Divinity/Humanity IC

[Barapam]

"Hey," Gabija tried to interject, "my runes can't affect living..." She though about it before she finished the sentence. Sure, her runes could not affect living beings directly, but there were others, who had studied the runes to a much higher degree, that could indirectly cause all kinds of effects happen to anyone who saw the inscribed objects. - The runesmiths of the Duslonki Academy. Keepers of knowledge, chauvinistic pigs, that had rejected her access, because she was a woman. So she had to teach herself - so she was not in the capital, when the armies of Chernobog razed it, when they killed every single runesmith, the King, his knights and a couple of thousands of people. Killed everyone. Gabija was reminded that her homeland of Cwarensgard was destroyed, but much more then this, her people had been reduced to a small ghetto in Reimchester and a few dozens of other refugees across the rest of Ayrtica. Maybe a few hundred more in the wilderness, living like savages. But even more, her entire culture was lost, their temples, their music - and most of what had ever been written down on the topic of magic runes, as she used them...

Meanwhile, Saoirse notices that her witch had a flashback and was totally spaced out and so she decided to answer the question that was directed at her anyway: "Well, we are much more of an average travel group, don't you think? But whatever, if you don't want to see our magic you don't have to. I don't think it works, anyway. I'm Saoirse, those are Kylie, Keegan and Gabija. We are from the Order of the Dancing Star and like on a Pilgrimage. I know, traveling is crazy in these times but, you know, if we pray for the return of the Gods, we can't let our service wane in the face of these obstacles." Saoirse kind of bend the truth here, though it was kind of true, it was also kind of false because it left out the most important detail.

She looked to Keegan and Kylie. Quietly she mouthed "Knights - Tower?" and shrugged.
He had martial knowledge and even though she specialized in religious groups, places and people, Kylie was overall very smart and Saoirse wondered whether either of them had heard of this knightly order. "Yeah, Knights of the Tower, heard of them," Keegan said, "does not sound reasonable, that they would send a mere squire on a lone journey, not if they expected her to return from it." He spoke loud enough that Julia could hear it, intentionally. Meanwhile Kylie put a finger to her temple. The name did ring a bell, somewhere in the back of her head. She had heard of this Knightly Order before, too, in some unusual context but it had been long ago, like ten years or so...

The ease with which the pilgrims took back their demand, paired with the humility of their witch, convinced Julia that they were in fact not bandits, just like her initial instincts had told her. Maybe they weren't telling the whole truth, but who was in these troubled times? They had so far shown themselves trustworthy enough. Maybe the runes were as harmless as they said even, but that matter appeared to be overplayed anyway, so Julia wasn't going to go back on it and change her mind. At least not now, not yet.

"Nice to meet you all. You could say I'm on a pilgrimage as well. Doing it on my own is a large part of it, actually. If I succeed, I'll become a knight myself", she explained to the group in general, and Keegan in particular. It was true enough. She wasn't sure if it was safe to reveal much more about the nature of her walkabout. These people could perhaps be of help, but just as likely competitors. For now, Julia would had to stick to - quite literally - follow her dreams in order to find the moon child, by herself.

[Kaledoria]

"Yeay!" Saoirse said. "The more the better. Let's travel to the capital together. - By the way, is Tryanach your destination, or will you be going further?" She seemed to be in a good mood.

In the next two hours she talked about where she had already traveled before, it was mostly limited to the eastern part of the Kingdom. It was true, that the greatest Temple to Liara was located in the eastern highlands but she had already been there four years ago, she had never been to the capital.

A small path split of from the main road to the left. "Here?" Saoirse asked Kylie and the later took out a map. They both looked at it and Saoirse explained. "We have a totally detailed map, which is nice if you want to make sure you rest under a roof every night. There is an abandoned cottage down that path, maybe half an hour detour. That should still be functional and be our best rest before the night."

She went on when suddenly her whole body language changed. Gone was the bubbling, carefree child. She went down on one knee and checked the ground. "Huge dragging track, probably a giant snake, no older then a day, maybe real fresh." She pointed the track out and the others saw it, too. She drew her weapon first and moved forward much more carefully. Then it jumped at them from a furrow close to the dirt road. It was not a snake.

A huge, pale maggot, big as an adult human attacked them. It had a few tiny legs but did not seem to need them to move forward, as well as two almost arm-like mandibles and a head - a head that reminded the onlookers of a human skull, slightly metallic with ones own face reflected in the forehead. It let out a terrifying, bone-chilling scream. It was clearly no natural creature.
Whatever supernatural aspect there was to it's scream, Saoirse seemed unaffected by it and counter-charged. Meeting it half way, she thrust her sword into one of the upper body segments, just below the head. With a cracking sound it went through the chitin but that was all effect there was to it. The monster stopped its momentum and turned to the girl then tried to crush her with its body. She tried to draw her sword out but it was stuck so she had to let go of the grip to jump to the side to avoid its attack.

[Nations United for Conquest]

The only sight allowed to Tilian, at the present at least, was that of pure unadulterated darkness. It was an expansive veil covering everything in sight and impossible to perceive anything else in that void that was darker than a moonless night. Unlike the heavens there were no celestial bodies to sparkle and provide that minuscule glow of light. There was no sound here either. Not that of a soft bubbling brook, which he had bedded down beside for that night nor the crackling of a fire slowly dying out. The usual concert of chirping crickets and croaking of frogs and toad was absent as well as any other familiar sounds of those moonlit hours of the day. Tilian's other senses weren't much better off, for there was nothing tangible in the void he found himself in; no smells of rising smoke nor fresh water reached his nose and as he lacked control of his body attempting to taste anything was also, seemingly out of the picture. Not that he was likely to attempt anything of that nature. He had learned that the hard way when he was a young lad back in the village. His father would never let him forget that he knew well enough. It all pointed to the fact that he was dreaming, yet he knew it couldn't be the case. He was much to aware of what was happening around him, despite it amounting to nothing, for it to be a dream. Which in an odd way was how he knew it to be false.

Gradually, however, details began to slowly make themselves known. What was once an unending expanse of pure darkness slowly grew to resemble the colors of the world he knew so well. Coal black skies were replaced with a soft blue that was common in the morning hours and below his feet a rich field of green began to take form. All around he could see this endless sea of vibrant green which shown like a fine polished gem and seemed to ripple like water when an inaudible wind passed across it. It also allowed Tilian to realize he still couldn't hear, much to his annoyance, but he'd seen weirder and in times like this is was best to just ride out the storm. Tilian realized about the same time that he knew where he was now, much to his confusion. Grásta's Plains were a place the boy was quite familiar with. They were, after all, a point he passed through on his annual migration across the Kingdom's many highways and byways. The long rolling fields where it was near impossible to tell at what point the waist high, at least on himself, grasses would end. Thre plains were relatively flat, he knew that well enough, and only seemed to change when a small knoll rolled into another and the faintest line made itself visible. They really weren't flat, just open, but the two might as well have synonymous for most. That was why immediately Tilian came to know this was not the same plains he knew so well.

For starters it had been ages since Grásta's Plains had possessed such a rich natural green and earthy color to them. Tilian had walked along their flank and heartland near sixteen times in his travels across the Kingdom. Not once in those five years had they ever been green. Not even in the stories that his father had told him of his travels as a young lad had that hue been present. No, at current the plains reflected their name sake much more. Far as the eye could see was an ocean of dull golden stalks of grass, almost as if the God himself had taken a brush to it in large strokes. In the summer and spring it had this certain gleam to it that made it seem almost polished. Occasionally, on the long days of late summer it became so bright and vibrant it was hard to look at it for too long lest one wished to risk blindness. In autumn and winter it took on a much more dreary look as the stalks faded and died. Once a rich gold was a lackluster earthy brown like freshly brewed mud after a rainstorm. It was truly an ugly thing to look at and was why he never visited in those moon cycles. Thus, the appearance of a brilliant green was all the more confusing. As was the fact the fields were empty. There were no settlements in the plains, not in this glance he was given and certainly not in his day, but that wasn't to mean they were deserted. Many a beast and animal lived in those grasses, from wild stallions to troublesome wolves. It wasn't uncommon for the occasional monster to make an appearance there as well. Yet, Tilian's glimpse of this version of the plains none such existed. A curious thing to be truthful.

There was, as there is with everything, an exception to the rule as he would come to find. For in this seemingly empty but life filled world--an irony to be sure--there existed a single figure. The figure was just as much an oddity as the world he stood in. The man was tall, much taller than Tilian, though considering he looked to be at least twice the years senior to Tilian, that wasn't so unexpected. However, the man was a mountain of well, a man. Like a statue carved from stone his body was well formed and muscular and despite the loose clothing he wore it was still evident. His clothes were curious too, being extremely simple, as it was but an old brown robe hanging loosely on the man like snow might cling to the slopes of a mountain. Covering the simply brown robe was a more elegant one. This robe was a deep and rich blue that seemed as if it had been woven from the deepest ebs of the ocean itself. The only other source of color was of the realistic and very much detailed snow white cranes that graceful flew around the edges of the cloak. They were woven so fine it wouldn't be surprising to hear that they had been trapped onto the cloth with some form of magic. One could nearly see the wind coiling under the flapping of their frozen wings. In a great contrast was the man's skin for in the spots it showed, most his neck, head, and hands, it possessed a deep bronze hue as if it had been ripped straight from the ground and polished to perfection by a master smith. Accenting this was the wild mane of pure white hair on his head. Most of it was free flowing, never reaching past the nape of his neck, save for two braided strands on either side of his head, just before his ears, which fell to his collarbone. A neatly kept beard of the same pure snow white wrapped around the sharp jaw of his hatchet features.

The stranger's face is where things began to get complicated. At a glance Tilian could tell they were well defined and sharp. It was almost as if they had been carved from rock with how they were so rigid yet natural. It was a powerful face, yet, for the life of him he could not make out his features. The more Tilian focused, the less was revealed to him. Regardless, he knew at a glance who the man was. There were likely few in all of the Kingdom, perhaps even the Continent if it was still settled, that could not recognized this man at a glance. Or more accurately his description. He was dead to be fair. The Great Wayward Hero, Cormac of Illia. It only made sense he couldn't see the face; there was no one still among the ranks of the living who had seen it. Every story and painting claimed a different face for the hero, so none could really claim to know what he looked like. Only that the Hero's face was strong and rigid and the very pinnacle of rugged handsomeness. Tilian did little but scowl when realization of the identity of his companion in the strange world. It only grew when the man turned to look at him.

Tilian may not have been able to make out the features of the Hero, but he could easily tell the guy was smiling at him. It was unsettling. Not because there was a faceless man was smiling at him, but because of the kind of smile he was making. It was at once a deeply satisfying smirk and a deep grimace. How a single expression could the two opposing sides of a scale, Tilian did not know, and that was what made it uncomfortable. No person should be able to be so happy and so sad at the exact same time. The man was a great Hero, there was no denying that. His exploits known through the lands and the number of people he saved innumerable. But Tilian knew the score. And for that he could only release an exasperated sigh that was somehow long but far from exaggerated. Tilian could only turn from the hero, shaking his head lightly at the sight of the man as the world began to fade once more. Out of all the tales he had learned, he truly hated that one the most.

---

Once more he found himself in that void of darkness Tilian knew well wasn't a simple dream. Unsure, he was, whether or not it would be appropriate to curse his Grandfather for the blood that flowed in his veins, but ultimately decided against it. He respected the guy too much. Most demigods received dreams, this he knew from his father. He had told him many times of the quests he undertook whence shown a sign by either his father or one of the many other Gods in the Pantheon. Tilian, however, was a special case being only a legacy of a god rather than a full blooded child. Not that he really minded. Though at times like this he felt the tiniest pangs of jealousy for his distant and removed relatives. At least their dreams seemed to have some end game, at least if his father and the few he had met recently on his travels were anything to go by. On the other hand, his fate was in a much larger stroke than those of the others, and for that he could be a little bit more thankful. Afterall, everything in life had a duality; there was always a boon to be had with every bane and vice versa. Years on the road had taught him enough about that for a lifetime, even at the tender age of however old he was.

Eventually, the veil over his mind began to change once more. This time, however, rather than vision he first regained a semblance of hearing. The sound was an odd one, a clumping sound. It's rhythm was uneven and seemingly distorted. At first he found it foreign, but gradually it began to resemble something akin to a stick being dragged upon the ground. No, that wasn't quite right. There was a slight repeat to the sound, and whilst the initial beat was uneven and possessed little in-common with what came next, there was always a repeat of what was once heard. Perhaps there was someone dragging two stick upon the ground, one behind the other. Yet, that wouldn't explain the continuous sound. When one dragged a stick on the ground there were times of silence when the rod parried off some rock or log and for but a moment had a bit of airtime and thus a lull in the song. There was no such thing in Tilians ears. There was also a familiar feeling in his gut towards this strange noise. The answer struck him immediately; a wagon. The wheels upon a loose, gravelly road to be exact. Much like the road that paralleled the river he had been sleeping near.

In the same instance the revelation sprouting in his mind did his eyes open wide. They were at once met with the familiar sight of the sparse woods and soft fields of low growing grass in this part of the Kingdom. A light heat was felt upon his face and he knew at once it to be morning, and therefore sometime since he was last conscious, and if the near blinding glare of Grásta was anything to go off of it was rapidly approaching midday. Besides the uneven and constant bumping of the wagon sending uncomfortable jolts down his legs and up his lower back, he quickly noticed the cool and heavy feeling upon his wrists. Glancing down Tilian was met with sight of a length of iron chains, the large ones used for dragging fallen bulls or moving boulders, wrapped firmly around his wrists. Such a sight was met with a scowl from the lad's lips. Before he could do anything else he was drawn away by a nearby voice calling to him.

"Ah, it seem your finally awake. Welcome back to the land of the living, friend."

The voice was soaked in a light bite of humor, Tilian could tell as much and he felt a small grin pull at the corners of his mouth. The voice belong to a stout man about seven years his major and the only other person in the wagon. The man was well built and well worked if his rich tan and dirtied clothes said anything about him. He had a mop of curly auburn hair which glowed in the midday sun like fire and a pair of sharp green eyes like the ocean to boot. Upon his wrists was a length of rope binding him in much the same way as Tilian. Yet, despite this, he wore a look of mild amusement. Tilian was already taken to a liking of his new companion.

"Pray tell, what lands are we in friend?"

"This would be the Illian March I believe," His companion answered after glancing around, "Though I can't be certain. We've ridden for some time already."

"I see. A shame, I quite liked Illia."

"Ho?"

Tilian could only smile slyly at his companion. He knew well the situation he was in, and whilst it was something he'd rather avoid, it would not be the first time. The chains were worrying, for normally one caught by a press-gang seeking hands or blades, would bind in rope. It was far cheaper and a time saver, for the binds could be cut and the rope would likely still be usable for a few more bindings following. The issue arose that a child of the gods, even one but a decade old, could easily snap such bindings. The use of chains meant that they at the very least knew divine blood in his veins. Furthermore, they either had a Stone of Adrienne or a Demigod among their ranks. The latter would make things especially complicated and so he could only hope it was the former. It would be easy enough to outrun a few mortal knights, but a confrontation with a true-blooded bastard--a contradiction and irony truly--was not high on his list of priorities.

Despite not having any memory of the occurrence, it wasn't terribly hard for him to piece together a rough idea of what had taken place. He had been careless, apparently, first and foremost. Tilian was well aware of such happens in the frontiers of the Kingdom, where the need for labor or arms was so strong many a minor noble had taken to 'arresting' the various singular vagabonds and travelers who roamed the roads between settlements. They were often alone, and even if trained, could hope to do little against armed and armored knights, no matter how piss poor training may have been on the fringes of the world. The lost and the lonely were preyed upon and forced into work, usually under the guise of being of questionable character for wandering alone. To be fair, there was reasonable suspicion of the lonesome traveler with all that was occurring in the present age, for seemingly only a fool would dare face the monsters of the moonlit world on their own. Those unlucky enough to be captured all suffered the same fate; pushed into work on whatever project needed being done in that particular county. And there was always work to be done these days, he knew that well enough.

He had honestly believe himself to be secure. Tilian was not some greenhorn who had just begun to travel after all, and nor was he defenseless. The ways of the woods and the wilderness were known to him. He knew how to listen to the whispers in the wind that danced between the trees in the forest. They carried messages of disturbances in the world, namely any monsters that could have been lurking, but oft times the presence of mortals would be found in their quick paced conversation. If something or someone would come for him, he would know long before they reached him. Perhaps he had been arrogant and simply made camp too close to the river for his own good. But he wasn't that careless. More likely they had a child of Armedia or a legacy of her will among their ranks. Only one so in-tune with nature and carrying the lineage of the peerless hunter could slip between the trunks of the trees and the floor of the forest so easily. The idea made him shivery slightly. His connection with the forest would only carry him so far against such a person, especially if they were older than him. Something that was probably likely. An unfortunate turn of events, all things considered.

However, his captors had seemed to make some fatal mistake, though to be fair to them, there was little they could do to prepare. He was, after all, an exception to the rules. Among those who carried divine blood, there were very few who had any sort of attunement to magic, at least proper magic. The type that was taught to mages and magic knights who served the Kingdom and Vassal armies. It was powerful and could quite easily raze and entire army if preformed by a competent magus. Still, it was a skill that required time and effort to be used effectively as well as a skilled teacher. For they who lived on the fringes of society, in small out-coves and among the wilds, find either either was hard. More so when you had to constantly stalk out your own food and fend off the ceaseless hordes of beasts and monster which roamed the wilds. Some, of course, were different. Those borne of the god of logic would often have a natural affinity towards the craft of proper magics. Even alone in the sticks they may be able to simply learn the bare basics of refined magic. Give them a proper schooling and you'd be well on your way to have one of the strongest casters in all the lands. Others like those born to Cosáin, Zimde, Eir, or even Grásta may find themselves will a borne niche towards a certain type of magic, such as healing or enchantment. Still, to be even at least somewhat competent by Tilian's own age, even with a proper teacher would be a rare find. The children of the gods were more often than not classical heroes and that meant a good sword and crafty technique was their specialty. Exceptions of course also existed.

There was also the fact that most refined magic was far from a subtle thing. Near every school possessed large tells on the casting of spells. Some called for incantations, which even at a whisper were a tell. Those that didn't still relied on either a brilliant show when energy was gathered or an anchor to control the flow of their magic. All were pretty easy to rid a prisoner of by even a half witted guard. A gag removed incantations, bound hands most of any non-verbal casting, much less how obvious it would be, and furthermore made wielding any sort of anchor nigh impossible. They couldn't have logically known that Tilian could circumvent all three. Though, to be fair, it wasn't every day someone encountered a somewhat competent Druid, especially one his age. Then again, having a teacher since birth and an closeness towards nature were boons in his wheelhouse.

Regardless, lest he wished to start building his skills as a mason, he had to act fast. He cast a glance over at his auburn haired friend; a wry grin stuff full of mirth, to which he received a raised eyebrow and a coy expression. In response, Tilian simply raised his bound hands up to his chest and began to drag them in the air in a series of varied movements. As he did so a faint blue light lingered in the air like the strokes of a brush upon a canvas. Two symbols were borne from such an action; the first a strange one in a shape similar to an 'H' save for the fact the bridge was of two strokes rather than one, and rather than perpendicular, was instead slanted higher on the left and lower on the right. Next to it was what could only be called a reflection of the number one.

No sooner than the two had been painted upon the air did a sudden gust of wind explode out from in front of Tilian. While weaker than what could've been accomplished with a more refined wind spell, it did it's intended job splendidly. That being the gale easily shattering the bottom of the wagon and the front axle, causing the whole thing to fall apart quite easily. As a result Tilian and his companion were flung to the side in a huge cloud of dust which encompassed most of the road and caused the trailing wagon to run aground straight into a nearby tree, shattering it as well. In the confusion the two compatriots rushed towards the newly destroyed wagon to scavenge the wreckage, with both seemingly intent on grabbing something that once belong to them. For Tilian it was a simple worn leather rucksack which was sun-bleached and adorned with a variety of small mismatched patches and scrapes, along with a simple arming sword in an equally worn though not quite as patchy scabbard. His companion settled for a simple bastard sword with a fairly ornate cross-guard. Whether it was his or simply one of the Knights, Tilian couldn't care less, instead simply grabbing the collar of his new friend and dragging him to the wood line where the pair melted into the surrounding bramble among the shouts and cries of some clearly distressed knights.

[Flohaland]

Nephele's distrust put Azron off, and he wondered if he had already said too much. Mostly though, he was disappointed and his curiosity was frustrated. "I planned to go to the city anyway, I can help you to find your items, if they are still there, but it will be risky. We will have to disguise ourselves, but I planned on that anyway before we entered the city." The boy looked Nephele over as if trying to measure her up. "Are you fit enough for a long walk? After all, you seemed almost dead."

[The H Corporation]

Nephele just stared angrily at Azron. He probably doesn't know about how her powers work, but that didn't stop her from staring at him in a really bad way, she saved his dog and the only thing she receives in exchange is a really bad joke about her getting tired of working too much and suffering from exhaustion. "I think I am fairly fit for a walk, and even if I am not..." she stands up nearly losing her balance but keeping herself straight "Maybe you can carry me all the way there", she said with a really annoying tone.

[Cainesland]

By the time Merlin left the monastery the streets were once again filled with activity. The merchants were hawking wares and the trades folk delivering goods. Merlin could see a doctors going to the rich hill and a doctor looking like he might be getting ready to leave to go check on the delta farmers. With 18 villages Merlin recognized it would be a big job.

The three of them turned to go back to the Lighthouse. Once inside his parents started getting him supplies. His parents then returned and explained what they were giving him. “Ok, Merlin. This trip is a bit longer than the last one you did for me” his mom began, “so I am giving you this backpack and this haversack”. Merlin looked at the things in her arms. He saw a bag that goes on ones back and one that goes over ones shoulder.

“I have put your school supplies in your haversack. That’s 10 books, 2 journals, writing supplies, and some tools for alchemy and herbalism”. Merlin looked inside. It looked like it was bigger on the inside. “There are containers and measuring tools as well. I put 10 healing potions and 10 fire potions in there as well”. Merlin hugged his mom. “Thank you, Mom”.

When the two finished their moment his dad then got in. “I have packed this backpack for you as well. It has your clothes, and your cleaning supplies, and your tent” Merlin looked inside as well. It also looked like it was pretty big inside. Trying to pick it up it felt pretty light. “I packed you some food as well. But two months is a long time. You should have a little over a months worth of salted meat and vegetables. Try to restock when you reach the capital or on the road”. Merlin nodded. His Dad gave him 10 gold coins that looked like they had someone’s face on it.

Merlin was familiar with the coins. He previously got paid in them and used them for buying alchemy products. “Thank you, Dad” he told his dad before hugging him. He obtained some other things and then once he was packed up he started to head out. Before leaving his parents got him dressed in another laying though. They gave him a thick cloak on, a belt around the waist with loops for the alchemy fire, and a Raven mask covering his face. With the cloak, boots, gloves, mask, cape, pants and shirt, He had no skin showing lest he catch the plague by getting some snow on him.

His parents then took him out the north exit. The process was fair. They had to wait two hours to ensure they weren’t sick lest they need to watch out for more infected inside. They also had to show their city citizenship and their kingdom residency papers. Once that was clear they were allowed out.

Beyond the city gates was a caravan site. A group of travelers were there with a group of knights. His parents brought him over. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what was said word for word, but he was able to listen as his parents talked with the lead traveler and the lead knight about where they were going, if their son could join them, and what travel arrangements could be accommodated. Once that was worked out Merlin's parents paid them. Part of the travel fee was access to the caravan food supply, which surprised Merlin as it meant not needing the food they gave him. It would probably come in handy though just in case.

Bedroll, Tinderbox, Mess kit, 10 Torches, 40 Days rations, Waterskin, Crowbar, Hammer, 10 Pitons, 50 ft of spider silk rope, 10 textbooks, 2 journals, 10 ounce bottle of ink, Ink pen, Small knife, Bag of sand, 5 Soap bars, 10 lbs bottle of oil, lamp, 2 person tent, 2 Cases for maps and scrolls, Herbalism kit (pouches to store herbs, clippers and leather gloves for collecting plants, a mortar and pestle, and several glass jars.), Alchemy supplies (two glass beakers, a metal frame to hold a beaker in place over an open flame, a glass stirring rod, a small mortar and pestle, and a pouch of common alchemical ingredients, including salt, powdered iron, and purified water.), 10 health potions, 10 alchemist fire potions, 5 anti-toxin, haversack capable of carrying 120 lbs, shoulder bag capable of holding 500 lbs, 7 pairs of Travelers Clothes.
Total weight 286.5 lbs.

[Canis Rex]

He had tracked them for a while now. Dipping into copses of shrubbery when needed, lying flat in the grass then picking up the trail again by sound, it was easier than stalking animals. Humans were louder, less wary, especially in numbers. This mercenary band had seemed not quite professional either.
Their weapons and uniforms were mixed, iron daggers, steel swords, their one mage seemed to even have a staff made of bronze or copper. Two wore plate, the rest leather. Former farmers and laborers tired of waiting to die? Maybe a failed crop or collapse in their local economy? Something had to have made them desperate because they weren't suited for out here.
He had planned to simply wait for them to fall asleep or have sloppy watches during a break, then steal some of their food. He had not packed well for a long trip and all the pauses he had to take out of a sense of cautiousness had indeed caused this to be longer than needed. But the scent hit him somewhere along the road. An unwashed bitterness and excrement. Goblins.
The human group did not seem to notice yet though and he did not intervene, letting nature take its course. The small creatures stormed from the tall grass with violent shrieks and bloodlusted eyes. Armir recognized them as the group that had run from him before, some of their weapons and wounds familiar. They must have been desperate too.
The fight was ugly and bloody. The humans weren't very skilled and the goblins were already weak. In the end the mercenaries survived. Well, three of them. Both plate wearers and one of their comrades with a knife still in his gut.
Combined with losing one of the horses pulling their wagons, it probably meant he was a goner with how often the little attackers liked to poison their weapons. One of the others helped him lean against a wheel of their transport, appearing to try and calm the scared young man before almost collapsing himself and taking off his helmet. A deep, dark bruise stretched from his ear to his hairline. He swayed and fell to both knees, hand on the wagon to brace him. Their fellow survivor limped over, leaning down and Armir assumed giving them some encouragement about not giving up.
The half-deity wasn't as naive. They were badly wounded, without protection, and none were in good shape to get their transport going again. One was possibly dying as he watched them. The trio would be dead by sundown.
The boy slowly stands from his cover, bow in hand with an arrow laid across its frame, ready to nock. The body itself was mammoth bone softened with basilisk venom, allowing a draw strength that barred humans from using such techniques. The arrowheads were made of various animal bones, but with the velocity they flew at would still punch through plate, though the tip would likely be ruined. That was okay, one was worth the food supplies and he could easily make more once he had time.
The single warrior still on his feet was the only one to notice the young teen, sword and shield already raised at his approach. Armir waited on raising his own weapon.
"I need your food. And they aren't going to make it." His eyes flicker towards the two fallen, the man with the head wound finally managing to look at him. The other was struggling with a bout of hyperventilation. In the tense quiet, it was loud. "One of them, maybe. If help comes along in time."
"You don't get to decide that, child." The friend defending them stepped forward. His knee buckled momentarily but he remained standing. A brave gesture, noble even, but ultimately useless.
"I'll just take the food then. Struggle as you want." Armir creeped closer to the rear wagon.
"I don't want to kill a kid. Go back to whoever put you up to this. We need that food."
Their stabbed friend's breathing was slowing down.
"So do I. Tend to your friends. I won't take everything."
"What's going on?" The kneeling man questioned, cradling his head with one hand. "I can't see right."
"Someone is trying to take our food." The defensive friend informed. "Don't worry, I got him, just rest."
"I-I can help." The apparently blinded fighter has to use the wagon to get to his feet.
"Put the sword down." Armir encouraged. He didn't want to kill them, this wasn't much of a hunt, but he would have those supplies.
"You're not getting our food!" Their negotiator's tone brimmed with frustration.
The loud breathing had stopped.
"Namos?" The man's helmet shifted to check on the gutted warrior and Armir seized the opportunity. An arrow was tucked in the bowstring and sailing through the air before the mercenary could refocus his attention, the crunch of bone breaking through metal and flesh echoing as the projectile planted itself in his head and he collapsed to the ground. The last survivor jumped at the sound and wandered forward until he could just hold the edge of the wagon.
"Sirvo?! Are you okay?!"
Armir didn't want him to suffer more than necessary and so let fly a last arrow into his skull. Now they were all dead. The half-deity sighs. It didn't need to go that way. Why did humans fight so hard, so fruitlessly?
Nevertheless he kneels over the two he had slain and says a hunting prayer to his mother, taking the one arrow that could still be salvaged. The third dead isn't his to claim. The food is tended to next and he decides to use the wagon as temporary shelter while eating. Gorging himself now should allow him to make the rest of the trip on whatever he could carry without needing to resupply again.

[Flohaland]

Azron was a little surprised by Nephele's reaction. She was clearly annoyed with him, and he didn't like it. Although he was not physically scared of her, he felt nervous. It was an unusual feeling for the boy, but it was an unusual situation for him.

"Um" he began. "Then we might as well get going now. I came here up the creek, but I think if we circle around to the east, we will find our way out of the woods and into some fields. Hopefully there is some sort of path that would lead us to the road." The boy then began to break camp by taking down the canvas. Filo who had been laying down, stood up and waged his tail, while he watched.

"Look, you can wouldn't know how near death he was!" exclaimed Azron. Stopping his work to pet his dog. "I don't know how you did it, but you saved him, thanks" he added as he began to rub soot on the dog from yesterday's fire.
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[The H Corporation]

"It's um" Nephele was pleased by the response of Azron, and felt a little bad for being mad at him, he got her all the way here with nothing but good intentions. Now she feels more comfortable with his presence, "It was a pleasure to help, no need to thank me since you already returned me the favor". She looked at the dog and wondered what was his name, "What is his name?" she asked.

Now that out of the way, she felt like they were wasting valuable time and she needed to get to the capital as fast as possible, she needed clues on where to start searching for the moon child, and for that, she will have to follow Azron to the capital, get in and hopefully go they separate ways, though she didn't know why Azron wanted to enter the capital but it didn't matter right now, she needs to enter the capital today if possible. "Please guide me to the road, oh mighty Azron" she said jokingly and she couldn't help to laugh a little bit after saying it, and a little embarrassed of saying that terrible joke.

[Ceystile]

Polly Darvin/Hattie Glover
"Alright lassie, that aughta do it." Rodrick Glover finished tying the last saddlebag to his niece's bay stallion...the horse that had once been his brother's. "Deliver those hats if ye can before you go on your little journey, Hattie.”
“Of course, Uncle.” Hattie adjuster her own hat on top of her coppery curls with a brown, freckled hand. “Take care of Horatio for me, okay?”
“Any reason he’s not going with ye? You’re both her children.”
“I don’t want him coming, it’s enough that one of us be put in danger.” Giving Rodrick one last hug, she rode off toward the temple. Being that it was in the capital, she didn’t have very far to travel.

Meanwhile not far from the palace courtyard, a young girl was riding through the forest where the royal family often had their annual hunting parties. Her jerkin was the same silvery-gold as her hair, and she strummed a basic chord on her lute as she hummed to herself. “I wonder if Julia set out yet.” Julia Lara was a knight-in-training and one of Polly’s few close friends growing up, they understood each other in a unique way being the abandoned and orphaned children of gods. She’d hoped to say goodbye to her, maybe even setting out together but she must’ve left beforehand. A bit disappointing, but they’d most certainly meet up at the temple on the way.

“It’s the perfect day for a song, isn’t it?”

[Cainesland]

With that settled Merlin said goodbye to his parents. He was soon alone with the caravan. With nothing else to do Merlin started walking around the camp. There must have been 70 people here. Every once in a while he saw people walking around with flat metal helmets, white tunics, and chain Mail. He saw them carrying shields and swords. The letter T on their shields and tunics.

He counted 10 of the flatheads walking around. He also saw 10 people from Reme that looked like they were getting ready to travel. As the caravan was getting ready to go Merlin got in a wagon as well.

Merlin sat in the front of the wagon next to the driver. “Thank you for taking me” Merlin told the man next to him. “My pleasure” the man responded. He had a thick black beard, short hair, and a what looked like a scarf around his waist. “I’m Graham. What’s your name?” Merlin replied by telling him his name is Merlin.

Soon the flatheads started walking around. One of them came by his wagon with a piece of paper and a black rock. “To protect against bandits we are going to ask that you give us any money on your person. I will make note of it here and give you a note for you to hold on to. When we reach our destination show your note and we will refund you”. Merlin nodded. He trusted that this was how things worked, although it seemed strange. He handed the 10 gp his parents gave him to the flathead man and was handed a piece of paper.

The man left shortly after with a bag of money for the city. About an hour later the knight returned and they were off.

[Flohaland]

"He is called Filo" answered Azron. "It means friend" he added and began to pack up. As Nephele called him mighty and then laughed, he was not sure if she was mocking him, but smiled at her anyway. "I am almost ready" the boy said as he rolled the tent cloth up. He folded his belongings inside the cloth, but took out two things. One, was a piece of blue cloth that Azron wrapped around his shoulders as a short cloak. The other was a beat up brown felt cap. "Now both Filo and I are disguised and we can start." With that he slung his pack over his shoulders and led the way out of the woods.

[Cainesland]

As the wagons pulled away Merlin took one last look at the city he was leaving. It’s towering stone walls with built in residential towers. It’s large palace and running water. Possibly most of all it’s lighthouse and his parents.

Turning back around he tried to think about the trip ahead. Based on his last trip he knew that it would be a good 3 days travel before they leave Remes rural farm boundaries. Overall the trip seemed to start off without a hitch.

During the first night the everyone gathered around the fire before bed. The knights that weren’t on guard duty told stories, sang songs, and tried to show Merlin how to put on armour. Unfortunately the armour dwarfed him. Merlin only being 4’10 and 85 lbs himself compared to the tall and well trained knights.

[The H Corporation]

Nephele fixed her hair a little bit, she looked to the cloudy sky and followed Azron, being just on his right-hand side analyzing him whenever he is not looking and trying to not be too obvious about it. Either way it was odd that on the right circumstances they met on the road and that after meeting each other they were not really aggressive towards each other and nor does it seem that they want to be hostile to each other. Was it destiny? Was it just a casual meet-up? What if he...

Before Nephele could formulate the question she shook her head, thinking that it is not possible Azron would have the same quest as her, but it was not impossible either way so she couldn't help herself to ask him but she had to be more tactful with howshe formulates the question

"So, tell me Azron why do you want to get into the capital?"

[Cainesland]

Merlin awoke with Grásta the next morning. The red orb riding on the horizon. Shuffling could be heard outside his tent, evidence of the camp rising for a new day. Merlin got up and got his travelling clothes on for a new day. Trousers, tunic, cloak, raven mask, the whole thing. One of the 7 outfits he brought with him.

With the morning rise he packed up the tent and went to go have breakfast with the others in the caravan. It was mild but good oatmeal.

Once breakfast was wrapped up Merlin got inside a wagon. Unlike yesterday he wanted to do some reading for school. He opened his math textbook and began to read about mean, median and mode.

As they stopped for lunch Merlin got out of the Wagon and looked at where they stopped. Around them was the decaying ruins of one of the towns that once prospered here before the black snows. The remnants of wooded pyres still in the town square. He knew there were still towns just like this around the delta as he got his food sourced from there, but it was still sad to see.

The order told stories of their travels as they are lunch, most of them upbeat. There were a few laughs shared before they left again.

It would be a similar routine for the next three days. Awake, drive, see a town that’s either functioning or more often not functioning, go to sleep, repeat. There were some changes though. At the end of the third days travel from Reme, they camped on the edge of the delta. On the fourth day they left the delta.

Now six days travel from Reme, Merlin spotted something up ahead. A wagon with one occupant. Merlin, now sitting in the front most wagon with the driver, asked him if they should do anything. With the road blocked by the wagon, Merlins caravan stopped.

The knights soon set up a defensive perimeter and Merlin went with some of them to investigate.

As he got closer Merlin noted the carnage and that the person he saw might be his age if not a little older. Merlin asked the knights if he could go talk to the kid and they said yes.

Merlin went ahead and called out to the other boy. “Hello. Are you ok? Do you need help?” It was strange that the other boy was the only survivor. This could be the work of goblins or bandits. But maybe the other boy hid somehow or wasn’t of interest to the attackers.

[Canis Rex]

"Hmm?' Armir peered out of the wagon, swallowing the dried fruit he had been chewing on. Other travelers were already coming through? He had expected to have at least the rest of the day to stuff himself. The surprise settles and his eyes roam the approached group. More prepared than this poor set had been, more organized.
His eyes fall to the odd person out. A boy his age. The only one as far as he could tell. And the knights seemed fine letting him forward.
The hunter wished he knew the odds but he simply didn't. The pantheon had various personalities and levels of desire. There wasn't a way to know how many children were sired by them or how many had survived in these times. They were powerful, but not invincible.
This could be an opportunity though. If he was in luck and this boy was indeed one of his extended family, then maybe the knowledge of two divine children could help locate the moon child, possibly without need of human seers. It was nowhere near a sure thing, but it was worth a try since progress on his own was slower than hoped.
"I'm alright." Armir eventually answers, crawling out from his improvised shelter. His bow was in hand but the other lacked an arrow. The object was as much a comfort as a weapon in this kind of situation. He had watched and listened to many a conversation, most often without the participants knowledge, but had engaged in them so few times himself. Most of the times he did it was with lost children, who weren't all that much more difficult than his normal companions to read and understand.
This...this was more difficult. And did he tell them the truth? It was not incorrect that the carnage was a mercenary/goblin skirmish but it wasn't the whole story. And it was an outright lie to say he mercy-killed them. They were uncooperative and though not much of a threat he certainly couldn't have eaten their food while they were alive.
Would humans call that 'murder'? He wouldn't have exactly called it a 'hunt'. His eyes never sit still as he steps away from the wagon. Force of habit. He was always watching.
"They...fought." The boy slowly decides to address the situation surrounding them. "I needed the food. I'm trying to get to Tyranach."

[Cainesland]

Would humans call that 'murder'? He wouldn't have exactly called it a 'hunt'. His eyes never sit still as he steps away from the wagon. Force of habit. He was always watching.
"They...fought." The boy slowly decides to address the situation surrounding them. "I needed the food. I'm trying to get to Tyranach."

Merlin listened. He considered the other boys words. “They fought”. He was curious who they fought. Bandits or Orcs or Goblins seemed the most likely. “I needed the food”. It made sense. One tends to eat what’s available. If one’s caravan is killed one probably tries to survive with what’s available. “I’m heading to Tyranach”. Merlin thought that was good news. They were going in the same direction.

“It’s too bad about your wagon” Merlin began. “The attackers must have been fierce. It’s good you survived though”.

Merlin looked back at the knights. It was hard to tell what they were thinking with their helmets on. Although, Merlin guessed he might be equally hard to read with his Raven mask on. “Would he be able to join us?” Merlin asked the knights. They seemed to stare ahead for a good 10 seconds or so. Probably looking at the wreckage. One of them looked back at the caravan behind them waiting to continue on the journey. Then another knight joined in. “Maybe. But we may not have sufficient rations for him. We need to also ensure he is not ill”. It was understandable. One does not usually pack extra rations in case you pick someone up, and the black snow is highly contagious.

Merlin spoke to the other boy again. “I am also going to the capital. Maybe we can go together. How are you feeling?”

[Canis Rex]

Armir shifted his weight back and forth on legs that didn't want to sit still. The knights were still watching and this boy seemed to have gotten the impression that he had been part of the group in the wagon. There probably wasn't a lot he could to change that perception without damaging the offer he had just gotten. And that was his top priority.
"I'm healthy." The boy answers. He could simply blurt out he was a Demi-god and so was obviously okay, but that could be met with joy, scorn, or anything in between. He needed to know if the other boy was as well but that could hopefully be done during a more private conversation. The entire idea also hinged on how the news was taken.
How did Demi-gods react to finding one another? Would they see a sibling? Have old grudges from their parents color their view? He takes another step forward. "And I would be glad to join your trip."

[Flohaland]

Azron was preoccupied with navigating through the fields, when Nephele asked the question, so he answered without much thought. "I do not know" he began. "Search for answers there, but I do not know what I will find. My dreams have led me there, but the ultimate purpose ..." He paused letting his words trail off. Had he said too much? What was left to say? What would he find? He asked himself these questions.

Abruptly he stopped and turned to the girl. "You are awfully curious for one who keeps secrets." His face showed that he was serious. "Why should not I force you to tell me everything right now?" He was clearly agitated.

[The H Corporation]

Dreams? There is no way... Nephele was surprised after hearing his answer and everything clicked instantly, she was expecting other demigods to be looking for the child but she wasn't expecting to encounter one of them, and even worse, she just had the luck to encounter someone whose power is stronger than hers in terms of aggressivity while her power is mostly passive.

After an uncomfortable silence, Azron finally breaks it in a way she was not expecting, the question shook her mostly because of the way he said it and he looked really agitated because he was revealing a lot of information while she just listened to what he has said. He already feels that this was not fair and he would probably do something to her if she does not answer properly this time.

"I just like to be quiet alright, but if you say so..." she stopped for a second, looking around hoping there are no other witnesses, not that she could take care of but at the very least she would like some privacy. After confirming there were no other people, she continued "...what do you want to know about me?" she said a little bit nervous hoping that her answer was good enough to calm him down.

[Flohaland]

When Azron saw Nephele's reaction, his expression softened. He did not want to scare her,band her nervousness surprised him. "I just want to know who you are and what would drive a young maiden to risk traveling alone, in times like this. You obviously know some magic, but there is something more to you then that." The boy looked at Nephele as he spoke, except the two times he looked at his feet. "If we are going to travel together we might as well trust each other. I am an orphan, raised by a shepardess. After bandits attacked us, I have been alone, wandering."

[The H Corporation]

"Alright..." She got closer to Azron and then continue "I come from the Ruins of Bury but something that happened years ago made me flee to the North, I settled there for a year or 2 when I started to get dreams about this child, who is this child I don't know, so I am in the search for information, either in the capital or in the Ruins" she stopped for a second looking straight at Azron's eyes "I am the daughter of Eir, Goddess of Healing. As you can probably tell by what I did yesterday when I saved Filo"

"I have also been alone, so I do have problems at trusting other people but I am willing to get to know you a little bit more, we can help each other along the way" Nephele stretches her hand offering a handshake "So let's make this official, we will work together and find the answers we want since we are apparently searching for the same thing. So, what do you say my lord?" She said almost laughing because of the last thing she said, hoping to make the environment more friendly towards each other.

[Flohaland]

Azron took Nephele's hand gladly. He was glad to have a friend, or at least a partner in his quest. Maybe she had a better idea what they were searching for, she was the daughter of a goddess after all. That she called him lord, surprised and flattered him, even if she didn't appear to be totally serious. "I say that your idea is a good one, Eirs daughter. Two is better than one was a favorite saying of a wise woman I knew. However, we should not wait here any longer, it is not safe " Azron looked at the sky, trying to read the weather.

[The H Corporation]

"Just call me Nephele" she then looked up into the sky since it seemed like it was getting the attention of Azron, it looked as cloudy as ever, probably meaning that a storm was going to happen. She wasn't 100% sure but they won't stay there for something to happen "We may want to continue, we are not too far away so lets keep going".

She still had her doubts about Azron, but in order to survive, she needs all the help possible and it was better to have an ally instead of an enemy so this became a win-win situation for both of them. Either way, she will keep a close eye on whatever he is doing just to make sure he doesn't pull any tricks on her.

Not too long after they get to the road where they met yesterday, "Wait here for a bit, I am going to pick up my stuff and we will meet right here" she said as she ran to get her stuff

[Cainesland]

Armir shifted his weight back and forth on legs that didn't want to sit still. The knights were still watching and this boy seemed to have gotten the impression that he had been part of the group in the wagon. There probably wasn't a lot he could to change that perception without damaging the offer he had just gotten. And that was his top priority.
"I'm healthy." The boy answers. He could simply blurt out he was a Demi-god and so was obviously okay, but that could be met with joy, scorn, or anything in between. He needed to know if the other boy was as well but that could hopefully be done during a more private conversation. The entire idea also hinged on how the news was taken.
How did Demi-gods react to finding one another? Would they see a sibling? Have old grudges from their parents color their view? He takes another step forward. "And I would be glad to join your trip."

Merlin looked back at the knights who gave a nod. Merlin looked the boy over, looking for signs of plague. Then he looked around one more time just in case. Seeing nothing regarding black rain he approached the boy. With his mask, gloves and other clothing he felt fairly secure against the contagion of the plague. With his hand outstretched he said “Nice. I’m Merlin. It’s nice to meet you”.