Somewhere in the Dark [IC]

[New Neros]

The Custodian: Sveta

Ozella
The Deep Red Water

The vagrant swordswoman swung her attention to the Pretty Maid Lady, first turning her head and then scooting her body to face Sveta entirely, Ozella giving her her undivided attention. Ozella placed her hand over her mouth and nodded as Sveta explained that the horse could be injured, something she also knew nothing about since these beasts of burden would rather keep their secrets to themselves instead of talking about how they feel. Ozma chimed in, asking Ozella, "Do you think the animal should be put out of it's misery? It may not be able to make the journey to find the blade." The worm paused for a moment, "Or do you think this woman is lying to you so she can take it for herself?"

"Ah!" Ozella exclaimed, putting her fist into her open palm, as if she figured out something important. "I was either going to sell the horse or eat it." She smiled wide, "Since I don't know how to ride or take care of it. I took some of the raiders' axes and stuff too, I figure I could get a hot meal at the port for them. Minimally used steel after all, good for a ley or two of work." She continued with a handwave. "Do you want to trade something for the horse? We can have whats-her-name heal it or something too if it's all limpy." Ozma sighed internally, noting that the woman would probably have packed light and thus have nothing of extreme value for the beast, reckoning Ozella was also a fool at working out trade deals. Still, the worm within took notice of Sveta. "Hmm, she seems like she would be a much more interesting host. Someone who doesn't just tune me out because they ran out of scheduled thinking time."

"That's a great idea, let me just tell her that I have worms living in my body and I desperately want to share them with her, the pretty lady."

"...Please don't word it like that, I beg you."

"Ooh!" Ozella said aloud as Sveta summoned her axe and showed it off a tad, the young woman always have been a fan of the Madren weapon summoning ability in action, but in all honesty, found it absolutely useless because she could not comprehend a time when she wouldn't have a sword in arms reach. "A long thing indeed! At least fifteen hands tall!" Rather than utilize an actual unit of measure, Ozella opts to measure things in how many palms she can fit. "Axes are interesting, they are great tools for relieving tree trunks from their stumps, I suppose. But this!" She said, giddily drawing her curved saber from the scabbard on her back and holding it at an angle so Sveta could look at it fully, "Is a tool who's only purpose is to cut down men. Eight palms in total, a proper length! Her blade was interesting, it appeared to be well-worn and used, the grip showing signs of intense, powerful clutching with both hands, and but cleaned and maintained properly nonetheless.

She smiled still, and wanted to keep the conversation going. "How long have you trained with your axe? You must be a fine warrior, having dispatched a few bandits at least." Ozella sighed, somewhat sad she ran off and fought elsewhere, "I got to see no one else's fight but my own. Oh well."

---

The Great Monster Hunt

Oziel
The Prince of Swords

"To train with the sword, first master sweeping."

Having successfully integrated himself with the group and avoided the ire of Shetal, Oziel relaxed a bit, settling into his chair and breathing a sigh of relief, reaching for a mug to drink listlessly as the rest of the crowd continued to ramble on. But, when Shetal and Braddock made the reveal as to what exactly their purpose was, the young swordsman put his hand on his head and rubbed his red hair, stressfully thinking of his options now that their entire plan was to go to Siderat, and kill some lord-forsaken beast roaming there. "Monsters, literal monsters, and we're supposed to get paid to kill them with this lot. Why not just rob all of us at the beach and leave us for dead then?"

Taking a glance around at the table once more, Oziel backtracked his thoughts. "These folks fought Braddock and he chose them. None of them seem like slouches, and none of them seem to be exactly wealthy enough to rob and extort. Perhaps it's a well and honest snipe hunt we're going on." From then, several members of the party began to stand and make their introductions, listing off their names, ability, and giving hints to their personality. Oziel listened and soaked in the information given like a sponge - overanalyzing each and every detail and committing it to memory like the fool he always was. The more he heard from the others, the more he retreated into himself, feeling a wave of self-consciousness wash over him as he sunk his shoulders down and lowered his head.

The bombastic personality of Shelazen spoke to the crowd with such ease, detailing the self-taught arcanum she relentlessly pursues and the contraptions she makes through trial and error alone. Oziel grew jealous instantly, feeling a strong sense of inferiority as he made the stark realization that he simply chased after the accomplishments and power others possessed. It was like he wanted to be an amalgamation of all the things he learned rolled into one man, but not a single piece was simple himself. "When you try something and things click, and it works and you understand why, there's nothing quite like that feeling."

That's it. Those are the words he needed to hear. He didn't need someone to tell him how to swing a sword, he didn't need to learn every way to hold one, to fight with one, to fight against this weapon or that one. Even things like how to breathe, how to stand, how to draw the damn thing and which way it needs to point when this or that is happening. It clicked for Ozark and it clicked for Ozella, and it'll click for him too if he just let's go of all of those thoughts holding him back. Finishing the last of bit of brew in his second mug, Oziel felt like he had drank too much for his small frame. Pushing himself up from the table with his hand, he stood a bit wobbly, face flushed red, and eyes darting around a bit as a few eyes rested on him, awaiting his introduction.

He planned nothing out in advance, no grand introduction beyond what he told Shetal a few moments earlier. He felt like a nobody compared to everyone else gathered, a powerless little sheep at the table with literal lions. He took a deep, sobering breath and spoke, with normal volume and normal cadence, his eyes focused on the two Vilden at the head of the table. "My name is Oziel, and I am the Prince of Swords."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Aleish of Velshamir - The Blade of Amaranth

---

The tattooed Vantyr waited patiently after giving his answer to Anlolar's questions, and fortunately, it seemed he had indeed managed to assuage any suspicion or doubt cast over him by the words of a cowardly sellsword. The armored Enkal went as far as to apologize for the disturbance that she had caused - minimal as it was - and further explained that she only desired honesty within the group. That much he could offer, to a fault at least, and for now she seemed to be willing to place her trust in him. He briefly wondered how long that would last, assuming they lived through their entire mission, but to entertain such thoughts at this moment was folly. What measures could he take in response, at this time? Better to let things play out as they might. In the meantime, things seemed to have calmed down around the campfire. Rather than say anything else to the Lady of Mercy, Aleish made an appreciative nod in her direction. That alone should cover how he felt about this outcome, without interrupting the conversation between her and the newcomer.

So I suppose we'll be escorting this one to the mouth of the Erisian Bay. Hopefully tomorrow will be kinder, then.

Pleased that the lost Enkal seemed to be at ease within the group and that the others did not seem to take issue with her, Aleish turned his attention elsewhere, glancing about the encampment. He caught Ozella glancing his way, before commenting on his and Valarr's swordsmanship and asking whether they were knowledgeable enough to partake in a debate regarding swordplay. The question itself was rather confusing, and even moreso when it came from the otherwise scatterbrained woman who didn't seem to be paying attention to anything else going on.

Perhaps even someone such as her had a field they could claim expertise in. Father had always warned him not to underestimate the wisdom of simpler folk - was he referring to this as well? In any case, he supposed it couldn't do any harm to humor her. Sveta seemed to be of the same mind, having engaged her in conversation already, although the topic seemed to shift somewhat haphazardly between axes, swords, and most surprisingly, horses.

"That looks to be quite a heavy weapon, yet you swung it with little effort during the battle. Your appearance certainly belies the strength you hold." The Vantyr commented as the young Custodian summoned her axe. Madren were known for their strength and martial prowess, so it was not entirely surprising, but still noteworthy given Sveta's looks and clothing. He was intrigued as to whether that had always been her weapon or had been adopted well after she had completed her training as a Custodian, but that was something to inquire about later. Instead, Aleish looked towards Ozella.

"I take it you aren't familiar with the use of weapons other than swords?" He asked the carefree swordswoman. "You may think a sword to be the superior weapon, but even so, familiarity with others can bring valuable knowledge about how to deal with their wielders." He stated. Though he himself only had on his person two swords and a dagger, he knew his way around most common weapons. Not through formal training, like he had received for the sword during his youth, but simply from experience he had accumulated throughout the long harvests he had spent on the wilderness.

"Where did you learn swordplay, if I may ask?" He inquired. It seemed like a good question to learn something about her and continue the conversation.

[Finland SSR]

The Fall Guy

The Fall Guy
Raggar of Tughlut

After Raggar and Aivaras gave their advice about the suspicion of this encounter, Narill and her team headed out, following the hooded Dvar into the alleyway and listening to what he had to say. If this were the ninety-nine out of one hundred chance, everything would have been so simple. They'd listen him out, toss him a few coins for the trouble, and be on their merry way. Unfortunately, this just had to be the one out of one hundred chance.

Raggar's hand maneuvered to the hilt of his sword as soon as he heard the ground shake and walls start to be erected on each side of the alleyway, he no longer quipped or no longer even though about getting under his teammates' skin. Two more hooded figures showed themselves, ready to fire, while the original hooded assassin lunged at Narill with a dagger dripping in poison.

Raggar acted quickly. The blade of his sword briefly glimmered in the coldlight, before suddenly parrying the incoming dagger with a powerful clang. The Shay's eyes bore into the Dvar assassin, their natural light briefly growing stronger before returning back to normal - he cast an illusion upon his opponent, seeking to subject him to his greatest fears, whatever they were.

"Take out the archers," Raggar muttered. He already had his opponent, but he could only fight in melee, so he was vulnerable to being shot at from a distance.

[Woodstovia]

Valarr - The Blade of Amaranth
Harvest 819, Blank 3, Ley 1 CE

Valarr's sword slid back into it's sheath reluctantly. His eyes were still flicking between the Enkala but for now he had been talked down and wouldn't oppose them openly at least. He nodded at Sveta's kind and calming words and then at Aleish's words. It was unlikely for an Enkala fanatic to dress so modestly. They were never ones to shy away from ostentatious offenses against decency and good taste. No doubt any agent of the Order would wear beautiful flowing robes symbolically covered by flames.

When his sword retreated the light seemed to return to the world around it, letting the warm glow of the campfire return to Valarr's face. He uneasily sat back beside it, though he positioned himself so he was always facing the Enkala.

Ozella seemed to be one of the first in the party to lower their guard in his presence and asked about his (and Aliesh's) skill at swordplay. Valarr felt flattered by the observation, but there was something else there too. His mouth ran dry and his throat constricted as the clashing of steel and flashes of crimson filled his mind.

"I'm not somebody to debate swordplay with" he managed "I was taught by my father but... I was raised basically in the wilderness just with him. I was never taught by a master-at-arms and I've never studied fencing manuals or served within an organised order of warriors. I'm afraid you probably know far more about swordplay than I do."

[The Republic of Atria]

Ozella

Aleish

The woman, Ozella, continued her rant, mentioning that she was probably going to sell the horse. There was something strange about the woman, and it wasn't just the fact that she was a slightly insane vagabond. Selling the horse wouldn't be a bad idea, especially if she wasn't capable of taking care of it. "A trade?" She thought for a moment. "Unfortunately, I don't have much I'm willing to part with, so I would agree with your idea to sell it when we arrive. A little extra coin wouldn't hurt. I could help you negotiate if you wish." Almost without warning, the conversation switched to discussing weapons, and Aleish even decided to jump in the conversation. Not that she would complain, it was a topic she knew some about.

Ozella "measured" the length of weapons in "hands". Sveta assumed she meant it literally as Ozella pulled out her weapon. A falchion that had definitely seen better days, but was in pretty good shape despite it's age. "A falchion is a good choice of weapon." Sveta couldn't help but notice that Ozella seemed a bit dismissive of her own choice of weapon, something about axes being tools for destroying trees, which wasn't wrong but it still struck her as a bit off. "I trained with it for..." she paused as she tried to remember the proper length of time. "I believe about a harvest and a half was how long I practiced with it before I made it my own." As she explained and Aleish spoke, complimenting her ability with the large axe.

"Thank you, Aleish." She said, trying not to look embarrassed at the compliment. She'd heard all manner of nasty rumors about the Vantyr, but Aleish was a proper gentlemen. She respected that. "That's one of the reasons I keep my... Let's call it different, manner of dress. It's disarming." She decided to keep some of the other reasons to herself, as they were personal, and she just met these people, even if they were mostly trustworthy. Thankfully the conversation moved on. "I too am curious where you learned your skill with a blade. I am inclined to agree with Aleish, I'm best with my axe, but I can use a sword or a spear if I have to."

[Theyra]

Aivaras Kvaselis - Last Watcher - The Fall Guy

What are the odds that this turned into a trap? It has to be slim, right, given the situation? That their one source of information about whoever is behind poisoning the sacred pools is actually an assassin, and this is all a trap. Well, it is now crystal clear that this is a trap, well ambush, when sudden walls were raised on each entrance to the alleyway. Then two hooded archers showed up nearby on the rooftop. Finally, their source pulled out a dagger with some green substance on it. Probably poison, he guessed.

Aivaras instead of drawing his sword and seeing how Raggar is engaging the assassin. With the assassin occupied, Aivaras turned his gaze to the hooded archers. Luckily for him, Aivaras just has a way to deal with them. Blue ghostly energy formed in his right hand, and it condensed into a bolt that he quickly launched at one of the archers. Hitting the archer right in the chest, he fell backward in a heap. While the unhurt archer fired an arrow at Aivaras and he barely dodged out of the way. The arrow grazed his left arm. Quickly checked his arm, and sure enough, it was just a flesh wound. Still, that was too close for his sake, and the next shot may not miss in these close quarters. "Someone take out that archer," Aivaras yelled to his companions, and he readied another soul bolt. Time to see if the next shot will miss.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Inti Erdonai - The Fall Guy

---

Watching the conversation between Artorius and the guards escorting the herbalist away unfold, Inti was at once pleasantly surprised that the Sylf's little performance had paid off, and dismayed that it clearly wouldn't be enough to get the herbalist free. There was no way that things would result in a favorable outcome if Puck and Artorius were escorted to meet the guards' commanding officer, so, thinking quickly, the young bard opted to take matters into his own hands. Rushing over to a nearby spot that had a clear view of the herbalist and the shop behind him, Inti took out his crossbow and fired a bolt with expert aim - the projectile flew past Levin's head and embedded itself in the wooden sign hanging from the shop's exterior.

Naturally, this would immediately draw the attention of the guards, as well as Artorius, Puck, and Levin himself. However, what they would see would not be a blond Feren, but rather a tall humanoid figure draped in a cloak that obscured its features, holding a heftier crossbow than the one Inti carried and with a sinister aura about it. Upon seemingly failing its attempt at assassinating the herbalist, the figure would turn and run, in a clear attempt to get lost among the crowds of Arboris and eventually fade into the shadows of some dark alley nestled between the buildings surrounding the Great Oakani.

While perhaps an ill-advised maneuver that would simply put the guards on high alert, Inti was convinced that this was the right move. A pressing threat that demanded a rapid response from the guards, without giving them time to think things through or consult their superior officer? It would give them what they needed, some time alone with the herbalist so that they could unshackle him, get him somewhere safe and talk to him on Naril's behalf.

Hopefully Artorius wouldn't screw it up.

[Absolon-7]

---

---

Artorius - Chapter 1: The Fall Guy

---

"Yes, that will work for me," agreed Artorius as the guards fell for his gambit.

In truth he was not pleased to leverage his former position like this but it was a necessary measure to see justice done. Speaking to their commander was a more daunting task as he'd expect them to have more wit then simple guardsmen. Then again if he played his cards right it could still work out. A Spinose of his situation was quite unheard of and their order was infamous for being stubbornly independent. He'd just have to keep pretending to be what they wanted him to be and an idea to impersonate an old friend struck his head if things escalated beyond his word being enough. He'd have some explaining to do the next time they met but he would understand. Fortunately none of the strategies he thought of would come to light as Inti had stepped into his role as distraction seamlessly. A bolt flying near the herbalist's head, a sinister attacker retreating, and some panicked guards where the perfect storm to get the herbalist away.

"Blast it we didn't arrive early enough!" shouted Artorius at the illusionary attacker's direction erupting a thorny whip from his hand. He looked back at the guards and authoritatively "You three, bind the suspect's shackles somewhere quickly. I'll need you to chase the attacker to somewhere closed off. I'll move along the rooftops to pincer them. Hurry!"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Shelazen Menelith - The Great Monster Hunt

---

While her conversation with Shetal took place, Shelazen also continued to listen to the other members of their small congregation as they continued to heed the lion siblings' words and stood up to introduce themselves to the rest of the group. It was a worthwhile activity to pay attention to, as many of those present seemed like quite interesting folk - perhaps there was something to be learned from a few of them. And even if that wasn't the case, it always helped to ascertain who it would be fun to hang out with and who she should avoid like the plague.

As it turned out, there seemed to be more people in the latter group than she had suspected. Specifically, the prissy woman who declared that she had come from the Consortium - she also mentioned that there were some others present who hailed from there as well, which did not bode well. The dark-skinned woman had made no effort to hide the poor opinion she had of the institution, and for the most part she thought much the same of its students.

Better keep track of that crowd so they don't try to snoop around in my stuff. The unorthodox arcanist thought to herself.

Shortly after the white-haired mage's introduction, another person stood up, this time the same man she had seen being threatened by Shetal and her half-blood bodyguard earlier, just after she had awoken. He seemed like the free-flowing alcohol had made quite an effect on him, which in her experience tended to make for a fun experience - perhaps someone would get into a drunken fight later on, though for now, introductions it was. And judging by the short Madir's demeanor, he was preparing to give a worthwhile one. At last after a few moments he spoke up, referring to himself as the Prince of Swords.

Curious about this figure and eager to hear more, Shelazen awaited patiently for a continuation that simply wasn't to come. After holding her silence for a few moments, the woman realized that that was everything. A bit disappointed, she nonetheless figured that the polite thing to do would be to acknowledge it, and started clapping enthusiastically. "Yeah! That was... something! Welcome to the party, sire!" She said. She would probably be a lot more interested in earning the man's favor if he was actual royalty, but even so, a little bit of hospitality never hurt.

Even if she wasn't the one paying for any of this.

[Tomia]

Anlolar Ekkla, The Blade of Amaranth

Anlolar nodded to Klelane as the other Enkal accepted her offer of help. The paladin placed her hand gently on Klelane's arm, as suddenly Anlolar began to glow with a pulsing white light as the cuts and bruises across Klelane's body began to fade away. "There, that should be better." The healer said gently, before reaching into her bag for some of the dried venison that she had been carrying. "What are you doing out here by yourself?" She asked patiently, curious about the first Enkal she had seen in a while.

The Fall Guy

As his blades were parried just before making contact with his target, the Dvar assassin narrowed his eyes onto the Shay who was now in his ways. His eyes suddenly grew wide for a moment, his resolve seemingly shaken as he takes a step back. His expression relaxes after a moment however, "Nice fucking try, you ain't mind fucking me today." He said, recovering as he did a forward horizontal stab with his left blade and a vertical slash at Raggar's shoulder.

Meanwhile there could be heard a roaring outside the now blocked off alley way, as the dirt wall behind them started to shake a bit as if it was being struck from the other side. Narill, now out of danger for the moment with Ragger between her and the assassin, watched as one of the archers was knocked off their post. However, it wasn't before they managed to release an arrow that flew past. She barely managed to deflect it with her sword as it clattered to the ground. She wasn't much of a ranged fighter and so she was at a disadvantage to deal with this remaining ranger. However, at this point the dirt wall behind them came crashing down and Taruk came running through the alley, savagely climbing the wall towards the archer. Pieces of the roof begin to fall to the ground as a shrill scream is heard as the archer is thrown harshly onto the ground, rolling in pain as he struggles to get to his feet. Meanwhile the first archer that Aivaras had knocked over had risen to their feet again and fired another shot, this one towards the man who had attacked him in the first place.

---

The guards looked completely caught off guard as Artorius barked orders to them. "uh... right!" The one that had previously been taking charge said, still not completely sure what was going on after the sudden attack. He took the prisoner's chains and tied them around a nearby tree. With that done he hurriedly nudged his underling guard.

"Come on! This way!" He shouted, running over to where it seemed the crossbow bolt had come from."

Meanwhile, Levin turned to the party that remained there, looking shocked and very confused. "What the bloody hell is going on?!"

The Great Monster Hunt

As the rest of their party continued to converse and drink with each other, Shetal and Braddock found themselves at the corner of the bar. It seemed almost like a private, solemn moment as they each shared a drink. Shetal had what seemed like a glass of wine in hand, while Braddock held a bottle of whiskey.

"If this is our last night on this plane sister, then let us journey to Forever Wilds with the ancestors. If I'm gonna die, it's gonna be fucking glorious."

Shetal offered a small smile at that, before her expression turned a bit serious. "Are you scared Brad, of dying I mean?"

The lion like man let out a soft hum from his throat. "No, death is natural. It doesn't scare me. What scares me, is not having honor. I don't want to die a nobody. I won't die a nobody." He said, his voice growing stern. At that Shetal threw her arm around the broad shoulder of her brother.

"Well, then sounds like we better survive then."

After a while as the night went on, Shetal approached the table. "Alright you outcasts and freaks, let's get some shut eye. We have a long and potentially deadly trip ahead of us."

[Ceystile]

Malory/The Fall Guy
Malory and the others suddenly found themselves surrounded by archers, with their leader, a Dvar with the ugliest face they'd ever seen lunging at Narill with a poisoned dagger. His goons turned their attention to the rest of the party, with the Shayit Raggar going after the Dvar to buy Narill and the others time to take care of the rest of the party.
"Not even an hour in and something already tries to kill us...you lot waste absolutely no time, do you?" The mage turned to the archers nearest them, sending a jet of red flame hurtling toward an archer and barely managing to dodge a crossbow bolt. Narill was clearly holding her own, though it definitely seemed like she needed help. As Malory moved to position themselves, they were saved the trouble by Narill's companion Taruk savagely attacking the archer and knocking them down. Quickly darting their gaze around to see if any of the other party members needed assistance, Malory grabbed the wounded archer by the front of his robes and pinned them to the nearest wall.
"Okay, funny guy. There's a reason you and your lot lured us all here, so either tell me what I want to know..." A ball of red fire formed in their free hand. "Or I hope you like your skin cooked medium well."

Tarquin/The Great Monster Hunt
As the party started to slowly wind down, Tarquin played a little song on his flute, a non magical one though so that nobody would end up randomly falling asleep. Tarquin retired to his room after Shetal approached the table and locked the door behind him, falling onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. “You should’ve been here with us…I miss you, man.” He tried not to think of his brother too much, but now that he was going on a journey to find him it was proving quite difficult. “You better not be dead, because Mother and Father need you and I really don’t want to have to go to the afterlife to bear your ass myself. Sure you’re the big bad monster hunter and all but I’d still win.”

[Segral]

The High Flyer:
The Open Plains // Valaran
Harvest 819, Blank 3, Ley 1 CE

---

Well, that was eventful. A herd of two dozen bandits, and it was nearly at their own hands that every throat in the party got slashed. She had sympathy for Klelane, the beautiful Enkal woman that had been caught lurking behind the tree; change the time and place, and that poor woman could've been Teriani herself. At the square, it almost was her. She didn't quite know what to make of every other incident following Klelane's appearance. It appeared to be misunderstanding after misunderstanding after misunderstanding, not helped by some of the more...juvenile members of their party. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, namely Aleish's. Valarr was correct in that the Vantyr held an image of terror around their form, often surrounded by tall tales of men being eaten alive and unquenchable thirsts for blood, but both men were living proof that it was merely that; an image. She had been swindled and hustled before, but she did not perceive Aleish to be a swindler or hustler. So, for now, she did not plan to leave at Erisen City. She did not plan to leave at any point, for that matter.

Bainne let out a low purr, nuzzling the side of Teriani's head with his feathered neck. He was more content than he had been for leys, likely thanks to his enjoyment of a proper meal. While she had let the bandit she had captured loose as Anlolar had, the man's horse hadn't been so lucky. Bainne had snapped the steed up of his own accord, an act that she wasn't necessarily vehemently opposed to. After all, she had already gone above and beyond by showing that bandit more mercy than he would ever show her in kind. One horse wouldn't change that. If it brought Bainne down for the night, it was worth it. She hated spending so much time with him in the sky and her on the ground for no other purpose than to avoid making a scene. Even now, his azure coat shined brightly in the stifling darkness, but with a fire lit in the open plains, they were already drawing attention to themselves. She let her arm drift upwards to briefly rub the top of his head, before turning her attention back toward sharpening the slender throwing knife in her palm. There wasn't much need for it, she had sharpened the blades a few leys prior, but it gave her something to do with her hands in absence of conversation.

Teriani and Bainne were lying near Anlolar, and when Klelane drifted over towards her fellow Enkal for healing and food, the Alfari pushed herself slightly upright, interested in hearing what the party's newcomer had to say. She didn't say anything to avoid interrupting Anlolar's line of questioning, merely regulating herself to peering at the two Enkal with a curious gaze as she continued to sharpen away. After all, it was quite mysterious how she had ended up in the middle of the fields with cuts on her limbs and no food in her stomach. Not threatening, simply...mysterious.

---

---

The Half-Blind Seer:
Wearyman's Tavern // The High City of Aratosh // Valaran
Harvest 819, Blank 3, Ley 1 CE

---

"Hm." was his only response to the Lady of Storms, whom he now knew to go by the name Nemina. He sipped his ale with an undecipherable air, placing a fist under his chin once he was done as he ruminated over her words. "It's a pity," he said at last, not meeting her eyes as he stared out of the Wearyman's front windows and into the darkening street beyond. At night, Aratosh's streets tended to take torch and lamp in their preference of lighting, casting a warm, ruddy glow that barely illuminated the stony corners surrounding the tavern. Through the window, he watched as two Menai, mother and son, plodded past, the son carrying a large bucket of some indiscernible liquid while the mother guided him along. At one point, the young boy stumbled, a few drops of liquid spilling out of the bucket, but the mother caught him, steadying him with palm and pushing him along past Jorel's scope of view. "Those who show talent are often expected to display such talent at every opportunity, to be flawless in execution and without blemish in conception. A wound in my heart pours fresh for those who are led to believe it," he said in a surprisingly grave, quiet voice, a far cry from the bawdy rumble he had previously taken on. A sideways glance revealed that Nemina was staring into her cup as the messenger of omens, but at that moment, Jorel had little pity left to spend on anyone but himself. "Don't feel sorry. It is I who should be offering apologies instead."

With that, the night had begun to draw to a close. Jorel had little else to drink and even less to say, instead choosing to retire to his quarters not long after Tarquin. His age was beginning to strike him for the first time that ley, a sense of aching exhaustion beginning to creep into his limbs and back with a stealthy crawl. That, and an odd sense of loneliness. Jorel was never lonely, he was constantly surrounded by companion and partner alike, and always found himself in the company of another. But that night, crawling into his cheapened sheets, he was quite alone in spirit.

Sleep did not come easily.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Aleish of Velshamir - The Blade of Amaranth

---

The soft azure glow of early striding bathed the dark brown body of the Pride of Eldengard as Aleish walked out onto the deck and looked out towards the horizon. To the west, he could see the woods north of the Arathen Ridge, which surrounded the town of Azroot; to the east, he could see the earth rising and the snow-capped peaks of the Barrier Mountains which lined the eastern border of the Dawning Isle; and up ahead, to the north, lay the rest of the Erisian Bay, and the old lighthouse at the northernmost point of the isle, its firelight core still shedding heat and glow sporadically. The distant high-domed buildings of central Cyrna were not visible from this spot, but once the armed trading vessel reached the very tip of the Erisian Bay, the silhouette of the Consortium would be only just visible beyond the misty seas and the cover of the clouds. Behind the ship, to the south, lay the port of Erisen at the very end of the curve where the Ebony Sea met the isle of Valaran, from where the group under the Vantyr swordsman's command had set out two leys ago.

After the battle against the outlaw horsemen and their subsequent meeting of the wandering Enkal, the group had gone to sleep during the slumbering, waking up at mid-waking the next ley to continue their journey and arriving to Erisen at the onset of tempering. Compared to the Jewel of Valaran, the port city wasn't quite as impressive, but it was nonetheless a sight to behold. Watchtowers and palisades lined the way into the city, serving more to fend off the occasional raid from the southern bandits than to make a show of power like the Stone Gates of the High City. As one continued on however, the familiar architecture of the denizens of Valaran could be seen, with tall, thin, brass-capped buildings being the norm, although as one moved further towards the sea, this style began to mix with other foreign styles, such as the wide domes of Cyrna or the flat, square shapes favored by the people of Harush. Two main squares existed within the city, one nearer to the south and the mountains, one nearer to the sea and the woods, both of them lined with market stalls, bazaars, taverns and other such establishments, with trade being quite active as expected of Valaran's most important port. Further towards the sea, an imposing wall with a bastion at each end of the bay and a massive portcullis in the center protected the city from pirates and monsters.

Their stay had been brief, but mostly pleasant - the group had half a day to rest from the long walk and enjoy the comforts of the city before they would begin the arduous journey from Erisen to Avernus, and that was what they did. Aleish himself had dealt with a few last minute arrangements and ensured that the Pride would provide passage, as had been previously agreed. The Madren sailors from the stronghold of Eldengard, in distant Tregal, were more than happy to allow the group on board in exchange for a generous contribution of gold royals and the promise of assistance in case of an attack. The next waking, the group set off, and things had been calm since then. Smooth sailing, as it were, though a feeling in the Vantyr's gut told him to be on guard.

Watching as the sailors went about their business, Aleish walked towards the bow of the ship. Normally, he was not a fan of the sea - it brought few pleasant memories and many that he would rather not revisit, and he would have found it easy to remain below deck for the whole journey, were it not for the fact that such would have been quite a dull experience. Today he felt particularly adventurous and moved towards the prow, where the likeness of some monster from the depths of the Ebony Sea was attached to the top of the stem, to ward off evil and invoke its strength during times of tribulation, according to common belief among sailors. The stemhead was far from the only threat the vessel had to offer - massive, deadly bolt throwers lined its sides as a means of defense against hostile vessels or creatures from the depths, their flensing projectiles particularly effective against the latter.

Peering over the misty waters, the Vantyr warrior could just about make out the point where the Erisian Bay ended, where Cyrna and Valaran formed a strait through which most vessels bound to the east or coming to Erisen from that direction had to pass through, though at the moment he could not quite determine how far it was, much less how much longer it would take to get there. The decades he had spent walking the world had taught him to be patient, but a part of him still yearned for this journey to be over, and quickly. There was something dreadful about journeying over the sea - nowhere to run if things went wrong. Spending blanks at sea like many sailors did was ludicrous, let alone seven harvests like the ancestors had done.

What searing dread or eldritch lust would drive a man to spend so long suspended over this dark abyss?

The swordsman's thoughts were interrupted as he saw off the corner of his eye the approaching form of Grim, captain of the Pride of Eldengard, a Madir woman with ashen hair and amber eyes, a faded cross-shaped scar upon her face. She looked to be just over thirty harvests or so and quite tall, nearing six feet in height. A saber hung from her belt and a crossbow from her back, though she didn't often have to use either at sea - she didn't often come across normal foes there, and the bolt throwers below deck were better suited to dealing with monsters and the like.

"Enjoying another fine ley, Fangs?" The woman inquired with a certain mirth in her voice as she addressed Aleish with the nickname she had picked out for him the second she laid eyes on him. During the past two days he had made no effort to hide his discomfort over their method of transport and, in turn, she made no effort to avoid giving him a good ribbing over it every now and then. It was still better than going through the caves, though not by much.

"Ah, captain, how gracious of you to honor me with your presence." He said, his words impeccably polite and his voice ridden with sarcasm as he continued to look to the sea. "I cannot complain, I suppose. It will be a better ley than the last one if we reach the strait today. A change of view, at least."

"I think you'll find that however monotonous it can be at times, the scenery up here is far more pleasant than whatever you'd find down in the underworld if you'd chosen a different route to Harush." Grim replied with a nonchalant shrug before glancing over to the horizon. "But yes, come next waking we should find ourselves on the other side of the strait, and hopefully far enough from the shores of the Thundering Isle. A storm is not something I enjoy facing."

"As fate would have it, there are no storms underground." Aleish stated dryly in response. Grim chuckled.

"Got me there. Maybe I should quit sailing and start ferrying people across the tunnels. Ought to be far more entertaining to be helplessly lost down there, somewhere in the dark. Hear there's all sorts of interesting critters, like fire-breathing hounds, or giant spiders with seven faces." She replied.

"Ah, I've encountered one of those in the past." The Vantyr spoke. "Not very tasty though, I must say."

There was a brief stunned silence before the captain spoke again. "I have to give it to you Fangs, you've got some interesting stories. We should swap sometime. Maybe over a bottle of spiced spirits." She offered as she turned to head back to the quarterdeck. "But I'll leave you to your brooding for now."

Aleish allowed himself a brief smile as he listened to Grim's receding footsteps. While a part of him was grateful for her company, as there were few among her crew comfortable with having two 'man-eaters' among them while at sea, another was more than satisfied with getting the better of her for a change. The truth was that during a long journey like this, in which they moved not at the mercy of their own bodies but the wind and the waves, and in which they were not needed to keep things running smoothly, conversation was one of the few ways Aleish and his comrades had available to pass the time. There was only so much one could do on a plank in the middle of the sea, after all. Liquor, cards and dice kept most busy at tempering, but it was too early for that.

Turning away from the prow at last, the Vantyr swordsman looked around. Perhaps some of his fellow adventurers would be out and about.

---

Shelazen Menelith - The Great Monster Hunt

---

For the white-haired alchemist, the night had gone fairly smoothly so far. Not only had she unexpectedly managed to worm her way into an insane quest to hunt some bloodthirsty aberration of nature - a task that promised to pay handsomely if she managed to keep herself and her employers alive - she had also gotten to drink and dine at someone else's expense at a time when she was down on her luck, which was an extremely welcome change of pace. She had been perhaps a bit too liberal with her drinks, as evidenced by her unsteady movements and slightly impeded speech, but it hardly mattered.

Upon Shetal approaching and urging everyone to go to sleep, however, Shelazen made no effort to conceal her disappointment. "Get some shut eye? Yeah, right. Because I didn't wake up in the last hour or anything." She said, her words slurring together as she spoke. Much to her chagrin, it didn't seem like most of the other members of the group were of the same mind as her. Along with Shetal and Braddock, several more were already retiring for the night. The alcohol was no longer flowing freely the way it was before, what with the group's two patrons heading to bed.

"Great, no more booze and the pretty boy left already. What a disappointing way to end a good night." She muttered, mostly to herself, as she slumped back on her chair, slowly sliding down the seat until she was almost out of it and letting out a long sigh at the end. Digging under her robe through the many pouches and flasks attached to her belt, she fished out a small purse and began looking through it for any spare silver royal.

"If I'm lucky, maybe I can afford another round and a night on the cheapest room around..."

---

Inti Erdonai - The Fall Guy

---

Watching Artorius seize the opportunity he offered and bark commands at the three guards who listened unknowingly to his words, the Feren illusionist nodded in approval. The plan worked like a charm - the guards left Levin tied to a tree that was close by and hurriedly left to chase an attacker that did not truly exist. That left the trio in a much better position than they had been in at the start of all this. Now all that was left to do was finish the job.

With that in mind, Inti snapped his fingers. From the perspective of anyone around, there would be no one standing where they were - vanished into thin air with nary an eye looking for them. From the perspective of Artorius, Puck and Levin, he would appear next to them, as he had always been. Smiling proudly at his handiwork, the blond Feren offered the herbalist a lackadaisical wave and then waved the keyring he stole from the guards in front of him, before approaching and undoing the lock on the manacles that bound him to the chains wrapped around the tree.

Having finished his job, Inti nonchalantly tossed the keyring to the ground, crossed his arms, and then looked up at Artorius, expecting him - or Puck - to do the talking, for obvious reasons. He had been more than happy to provide a distraction, but he wouldn't be of much use here.

[The Republic of Atria]

The Custodian Searches for The Blade of Amaranth

The conversation died down and everyone looked like they were getting ready to go to sleep. She too was feeling the heaviness in her eyes and set up her sleeping bag, before spotting Valarr. Remembering a bit earlier, she might have come across as ruder than she intended. So once she was finished with her sleeping bag, she approached the Vantyr. "Hello, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I might have come off rude and that wasn't what I intended. I was just trying to prevent a fight. I understand your distrust of the Enkala, and I hope you understand what I was trying to do. I meant no disrespect." She said. She did mean her apology and hoped it came across as that. "I do hope our job goes a little better than it's start."

Arrival at Erisen

Sleep came easy. The previous ley was spent with a quite a bit of walking and even a fight, and those always took more out of everyone than they'd realize. She'd thought about the bandit she fought. In some way, she understood the desperation. It drove many people to do things they'd rather not. They were seizing a opportunity that they thought would be profitable and failed. She didn't want to kill him, but hopefully a blow or two to his head would make sure that he reconsidered his choice of "work", and went to make an honest wage. Probably not, but she could hope. She was a Madren and so was the bandit and they were known for being stubborn to a fault.

When the group arrived at Erisen, they had about half a ley to enjoy the city before they moved on. Sveta decided that she really wanted a bit to drink and a hot meal, and there were probably bars aplenty. She had enough money for that at the least. She picked one that looked the least rundown, and entered. It was quieter than she expected, but it wasn't quite primetime for drinking if you weren't a drunkard. She sat at the bar and awaited the bartender who came out shortly after she sat down. It was a Menai of average height and an impeccably maintained beard. He glanced at her for a moment, unsure if he was actually seeing what he was seeing. "...Sveta?"

Sveta perked up when she her name. It took a second but she remembered the voice. "Samir?"

"It's been so long! How many blanks? At least eight!"

"That sounds right. It looks like you've done well for yourself."

"Most bartenders don't have that little magic zing to put into their booze. Mine's just a little colder and a little tastier. I see you're still... Trying to make it work."

"Yes. I'm not ashamed of it."

"I said nothing." He said and pour a nice mead for her. "I think you're the only one who didn't sell their uniform for a bit more coin. Here, on the house." Samir slid the flagon across the counter so that it stopped perfectly in front of Sveta. "So what brings you to Erisen?"

"I found a job with good pay. We're just passing through. It's private, so I shouldn't share too much." She said and took a sip of the mead he pour. It was actually quite good. Definitely some of the better mead she's had.

"Ah, that's fine. And good for you finding work after what happened. When you're done with that, if you still need some coin, feel free to come back here. I can give you a roof and pay. If you still insist on dressing like you still serve the Queen, well, I'm sure you could use your appearance to get some of these drunken idiots to give a little extra coin."

She scowled at him and he laughed.

"I jest, but the offer for a job is real. I already know you're more competent than most I'll find in the city, and with your help we can run the best tavern in the city. It may not be as nice as our old quarters, but it's something, and it'd be ours." He said.

Sveta thought for a bit as she nursed the sweet tasting mead. It was a nice offer. If she couldn't find something to do after this, then maybe. "I'll definitely consider it, but I do want to find my own way."

"I understand." He thought back to when the Custodians each went their own ways, and Sveta's burning glare at the castle she spent so much of her life in. "Is that way looking to build an army to oust Amelia?" He asked, half as a joke, but there was a bit of a sincere question in it. "I didn't forget it was you who suggested that we kill her."

Sveta looked at him and back to her mead. "I don't think so. We don't have the same authority and respect we commanded in Amalur. I can dream about marching on the castle. And I will do so until I die."

"I've not heard much good from Amalur since we left." He muttered. "Even if we don't do anything, it would not surprise me if Amelia was removed in a revolution. Maybe then we could return."

"Maybe. Maybe I'll return there just to see what happened one ley."

"Best of luck Sveta. Don't be afraid to come by every so often. Mead is on the house."

[Finland SSR]

The Fall Guy

The Fall Guy
Raggar of Tughlut

It would have been easy had the Dvar assassin was incapacitated by the illusions and allowed Raggar to claim an easy win, however, as it turns out, he had more experience with Shayit trickery than anticipated. The illusion only got him to make a brief lapse in attention before breaking it and announcing his resistance. Raggar did not bother to maintain the illusion or strengthen it. If he needs to win the duel on fair terms, then he will win it on fair terms.

Well, "fair" terms. Nothing in fighting is truly fair, and this was no exception.

Faced with the Dvar's offensive, Raggar moved to a defensive posture, holding his sword up front with one hand and watching the assassin's movements. When the horizontal stab came forth, he blocked it with the side of his sword's blade, grinding his foe's weapon to the side and redirecting it from his body. Against the following vertical swing, he held his weapon up horizontally, blocking the strike with a powerful clang.

However, Raggar did not counter-attack - instead, he remained on the defensive, making a step back, holding his sword and watching his foe's movements. What the Shay betted on was his allies pulling their weight - now that Narill's pet has stormed into the alley, he was betting on them dispatching of the two archers and then joining the melee. One against one may be a fair duel, but five against one is a winning duel.

[Galnius]

Nemina: The Great Monster Hunt

As the slumbering began, the party seemed to split into their own conversations. Nemina did not join any, instead thinking on what Jorel had said. It was a strange statement, almost utter nonsense. And yet, somehow, she felt like he pitied her. Why? Her goal was one that everyone should pursue. Betterment of oneself was always the goal, wasn't it?

Nemina was broken out of her stupor by the return of Braddock and Shetal, who asked them all to get some sleep. The flutist quickly obliged, followed by a solemn looking Jorel. It appeared their last guest had not had her fill of the ley, however. The odd alchemist dug around in her pockets, instead, mumbling about coin. Shelazen had given her a worried side eye previously, but Nemina did not wish to end the first night among her new allies on a bad impression, whatever the cause for it.

"Here." Nemina opened a coin purse that she kept inside her robes and took out a few coins of varied value. "I hope we can be friends in the future. We will be fighting together, and it may be best." Without waiting for a response, or acceptance, she placed them in front of Shelazen and left for a room of her own.

Nemina shut her door slowly, gingerly, careful not to make any distracting noises. The door remained unlatched, having never been in a situation where it was necessary, and she prepared for rest. However, before sleep could take, she had to do her ley end studying.

The air in the room followed the motions of her hand, clearing the room of a mustiness that many a lodging held. Instead, sweet spices were tossed into the breeze, leaving the area with a pleasing aroma. The wind the worked with static that had grabbed a tattered journal and bright it to her, a quill following suit. The edges were scorched from previous attempts, where too much lightning had sent the book flying with a jolt. The process still took a few minutes, but it was necessary to constantly practice control and grace. Flashy bolts and storm like winds were doable by many. It was with finesse that a master was made.

Nemina wrote of the ley's events, marking the blank and harvest with careful calligraphy. She had not found many chances to truly challenge herself until today, and with challenge came improvement.

Such challenge would not be useful without health though. She had to sleep. However, there was one last thing to do. Nemina removed a ring from her finger and held it up to eye level, gripping it with both hands. Her brow furrowed, and blue electricity began to bounce and arc through the circle, and would continue to until later in the slumbering. Content with the result, Nemina felt it safe to snuff the candle she was using for writing and safety, with the light instead being replaced by soft glow of electricity. Should someone enter, they would find her having quickly fallen asleep, the blue light bouncing around the slowly falling ring illuminating Nemina in dim safety, protected by what she was afraid may lurk somewhere in the dark.

---

---

Puck:The Fall Guy

Things quickly went south. The plan was to go into the store, talk to the man, and move on. Simple, easy, no risk. Of course, plans never succeeded so easily. One moment, they were trying to lie their way into getting the man with them. There next, a crossbow bolt flew by. Then, the guards charged off and Inti freed the shopkeep. Needless to say, Puck was taken aback by the turn of events.

Still, Puck hadn't gotten this far in life without being willing to adapt on the fly. "Oh, sorry about that. We need to talk. But uh, maybe we should get away from the guards first, yeah? Just in case they come back?"

Puck looked towards where the guards had run off to with worry. Who knew when they would return, or how fast the others could run. Inti was small like herself, and the shopkeep didn't look all that spry. "Um, sorry about this Inti, Levin. Artorius, can you lead us somewhere safe?" Then, two of her brawn arms went to grab the shopkeep and Inti, while the others excited the pack and formed wheels, ready to take all but Artorius away at a rapid rate.

[Kamisato Ayaka Nation]

Anlolar Ekkla, The Blade of Amaranth

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" She asked patiently, curious about the first Enkal she had seen in a while.

Klelane | Blade of Amaranth
Klelane faltered a bit at Anlolar’s question. Despite getting used to her surroundings quickly, Klelane still felt a bit awkward with the people in the group she’d joined for now. She wasn’t sure why she was acting like this. It wasn’t in her nature to be this meek. Well, at the very least, her previous occupation certainly made her much more outgoing and expressive.

For whatever reason, Klelane could feel that everyone was wary; it was as if they were anticipating something bad to happen. She wasn’t sure about their actual motive for banding up as a group, but considering there had been a battle just behind her it seemed like they were the ones being targetted. The more she thought about it, the more she understood that Vantyr’s reaction. Still, it didn’t warrant an outburst of that sort, did it?

Bringing her mind back to the current situation, she thought about how she was going to answer for a while. Then, she plainly answered, “To put it simply, urm…” she hesitated for a while, “I was just venturing in the wild, and then I got lost. Here was the first sign of civilisation in quite some time so I decided to see what this was all about, heh…” Klelane wasn’t sure if she came off as nonchalant or nervous, but just talking about what she’d been up to lifted some sort of huge burden from her. Well, as long as she had someone to talk to Klelane would always feel better.

Erisen
This port city was quite picturesque if Klelane said so herself. A town filled with Menai, it reminded her of the town she used to work as a bartender in before she made her leave. They were quite alike, albeit this was a little grander. Walking through one of its supposed main square (she’d overheard there was another one) she was in awe of just what the place held in store. Markets, bazaars and taverns lined the boulevard, and sellers and store owners alike were marketing their goods, shouting all about hoping to entice potential customers. In a way, it did remind her of working in a tavern, and a slight pang of nostalgia hit her.

Could this be my new home? Klelane quietly thought to herself. She felt right at home in the city and wanted to settle here like how she did in the other city. Wallowing in her reminiscing, she then remembered the reason why she’d left the city: to embark on a new adventure. Sure, this city was a good place to be, but it wasn’t all that different from what she’d already experienced. She wanted something new; to explore the vast world and the natural treasures it presented.

Spotting a tavern, she decided she missed the taste of beer and alcohol on her taste buds after leys of eating nothing but wild game. Stepping in, she looked up to see Sveta, someone from the party she was in, talking to the bartender while drinking a cup of mead. Klelane felt like she had to make some new friends, but seeing how Sveta and the bartender were engaged at the moment, she decided to settle down quietly several seats away.

[Absolon-7]

---

---

---

Artorius - Chapter 1: The Fall Guy

---

"Your salvation," quietly muttered Artorius as he stood over the shackled herbalist.

Artorius watched the two guards run after the specter of an attacker pitying them but there was still more to be done before they could be in the clear. Into took the initiative to free the herbalist and gestured for someone else to explain for obvious reasons. Puck had used her mechanical construct-arms to pick up the two others and formed wheels to roll out. Artorius was fascinated by the contraption but his interest would have to wait until business was over. He looked up at the rooftops above them spying for anything to latch onto and with the right ledges marked in his head he began extending out his thorns vines.

"I know of a safe refuge. A garden. Long and winding for those who like to get lost," said Artorius retracting his vines as swinging there would draw too much attention. They had to move swiftly but sleekly like a fish through a stream, "Follow me and don't stop for anything."

Artorius then began to run swiftly like a stag in retreat leading their small group towards safety.

[The Republic of Atria]

Klelane

Sveta continued to nurse her drink while reminiscing on the "good old leys". Sure, things weren't perfect, but they were definitely better than they were now. She couldn't tell if she was upset or frustrated with the other Custodians just giving up and going about their life, or maybe she was just being stubborn and refused to let go of the past. Looking down at herself made it pretty clear that it was her, even if she would deny it. Her train of thought was interrupted by someone else entering the tavern. She glanced over and much to her surprise, she wasn't the only one in the group that found the tavern.

The woman was an Enkala, as evidenced by the mild glow and halo, and the very same one that "ambushed" them while they were sitting by the fire the previous ley. There wasn't a much better time for a proper introduction than now. "Hello." She said in her usual friend tone. "You're the one that riled up that Vantyr." Probably not the best words to start a conversation. "Sorry. My name is Sveta. It's good to finally speak under less strenuous circumstances. What brings you on this little excursion?" She asked.

[Tomia]

Anlolar, Erisen

As they entered the city, Anlolar looked around at this new and foreign environment. She was used to new cities and towns, and the stares and looks that inevitably came along with that for her. As they had walked Anlolar was mostly silent, only occasionally making conversation with some of the seemingly more friendly members of the group such as Saffron, Sveta, and Klelane. She had been on her own for a long time at this point, and so it was strange for her to be around others in such close proximity. As they were first settling into town, they came upon the market near the woods and Anlolar turned to Saffron, tapping her on the shoulder gently. "Would you care to browse?" She asked softly, and while her offer was sincere was clearly not the type of thing that Anlolar did very often. However she took Saffron to be the type who was familiar with and even enjoyed shopping. "I have no idea what they have here, but I figure I could use some things, some more rations perhaps." She looked around as well to see if any of those walking with them were interested.

Anlolar, the Pride

As Aleish walked across the deck of the ship, one of party's Enkala was standing near the door to the passenger's quarters and leaning over the rail of the ship, her wings spread out in rare fashions. Her face was even paler than usual and her eyes were slightly sunken. Her usual perfect features faced with rare imperfection. "I hate the sea." She could be heard grumbling over the side. The last few days had not been particularly kind for Anlolar, as she was not accustomed to sea travel and found that it did not agree with her. She was vaguely aware of the captain and Aleish presence on the deck as well, mostly hoping others would ignore her and notice her unflattering and somewhat vulnerable state.

[Indo-pasif archipelago]

The Howler and The Blade

---

In The City of Erisen

The Vilden walked under the shadows of Erisen walls and towers. The city reminded Maka of his own home. It was too, a coastal town. An enclave of small shore hidden right behind the treacherous ridges of Tregal, with sailors hanging around the many docks of the village. But while his town were spartan and hidden, its ships nothing more than fisherman's trawler, Erisen was huge and bright and crowded, with merchants and their goods buzzing around the city, bringing with them the smell of spices and the colours of exotic silks. It left Maka in this quite uncanny valley, as if the city is an old friend that had changed beyond recognition, a stranger whose smile is just not right,whose friendliness were just a tad bit too much, as if something ugly, something putrid hidden behind the façade.

Maybe it was the dourness of his people. Maybe it was due to years of living on the edge. Maka could not point out why, but the city did not feel safe for him. As if something was hiding, somewhere in the dark corners and alleys away from prying eyes.

The Vantyr had given them half of a day to spend in the city while he prepared the agreements of their journey on the ship. Sounds like a good call, after the somewhat tense evening during their rest right after they were being ambushed. The Enkalas and The Vantyrs appeared to have almost got into a fight between each other and he already tensed up himself in case an actual one breaks out. Perhaps today, even Maka himself could have some nice change of pace and enjoy a bit of the luxury of the city. It's dangerously easy for him to get drowned in the paranoia. He understood that. There were time and place for one to be sour and serious, and there are other moments where they ought to loosen up a bit. Maka wished that perhaps today he could spend it doing the latter, at least for awhile until he had to focus back into the task at hand.

So he spent the first few hours of the leys making sure that everything is ready. Cleaning his blade, spent a silver and a favour to get a blacksmith to improve his weapons, and refilled his personal supply of food, water, and healing salves. After the boring, serious task was done, Maka decided to visit a tavern. He noticed that some of his fellow adventurers. The new Enkala, and the Maid-of-Arms. He nodded at them when they happened to make eye contact with him. He might not be the most open or friendly people, but that did not mean he is not a polite person. After all, when you are a six-foot deer-man of a person, its not easy to appear friendly, nor open. Especially when you have as much skeletons in your closet as the burghers have gold...

[Tomia]

The Fall Guy

Needless to say Levin was completely shocked when individuals appeared out of nowhere and started talking to him. Puck initially had him thinking he was hearing a voice from the beyond. "Ancestors! What in the hells is going on?!" He was nearly screeching as his chains were unlocked and suddenly a Dvar and a Feren were standing before him along with the bulky and armored member of the Spinose. He was not calmed by the fact that he was grabbed by some strange machines, he attempted to resist but was none the less grabbed and pulled along for about a few minutes until they arrived in a secluded garden area. The man was clearly terrified by his abduction and looked up at Artorius with look of desperation.

"Look I don't know what you want but please don't kill me! I have nothing to do with this!"

---

The archer Mallory held against the wall looked down upon their flaming had in terror, the man quickly raising his hands in surrender. "Look I got no idea! This is just a job alright? I surrender, you'll get no more trouble just don't kill me."

Meanwhile Narill saw Raggar was successfully holding his own and now that both archers seemed to be out of the way. As her ally held the remaining foe's attention, she gracefully twisted through the thin alley way, passing by Raggar like a shadow and ending up behind his dexterous Dvar foe, who suddenly froze mid slash as he found a blade held firmly against his back.

"One more move friend and I won't hesitate."

The man slowly dropped his blades. "Oh I know you won't Mera. But you'll get what's coming to you, and my life ain't yours to take." He said, before suddenly the earth behind Narill shifted and she was pushed forward into the man, the blade piercing his back as he let out an exhale followed by a short cry of pain. "Rexia, Protera" He managed before his body fell to the ground limb. A small amount of blood stained Narill's cloak as she stood there in other shook. Her face made it clear that she had no intention for the man to die, and certainly wasn't planning on killing him. She had gone pale as she pulled the sword from his back and let it clutter to ground. The once confident and intimidating commander had suddenly become silent and withdrawn.

The Great Monster Hunt

On the second floor of the tavern, all was still at the moment. Waking was just coming to an end, and most if not all the guests were likely in their beds. However the peace of the moment was suddenly shattered, by shouting and the banging of doors.

"WAKE UP BAIT!!! WE'RE MOVING OUT!!" Braddock called out as he knocked heavily on the relevant doors with his massive claw. There was a toothy grin all over his face as he made his way down the line of doors. Shetal merely rolled her eyes as she watched from outside her own door. No doubt other guests would complain, but they likely wouldn't do so for long after taking one look at Braddock.

As if on cue, one of the doors opened a hastily dressed Menai man in a night robe came rushing out of his room. "WHAT IS THE MEAN--" But his angry rant was cut off as he found himself head to chest with the massive Vilden. Braddock merely gave him a smile and pushed passed him as he continued to shout. "Get moving if you don't want to get left behind!" With that done, he and his sister headed downstairs where they would order a modest breakfast from the bartender.

"Got the ship?" The Vilden asked his sister as he sat down with what looked like a bowl of porridge.

"Of course I do. We have about two ley's travel south, and then another two leys at sea and then we'll be there. As to where there really is well. Let's just hope these maps are even a little accurate..." Shetal told her brother, her tone a bit grim at the end. They fell into a bit of a nervous silence as they waited for the others to eventually join them.

[Segral]

The Half-Blind Seer:
Wearyman's Tavern // The High City of Aratosh // Valaran
Harvest 819, Blank 3, Ley 2 CE

---

The first member of the assembled party to arrive downstairs for breakfast was Jorel, appearing slightly...underdressed for the day's event. The thick, bulging pack slung across his shoulders was somewhat promising, but little else inspired confidence in his adventuring skills. His choice in attire granted the impression that he had been halfway through preparing his clothing for his day before being interrupted; a white, sleeveless vest made of cotton, thick leather pants of a browner shade, and nothing at all adorning his bare feet, his sturdy boots gripped aloft in his right hand. He hadn't even bothered to let his hair out, keeping his thick ropes tied underneath a snug-fitting silk sleeping cap that ended in a pleasingly mauve knot at the back. Luckily, despite his disheveled appearance, he seemed to be in high spirits, grinning broadly at Shetal and Braddock as he made a beeline over to their table and selected a chair for himself. He didn't immediately help himself to a serving of breakfast, instead choosing to divert his attention towards lacing up his boots at the feet of the table.

"Good waking, sir and fairest lady," Jorel said with cheery vigor, spending a few quick seconds knotting up his laces before poking his head back out over the edge of the broad table. "I hope your rest was more fruitful than mine was, less tossing and turning and all other shifts." he offered, twisting around to reach into his open pack and rummaging around inside some before removing a bottle made of bleached-black wood. Any chance at reading the silver scrawl engraved on the side was promptly interrupted by Jorel turning the bottle over and pouring a small quantity of liquid into his palm, a pale, viscous flow with flecks of herb visible in the center. With haste, he began to lather the fluid in his palms, creating a slippery foam that soon found its resting place on every corner of his face, his hands and fingers quickly working to apply a thin layer that began to mark over the pores and blemishes of his visage. The broad, twisted scars that marked his left cheek and eye remained permanently clear. The carnage failed to be solely contained to his face. The minimal padding he wore over his chest revealed more scars stretching across his left shoulder down to the elbow, with only his forearm and hand spared. A glint of bare skin appeared between the bottom fringe of his shirt and his belt at the hip, revealing another knot of gnarled flesh.

"Good adventure should never be cause to allow the light and the elements to lay waste to the face," Jorel explained, capping the bottle and tucking it away as he reached the end of his laborious routine. With his tasks finally complete, he allowed himself to satisfy his desire for material needs, taking two biscuits from a nearby platter and digging into them with a solid crunch. "What are the plans for the ley? How far may we expect to travel, and what can we anticipate on the path to the great beast of Siderat?"

---

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The High Flyer:
Erisen Market // Erisen // Valaran
Harvest 819, Blank 3, Ley 3 CE

---

Teriani was quite fond of Erisen. Many claimed that it paled in comparison to cities as beautiful as Aratosh, but she found it to be even more lovely in its unique features. The brass roofs of the buildings glimmered and winked from all angles in the flora's light, nearly blinding Bainne on more than one occasion when they flew into the city for delivery. The streets were narrow and tilted, to the point where it was difficult to see what was beyond the next corner or turn unless you stood in the path of the wide boulevards looping in tight spools around the two city squares. The air was scented with a misty, salty breeze, and it seemed to do good for the people of the city. Rarely did you meet cheerier, more pot-bellied folk, always taking tempering rests and indulging in the most aromatic of food and drink. There must be something in the seawater. Aratosh gave the air of a city that intended at every turn to impress and bedazzle, crowding the streets with a sickening number of jewels and displays of opulence at every turn and stride. Erisen was content and humble in its existence, giving the air of a city that intended to comfort and provide joy at every turn and stride. Even when you were familiar with its paths, it still settled foreign anxiety.

The snake-branded swordsman had allowed their party half a ley to explore the city around them and to fulfill their wishes. Entertainment, preparations, idle time, it was all afforded to her and Bainne, whom she had allowed to circle free in the South so that he may hunt and feast. The horse he had stolen two leys prior had been enough to tide him over across the plains, but he was a powerful beast. Food was necessary at every turn. She could manage herself for half a ley, she had even surrounded herself with company. She stood amongst Anlolar and others who had made her acquaintance within their party, matching their (much longer) strides with pace as they entered Erisen. Being so close to them held an additional benefit; she was extended an offer by Anlolar to browse the market, an offer which she immediately took up with glee. Well, carefully expressed glee.

"I would love to browse!" Teriani offered with a shy smile, looking up at Anlolar with a slight spring in her step. Almost immediately afterward, her face soured slightly, as if a distant memory had returned to cloud her mind. "I lost my knives during the skirmish in the plains, I need to find replacements. Greater rations would be helpful as well..."

---

---

The High Flyer:
The Pride // Erisen // Valaran
Harvest 819, Blank 3, Ley 3 CE

---

Unlike Aleish and Anlolar, who appeared on-edge and uneasy amidst the shifting waves, Teriani merely sat in a bored daze, idly cleaning her fingernails with the tip of a blade as she sat against the edge of the boat's starboard rim. She had no particular hard feelings towards the sea. In fact, she had no feelings at all towards the sea. It was entrancing, sweet-smelling, and calming when you stood on land facing it, but when you sat on a raft gliding across it? No enjoyment was to be held from gentle rocks and sways. She had tried poring through a text she had purchased while browsing through the market, but the volume was so utterly dull that she had briefly considered throwing the whole thing overboard before confining herself to merely stuffing it inside her pack.

The light was stinging her skin, forming a glare that forced her to bring a hand to her brow to keep her sights clear. If nothing else, she enjoyed the view and sights of the water, especially the water itself, a murky, rippling hide that gleamed like the scales of a fish. She thought about setting off to find another member of their crew, but with no pursuit of her own to chase after, she wasn't quite sure what she would ask them to do. She had been alone for harvest after harvest, just her and her steed, flying from city to city and isle to isle with nothing but wits and packages about her. When she had been a guard, she had had fellow guards, watchmen, and others who took her post, but the chatter between them wasn't exactly abundant. Being around others was a sensation she hadn't quite become accustomed to yet.

[Kamisato Ayaka Nation]

"Sorry. My name is Sveta. It's good to finally speak under less strenuous circumstances. What brings you on this little excursion?" She asked.

Klelane was taken a bit back by Sveta’s initial statement. Is riling up that Vantyr my only notable feature? she pondered to herself. However, with Sveta’s apology and subsequent much less affronting question, she relaxed. The question wasn’t new to her; Anlolar had asked her a similar one back at the camp. Still, would it be too much to reveal the whole truth to her? Klelane still didn’t know if anyone in the camp could be trusted despite some of the members’ outwardly friendliness.

Deciding to abridge her story, she replied, “I was just adventuring around the wilderness, but I hadn’t met anyone in so long when I saw the battlefield you lot had just left my curiosity was piqued. I’m not exactly sure what my future plans are, but I think staying with you guys will be my choice for now.” By then, Klelane had made her mind to stick with the group. She didn’t know about the group’s motive for, well, being together in the first place, but she thought better of asking too early. Who knew, they might be a troupe of bandits for all she knew! Still, she felt warmness in others’ receptiveness. Perhaps she could let down her guard around some of the kinder members.

After that, Klelane decided to buy a mug of beer. Not wanting the interaction to seem awkward, she asked Sveta in return, “You seemed familiar with the bartender. Are you acquainted with the city by any chance?”

The Pride
Throughout her life as an Enkal, Klelane had never experienced being out at sea before. She felt a bit nauseous but wrote it off as her having eaten too much back at the port city. Speaking of the port city, Klelane had cleaned herself and bought some clothing and things she thought would be helpful in adventuring. To accommodate for the new items, she bought herself a bigger haversack.

The water had a distinct smell; the smell of salt was pungent. She couldn’t deny that the boat looked better than she’d expected, but she wasn’t sure the idea of sea-travel was novel to her anymore. Looking out at the vast ocean, Klelane realised that the journey on boat would take longer than she had anticipated. The thought of having to feel a need to vomit for the next few leys was too much, and it wasn’t as if she craved liquor or felt like playing games either. Just then, she saw the friendlier Vantyr — Aleish, if she remembered correctly — hanging around the ship bow. She didn’t really know why the party came to be and she figured this was a good opportunity to finally clear her doubts even if it may have been too late.

Walking up to him, Klelane walked up to him and tried to strike a conversation.

“Hi, you might remember me as the wandering Enkal. I don’t believe I’ve been told about the whole purpose of this trip we’re making, so I was wondering if someone could clear that up for me…”

[Nations United for Conquest]

The Raconteur of the Wildlands

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Tilian O' Morgana | Wearyman's Tavern - Aratosh | The Great Monster Hunt

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The soft and foggy grey light filtering in through the sole window of the aging inn room was a familiar sight for Tilian. After all, it served as his preferred method of waking more times than naught. It was one of those luxuries of being independently employed that he loved ever so much. Flexible hours. It, of course, also did wonders to alleviate the near-constant state of haze-filled hungover that he was usually subjected to every Ley by his actions. To wake naturally was one of life's few pleasurably wonders.

Thus it was why the loud clomping of heavy footsteps upon the inn's old wooden floor was met with much annoyance on behalf of the roving fabulist. Not that it would be the first time some ill-mannered guest had roused him early, whether by accident or, on some occasions, deliberate actions. Still, after a particularly rough bender the previous slumbering, he was in no mood for a rude, premature awakening.

However, once he recognized the rough booming voice bellowing out from what could have only been the other side of the inn, his hang-over-borne grimace mended into something of a wry grin. It was unmistakably the rough and tumble Vilden he had noticed down at the bar the tempering just past. A jovial fellow by all accounts and the instigator of the tournament that had taken place the previous ley. He wasn't much for competitions of physical prowess. Not even for money, and had assumed it was simply that. A common ploy to make a quick purse of coin by wagering travels to engage in a fight against a 'champion.' A sound strategy he'd seen used many a time. But he quickly learned this was different.

Tilian's first indication had been the strange group that had gathered about the barrel-chested Vilden and more lean partner. More than a few blades of iron had caught his attention, and while not an unusual sight in any pub or inn, he recognized a face among them. A certain wayward swordsman he'd heard rumors of in passing, though the two had never formally met. A man was already getting into trouble by attempting to mooch off the free drinks provided to the no doubt victories of the bout with the Vilden brigand. It only confirmed his suspicions by gathering a few more of the wayward patrons to the commotion. After all, it's rare for myrmidons and vagabonds to travel in the same group, much less in the company of arcanists. The two only ever seem to gather when something of importance occurs.

Such was only affirmed for him when a round of boisterous introductions had come about. He had heard of nearly none of them. A surprising feat considering how often he traveled. That was not to say a few didn't bring about faint inklings of a connection. The self-proclaimed Prince of Swords was a title he'd heard before, and an old friend had once mentioned to him a Storm-mage who aptly fit the description of the lass sitting at one of the tables. His attention was more on the two Vilden who were telling the mis-matched assembled lot the purpose of their get-together.

A Great Hunt for the rumored beast of Siderat. He was far from surprised.

They'd be far from the first group assembled for such a purpose. He'd met more than a few in his harvest. Even more so when he'd stayed in Siderat, the Godsforsaken rock that isle was. But something about this group was tingling his intuition. He could feel something compel him to take an interest in them in his gut. His experience as a Raconteur as a whimsical little Fereni had put it once long ago.

Thus he sat comfortably in the far end of the pub, strumming his lyre softly in tune with a small group of Dvardian musicians, listening intently to the ones with who he'd soon have to make acquaintances.

Therefore, he was fast to forgive the boisterous Vilden for his rude awakening, his hangover temporarily forgotten in the face of his luck of not missing their departure. As the Vilden continued his rant, which Tilian noted with a hint of approval, the man enjoyed quite a bit. He slinked back into his room to begin changing into his usual attire. The Alfari lass greeted him with a soft groaning of frustration from his recently departed bed.

He cast his head over his shoulder to take in the partially exposed form of an impish little Alfari who had been his companion the slumbering just past. Softly he chuckled at the young lass' annoyance at her rude awakening. She was not the veteran of the glass and mug that Tilian himself was. Few Menari, especially those of his stature, could claim to best an entire Tierce of Dvardian Whiskey.

"Sahrry Lass, I'll be goin' now, lest me quarry runs aff! Dooegh, t'was a wahnderful slumbering it was." Tilian drawled with a hint of mirth lacing his words.

|----------|

Donning his old cloak of an earthy hue--his last piece of clothing--Tilian strolled his way through the hallway and made for the pub once more. He had already heard a number of the travelers make for the dining room to fill up upon whatever constituted a traveling breakfast in this little town but more remained in their rooms. Whether they were attempting to gather a few more moments of rest or were busy at preparations of their own, he cared not. Tilian focused his attention squarely on finding the pair of the Vilden and talking his way onto their little adventure, should fate look kindly upon this little endeavor.

Finding the two Vilden was remarkably easy. Even in the small but diverse town, the large male Vilden easily stood out. He had that sort of presence about him, Tilian decided, that called attention to him. Not necessarily in a fair or foul way. Simply that, one would easily find themselves drawn to him in a crowded room. His stature undoubtedly assisted with it. He was currently seated next to his partner, discussing some manner of business in subdued tones over a meager and plain-looking breakfast.

From the near bottom of the staircase, he struggled to hear their words, even in the relatively empty pub so early in the ley. Tilian sought to approach the pair when he spotted a familiar face from the previous tempering. A man with a disheveled appearance and a dark-hued complexion made his way towards the pair, a light and cheerful tone in his steps. While not familiar with the man, his fogged and hazy memory of the prior ley preventing his mind from calling forth a name, he plainly remembered what the man was.

An arcanist practicing divination of some manner if his introduction was to be believed. A specialized school to be sure, but one that put Tilian slightly on edge. After all, his relationship with most Arcanists was far from pleasant. While his brand of the Arcane arts only swirled with the slightest inkling of eldritch power, it was still enough to tip off even a remotely competent Arcanist. Never mind one that was a paragon of sense. It usually wasn't so bad, but once they realized he practiced what was essentially schooling of his design, the questions and probings never ceased. While most who were nosy never returned to their schools to make a clamor of his abilities, having a whole school of Arcanists after him would severely cut into his drinking time and funds, and that was not something he could allow.

Though never let it be said, Tilian O'Morgana was of the cowardly sort. Thus with measured steps and a confident gait, he maneuvered about the tables of chairs of the pub, still scattered from the previous tempering, to approach the small group from the closest he could come to be direct. Pointedly he ignored the glassy-eyed Arcanist and instead focused squarely on the bear of a Vilden at the table. An irony, given his feline features. No doubt he was receiving more than a few cautious and curious glances from the party, all of which he countered with a radiant half-cocked grin.

Stopping just before the nearest seat of the table, he inclined his head slightly as a show of politeness before shifting attention to a point just between the two Vilden. The female he had gathered was the brains of the operations, but appealing to the heart of the brigand seemed to be a better bet. But alienation of one or the other would not do.

"'Ello thar, friends. Tilian O' Mahrgana is de name. Couldn't 'elp boeht 'ahverhear ye laht talkin' bout headin' ta Siderat. Doennho why ye want to go ta dat Gahdsforsaken rahck, boeht ye need a guide and as loehck 'as it, I've been thar befahre!" He greeted.

He chuckled lightly at their expressions. A traveler's creole could always be a bit of a startling thing to navigate for those unknown to it. Especially the thicker ones of the northern isles from which he spent most of any given harvest. Glancing at their reactions, they seemed poised to speak once more, but a shake of his head, ruffling his still messy hair, and a placating hand interrupted them.

"'Ahld now, lass. I can tell ye want to know why I'd join oehp wit dis merry band. Troehth tahld I care naht abooeht dis beast ahr de glahry it carries. Ye band 'as taken me interest, and I've a few friends ahn Siderat I've naht seen in many a 'harvest. Ah, boeht wahrry naht, I can mahre dan carry me weight." Tilian assured them.

At this, Tilian flourished his cloak slightly, exposing a slight hide quiver holding a dozen or so fletched shafts. One might call them arrows, but a trained eye would notice the minor discrepancies. The rod was far too thick to be an arrow, and the length was far greater than any crossbow bolt. Something the fabulist did not doubt at least one of the Vilden would notice. Likely the female if he were to bet on. Of course, there was the long hexagonal walking stick he carried. It was about five-eighths his height and made of a grainy and dark-hued wood. From a glance at his winding and twisting grain and the multitude of shallow nicks across its length, it was clear it was a dense wood. Likely some variety of Ironwood.

"Now, I've business in town. Ye want me alahng, comb find me at de smethy befahre ye leave. 'Ave a fine ley now, friends!"

The Raconteur left the small party of three just as Tilian could hear more footsteps descending from above. Though he genuinely did have business in town with the smithy--a few arrowheads in need of repairs--it was more an excuse to be out of the presence of the Arcanist and any more belonging to the party that may soon appear. Thus he hastily departed from the pub with a few polite words with the bartender and made out into the dull early light of ley, strolling towards the small smithy at the far end of the town. Should fortune smile upon him, he should well be on his way to the Harbor by the end of the ley. And should it not, there was always that old Dvardian drummer who might be willing to share a pint or two.