlers. It was an experience that's for sure. I thought about writing a book about it but you know, only so much time in the day."

Brialya
"Well given that it seems like we'll be fighting demons pretty often I guess this will be regular attire for you." She quipped back before listening to his tale about him joining the Chosen.

"I can sympathize with being raised for something that doesn't suit you. You certainly don't look like much a plotter to me."

He then asked her about her own past and who she came to be undercover with the Athelaians. She hesitated for a moment, unsure how much she should share. He seemed trustworthy enough but you could never be certain. Still, she could wipe his memory if it turned out to be a mistake. So she decided it wasn't that big of a risk.

"Have you ever heard of Faenar's Faithful, Chosen? If you have, my purpose is likely clear enough to you. If not.. Well we fight injustice and that's what I was doing here. I was following a lead, I suppose I am still following it." She waited to see what his reaction was, few people took kindly to her once she revealed her true identity but she could help but find herself hoping for a different result in this case.

A Few Days Later on the Road to the Wolf's Den
It was a long journey to Quentin's fortress but after three days on the road they were finally close to their destination. Quentin had been worried that they would be attacked on the road, given their small band but so far they had escaped confrontation. That was until Quentin heard the blowing of a sinister sounding horn. Quentin turned anxiously, trying to search out the source of the horn.

"Be Ready!!" He shouted to the few dozens people traveling behind him. Just then dozens of... Quentin didn't know what they were but they were charging forward towards their traveling group. There were at least a hundred of them, all armed heavily and many of them were traveling on strange magma like horses.

Quentin's horse bucked in fear at the sudden appearance of these terrifying creatures. "Easy girl!" He shouted, trying not to get thrown from the horse.

"Stay together, form a tight formation, two lines!" He shouted to his tiny army before rolling off of his horse before he was tossed off.

He drew his sword and stood ready to face the charging demons. They were badly outnumbered and he was doubtful that they would be able to come out of this alive.

If I am to die it will be with sword in hand. He thought to himself as an armored demon charged forward at him. He thrust his sword forward connecting it with the neck of a demon which made sicken gargling sound as this magma like liquid poured out of its throat. There were half a dozen more where that one came from however and they were now all surrounding Quentin. He tighten his grip on his sword and a grim look came upon his face.

"I am not afraid of you Demons! Shotarr is with me!" He shouted as they charged him.

[Absolon-7]

Ambush!

Rudolph Thorbecke

---

Rudolph was riding along on his own horse as the small band traveled at their own pace. He had sent his crow out sometime ago to scout ahead but the blister of a bird hadn't come back yet. No doubt distracted by some carrion he happened to find. Preoccupied with being distracted with his animal companion Rudolph was rudely startled by the bellowing of the horn signaling the onslaught of demonic cavalry. As soon as Quentin gave an order he was separated from the group and surrounded by the demons. Rudolph reigned in his frightened horse before he unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards the air for attention to fall to him.

"Everyone with a spear or polearm surround the formation! Cavalary is allergic to them after all!" he shouted before he galloped off towards Quentin and stood up on his stirrups to get a wider shot a demon before he decapitated it. The sudden death ruined their charge and made the demons suddenly break off their charge and keep some distance. He circled around the five remaining demon cavalry swinging his sword at them to make them back away slightly before going back to Quentin. "Get on we need to get you back on your horse!"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Chrysanthea Blackwood

---

Though it was not surprising to hear the famed author speak in terms of stories, the comment still dredged up unpleasant memories in the red haired knight's mind. A noble knight drawn into battle by the whims of destiny... She echoed within her mind, the words ringing truer than the dwarf might have suspected, though of course, she kept that to herself. Even though she admired Dulen and greatly enjoyed his works in the past, she didn't feel like she knew him well enough to trust him with the whole story of her past. She had nothing to hide, of course, but... she didn't want to dig up and convey those painful memories for just anyone.

Her mood quickly changed when she noted the dwarf's reaction to seeing her face for the first time. It was always pleasant to hear a compliment like that - she often didn't care to hear men remark on her looks, especially the sort of men she tended to meet while on the road, but Dulen was polite and his words carried none of the overtones she usually received from merchants, mercenaries and the like.

As the dwarf mentioned that he personally knew the Knight Commander, Chryssa found her interest piqued, and she listened attentively to the story of their fight in Ashar. "I did not think anyone here knew him from before... all of this." She said. "Well, except for his... remaining subordinate, I suppose." She added afterwards. "What do you make of him? What kind of person is he? Is he like other Knights of Shotarr, more focused in personal glory than duty?"

---

Saelaam of Trelia

---

Sael smiled and nodded at Brialya as she expressed her sympathy with his story. He certainly didn't feel like much of a plotter, though then, he'd never had the intention to find out how good he might be at it, so he couldn't say for sure. Nonetheless, the young crow appreciated the comment and listened as the elf woman accepted to share her story after a somewhat lengthy pause that made him wonder if he was wrong to ask.

The story that was told quickly confirmed that asking had not been a good idea, and rather than smiling or perhaps frowning in sympathy, the Chosen pursed his lips, his expression hardening. Indeed, he had heard of Faenar's Faithful in the past - every member of one of the eleven holy orders that served the Pantheon tended to know of the other ten, at least in passing - but what he had heard was almost never positive.

"I... I've heard of them, yes." The Chosen spoke after a few seconds. He wasn't pleased to hear she was from that group, but at the same time... she didn't seem like a bad person, and he certainly didn't want to drive her off because of a prejudice based on nothing but hearsay. "I've had to treat a few of their victims, on occasion. They had nothing good to say about you and your battle against injustice, but... I suppose they wouldn't say anything positive about the people who attacked them regardless." He spoke, before pausing a few more seconds, trying to think of what to say next.

"Perhaps I might not agree with your methods, but... I think fighting against injustice and reckless ambition is a noble purpose at least."

---

Chrysanthea Blackwood, Neferis Lahari & Saelaam of Trelia - Three Days Later

---

After three long days of marching, it seemed that respite and some semblance of safety were just around the corner. But those hopes were dashed as a chorus of thundering hooves began echoing through the forest and the road that ran through it, followed by the sound of an eerie, unnatural horn that did not seem at all like the ones used by mortal armies. Before long, forty fell horses and sixty warriors with magma skin.

Upon realizing that a battle was now upon them, Saelaam immediately reacted, turning to look at the other Chosen who were trailing behind the rest of the army, alongside the wounded and the few other non-combatants around. Many were clearly frightened, but he didn't seem to react in the same way - after what had happened three days ago he knew he couldn't afford to show fear or weakness, and above all, he knew that he had to take charge and organize the others so that they knew what to do an expect. With that in mind, he cleared his throat.

"Listen up, everyone! The soldiers will protect us, but there aren't too many of them and we have to be ready to protect ourselves if any enemies get past them." He spoke loudly, catching the attention of his fellow Chosen. "Remember, faith is not just your shield, it is a deadly weapon against these fiends, so don't be afraid to use it to protect yourselves and each other." He pointed out, before beating his wings and rising into the air to better observe the battle and see where he might be able to help. He trusted the Chosen to protect each other from any stray demons, but after what he had been through, he knew he couldn't just stay in the back and wait until the battle was over.

Meanwhile, at the front of the army, Chryssa and Neferis had been walking alongside the knights' horses, with the latter in her wolf form, when they heard the horn and saw the demonic cavalry emerge from the horizon and charge at them from afar. Quentin was quick to give out orders, but the ragtag army was not yet used to working together and had little time to react to the threat as the demons closed in.

Seeing Quentin quickly get surrounded by demons, the fiery haired knight scowled underneath her helmet and turned to Neferis. "It won't do to lose our commander this early in the fight. Let's go!" She spoke before rushing towards him, with the she-wolf following suit after a growl.

When they reached his side, another knight was already helping the follower of Shotarr, but they were still outnumbered and facing off against five demon warriors, with more on the way. While Neferis leaped towards a fell horse's neck and tore it off, letting loose a stream of magma-like blood and causing the creature to collapse, pinning down its rider, Chrysanthea threw a few of her daggers at another demon rider, killing him.

[Segral]

Claire Dione

The past three days had provided ample time to reflect, not just within the clear, rippling waters of the river, but within the murky, choppy waters of her own mind, waves of thought turning and crashing and lapping on shore until the rock was worn to sand, and the sand worn to silt, and the silt was worn to nothing at all. Eventually, there would come an hour when every cliff and bluff had been weathered into the rocky sea, and her woes would still be unanswered, clouds crying with rain into the foamy brine. She had hoped that swimming alone in the river, being within the presence of her foremost home, would have brought her inner peace, but her waters would not calm, and she did not know why. This was a noble cause; she was fighting for her honor, and for the safety of her people. If demons were to overrun Eboris, to threaten not just the land, but the skies, and the seas too, how could her will bear the shame of having not lifted her pike, having returned to Zhoria to twiddle her thumbs and round up loose bandits? They insulted and belittled her for her decision, yet they stood idly by, returning to the comfort of the seas. Zhorian code be damned, if they cared so much about their damn code, then why did they not obey its 2nd Ruling, the dictation that all women of Zhoria were warriors first, and cowards only to death? What shame did she deserve? Shame for following ancient command? Shame for perseverance? What was it that left her uneasy, left her thoughts in turmoil?

Perhaps it was the pain in her legs. For the past days, she had taken to the waters, allowing her flesh to grow back into his natural, untainted form. The searing had been unbearable, a thousand more curses than the initial tearing. It left her slow and clumsy in the light-footed waters, their push being the only force that kept her alongside her mud-footed allies and their hooved steeds. There were other pains across her body; her slowly-healing wounds of the limb and the forehead, her torn spines, her shredded tassels, but this was the greatest of all, the sore that held her back and pushed her far behind. For two days, she had kicked and flung and straddled forward on the currents, only to reach camp a pair of hours too late. Third morning had given her cause to rejoice though; her legs had turned to tail, and she was once again flying with poised grace, 15 strokes by the time the sun had dipped one. The ache had faltered to a dull throb, and even that threatened to flee ever further. Oh, the joy! To run or to fly was truly inferior, A clumsy, long-limbed, lanky sport. To be one of the waters was to be a supple, sly figure, one who darted on idling current and waving tide.

The river had pulled her through peaks and valleys, bush and plain, straight and curve, near her battalion, and far from it. At times, she had been flying astride, and at others, she was far from their prying eyes, and they away from hers. She was coming from one of these far-from-pry areas, following the river as it bent back towards the main hoof-ridden path. It was a forest of great beauty, but not great lustre: the trees had thinned, the leaves did not blanket the skies, and every object had grown scragglier, thinner, ravaged with hunger. Still, it was beautiful. Sun fell in dewy shafts through the leaves, birds sung in angular, nervous chorale, and the river ebbed, and the river flowed, vast bulk moving in steady march.

However, unrest seemed to make the air misty, thick, and humid. The birds began to choke on their notes and fly away. An eerie wind gusted through the tree tops, a dry death rattle echoing as the branches bowed and the leaves rustled. She could hear a low rumble in the distance, deep and grumbly, like that of the crocodile-archer who dragged his hunt every day through the center of night's camp. A rumble such as that one was never a sign of good fortune, of Merry Men with pomp in their step and drink in their hand and cheer in their voice. No, she had heard this sound before...it was the sound of war, of the sound of clattering horses, the sound of growling knights, the sounds of death, fear, and sheerest, most utmost of terror. Danger was coming, and if she did not move with speed, she would only move to find the bodies of her slain allies. She did not hold love or even affinity for these women and men, especially for any Athelaian scum that had leeched their blackened mouths onto this attempt at a noble vessel, but she owed a debt, a debt of honor, and their deaths wouldn't forgive that debt.

So, she flew, she flew as fast as her bony armor and malformed tail would allow. The trees began to lose their green and the soil began lose its brown, but she still pushed on, feeling the river carry her body into a perfect, seamless glide, not a flick out of place. A second-long loss of winds, a slight slip, a twitch against the rocks, it could all kill five men. Curses! Why had she chosen to glide alone! What foolishness had consumed her?!

---

Krook Tolasthes

Oh, heavens! What in tarnation was happening now?! Not too long ago, things had been peaceful, quiet, Krook had been happily plodding behind the small procession, using all fours so that he could keep up with the squishies. They were fragile little beings, but they were fleet-footed and moved quickly, especially upon their horses! Krook had never tried to mount a horse before, but he strongly suspected that their skinny little backs would break under the force of the weight, so he instead resigned himself to moving across the land, easily keeping pace with their hooves with the help of his trunk-like limbs and wide, leaping step.

But now, something had descended upon the distant horizon, and what could it possible be? All he could see was...more horsemen? And foot soldiers behind them? Heading straight towards them? There were so many, maybe one hundred of them, and they all looked the same; black, rocky skin, with deep, red fires flowing from the cracks in their bodies. Even their horses looked that way, their eyes glowing like lanterns. Demons, demons! The same evil creatures that had attacked at the temple, the one he had wrestled to the ground, it had looked just like this...army? How had those creatures grown in numbers so quickly? They must breed faster than wrens and mice!

The procession abruptly stopped, causing Krook to stumble and nearly crush the soldiers in front of him underfoot. A voice he recognized as 'Quentin-the-One-Who-Called-For-This-Journey' called out from ahead to form two lines, but before he could help form the first, he was bucked right off his steed, and surrounded by demons! For a brief time, Krook's heart jumped, afraid that the kind commander would be slain in front of his eyes. Fortunately, his companions came to Quentin-the-One-Who-Called-For-This-Journey's rescue, stabbing and driving and slashing the demons back. But still, there was so many, and if he did not something to aid his friends, his companions, surely Krook and the survivors would be digging their graves.

He could not dig another grave.

Gritting his teeth, Krook dropped to one knee, reaching behind his back with a single arm to find the reliable, friendly shaft of his bow. Its silver was cool, a cool, cold metal to hold back all of this hot fire. Usually, he would have been careful with his movements, carefully pulling the deerhide loop buckles and bow tube apart and nocking slowly, but he did not have that time. He tore the buckles apart with his claws, and shredded the tube open as he pulled to his front, pulling it off and casting it off to the ground as quickly as he could. It was not desirable to throw away such useful products of the hunt, the tokens of an animal's life, but it was necessary. Besides, he had used the hide well, hadn't he? The tube had saved his bow from many days of mist, and the buckles had stayed for weeks. He had held his end of the bargain well, and surely Nature would respect it.

The bow was of supple yew, plated with precious silver and jewels that Father had acquired from the Bank of Ashar, or so he said. It was quite beautiful, glimmering and shining and catching the light in so many pretty ways, but this was not the time to admire its beauty, this was the time to, well, shoot! With trained grace, he held the bow in one steady hand, using the claw-tips of his other hand to pluck an arrow from the full quiver at his belt, careful not to damage the heron feathers that adorned the shaft. In the blink of an eye, the arrow was nocked tight and drawn back, and Krook was standing tall, his bow peeking over the head of nearly every man and woman there. The group of demons that had circled Quentin-the-One-Who-Had-Called-For-This-Journey had been reduced to just three creatures, but each of those three creatures was hopping mad, smoke brewing from their eyes as their horses galloped...and...rocked...oh.

Were the horses evil too?

They looked to be of the same origin as the demons, so perhaps they were demons as well. But...what if they were possessed, or corrupted by their demons, and they were originally wild horses? Then it would be sacrilege to slay them and leave their bodies to rot on this plain! What if they weren't corrupted, and they were just a breed of horse that Krook had never seen before?! What if...what if there were no horses at all, and this was a trick they were playing on him? What should he do? Where should he aim?

Eyes widening in panic, Krook's aim shifted around indecisively for what felt like ages, as if trying to come to a decision on where to shoot. Eventually, whether out of complete accident or an intentional move, he let his finger twitch and slip, the arrow flying out of its resting place and flying gracefully through the air, grazing the tall wolf-woman's ear and eventually coming to a full stop as it embedded itself in one of the horse's knees. The horse crumpled and pitched to the side, throwing the rider headlong off of the horse and eventually crushing him right underneath its weight as the steed rolled onto its side. However, Krook showed no joy at the sight of his lucky shot, instead wincing slightly as the arrow scratched the wolf-lady's ear.

"Er...APOLOGIES!" Krook bellowed sheepishly from the back of the formation, giving the woman an embarrassed grin as he scratched the back of his head.

[Theyra]

Ivaran Miaris

Ivaran was walking with the others that were being the horses. So far they had encountered any threats while on the road to Quentin's fortress. Which seemed like a blessing at this point but, still no sign of demons outside of the temple. If demons are about then where they are? Ivaran thought and wondered how hard it would be to slip away from the fortress when it was clear that there are no demons. Hopefully not too hard though he did say he would help Brialya with the cult. Leaving will complicate that but, perhaps he could work something out with her. If she doesn't tell Quentin or someone about him leaving the Hammer. Ivaran guessed he will cross that bridge when he gets there and besides he can plan better about leaving when they get to the fortress.

After closing that thought did Ivaran hear the sound of the demonic horn and instinctively got into an attack stance. Then hear Quentin gave the order to be ready. Guess there does going to Quentin's fortress unhindered. Ivaran thought as he got into formation. Taking position in the first line of the formation thought it was unorganized and prepared himself for when the line of charging demon cavalry reached them. So demons have demonic horses and cavalry, that is unexpected. He thought as the demons got closer and saw how many there were. More then what they had but, this did not deter Ivaran. He is a soldier and a Warrior of Light, he would not waver. Not now and not against the demons.

Ivaran watched as Quentin was forced to roll off his horse and being surrounded by five demon horsemen. The battle has just started and his commander was already in danger. As he was about to assist Quentin, Ivaran saw others rushed to Quentin's aid. Taking down three of the demons and with the two left. Ivaran felt the urge to help, so he moved towards the last two demons. Getting in range to one and it was quick to notice him. It charged him and as the demon as mid-swing. Ivaran was quickly sliced diagonal at the demon. Catching the demon in the chest and killed it. It stayed on the horse for a time before falling off and landed on the ground in with a loud thud. One down and many more to go he thought and Ivaran readied himself for when the demon next.

[Awesomeland012345]

Tarkin

What the...

As if the events of the past few days weren't enough, now there were volcano people riding volcano horses. Apparently more demons. Only about half a minute ago a horn sounded, and these evil monstrosities came riding toward them. There were also some on foot that looked the same as the ones on horses. Tarkin's feet ached from marching. He didn't feel like fighting now, instead he wanted to sit down and take a nap to rest his poor feet. But that obviously wasn't going to happen. Soldiers were starting to form a line, but they were ill-prepared and moved sluggishly.

Tarkin pulled a potion out from his pouch. No use in using his knife if there were soldiers with big swords to swing around. The potion that he held was another explosive one, the same as he had used back at the temple. If it had worked then, it'd work now, and he didn't want to risk one that might work, but might not. He gritted his teeth. Tarkin had been lazy when he was walking, and let himself drift back to the other slow, unprepared soldiers. On the positive side, the demons hadn't attacked back there yet. Now that they were closer, he could make out about how many there were. Approximately... WAY TOO MANY.

He would have to wait until they were in throwing range but also far enough so to not blow up some of those soldiers. The problem was, throwing range was pretty short. He shoved his way to the front of line. Ignoring the glares he received, he explained,

"I have to throw my potion. If I get back farther, then I'll blow you up. And unless you want to get blown up, then I suggest you let me through." Tarkin aimed his potion and threw. It landed exactly where he aimed... except not. In his rush, he hadn't thrown as hard as he had meant to. It instead blew a hole in the ground in front of them. Which, admittedly, was still effective, although a few more glares were aimed at him from the soldiers close to the hole. Oops. He glanced back to his hole. A few horses had tripped, crushing their riders beneath them. The demons behind them could do nothing but trip over the downed monsters in front of them and fall down in turn.

"Well, at least it took out a few of them..." Tarkin pulled out another potion, and jeered at the demons,

"Ha! I didn't even hit you, and look what happened to you! I could beat the whole lot of you! Come and get it!" At this comment, a few of the riders split off and headed toward him. Gulp. Wrong move. Tarkin readied for another round.

[Tomia]

Dulen
Dulen raised his eyebrow ever so slightly at Chryssa's questions. Clearly there was some bias there against the Knights of Shotarr. He understood that, they tended to lofty military types after all. Her hieghtened interest at the mention of him though was certainly curious.

"Well he isn't the type to demand a salute every time he farts if that's what you mean." Dulen said with a chuckle. "But to actually answer your question... Quentin is alright. He's not one of those high and mighty types. A bit serious for my taste but you get a sense that he feels he has something to prove. He never told me much about where he came from and all but I'd guess he wasn't exactly the son of a wealthy nobleman. Besides that, he is good to be around in a fight and surprisingly not the worst drinking partner. Just curious to know more about your commander knight or is maybe...something more?" Dulen asked coyly with a smile on his face.

Brialya
Brialya wasn't surprised when she saw Saelaam's hardened expression, she had seen it before. Still, she couldn't admit to being a bit disappointed. She appreciated Sael's politeness afterwards but it was clearly a cover.

"I know mingling with a killer isn't the ideal task of healer, but I appreciate you responding better than most. I'm sure you have heard many rumors of us. Let me say this, you heal the sick right? And if someone's leg was infected beyond repair you would cut it off to save the rest of the body no? Well that is what we do, we purge parts of society that threaten the whole. It is bloody work but that doesn't make it evil work. Still, I don't want to make you uncomfortable so I'll leave you be." She told him, starting to get up to leave.

Quentin, Brialya, Dulen, and Yasema on the Road to the Wolf's Den
Quentin heard Rudolph yell to him to get back on his horse as the other soldier had managed to break apart the force surrounding him. Others joined in such as Neferis and Chryssa but still they were outnumbered and he needed to get back in the game. He ran back towards his horse, doing his best to calm her and not get kicked in the chest. Finally he managed to calm her and remounted the horse. He scanned his surroundings and tried to get a sense of what they could. They were badly outnumbered but clearly superior in skill.

"Form ranks around me!" He shouted to those who came to his aid. "Form a circle around me, I can attack from a distance with my blade and together we will make sure no one gets flanked. Protect the person to your right and trust you will be protected in turn!" This might be their only chance, though the odds still weren't good. He lifted his blade and sent a blast of thunder towards a demon rider who went flying off his horse. The demon horse continued to trot towards the gathered troops. "Someone cut that thing down before it tramples someone!"

Just then time around the horse slowed and a massive ball of fire incinerated the creature into nothing. It was Yasema and she wasn't alone, Dulen was also there and he was firing grenades into the crowd of demons. Yasema took a position next to Neferis while Quentin called out to Dulen. "Get up here on the horse Dulen, you'll be able to fire from a vantage point." Quentin helped pull the dwarf up to the horse and the duo began firing off elemental blasts together.

We'll kill as many as we can, that's all we can do.

Meanwhile a pair of demon infantry approached the Chosen menacingly before they both were quickly met with an arrow in their heads. Brialya approached Sael a worried look on her face. "Sael, you can't stay here. I can lead you and the rest of the healers out of here." She said, they may not have known him long but she didn't want the healer who had helped her to die on her watch. She fired two more arrows at approaching demons but she didn't have an unlimited quiver so she couldn't do this forever.

[The Republic of Atria]

Yasema

Once Quentin had spoken to him, it reminded him that he needed to go see the Goliath woman he met earlier. Just the few words she said was enough to spur him into trying to figure out how exactly she got that information that should be impossible to have. Poking around the camp for a few minutes, he was able to find her. Her being considerably larger than average made it a bit easier.

He approached from the front, and for the first time since he arrived, took off his helmet. "Alright. So I would like you to explain, with a little more detail since we aren't being assaulted by demons-" He stopped speaking for a moment, still processing the fact that it happened. "-how you know... Anything about me. I went to GREAT lengths to keep my identity secret." Lud said as he sat down. "Seeing my face is really the only sign of trust I can give you. So please start talking."

[Absolon-7]

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The Ambush

Rudolph Thorbecke

---

Rudolph was sure he had the skills to fend off the rest of the cavalry trying to run down Quentin but he still could only hold off at most two at a time. If they managed to maneuver themselves correctly he'd sorely need to hope his armor was enough protection. Luckily backup soon arrived in the form of a ravenfolk, a giant wolf, and another warrior. The giant wolf in particular made an entrance by decapitating one of the demon horses. After them more from their band arrived to retrieve Quentin and he was soon back on his horse giving the next round of orders. Rudolph and his horse found themselves near the right edge of the circle the group with his sword arm ready to meet any challengers.

Two demon infantry men waving their short swords at the group came after them apparently uncaring to their earlier brethren having been slain by arrows. Rudolph made his horse trot forward before maneuvering the demon's sword out of its hand with his own in a fast maneuver. This left it open to get its face punctured with the tip of Rudolph's sword. The other demon tried stabbing his horse but Rudolph kicked the side of the blade with his boot before repeating the face stab. Rudolph tried to reign in his frightened horse as it threatened to get him farther away from the group.

"We need to either start charging to break their infantry clumps or go back to the band," said Rudolph, "We'll get pinned down if we stay here with our horses."

[Finland SSR]

Quentin, Brialya, Dulen, and Yasema on the Road to the Wolf's Den

Syn of Ashar

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"Aye-aye!" a voice suddenly yelled from inside of the Golem, amplified by a runic enchantment to make the voice louder and more intimidating, even if it was recognizably Syn. The runesmith had retreated from the front lines as soon as the ambush began in order to pop open the machine's compartment and enter inside - when they were besieged from all sides and the battlefield was as narrow as here, being outside of the Golem was a liability rather than an advantage.

Wildly swinging his greatsword with one hand, the armored runesmith tore through several demon infantrymen to catch up to the rest of the force, joining the ranks forming around Sir Quentin and his ranged weaponry. Standing in the center of the circle, the Golem immediately began attracting demons lunging themselves at him - with its impressive size, the machine was hard to miss even from a distance.

"If any of y'all shooters need cover, line up behind me, I'll keep 'em at bay!" Syn yelled, grinning and brandishing his greatsword, ready to cleave through even more of the fiery buggers.