Overworlds - City of Magic Arc [For Original Hylion =D]

[Lekiel]

Based on the Overworlds.


~Rules~

1. First of, I would like you to post at least once a week. If you won't be able to do that, don't think about joining please > :| . However, if you're normally active but can't because of real-life issues just let me know ^-^ I understand ^^;
   
2. Romance if you want to, but keep it realistic.
   
3. Swearing is okay, but keep it to a maximum.. (huehuehue).
   
4. Gore is a sure thing 8O!
   
5. Standard RP Nation, RP-ing rules blabla~
   
6. Please dont ditch me :<, if you really can't continue with the RP at all, just let me know. Give me a reason, I don't care what. I'd rather you say "My Teddy Bear, Mr. Wiggles died!" than not say anything and just stop posting.
   
7. No real life pictures. Preferably illustration or digital art. Anime styled ones are fine, though I rather you get the high quality ones. Don't be offended if I ask you to change your picture ^o^! I'm quite fussy in this aspect, but I do know how tough it is to find one.
   
8. If you need help finding pictures let me know~
   
9. If you really really can't find one, its okay, just give me a detailed character appearance description.
   

~Lost Races~

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Due to the nature of this RP, the details of the story differ slightly, depending on the Alignment and class of your character. For simplicity's sake, the default alignment of your character will be 'The Aryan Empire'.

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You my friend, will be playing this hero ^-^! I will be playing your guide *-*! If all goes well, I would like to use this story to introduce a new race to my 'Overworlds' universe. Should we actually finish this story, I'll let you do the honours of creating some of the classes for this new Kingdom .

~The Map~

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~Character Application~

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For this RP, I'm only accepting characters from The Alliance or Aryan empire. The Vanharen is closed but maybe... if you're really nice, I might allow for it (I'm closing it because it would be hard to fit the Vanharen into this story. Their KD being the furthest away from the north). You may choose any of the 'normal', 'special classes' or 'elite classes' from The Alliance or Aryan Empire =D.


Legends are obviously off limits.


Skelley is as below:


Name:


Age:


Gender:


Alignment: (The Alliance or Arya)


Race:


Class:


Equipment: (Please be mindful of the limit one person can carry ; Also note that while the Aryan's abhor magic, your character being rebellious might be secretly making use of one, although it cannot be powerful magic. That would make it easy to be detected by Aryan Inquisitors and that could cause all sorts of complications =P)


Appearance: (at least 3 lines)


Character Background: (Character background and personality - other than the fact that you are rebelious)

~OUR CHARACTERS~

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Name: Fyrilis kael`Arhandar (Fai-ree-liea ka-el Ar-run-dar)


Age: 24


Gender: Female


Alignment: The Alliance


Race: Sun Elf


Class: Storm Lord


Equipment: Silver bound spellbook, mythrill dagger and heartwood elven longbow. Fyrilis' dark green storm lord robes is embroidered with gold threads and woven onto an enchanted leather bodice to make it more resilient than ordinary robes.


Appearance: Fyrilis was blessed with the high cheekbones and refined features from her mother as well as her olive coloured skintone. Not astounding jaw-dropping gorgeousness, but rather quiet and subdued beauty. Luxurious amber coloured tresses fall almost to her waist from which her ocean green eyes stare out in curiousity at the world. She stands at about 5 feet 8 inches tall.


Background: Fyrilis, younger of the only two children born to Lord Tasaldan Arhandar and his wife led a pretty normal life. Being the younger of two daughters, without the burden that usually comes with being the older, she was mostly left to her own devices. Despite her lineage, she never intentionally flaunted her wealth; probably due to her upbringing, as her father was not born a noble but a warrior. Fyrilis loved art in all its forms, and would've spent all her days immersed in it if not for the fact that she was sent to Heartfire Academy to learn the ways of a Storm Lord.


Right at the onset, Fyrilis proved to be trouble, trouble of a different sort. Fyrilis' powers were sporadic to say the least. One moment, they would fail her completely and the next, they would be blazing uncontrollably albeit spectacularly; to the cost of damaged school property. Her mentors blamed her lack of concentration for such uncontrollable magic. Despite that, she managed to complete her studies and even work, by her parents insistence, as a tutor at the academy.


Fyrilis' bow was given to her by Tanadris, her older sister. Taught how to wield it, Fyrilis mastery of the elven longbow is fairly good, though nowhere near as skilled as a regular elven Ranger. Despite her powers being volatile, she exhibits an afinity to air and water magic.


Character wise, she has a tendency to treat most people with a familiar closeness that at times might be deemed as inappropriate. Unlike most elves, she has an uncharacteristic air of impatience, more akin to that of a common human.

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Name: Lucis Damnatio


Age: 28


Gender: Male


Alignment: Arya


Race: Human


Class: Inquisitor


Equipment: The usual weapons arsenal such as a longsword(which he replaced with a falchion), silver daggers, crossbow and flint lock musket with "Holy Bullets". As formal wear Lucis wears a red cardinal gown that slightly shows his manly figure. It is quite indefensible, thankfully that is the point. In normal wear he simply wears leather trousers and a black formal shirt. During travel and combat, he wears a red and black hooded robes that fit tightly to him. Strewn with leather and scaled with alloy plating, but only to an amount that he can move easily and quickly.


Appearance: Lucis has dark brown, wavy, side-parted hair passed his neck. He has hazel eyes, a weak mustache and beard. He's tall and slim, usually wearing leather trousers and a black formal shirt with a vest or his cardinal gown. He stands at a somewhat shorter but more average height of five-eleven. His skin was well tanned but not overly so. By his tan it was obvious that he was out in the sun often. He had a muscular frame thanks to his life's chores, mostly cardio and arm work outs as his job required a good sword arm and fast feet. He does not match most knights in muscularity as he keeps to only working the muscles he requires for work. He is a perfect specimen, his only personal complaint being that his shoulders are not as broad as he'd like them. He has a handsome face, not one of a broad and powerful knight, but one of a nobleman. While they are small and almost unnoticeable compared to most warriors, Lucis has a few scares of battle. A cut tracing right above his right eyebrow, a roughly wrapped wound left a over exaggerated scare. A few puncture marks upon where his heart would be, armor stopped the main impact of the bolts and arrows, but the tips usually punctured deep enough to leave scares. Besides from those two most noticeable scares, Lucis has a few cuts and scratches on his fore arms and legs, but they all healed quite well. By far his best feature are his eyes, they are very calming and kind, yet intelligent and sharp. Looking into them feels like watching the world fall into itself, into a great implosion of beauty.

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Character Background: Being born as the son of a hero is not at all as good as one would think it to be. He would forever be pressed into the shade cast by his father. So Lucis was forced to train extensively until he could find a way to sow that he was also a hero. Sadly, the fact that he was born to a hero, he was expected to do something even greater than his father. No such event has given him the chance to show that he is indeed worth of his name. From this he has become very unsocial as everyone wishes to know him because of his father. Lucis had become very pompous and arrogant, yet sophisticated and calculated. He had become something of a politician, while being known to have skill in combat.


He is capable of extraordinary acrobatic feats, adept in social stealth, and fully apt in the application of deadly arts, possessing great physical and mental strength and stamina. Trained extensively, he was able to overcome any obstacle, human or terrain. He was able to get anywhere, climbing the tallest tower and jumping from the highest ledge without a hint of fear

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Name: Elari Narvanthal


Age: 35


Gender: Female


Alignment: The Alliance


Race: Moon Elf


Class: Infiltrator


Equipment: Long sword, two short swords with narrow blades, lock picks, pouches containing herbs and poisons, black leather armor, dark grey cloak with black trim. She rarely opts for casual clothing, but when she does, it is in subdued colors: blacks, greys, and muted greens in fine but practical fabrics. Horse, saddle and tack, with basic gear for making camp (bedroll, flint and steel, etc.) and 30' of rope.


Appearance: Elari has the pale, nearly translucent skin of all of her people, offset by long dark brown hair that she wears down unless on a job. Her pale skin and dark hair make her bright blue eyes all the more striking, especially set against the hard and but somewhat delicate features of her heart-shaped face. When she does smile, those delicate features could be considered beautiful, but that is a rare occasion indeed. Most will notice the indigo tattoo of the moon on her forehead first (when the cowl of her cloak doesn’t cover it); her tribute to Eweca. Elari is tall at five foot ten inches tall, and amplifies her height with a slow heel in her boots. She has a slender build and a grace to her movements born of years of honing her skills.

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Character Background: Almost no child ever dreams of being an assassin when they grow up. Elari didn’t. She was born to a good family, with means if not a title to their name. Her father was a blade dancer, serving among the Moon Guard. Her mother ran their tavern and the gambling games held there each night. Her eldest brother, Aranion, serves as ranger like her father. Her second oldest brother, Garis, became an expert gambler, and she idolized him for his sense of style and his ability to read others. But Elari was meant for something different.


She learned swordplay and sleight-of-hand at a young age, finding them both to be glorious games. Making friends in a tavern exposed her to a wide variety of people, and she learned what she could from each one of them. As a young girl, she was easily influenced and fell in with a small group of thieves, learning how to successfully pick locks, when and how to distract people, and when to leave a mark alone. But theft alone was not enough for her. Her mother spotted this and encouraged an infiltrator by the name of Caladur Asogathe who frequented their tavern to train her. She did not want her daughter to be an assassin, but rather hoped it would either turn Elari away from the cruelty of the world or prepare her for it.


To her father’s delight, she excelled at her training in swordplay. To her father’s dismay, she did not want to be a ranger. Instead, she preferred to sell her sword. Elari has no compunction about taking a life, so long as the purpose is just and the price is right. Her father generally approved of the jobs she chose and she was courteous enough not to mention the ones he might frown upon; this has resulted in a strained relationship with her family. Her mother has a more accommodating attitude toward Elari’s choices, although she does emphasize the benefit of having a family one day and sometimes frets about Elari’s options for suitors.


Elari has slowly but surely been making a name for herself. So much so that she was offered a position as an Infiltrator and has done a few small jobs. But she needs to truly prove herself if she wants to maintain that status. When Tanadris Arhandar mentioned to Aranion her plight about sending her sister off alone as a guide on a mission to chart a potential new land (that was probably nothing at all), Aranion thought instantly of Elari. He talked her into taking the opportunity to help the young Stormlord as a chance to make a name for herself and to stay in the family’s good graces.


Elari eventually agreed, more to keep her standing with her family than for the glory of the job, which she considers largely bodyguard work and somewhat below her skills. Still, she hopes that at some point she’ll have the chance to use her skills to effect - one that might be noticed by the right Alliance factions.


Personality wise, Elari can come across as distant, especially upon first meeting. She is confident in her skills (perhaps overly so) but does not brag; she would rather remain silent than tip her hand. Her training has left her with a dark sense of humor, and she is often seen smiling to herself for no apparent reason as a result.

 

[Lekiel]

~One Week Ago~

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"Seler`Tanadris, amin sal rangw`uuma mankoi amin aut`caela!" The younger of the two women cried, wringing her hands in the air as she turned away. She crossed her arms over her chest, a frown on her face as she fixed her eyes on a painting hanging by the wall of their house. An Isilhin warrior sat astride his stallion, leading a charge into a horde of Wretched, backed by the colourful pennants of his clan and allies. His features were clearly depicted, but the cleanliness of his facade was far from the scarred and battleworn lines of Father.


"Fyrilis... Saes last`amin." The other replied, gently but firmly, her voice pleading. She reached out to grasp the shoulder of her sister, trying to get her to turn back. A servant dressed in a neat but subdued dress glanced curiously from a balcony overlooking the the immaculately decorated living room. On the wall, just behind where the two sisters stood, a pair of crossed runic elven blades - the family heirloom - glinted in the warm glow of the Elemental Lanterns.


"There are many other rangers who know the area! Why can't you send them?" The protest was spoken in commons, though Fyrilis still refused to turn around. Both women were fair haired, of the same golden hazelnut hue as their mother's. But while the younger woman had flowing locks that gently cascaded about her shoulders, the other had pinned her long hair back out of her face, a common conduct of someone in the military.


"Ile sinta`tanya naa a'risa." The older woman sighed. "We are perhaps the only two who has ever gone beyond The Knife and traversed the wilderness. There might be others that we do not know of, but it would take too long to find them. I would've gone myself but-"


"You can't." Fyrilis interrupted, her voice flat. She was resigned to her task, there was only so much she could argue. In truth, she knew there was no other way. She had only resisted just because she felt she had to say something. Turning around finally, she gave her sister a hug. "I don't know if I can do this, seler. I've always had you to back me up. Out there, I will be on my own..."


"You'll be fine, don't worry. I don't think there'll be much of a danger." Tanadris smiled as she hugged her sister back. Then stepping back, she grinned. "Besides, I heard that the Aryan is a very capable warrior. A champion... a handsome champion."


"Seler!!"

~The present~

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The elf stood fidgeting impatiently as she stood on the porch of the tavern. Leaning forward with her chin resting on the palm of one hand and the fingers of the other drumming the wood of the balcony restlessly, she cast her eyes about, searching for someone.


This human is late! A whole day late infact! Her sources had told the elf that she was to meet him at the Tavern of the Three Dragons in the Town of Haven at noon. Noon yesterday. Of course there wasn't any real need to hurry, but that didn't change the fact that he was late. She knew what her sister would say, she would tell her to be more patient. But Fyrilis could not help it, she was unlike most elves, who were known for their patience and calm.


A chill wind swept across the front, and despite the fact that it was a little past noon, the air was pretty cold. Clouds drifted past, obscuring the sun as dried autumn leaves swept across the compound. Fyrilis tugged her pale blue cloak closer about her, stared down the pathway and immediately noticed a figure approaching the tavern.

~Translations~

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Language of the elves phrased from the The Grey Company


Tanadris my sister, I don't get why I have to go!


Fyrilis... Listen to me please.


You know that is not true.


Seler - Sister

 

[Original Hylion]

Packing for a trip like this was quite different from packing for a hunt, or a dungeon run, or even a common traveling trip. This was uncharted and unmarked land, these places that he would be visiting has very rarely seen footsteps of man. The most questionable part was why they would send someone who had never been there alone with one escort in an attempt to find a city that was under siege by what sounded like monsters. Sure, fighting monsters and challenging enemies that outnumbered and out armed was obviously a difficult task that had been accomplished before. Leaving was always the most difficult task it seemed. Never knowing what to take was one thing, but what was the real bother was the thought of not returning. Not the idea of dying, but thought of being forgotten, that none would miss the presence of the man who sought only to be remembered by his own name in the stead of the one before it. Packing was difficult, knowing what to bring was not, he would need blank maps and geography tools to draw out paths taken.


This job seemed more suited for a garrison of diplomats escorted by a troop of well trained soldiers along with mercenaries well versed in the area, not a lone man who's name gives him honor guided by a stranger from a different land. This felt to be a trap if anything, the idea of a city existing far up north being overrun with creatures of below. A trap for diplomats to prepare negotiations for a prisoner trade. The idea of sending a lone man with an expendable escort was something of a side job, definitely not something of importance, else more precautions would have been taken. This was just a job to prove a point, there is nothing to fear in the north but simple myths and legends. At the least, someone could finally map out the northern lands. Being given this job was more of an insult than a privilege, even if most would feel joyful for being given such a responsibility. One would consider not coming back simply to frighten those in charge of securing order.


They should have hired a cartographer for this job, or someone who was much more common in discovering new land and properly mapping and understanding the layouts of structure and difference between geography, not someone who saw it as land he would have to tread to get from one place to the other. Not someone who knew what he knew by what he had learned from others and traversed because it had been previously mapped out. A few days before, common visits to the cartographer's guild had been taken as to have at least the basic understanding of what there was to do, what should be drawn, and what should be pressed as important above other options.


The initial leaving was postponed, as the man chosen for the job was having a hard time packing. He did not want to leave his home without getting a chance to say his farewells to at least one of his family members. A head of time, he had said to plenty that he would be leaving on the specified day. Most said they would be sure to see him off, yet none had been there the specified day. It was one way to make a man feel lonely, but even more so as he waited a day for at least one of his family members to return to the homestead and no one returned home.


When finally headed off, the first destination was a tavern where he was to meet his escort. A place called he Three Dragons. A curious name, where did it come from. Childish hope pointed to the name coming from a mantle of three heads, each of a dragon hanging from a wall. A very shady looking fashion was being worn today, besides from his common traveling clothes he covered himself with a long black cloak. It hid his body and shrouded his face. A large hunch erupted from the man's back, even as he stood straight and tall. A pack carrying most of his supplies, a bed roll, and even cooking items outlined the cloak's back.


Walking up the steps of the tavern sent a feeling of unease up a rigidly insecure spine. There was much doubt in this campaign, and the man chosen barely sought to complete it. He felt obligated if anything, he wished he could just curl up in bed all day and sleep. With hope, this would not be a long campaign. With hope, the rumors and myths were all legends and lies. With hope, he would return without trouble and without more worry. With hope, he would not be remembered as just another fellow who died in the wilds of the north.

 

[Erica]

On the edge of the village, a cloaked rider dismounted from her horse and took the reins in a gloved hand, leading it toward the Tavern of the Three Dragons. Elari Narvanthal moved with slow purpose, subtly stretching out her muscles as she walked in an effort to work out any stiffness from the long ride. The road to Haven had raced beneath her horse's hooves as she attempted to make up the time between Fyrilis Arhandar's departure and Elari’s decision to join the other woman and the Aryan “hero” on their journey. Elari hated being late. Even with her aggressive ride here, she was a day behind.


The task should be simple. An Aryan scout had encountered a babbling fool in the woods, who waved a map around and spoke with his dying breath of a northern city and demons. The northern city was ridiculous. Demons, however, were another matter. They had to investigate, but clearly even the Aryans didn’t believe there was anything to worry about. If they did, they wouldn’t just send one man with a young elven Stormlord guide to investigate. This would - quite literally - be a walk in the woods. Yet that elven Stormlord was precious to her sister, and her sister was well respected among the rangers: a Calenfar, even. Hence, it wouldn’t do for Fyrilis to fail to return from this excursion. And since that Calenfar sister was also a dear friend to Elari’s brother, Aranion, Elari found herself in Haven looking for Fyrilis.


Haven, set smack in the middle of the three kingdoms, thrived on its position on neutral ground. A hub for trade among the three kingdoms, it made an ideal place to find adventure and mercenary work. The mix of races and nationalities - even Deadlanders - drew her gaze. Although it was just past midday, a few mercenaries were already drinking and ready for a fight. Others slept off the previous night’s drink. The local shopkeepers and merchants ignored them all, accustomed to their kind and the associated conduct. It looked like most of the locals could handle themselves in a fight as well; probably a requirement of Haven residents. Her free hand fell to rest on the hilt of her longsword under her cloak as she kept her head tucked downward and her eyes shielded by the cowl of her cloak. The midday sun bothered her eyes, but that wouldn’t last forever. Several of the mercenaries openly assessed her tall and lean form, as if weighing whether she would put up a fight for her horse. She was only mildly disappointed that they didn’t try it.


Maybe she should have come to Haven earlier. There was obviously work to be had here; probably better and more challenging work than what she was here to do. The possibility of danger always existed in any job, but this one was essentially little more than guard duty. She took a slow, measured breath, reminding herself of her father’s joy when he heard of her decision to assist on the mission. He still hoped she would join the rangers some day, join the noble fight against the Wretched. She failed to comprehend how that was more noble than her other work, but she didn’t say that. It would just start another fight. But the Arhandar family was influential enough that it might further Elari’s aim to serve in different, more precise, ways. And it would make her father happy. Plus, she had given her word.


Given the day, she expected to find her would-be companions gone. Her plan was to stay the night and head out first thing in the morning to track them down. So it was surprising when she saw a sun elf matching Fyrilis’ description on the porch of the Three Dragons, greeting a man who was clearly (perhaps overly) prepared for a journey. Maintaining her slow and steady pace, she observed the two from beneath her cloak as she approached the tavern.

 

[Lekiel]

"Fyrilis!" The tone of the Master Conjurer cut through the low murmur of hushed whispers, it jerked the young girl out of her reverie.


"Y-Yes.. Lord Calaharn?" The tiny figure, still very much a child stood up on suddenly sludge-like feet, trying desperately to appear as if she hadn't been day dreaming about fancifying her latest dress instead of reading the scribbled notes in the large dusty tome under her tiny fingers.


"Would you care to show the class how you can begin to perform a simple ice elemental conjuring? Stop when you have finished drawing the elemental circle... we do not want to have a runaway sprite messing up the classroom again like last time.. do we?" Lord Calaharn finished icily, as he stood back from the front desk indicating that the girl should step up to the front.


Swallowing a lump in her throat, the young girl bit the bottom corner of her lip as she often did when she was nervous. Taking a furtive deep breath, she let the air out as quietly as she could, less the other girls teased her about being chicken during breaktime, and stepped out from behind her desk. Slowly turning to face the class, her hands reached up to brush a lock of golden brown hair out of her olive fair face, her ocean green orbs stared out in stern determination at the other children.


"Come on..! We have much to cover today. Be quick with it Miss Arhandar."


Calm yourself down.. breathe.. imagine the coldness of a world filled with ice.. feel their calls.. the pattern, let it come to you.. draw it in your mind's eye.. The girl lifted her right hand infront of her, fingers twirling as if drawing an invisible pattern in the air. For a moment there was a flash of azure, as her green eyes suddenly changed to a brilliant blue, causing the class to draw back inadvertently as an audible gasp rumbled amongst the desks. The air was still, hung in silent anticipation for what seemed like twenty whole seconds before a lone snickering could be heard out from somewhere in the back. Little by little the class begin realizing that nothing was going to happen, some slumped back into their seats quickly losing interest, the incessant snickering grew louder, joined by a cacophony of giggles. Adamant, the young girl closed her eyes in concentration, the other wrist coming up to join the first in its dance... hear their voices.. they're there.. always there.. you have but to.. let yourself go.. and in that moment she felt a tug at her soul, it was chilling, and angry as a winterstorm, she grasped it, drew the mark for binding, and pulled!


A primal roar enveloped her ears, she did not know if it were real or she imagined it, there was a blast of freezing air and she heard a terrified gut wrenching scream.


"Fyrilis stop-!"


The girl opened her eyes and all she could see was a brilliant white-blue.. something large and heavy glanced her head, and she felt the ground retreat beneath her feet... then all went black.

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CHAPTER 1: Awkward Meetings

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Fyrilis narrowed her eyes dangerously as the figure drew ever closer. Shrouded in a black cloak, she could not make out any distinguishing features except for the hunched back and lowered head. She drew the hood of her light blue cloak back enough to uncover her facial features as the man (it had to be a man, looking at the outline of the cloak) reached the steps. Locks of golden brown hair peaked out from the sides of the hood as she regarded the man. Expecting a greeting of some sort, she waited as the man drew ever closer; his head was bowed, as if deep in thought. Still he came on, as if oblivious to the fact that he was going to run over the elf and probably kept walking as if nothing had happened.


"Quel andune." She spoke first. "Are you by chance the human... Lu..Lucy Damepatio?" Her voice had the melodic tinkle common to elven speech but it did nothing to hide the air of annoyance extruding from the speaker.

~Translations~

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Good morning.

 

[Original Hylion]

Someone had placed herself right in the way of the tavern door. She seemed intent on standing there and staring right at the hero's son. Has she never seen another bar goer before? The son was content with walking right passed her and headed on with his business, but the girl spoke. First she mentioned something in the elvish tongue. He was not very fluent in that language, but he knew some translations as it seemed to be the second language to most races these days. He personally wished that everyone would go back to old common, everything sound much prettier in those descriptions. He found that she said "morning", he was not sure what phrase she was using, but assumed that it was a greeting. After that she asked if he was human and if his name was Lucy something. The son was not very enthused about replying to her, but he assumed she would not move unless he did.


Was it a good morning, or even a good day? The son lifted his head slightly, peering towards the sky. He searched for the sight of the sun, if it was hanging gracefully in the sky as it usually did. After a short moment, he spotted the dim light further in the distance, behind clouds over head. He had to remove his hood from his head to properly look upward. Once he found that the sun was still there, even as it was hidden by clouds, he considered replying to the woman. His face was revealed, showing a noble and enchanting man, human obviously. The look of a devious politician, yet the anger and contempt of a veteran man-at-arms. He took a moment to examine the girl that blocked his path. She was an elf, not looking like one of those excuses for warriors. This one was the fragile type, she seemed much too weak to be seen in armor or even near a battle. He would expect a girl as fair as she to hang around the courtyards, watching knights joust for her affection.


"Well enough," He spoke up, "the morning that is." His voice was deep but did not carry that heavy deepness that a brawny knight would have nor did it carry that naivety that a young scribe was gleefully yelp. It was a somewhat calculated tone, much like a nobles but with less obnoxious speech patterns. "Anyhow, you mistake me for another." He said waving a gloved hand at her, gesturing her to clear way. A leather glove that would commonly be worn to hold a blade without cutting oneself, revealing the flesh of the index finger and thumb only. Before waiting for her to move, he began to walk forward, slightly to the side of her but right into her shoulder if she did not pivot away. "I hunger, and the north offers no charity."


He stopped for a moment, feeling as if something was studying him. The movement, it was too slow and steady for someone's casual walk. The burning sensation on the back of his told him that someone had eyes enjoying the sight of the back of the son's head. He turned just slightly, enough to see behind him and place his eyes on the approaching figure. Another one in a cloak, seems to be in fashion these days. This one was either a small male, or a muscular girl. The son gathered a weary feeling, that he had been trapped and now was the time to draw arms. His left hand took hold of the scabbard that gripped his falchion and pulled it closer to his left side, as it naturally hung loosely slightly behind him. His right hand placed itself atop sword's handle.


He let out a sigh, somewhat sounding as if he was annoyed. He lacked the time to be battling assassins, he was much more concerned with getting to his task as that alone would eat up a large portion of time. "If your intent is blood," He spoke to her, his head slightly tilted towards her but to the side as he stood askew to keep an eye on both figures, "then draw, for the day is short."

 

[Lekiel]

The human was a curious one indeed.. the way he moved, spoke.. it seemed neither here nor there. As if someone pretending to be something he was not but yet not knowing that he was more like he didn't think he was.. or something along those lines. Fyrilis had begun to regret not having brought the roughly sketched picture of the Aryan she was to meet along with her.. it might not have mattered, all human men looked the same to her. Though this one had different eyes.. but no one told her anything about eyes. The elf was getting frustrated, this was what.. number thirteen? Yeah... she had accosted thirteen human males in front of the tavern since morning in her quest to find this insolent Aryan. Mayhap this was number fourteen. Fyrilis started to move out of his way but stopped short at t his muttered something, causing him to bump into her shoulder almost too roughly.


"I hunger, and the north offers no charity."


"North... wait.. north? What about-?" Fyrilis began but was cut short with his abrupt reaching for his weapon. He seemed to be facing both her and a hooded figure some ways out from the tavern and she did not miss the meaning of his words. Despite that, the idea was so farfetched that the elf had no idea what could be going on with this human's mind though he clearly either had too much to drink or had a novice Stormlord 'sweep the house' in his mind. Regardless, she found the situation rather amusing instead of threatening, and since she might be here another day (provided this person's talk about 'the north' was purely unrelated) she might as well appreciate the 'conversation'. Folding her arms under her bust, she took a step back and regarded the Aryan with her ocean green orbs.


"This must be your first time in Haven, if you think that stranger and I would carry out an assassination right here... infront of such a renowned Tavern. The repercussions of an elf attempting to kill an Aryan right here.. lets just say I'd have to be equally as empty-headed as you to do that." Fyrilis replied evenly, and carefully as if the man had trouble understanding. "and yes, you Aryans stick out among the rest like a sore thumb." The elf added, just in case he wondered how she knew he was Aryan though such things should be obvious.


"But.. I'm not here to lecture untravelled.. humans about common courtesy. You mentioned something about 'the north'? Are you by chance seeking to meet up with a guide here at this tavern... one day ago?"

 

[Erica]

Elari watched the exchange on the porch as she led her horse by the reins toward the Three Dragons. Her dark grey cloak hid most of her attire, although it did not fully cover her legs, the black leather armor that covered them, or the stylized boots to match. With her cowl pulled down, only her pale chin and nose showed along with the straight line of her lips. Under that cowl, she intended to listen to the initial introduction of the others. Some might consider it rude to eavesdrop; she considered it wise.


She had asked around about about Fyrilis before she left. Apparently, the girl was “gifted but volatile”. Normally, Elari might find that an entertaining combination, but not when she was here to make sure the sun elf didn’t manage to get herself killed.


As for the hero, he was so… pretty. For a human, anyway. True to the drawing she had studied closely before leaving, he looked more like a nobleman than a fighter to her eyes, excepting perhaps the scar that cut through one eyebrow. So he had gotten in a fight. So what? He carried himself like he might be able to use that sword and possessed the arrogance so many humans treasured. She wasn’t impressed; not until he turned to face her and addressed her directly as a threat.


Her lips twitched into an almost-smile. Maybe he wasn’t such a fop after all.


Elari slowed her steps but continued moving toward the railing of the tavern porch a few feet from them and starting the process of tying her horse off. All the while, she kept her eyes on the Aryan and her free hand well away from the hilt of her blades. She was about to speak when Fyrilis seized the opportunity to berate the Aryan. The annoyance Fyrilis displayed did not bode well. Not that she didn’t have a point; the man she was here to help was a day late, and it was a rather stupid place to attack someone. But she knew from experience not all brigands were brilliant. Apparently, the hero’s son knew that much, too.


“He is,” Elari answered in reply to Fyrilis’ question as she reached for one of the bags lying across the back of her horse. Draping the bag over her left shoulder, she turned to look at the others. In the process, her cloak was pulled back from her left side, revealing a longsword sheathed on one hip and a series of leather straps that hinted at other weapons secured to her back or right side. Pulling back the hood of her cloak caused her long brown hair to spill over her shoulders. She did her best not to squint in the midday light. An indigo tattoo of a crescent moon decorated her brow. Beneath it, bright blue eyes focused on the man. “You are Lucis Damnatio, the hero’s son.” Her voice was soft in volume if not in timbre; a steel core lay beneath the musical lilt of her speech.


A small movement of her chin indicated the elf standing next to him. “She is meant to be your guide as you travel north.” Gloved fingers freed a section of her hair trapped between her bag and her shoulder as she turned slightly toward Fyrilis. Her gaze dipped once to Lucis’ falchion, but otherwise she ignored the implied threat and focused on the elf she had been sent her to find. “Quel andune, Arwen Arhandar. lle seler’, Tanadris, faine amin,” her eyes flitted to Lucis, then back to the other elf’s, “Ile tuva no’ ile lema.” She paused only a moment before including both of them as she switched back to the common tongue. “I am Elari Navanthal.” Mostly for Lucis’ sake, she added in a slightly louder voice and a tone that did not brook any argument, “I will be joining you.”

~ Translations ~

​

‘Quel andune, Arwen Arhandar. lle seler’, Tanadris, faine amin ile tuva no’ile lema. = Good Afternoon, Lady Arhandar. Your sister, Tandaris, sent me to accompany you on your journey.

 

[Original Hylion]

The elf girl seemed insulted by the accusations, but of course it was understandable that she would be angered. She went along and blatantly showed her discontent with the son's actions. While she accused the hero's son of being empty minded for assuming such things, the son thought the opposite. A public assassination on the son of the hero, the champion, would fuel very discontent and angry feelings between the two factions. Especially to any elves who sought to bring down a certain political leader that was garnering too much control for his own good. Framing a high up position for plotting an assassination on a known figure would either throw that position into dismay or throw that position into the arms of exile. He could see it happening, the way the alliance has its hierarchy gave way to much corruption and aggressive usurping.


He had not realized that Aryans were so different to anyone else in Haven. As far as he could tell, Aryans were simply humans like any other of the same race. Unless they were assuming that his accusation were due to racism, which would somewhat cause counter feelings, as the son had accused them due to his own position being a spot that is sought out as imporatnat. He only now realized that the second figure was also an elf. He had more suspected the second figure of being the assassin. The hints being the weight of her combined with the weight and sound of her weaponry. The first elf was only a slight fuel for the accusation, as she had seemed to be waiting for a specific person, in fact she was waiting for him exactly to arrive here. How did this not seem like a type of trap?


The second figure was obviously some type of warrior, an elf rogue type was what he was guessing. She was armed, prepared, and had the look of a threateningly prideful individual. Though she lacked the actual appearance of a threatening being, as she was still a small fragile looking elf. As all elves, she looked as if one good hit could shatter every bone in her body. Even so, she was obviously a threat, and the hero's son felt that he acted properly when being approached from behind by an armed rogue. Either way, the situation seemed quite different as they both were obviously searching him out.


The first elf called him out again, asking if he is the one she is searching for. The son was considering just denying her again and heading off on his way. From the looks of her, she lacked the proper abilities that he would need in cartography. Though, before he could speak anything along the lines of denial, the second elf answered for him. She openly said that he was indeed the hero's son, at that comment the "hero's son" felt the need to spit in her general direction. She went on to explain that the first elf is to be his guide. It was probable, but he thought against it. So far she did not have any qualities of an escort, rather more a stubborn child who was sent to do another person's job. Then they went on in elven, this time it was even harder to understand. Again the greeting, then something he had never heard before, then sister, then more of what he did not recognize. What he made out of the situation was that they were sisters.


"You continue to mistake me for another," the son finally spoke up, "that is my name, true, but I am no son any hero." He relaxed his grip on his sword and paid no more mind to the two elves. As he was before, he continued passed the first elf in attempt to find himself a meal before leaving. "Simply a cartographer, a map maker, no hero has ever worn the shoes I step in." He was not searching for a guide, he was waiting for a guide to show him the way, he was not assigned to meet a guide on a certain date, only where and when she would be a certain place. He cared little if he had a guide or not, especially now as she seemed to be more of a burden than a helping hand.

 

[Lekiel]

Elari Navanthal... the name rang a bell, echoes of a past conversation about a dedicated ranger her sister had told her about. Aranion... yes it was Aranion Navanthal and his father, Tanadris had spoken well of them.. Fyrilis had not heard about a sister.


"Mae govannen Elari Navanthal.. Amin caela lasta`sai en`.. lle nosse." Fyrilis considered her words for just a moment, she had almost said 'you'. Though that would not have been quite true, something told her that her appraisal of the woman's family would not be met with as much enthusiasm as per usual; but it was just a fleeting unfounded feeling and was quickly pushed to the back of her mind. Nevertheless, the elf crossed her right arm over her heart in a loose fist and bowed as a sign of elven respect - a slight bending of the knee and inclining of the head at a minor angle.


"You are a welcome surprise... though knowing my sister, I shouldn't be surprised." Fyrilis allowed herself a small smile, as she turned to regard the impudent human. "Lle naa herenya amin caela il`wanwa.. ten`en sina edan" She remarked offhandedly, crossing her arms over her chest and letting out a sigh.


"Lusius Damnatio it is.." The elf still had trouble pronouncing the foreign name, not used to the unfamiliar lisp rolling off her tongue. Even her own mastery of elven was not pitch perfect back in the day. Why restrict yourself to a certain tone when they're so many different ways to sound it? The eight year old Fyrilis had argued upon receiving her not too good grades for language class.


"Well Lusius Damnatio son-of-no-hero, I have no care for who your parents were.. I have promised to help you get somewhere and I intend to keep my word. Considering we are a day late, we must make haste if we want to get over the northern mountain range before winter sets in." With a nod of her head, she indicated a white Thoroughbred mare all saddled up with her supplies obediently watching the little gathering from where she stood un-tethered at the corner of the tavern. "There is considerable ground to cover..." Her mood had lifted significantly with the arrival of Elari and she was more able to keep her impatience in check, though she still spoke with a no-nonsense tone.

~ Translations ~

​

"Mae govannen Elari Navanthal.. Amin caela lasta`sai en`.. lle nosse. " - Well met Elari Navanthal.. I have heard much of.. your family.


"Lle naa herenya amin caela il`wanwa.. ten`en sina edan" - You're lucky I haven't left.. because of this human

 

[Erica]

Lucis denied his status and mission if not his name. That puzzled Elari. Had he not been expecting to meet a guide? And what man didn’t want to be thought of as a hero? Of course, being thought of as a hero’s son was much less glamorous. She imagined that to be part of why he responded the way he did. The rest of his response fit neatly into the assumption she made of everyone until proven otherwise: he was an ass. Even more puzzling than his lack of interest in the guide awaiting him, he made an obvious attempt to dismiss them by calling himself a mapmaker. She rolled her eyes. If he were a cartographer, then the world would soon be full of poor lost souls scratching their heads upon the roadside.


Elari nodded deeply when the other elf greeted her but did not exchange the usual ritual of hand-over-heart bows. She was too busy watching Lucis try to move past Fyrilis into the tavern while the stormlord addressed him. Fyrilis remained undeterred, however, even taking the time to explain that Lucis’ tardiness was the reason they were still in Haven. Then the sun elf laid down the plan logically, as if he were expected to fall in line.


This was off to a marvelous start.


Elari remained standing by her horse. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the streets out of habit more than any true concern. Meanwhile, she absently brushed the animal’s neck with a gloved hand as a small smirk played upon her lips. She did not intend to interfere with the introduction between Lucis and Fyrilis. In fact, she was fairly certain a proverbial gauntlet had been thrown and was interested to see how it would play out. Fyrilis clearly thought herself in charge of the expedition, and from his behavior so far, Elari doubted Lucis would agree. He seemed more interested in finding rest or a meal in the tavern than in talking with either of them.


A meal sounded good to Elari as well, but she did not weigh in on the topic. Instead, she waited to see which of her two would-be companions would start yelling first. If she were a betting woman (and she was), her coin was on Fyrilis.

 

[Original Hylion]

Again with the elvish, now Lucis barely even wanted to attempt to translate as it most likely would not pertain any actual information to him. He would have shrugged them off and continued on his way into the tavern if the girl had moved out of the way. In the stead of running her over and making the situation worse, Lucis decided to humor them and stand in wait. They seemed intent on notifying him of why they had been searching for him and how considerably untasteful the thought of traveling together was to them, so Lucis stood there, with his stomach empty, trying to piece together the elven speech and the slurred common tongue. Trying to piece together this foreign language made Lucis contemplate taking another class in translation as their very natural way of speaking the language was difficult to understand.


The first few words were directed at the other elf. Lucis tried to piece it together as fast as he could, but the only word he could translate enough to make sense was "family". The constant use of sister and family gave Lucis the idea that they were indeed related by blood. The bowing motion the first elf made to the second was the usual greeting, which Lucis recognized but did not take part in. He instead kept his back to the second elf and kept his eyes strained on the entrance to the tavern as the two conversed. The second phrase of elvish was directed at him, something about lucky and human. Lucky about what, Lucis was the poor soul who had to deal with two seemingly unkind females that saw themselves as far superior than him. The only lucky part was the fact that he would be surrounded by two persons of the opposite gender. The way they seemed, he would not get anything out of it, but most men would feel quite gitty about a situation as such.


The first elf spluttered his name incorrectly again, most likely throwing the attention back on him. He was against getting reinvolved into the two's eyes but it seemed inevitable. The girl continued on insisting that she was to be his guide and that her word was the best to follow. She wanted to get over the mountains before winter set in, but by the looks of her, she simply wanted to keep the snow off her delicate feet. Lucis cared little for her slurred "word" and stands by his decision that his timing was his, and was not late by any schedule for the only schedule was the one he move perfectly in. She seemed considerably insistent on moving now or soon, but more the former. Lucis was about ready to shove her aside, as she still stood in the way of the tavern door.


"Aye, we should quicken our pace," he began, "as I said before 'I hunger, and the north offers no charity'." He stood by his original statement, being as it still pertained to the situation. "So please, remove your slim bod from my path and allow me to grab a warm meal for the road." He quickly thought of a cruel joke considering that if he did not get a meal he would simply have to eat the elf girl instead, in a the lewd way. "Unlike yourself, I have just arrived." Lucis quickly noted the other elf, he was not sure when she arrived in Haven. "Not all of us have been waiting here for no reason."


Lucis kept from becoming enraged as he would have to deal with this girl for the entirety of the trip. The worst part was that she the guide and most likely knew where to go. It would mean that at times, Lucis would have to listen to her guidance as it would be the only advice he could receive while in the Northern lands. He would have to get her to loosen up some how if he was going to deal with her. "Here, we can all take a round, I can pay for it, then the road we shall hit." Getting little alcohol in her light little body should get her nice and relaxed.

 

[Lekiel]

The idea sounded reasonable, if only he had been early... but whilst some would say Fyrilis' impatience can be a pain, she was actually a reasonable person, more so than others of her ilk what with her unique upbringing; given a noble background with a militaristic father. Swallowing a myriad of beautiful language she felt best left not uttered for various reasons, she nodded her acquiescence. Afterall, he suddenly seemed gracious enough to take a step in peacemaking with the offer of drink.


"Manka lle merna, if you feel you must.." She mumbled the translation for his benefit, not sure if he really understood elvish or not. Letting out a barely audible sigh, she turned to lead the way into the Tavern - a sigh for there was a great many reasons why she did not wish to step foot in the place any longer than she had to.


Pushing open the tall oak double doors, the trio was suddenly bathed in a wash of sound, the tinkling of cutlery, raucous and merry laughter, scrape of chairs, (the occasional thump and boomph and ooopmff) assailed their ears and threatened to wreck havoc on the audio-sensory organs of any who dared step foot into the legendary Tavern of the Three Dragons. A lone Mirani Necromancer sitting by the doorway barely looked up as the elven girl strode past him, turning his pallid and gaunt face to regard her companions. Squeezing past a couple of chairs and tables filled with roaring drunks, one of the reasons Fyrilis' hated the place manifested itself in the form of a hand reaching out for her shapely rump. With an alertness that bellied her looks, the Stormmaiden slapped the wayward hand away, leaving the owner clutching at a delicate hand-shaped frostbite mark on his wrist. Turnign to glare at the man in annoyance, the elf almost ran over an overly excited Mehsmer who was jumping up and down pointing at some paper on the tavern's Questboard. The azure haired midget barely noticed her however, leaving the elf apologizing to the air above her short countrymen's head.


Finally reaching the bar, the elf plopped down into a stool and heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed as if it took much effort to even maintain her existence in the very place. It wasn't as if it was her first time in a busy tavern, her previous visits were spent sipping home brewed tea, lost in her own thoughts and sitting next to her ranger sister as she entertained her troops. Other than that, she generally despised busy taverns and labelled them as 'avoid at all cost'. Besides, the barkeeper might take offense if he found out that her delicate stomach couldn't handle his world renowned best-in-Andarun-stronk-drink!


Oh well...


Edited: DIdn't know certain words would be censored with such humour lol

 

[Erica]

Elari was almost disappointed as Lucis offered and olive branch and Fyrilis petulantly accepted it: she had been curious to see how events would play out. The hint of disappointment did not last long: the fact that these two came to a compromise, however begrudgingly, meant that they might all survive their upcoming trip into the wilderness. And at least she would get some food this way. She trailed behind the two of them, shifting the weight of the bag over her shoulder slightly for greater comfort as they entered the tavern.


She found herself smiling as the wall of sound and body odors hit her. The Three Dragons was nothing like her mother’s tavern. The Mystic Wind was an Alliance tavern, and thus frequented primarily by Alliance races with all of their idiosyncrasies. Despite the obvious differences, the similarity of the sights, sounds, and smells struck her as they wound their way to the bar.


The Tavern of the Three Dragons’ location made it a no-man’s land, rife with multiple races from all over Andarun. While generally people were on their best behavior here due to the very nature of the place, the undercurrents of prejudices and deep-seeded animosities still ran freely, never too far from anyone's mind. Despite the mid-day hour, many of the patrons were drunk, as evidenced by the oaf who tried to grab Fyrilis’ backside. Elari was glad to witness the woman’s reaction time. Still, fights had been started over less, so she met the man’s eye as they passed to ensure he thought better of retaliating. The man looked up from his frostbitten hand to meet her eyes for an instant. The quick mutual assessment felt familiar and comfortable.


In short, it reminded her of home. Her smile faded as she recognized the sensation of homesickness for what it was; it wouldn’t do to be seen as pining for home. Especially when it wasn't true. (Was it?) Action served as the easiest way to squelch that premise. So she stepped to the bar beside Fyrilis, tossed her bag on a stool before her and signaled for the bartender.


Almost instantly, the bearded man at one end of the bar nodded and started moving their way. Grey peppered his beard and sharp brown eyes assessed them quickly without external comment. His meaty hands polished a glass with a moderately clean rag before setting it on a shelf behind the bar. The man’s height helped to disperse the extra weight he carried around his middle, and his muscular arms implied he may have been an adventurer in his youth. “What can I get ya?” he asked while he poured a mug of ale and slid it in front of a man sitting a few stools down from Fyrilis.


Elari glanced briefly to Lucis, tempted to order the best drink they had to offer since it was on him. She would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the tenuous peace between her companions. Fyrilis looked wholly uncomfortable, perched on her stool as if the bar might bite her. “We need a meal and a drink.” She hooked a thumb in Lucis’ direction with a small smile. “He’s paying for the drink. Ale - not your swill, not your best - and whatever stew you have will work for me, and bread.” In truth, she didn’t want to think about what might be in the stew here, but at least they usually made up for any questionable ingredients with seasoning. She glanced to Lucis with a small nod.


The bartender followed suit, looking to Lucis with a minute smile that implied a dirty joke about how the man was paying for two female elves’ drinks. “What about you, lad?” His gaze slid briefly to Fyrilis, and he dipped his head. “And how about the lady?” Elari didn’t take offense at not being referred to as a lady; Fyrilis looked much more the part, if only in how uncomfortable she looked.

 

[Original Hylion]

She started with another phrase in elvish, to his dismay. He really had no feeling for translating it in his head, she said it quite quickly and Lucis was not the best at elvish. He was lucky yet somewhat annoyed that she quickly cut to common, he would not have to translate her elvish phrase but as well he would not know what type of insult she directed at him. For the most part, he assumed that she was cursing him all along thus far. She obviously did not enjoy his existence. Her disdain for the man was further proved by her sigh as she trudged into the tavern. It was interesting that she willingly obliged, he expected her to argue against even this. She seemed to be pressing on time, but she submitted quite easily to this. Maybe she was also hungry or maybe a heavy drinker.


When she turned and took lead into the tavern, Lucis stopped and allowed her to do as she pleased, as well he waited for the other companion to take entry into the establishment. As the first elf entered, her fragile and young body fluttered in Lucis's eyes. He had his back to the second elf, so his eyes would at least be concealed, allowing him to freely examine the first elf's feminine walk. Lucis was not a perverse man but he was still a young, hearty, and single man. He had been with plenty human women, but never had he tasted the flesh of an elf woman. It was interesting that his eyes found enjoyment in this one. It was more her stubbornness, like a prissy little princess, that attracted his interests in her. Besides that, she did not seem much different from other elves he had seen.


As the second elf approached, Lucis made way, letting her enter before he did. As he did with the first elf, he allowed his eyes to scan over and frolic along the woman's curves. This girl had not spoken much, so there was very little personality wise that he would be attracted too. She seemed much more to the point, that as if she would find a lover, it would only be for the physical act rather than any emotion connection. The only feeling sexual thoughts he had towards her was a slight lust for her bod. It was quite boring that they were wearing cloaks though, it hid a majority of the enjoyable parts of the female body.


He followed after them, he did not take a moment to take in the interior and feeling of the tavern, as it was too crowded while walking through. Instead of squeezing through, as he assumed the two elves were doing, Lucis pressed the patrons from his path with gentle shoves. Some of them looked at him menacingly but Lucis passed by them to quickly to be identified. Even as he was moving much faster through the crowd, he missed the fellow and scenario of a patron attempting to grope the first elf's hind end. Not that he would have done much, there was not really much for him to do anyhow. He was not a knight, he did not go along the code of chivalry dictating that he should treat all women with utter respect and loyalty, in fact he could recall himself doing similar things to women of lower caste.


As much as he was tempted to sit away form them, Lucis took a seat beside the roguish girl, thus being a seat away from the first elf. He blankly gazed at the bar, keeping away form the temptation of the over examining the tavern and its population. If his mind went to that he would end up spending too much time there. He attempted to distract himself by examining the wood of the bar. It was older looking, seemed to be antique. Most likely never replaced from the original build, although by the amount of business the place got, it would make sense if the place were to get renovations or were to replace old pieces. One thing Lucis expected, was more barmaids to entertain the patrons. At least to keep them from being too rowdy towards each other. That way more of the men would at least be seated, allowing people to walk in and out more freely.


After the second elf ordered, Lucis noticed the bartender's stupid grin. It would seem lucky to be with two beautiful young looking women, but their attitudes were much too difficult to put up with. She ordered something of a meal, not really what Lucis would expect due to the situation. It burned Lucis's thought of what the first elf might order. He expected her to demand some large extravagant meal. If the two ordered something they would take time to eat, Lucis would much prefer to move to a table, as sitting on the bar would garner too much attention from drunkards.


"Something I can eat quickly, and make it a warm meal," Lucis would allow the Bartender what that was, "and something that will last some time on the road, if you've any." He peered at the barrels behind the bar. "A light drink for me, I shan't be staying long." Lucis turned his torso away from the two girls, and brought his hand to gently scratch his cheek. "And be sure to give the one in a dress something strong, put her brains to mush for the night and extra coin assured."

 

[Lekiel]

She swore there was an evil blob living at the bottom of the oaken mug set infront of her. Fyrilis had spent the last minute or so staring suspiciously at the brownish liquid which smelled eerily like Hobswine piss and was letting miniscule bubbles pop to its putrid surface; as if something was breathing inside. The elf very much doubted the integrity of the barkeep as the foul drink could not possibly have been the result of, "Any light fruity wine would be great!".


Still, the barkeep had brushed aside her initial protest on first smelling the drink. "Take it, or leave it. I have many other patrons who would pay good coin to have that scouring down their dainty throats." Well, she was a trifle bit thirsty and she wasn't one to back down when her pride was at stake. What would it look like to the others if she backed down now?


Taking a deep breath, Fyrilis mustered her bowels in preparation for the oncoming assault, grabbed the mug by its handle and took a hearty swig as the riff-raff called it.


Screw it, pride or not this is too much. The foul liquid scorched a line of fire the length of her pale throat (on the inside of course) and her first impulse nearly caused it to ride its way out her nose. Squinting her eyes against the unbearable sensation, she forced the horrid thing down even as her stomach began protesting. Opening her ocean green orbs, she was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea as her vision began to swim. Still, she did her best to not lose her composure, the stiffening of her posture and the white knuckles gripping the stained counter the only indication that something was amiss (and the teary eyes with the suddenly pale face). Alas, the disorientation passed as quickly as it had come, leaving her with an unwelcome buzz, a growling belly and a mug that was still more than three quarters full.


"So... when are you guys gonna be done?" Fyrilis turned to the other two, leaning back against the counter and trying unsuccessfully to hide the look of revulsion on her face as a foul aftertaste wafted up her into her mouth.


"Blueck!"

 

[Erica]

The tavern’s familiar hum of discussion, laughter, and drunken tomfoolery eased some of the tension from Elari’s shoulders. Even if her two companions were both set in their ways, at least she could enjoy a quick meal before they started traveling again. Elari knew she was set in her ways, too; but that was only because she was right. Lucis seemed more of an ass, and Fyrilis might be an accomplished Stormlord, but she was more impatient than any elf Elari had encountered. She understood Fyrilis’ irritation at waiting so long, but they were about to embark on a journey together; it would not be wise to hold onto that irritation.


Sitting beside Lucis, Elari heard every word he said, of course; including the statement that he wanted something he could eat quickly. She took that as hint she should have ordered something more portable. That inspired a small smirk as she glanced his way. No one was in such a hurry that taking five minutes to eat a bowl of stew would throw off their entire journey; if they couldn’t make up that time on horseback (or even on foot), then they were going to die quickly once they started north. But when he ordered the barkeep to make Fyrilis’ drink strong, the first real hint of surprise crossed her features. She was sitting right here. Did he expect her to say nothing?


Elari glanced once to the barkeep and kept Fyrilis in her line of sight. The other elf showed no indication that she had heard the instruction. A better woman might have warned the stormlord, but Elari happened to think that a good drink might make the road north a little quieter - or at least more entertaining. So she said nothing. Instead, she looked directly at Lucis, her expression neutral. She held his gaze to see if he would squirm, more as an exploration of his personality than a test of his character. Regardless of his reaction, she would say nothing. But it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about this human.


A minute later, she nodded to the barkeep as her stew was set on the top of the bar along with a mug of ale. A similar mug was delivered to Lucis beside her. The bartender told Lucis his food would be coming shortly; a meat pie or pastry of some sort, she assumed. But it was Fyrilis’ drink that caught her attention. Elari went about the process of eating her stew and bread, watching Fyrilis out of the corner of her eye. The exchange with the bartender was priceless, but not nearly as much as the look on her face as she tried to gather up the courage to drink the foul brew in front of her. Elari prepared herself for the inevitable: Fyrilis would never stomach that swill. Even knowing it was coming, she almost spit out her ale when Fyrilis grew pale and looked about to wretch.


A small pang of guilt visited her for not intervening. It passed quickly, however, when Fyrilis asked if they were done yet. Did she not see the stew that Elari was still eating? And that Lucis’ food was just being delivered? The soft thunk of her mug meeting the bar followed. She looked at Lucis and reached out a hand to pat him once firmly on the back near the shoulder blade, the smallest trace of an understanding smile gracing her lips. It evaporated when she turned to Fyrilis and spoke slowly. “When I’m done. You can wait five minutes out of courtesy.”


She returned to eating her stew. Better than she had expected, it still needed salt.

 

[Original Hylion]

That burning feeling that a person gets whenever another person is burrowing their eyes deep into the back of their skulls with glaring eyes, yeah Lucis was feeling that to his left. It seemed the second elf, the roguish one was simply staring at him, not showing an expression of distaste or agreement but simply staring. He knew he was somewhat better looking than most men, but not enough to be adored by from some feet away, this was just awkward. Lucis let his eyes slowly drift over to meet the elf's. His eyes were calm, very inexpressive of how he was feeling, like looking into the eyes of a man who slept or man who had died. He more or less simply gazed back with little to no interest in speaking or asking of what was going through the elf's mind. When the bartender came back and passed around the orders, the awkward staring session was cut and Lucis took his eyes back. He let out only a slight chuckle.


In honesty, Lucis did not drink very much. He had a preference for milk, though it was rare that he could drink it freely as it spoiled quickly. Even so, drinks with heavier alcoholics were something he preferred to avoid. Commonly at his estate, he would either drink fresh milk or cider from his father's orchards. He drank wine at the political parties at times, but still detested the taste. At time he would settle with though alcoholic mead and drink that for a time, but usually if choice was given he would aim for the lowest mind numbing drink. Taking a few swigs from this mug of something was not a difficult task, he simply wished he had waited for his food to be delivered before he took the first three or four gulps. The singeing feeling of the liquid sliding down his throat made him squint ever so slightly.


Obviously, he only wondered what dreadful piss drink the first elf was consuming. He could hear the slight protest the elf put up, taking it as the bartender doing as he had asked. In response, Lucis pulled a currency note from his bill fold, then paused realizing where he was. He had forgotten to stop by an Aryan bank to trade in for the appropriate currency for his travels. He had to go through the awkward motion of reaching into his boot, removing it slightly to reach his hand deeper into it, to bring out his emergency pouch. It was silly sure, but it was also extremely sensible. Lucis placed tied the pouch beside his two stacked and sheathed daggers, one a poignard the other a rondel. He had a stiletto in his boot, and a much more visible anelace stacked with his falchion, all silver make. His crossbow, along with bolts, and pistol was hidden and jumbled into the pack he was carrying on his back. He had actually placed his pack at the side of his seat, as he expected to be sitting there with them for a short while.


He did not forget, and he thought that the bartender earned what he would get. Lucis placed down five silver coins, as he expected three extra coins were enough to please the bartender's greed. Lucis kept his hand on the small stack until the bartender was ready to take it directly, to keep the now drunk, rushing, and belching elf from seeing the large tip. The bartender got the message, took the coins and gave Lucis his piece of food, only a loaf of bread. Lucis was fine with this, he ate it, dipping it into his drinking and taking a bite, usually anything to get rid of the drink faster or to change up the taste. At his estate, Lucis would eat very grand foods, like pork and beef, and he loved eating fish, especially salmon and crab, and the loveliness of pies.


He was actually done with his food quickly, and got another loaf of bread for the road. He simply sat and waited for the other two to finish before he would pluck his bag from the ground and begin northward. He seemed to be the only one without a horse out of the three.

 

[Lekiel]

The second dunking went down a tad bit better and by the time she was on her fifth and final swig, the golden brew tasted like Lady Ysainne's finest Andali Flower nectar which Fyrilis couldn't do without on a weekly basis. Why had she decided to take another sip anyway? Can't.. remember... something about being annoyed at... no being told to wait 3 minutes out of curtsey.. that doesn't make sense.. nu-pe.. probably wait 5 minutes to curtsey in front of the guests at mother's birthday party.. the winter's gonna be harsh with all the crop spoilage while the ranger shot three dire wolves with one arrow... eh what?


Ed' i'ear ar' elenea! Fyrilis whispered out loud in awe, as her ocean emerald orbs widened until they seemed like gleaming sea washed stones. Seler`Tanadris was right! The water at this Tavern is magical!


".. Ey swear on me pop's ear hair's, one drop of that liquid gold from ye' ole Draegun Tavurn on me lips... s'nuff mot-e-vasun fer me ter kill a platun o'scummy goblins.." At the back of her subconscious, Dorgath Ironknuckle, her father's mastersmith's words danced at the vestiges of her plethora of thoughts.


There was a throbbing pain on her temple, but it was muted, as if something pressed her head through a cloth. Her sensory organs were on edge, it seemed she could now feel everything in sharp contrast; every grain of the elder oak counter-top under her white knuckles, the harsh glare of ceiling illumination, the voices all around her.. conversations.. the farmer at that table, whining about the winter being harsher.. the guardsman on that other table, speaking of a ranger... she felt herself waver between a singular entity and one that was both ultra-alert and severely inebriated at the same time. Time passed slowly... or rather the people around her seemed to move slowly, except for herself of course.. but suddenly she became aware of her two companions once again. Something was said... they were done.. her vision swam.. blurred... Fyrilis heard someone replying in her own voice that they will get going... a horse.. someone didn't have one.. it wouldn't be a problem, Ehtelera was elven bred, a warhorse.. she can take it.. Fairbreeze.. they must take the northwest road, reach Fairbreeze by nightfall..


There was a harsh glare of light and gust of wind before Fyrilis suddenly found herself outdoors and standing beside Ehtelera, the cold wind must have caught her attention... closing her eyes against a sudden pulsing headache, the elf waited until it passed before reaching up to the saddle, gripping the leather, she nimbly hoisted herself gracefully onto the horse as only an elf can.. and right over it and into the metal lamppost next to it as only a... Fyrilis can. There was a melodious *clunk* as her forehead kissed the metal passionately before night fell on her vision.


Aaah, that's the spot..!

~Translations~

​

By the sea and stars!

 

[Erica]

It didn’t take long to finish off the soup. It would have taken even less time normally, but Elari found herself distracted by two things. One: she wanted to make it clear to Fyrilis that she was here to assist not to serve. The Stormlord seemed to like issuing orders. Setting the expectation up front that she would listen but not necessarily obey seemed important, if only because Lucis seemed to have his own stubborn streak. She had no problem hanging back and observing as the others duked out their personal satisfaction issues, but she would not be ordered about. So she ate slower than she would have otherwise. Two: Fyrilis was clearly ticked off, and it was amusing to watch her try to swallow that anger - literally.


The drink seemed to go down her companion’s throat more smoothly with each swallow, and Fyrilis’ senses suffered a similar nosedive. Pushing her bowl away, Elari exchanged a quick glance with Lucis as Fyrilis swayed on her feet. They discussed the mundane matters of leaving for Fairbreeze and Lucis’ lack of horse. (And who goes on a journey of this sort without a horse, anyway?) Then Fyrilis was leading them from the tavern like a drunken parade master, declaring in the amplified voice of the truly inebriated that they had to reach Fairbreeze by nightfall. Elari pinched the bridge of her nose briefly as she trailed behind. Now everyone here knew where they were going - and by which road - and that they had a very drunk elf among them, dressed in fine clothes that implied they might have coin on them. Perfect.


Outside, Elari reached out, touching Lucis’ arm only long enough to get his attention. Her voice was, as before, soft in volume if not in tone. “Take my horse. Elven warhorses can be …” Ahead of them, she saw Fyrilis gripped the saddle of her horse tightly. Oh, no. Elari took a step toward Fyrilis and Ehtelera as if she could stop the inevitable. Meanwhile, Fyrilis launched herself up and over the back of the horse. “… temperamental…” Elari cringed as their companion’s head made the lamppost sing. Everyone says elves are musically inclined, she thought ruefully before dashing around the back of the horse to check on Fyrilis, slinging her saddle bag over Ehtelera’s back as she did so. The horse protested with a huff of air as it glanced at Elari and its prone mistress.


A few people stopped to stare at Fyrilis’ acrobatic feat. The bold even laughed, earning a glare from Elari as she knelt beside Fyrilis. Looking up at Lucis, she sighed softly and shook her head. “Brilliant idea,” she said with in a deadpan tone, referring to the mischief with the drinks inside and completely ignoring her own complicity. Fyrilis had a small red spot on her forehead where it had connected with the lamppost, but she seemed to be breathing all right. She was also out cold. “Help me get her on the back of her horse. I’ll ride with her.”


In short order they discovered a universal truth: even the lightest person proves difficult to pick up and move around when dead weight. After a few minutes of awkward contortions and debate about the best tactics to use, they managed to lay Fyrilis on her stomach across the warhorse’s back. Elari whispered a few elven words to Ehtelera to reassure the beast and then did the same with hers. Although a fine beast and well trained, hers was not a warhorse and therefore more tolerable of a human. It was also a hand shorter than Ehtelera - which meant that mounted, Elari sat considerably higher in the saddle.


Thus they set off in the early afternoon for Fairbreeze by the northwest road. Elari glanced periodically over her shoulder as they traveled, watching for anyone who might be following them. Then again, who wanted to travel north, which was nothing but wilderness? She kept her cowl down to see better; the tattoo on her forehead seemed to stand out more against her pale skin as the afternoon drew on. Periodically she would lay a hand on Fyrilis’ back to check on her and to ensure she was in no danger of falling. But she initiated no small talk; she had never been good at it anyway.

 

[Original Hylion]

Soon enough she was gulping away like a true drunkard. While he kept her at the edge of his view, he made his best attempts not to show any smug grin or chuckle. As expected, the elf girl was completely lost in her drink. She was speaking in a slurred elvish tongue, and Lucis did not expect to hear her speak anymore words in common. He did hope she would shut up, as opposed to her throwing some kind of drunken tantrum. While the drink was enough to send her into a nausea covered daze, he would have preferred that she was completely knocked out. It would have been much easier for him to simply sling her over a horse and take lead. Of course, Elari was here, the roguish elf, and she seemed not to give much care in his actions of quelling the mage's stubborn nature. If anything, he doubted he would say much as long as he did not willingly put any of them in danger. The most trouble he was expecting was from the young elf and her quick anger nature.


Somehow, the drunk elf was able to slur out a stream of information that was somewhat needed for the travel north. The northwest road to Fairbreaze, reach it before nightfall, share the horses. Lucis peaked an eye at the drunk elf as she stumbled her way out of the tavern. He was surprised she did not fall into the arms of any of the hungry looking men in there. It seemed that Lucis may have been the only one supplied, what most would consider overly, for the mission. Instead of uselessly rushing to the next town to get a room at the closest inn, Lucis was easily content with sleeping outside and taking the direct highway to the north. As far as he could tell, there was no need to take the scenic route and stop by at each town, until it was time to restock.


After the two elves left the tavern, Lucis followed them out. He felt somewhat inclined to keep a slight distance as it looked more embarrassing to be seen with the light weighted noble elf. The drunk elf wanted him to ride her warhorse with her, that was unexpected. Perhaps the drunk Fyrilis was a tad more open than the sober one. It almost made Lucis want to go back and buy more for her as a morale boost later on in the journey. It was odd to see a warhorse standing around next to a tavern. Lucis did not consider it common to see the breed hanging around outside of noble districts, barracks, or war camps. Most of the time, horses for traveling would either by the pack horse, or the riding horse like Elari's. The warhorse's use was its large and durable nature, perfectly built to carry large amounts of weight and not be bothered when bumping into things. Their size and heavy weightedness was not much needed for travel. Lucis preferred riding horses as it was less to feed and simpler to control.


Elari seemed to press him to keep away from the elven warhorse, seeming as they were cautious to strangers. How loyal. The horse seemed to do nothing as its owner went sliding for the pole. The rogue elf's understanding faded with that. His idea was brilliant, now they would not be badgered by the drunken elf or the sober one. He supposed he should at least help her with placing the unconscious elf on the horse. He did not take much notice to the bystanders laughs and chuckles. If anything, he found that he looked more knightly helping the poor drunk elf. Her dead weight and limbs made her annoying to place properly, but Lucis was strong enough to manhandle her petite body and sling her on the horse with Elari. As they were prepared, and the horses were calmed, Lucis took his place on the slightly shorter rogue elf's horse. He took no time to wait for the two elves and preceded towards the road, only keeping a slow pace to allow the horse not to feel as if it was leaving its master. Lucis never knew many horses that were as loyal as the elven kind. Perhaps it was elves rather than the horse breed.


No small talk came from the again cloaked, heavy bagged, Aryan. He found that there was no use in talking unless there was something to be talked about. If that makes sense.


"We should skip, Fairbreeze." He spoke. "It will make the trip shorter, ride through most of the night and stop only for the horses. We can tell the drunk that she slept through our stop in the town." He had slight doubt that the elf would go along with him, being as the first plan ended with an unconscious guide. Lucis found it was bringing up in case she was more lenient than he first expected.

 

[Erica]

While her horse, Tálagor, accepted Lucis easily due to her instruction, Elari couldn’t help but feel that Ehtelera remained suspicious of the situation. The warhorse obeyed her while somehow giving the distinct impression that it was only conceding to her commands by personal choice. A delayed response to the pull on the reins, a huff of air, and even the occasional glance back at Elari in the saddle and Fyrilis draped across its back: all of this added up to an air of begrudging compliance. Unaccustomed to warhorses, Elari wondered if this was the nature of all of their kind or specific to Fyrilis’ chosen mount. Either way, it was disconcerting. Hopefully the beast would have no issue with her should they encounter trouble on the road.


Their journey wasn’t off to the best start, but the combination of the silence and the slowly setting sun improved Elari’s mood. At least Lucis wasn’t a talker. After watching the road behind them for a while, she concluded that no one was following them and settled in for a pleasant ride to Fairbreeze.


Until Lucis spoke. Then she looked at him with a small smirk. It was brazen for him to imply Fyrilis was an alcoholic as if he hadn’t spiked her drink. “We go to Fairbreeze. She’s your guide, remember?” A nod indicated the prostrate Fyrilis. She felt Ehtelera pull to one side, avoiding not only sinkhole in the road but also shying away from Lucis. That settled it; the warhorse was not only smart, but also opinionated. Elari’s gaze moved back to the road. “I am only here to keep you both safe.” Her true charge was to keep Fyrilis safe, but she didn’t need to say that explicitly: he was old enough to read between the lines.


They travelled in nearly companionable silence for a few hours after that. The road wound through forest that slowly gained greater substance as they travelled North. The trees grew larger and the distance between them smaller; the canopy began to block out most of the late afternoon light, giving her eyes a rest. Only when they turned a bend to spy a border checkpoint ahead did she think about the mechanics of their trip. They were travellers on the road, seeking entrance back into Alliance territory. Elari had her own pass to travel home - but not by this road. Fyrilis probably carried a pass for their journey. Perhaps she and Fyrilis alone might be allowed past the border with a simple explanation, but distrust of foreigners ran stronger at small outposts like this. And given that the border guards had already spotted them riding with an elf across the warhorse’s back, searching Fyrilis now would likely make matters worse.


She sat up straighter in the saddle as they approached, glancing only briefly at Lucis in what she hoped came across as a warning to stay quiet. Up ahead, two guards stepped into the road with hands on swords while two others behind them had arrows ready but not notched.


One of the ones in the road held out a hand and called out, “Aaye!” Elari brought Ehtelera to a halt. The guard only addressed her, ignoring Lucis although the other guards kept an eye on the human. “Mani naa essa en lle?” The guard’s eyes lingered on Fyrilis across the warhorse’s back. “Ar’ Manke naa lle autien?”


Elari resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This road only led to Fairbreeze and destinations North. Where else could they be going? She did not dismount, as was customary, but did clasp her fist to her chest as she bowed in the saddle. “Mae govannen. Essaamin naa Elari Narvathal. And we,” she said with a small gesture to indicate Lucis as she switched to the common tongue out of courtesy, “are destined for Fairbreeze.”


The elf, tall with dark hair, was a moon elf like Elari. His lips turned downward as he looked to Lucis, then back to Fyrilis, and finally to Elari. “Did you encounter trouble?”


Elari actually chuckled. “Only that residing at the bottom of a glass of ale.” She patted Fyrilis on the shoulder. “Hence why we must rest at Fairbreeze before continuing on our journey.”


The guard looked skeptical at best. He looked at her for a long moment with a raised eyebrow, then said in a monotone voice, “We will need your pass.”


She could either search Fyrilis for the pass or try to talk her way out of this. With a soft sigh, Elari began to pat Fyrilis down; she had never been good at small talk.

~ Translations ~

​

Aaye! Mani naa essa en lle? Ar’ Manke naa lle autien?


Hail! What is your name? And where are you going?


Mae govannen. Essaamin naa Elari Narvathal.


Well met. My name is Elari Narvathal.

 

[Lekiel]

Spoiler

If you guys are interested, here's some music that I listened to writing this. Felt it to be quite inspiring =] [media]

[/media]



"That girl is a hazard!" The tall elven male, long wavy blond hair shimmering in the amber glow of the elemental lamps, moved suddenly to grip the edges of the large desk littered with scrolls; even in the intensity of his actions he kept up the air of confidence and grace that so often enshrouded his tall immaculate form. The other two figures in the room, one seated behind the desk with his hands clasped to his chin in the shape of a triangle was leaning forward slightly, a frown on his face. The other stood a little ways besides the first, her flaming red hair framing a delicately angular chin as it cascaded over her equally fiery designed robe stared at the Master Conjurer's sudden outburst, lush ruby lips slightly open in protest. Despite her feminine features, the intensity and burning passion in her amber coloured orbs was more than enough to let anyone know she should not be trifled with.


"Watch your tongue, Lord Calarharn.. you're speak-" she began but was quickly cut off.


"She nearly killed everyone in that class with that summoning, but by Anara's grace, I was around to dismiss the elemental-!" Lord Calarharn unconsciously reached up to gingerly touch the bandage around his left arm where he had rolled up the sleeve of his robe.





"Of course you were around, its your class... and maybe if you were as good as you claim to be.."





"And you think you could've done much better, eh!? Mistress Farandir." The Master Conjurer retorted, nearly spitting out the other's name.


"That's enough..." The quiet but penetrating voice of the third figure suddenly cut through the air like a hot knife through warm butter.


"I have heard enough... More than enough.." The figure gestured to the piles of letters bearing the seals of over a dozen noble houses, parents demanding to know why their child had been put in such danger."This girl... Her father, Archlord Tasaldan Councilor of Defense?"





"Pfft..! An aging old man from a past age.." Lord Calarharn snorted with such grace that the Lady's of Court would've blushed. The other two immediately trained their eyes upon him, Mistress Farandir, eyes flaring in anger was about to speak in no small volume but backed down when the third figure shook his head.


"It doesn't matter, the students of Hearthfire Academy are in danger so long as this girl remains uncontrolled in this school." At this, a smug grin grew on the Master Conjurer's annoyingly pretty face.


"You will expel her from the Academy then?" He eagerly cut in.


"Fyrilis has shown me so much potential-!" The redhead protested but the third figure held up his hand.





"I did not say I will expel her... however, she shows too much promise to be simply be let off. Besides, from what I have heard about her, I fear that ruining her chance of proper tutelage in the arts would result in much more severe consequences than scaring a bunch of school kids in a classroom... sometime in the future."





"So what do we do? There is no teaching this girl.. she is uncontrollable-! Volatile!!" Lord Tasaldan cried, nearly losing his composure which he worked oh-so-hard to protect.


The third figure sat up straight slowly, running his steely gaze between the two Stormlords before settling his gaze upon the female. "Matriarch of the Flamespirit, Mistress Sophraea Lorelyia sal`Farandir... I knew your Master once.. before he.. vanished." Sophraea narrowed her eyes, unsure what to make of the sudden change of focus. "You are hereby relieved of all teaching duties... except for one."





"But Grandmaster I-"


"You of all know what it feels like to have your abilities unappreciated Mistress Sophraea... I believe that if we put this young girl under a mentorship, she might be able to control herself before she reaches her full potential. Afterall, I think you are the only one here whom should recognize the signs of those who are One with Them..."

. , ; ' ` ~ * ~ ` ' ; , . , ; ' ` ~ * ~ ` ' ; , .


CHAPTER 2: Chasing the Darkness

​

There was a horrible pounding noise and the muffled chatter of noises when she came to. Eyes still closed, she began to wonder at the sudden change of air, much fresher than what a tavern should smell like... tavern.. hmmm, where was I again? Traveling? Oh! Guiding!


With the sudden flash of memory, Fyrilis flew wide awake. The abrupt physiological system start up, coupled with the after effects of a good drink added on top of an awkward position on a horse resulted in a pretty interesting reaction; more of the latter than the former.


The tall isilhin was growing impatient with his fellow countryman (or woman for that matter), he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, he probably would have to end up turning back this trio of companions until they got their papers straight, not the first since the morning. All of a sudden, the prone elf jolted upright abruptly. Well... jolted is actually a much too precise word, for what the girl really did, was to straighten herself and walk off the back of her horse (while lying down on it) only to connect with the dirt ground with a muffled whump and flurry of skirts.


"Ed' i'Eweca lemba!" The guard exclaimed in shock.


A dozen un-ladylike profanities escaped her mouth, jumbled into one sentence as Fyrilis struggled to untangle herself and regain some semblance of balance on her feet. The light in the sky skewed her sense of time even as she glanced around trying to gauge her surroundings.


"Arwen en amin, lle tyava quel?" Fyrilis glanced up to find a tall moonelf guardsmen standing infront of her, through the haze of her mind, her mother tongue sounded awkward on her ears.


"I-I'm alright... where.. am I?" Fyrilis breathed out through clenched teeth, realizing that the pounding noise was actually inside her head. Reaching out a hand, she steadied herself against Ehtelera's side.


"You are at the border crossing, behind me lies the town of Fairbreeze. These.. are your friends right?"


"These? They? Friends? Not quite... but I travel with them yes. Fairbreeze.. really? Wow.."


"What business do you have in the port town, arwen en amin?" The guard seemed oblivious to Fyrilis' astonishment.


"I- We are traveling to... nevermind, wait a minute." Fyrilis reached for her pouch and fumbled around finally coming up with a folded parchment bearing a seal of the elven noble court. The guard's eyes widened at the sight of the seal, taking the offered document, he scanned the contents carefully before handing it back and crossing his arm over in a bow of respect. "Forgive me for the delay Arwen Arhandar, please proceed.. Namaarie, aa' i'sul nora cirya lanne'lle."


"Thank you.." Fyrilis nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to face her companions. "I don't suppose much has... happened since I.. was out. Thank you.. for your.. cooperation?" It wasn't much of a question, but her body had still some catching up to do with her mind. She was a little puzzled at their progress considering how reluctant the other two had been on leaving early, but right now, all she really wanted was to stop and rest the night away; despite the fact that she had probably expanded the least energy on their ride here. "You should drive... I'll let you know where we are headed." She said to Elari, a little surprised she hadn't thrown up yet, considering the amount of illegal activity going on in her head.


As they made their way into the town, and the Raging Griffin Tavern - their accommodations for the night - came into view, she turned to the other two a half smile on her face as despite her condition, she could not help but feel a little excited.


"So... any of you rode in a Skyship before?" As if on queue, there was a low rapidly beating hum coming from somewhere behind and above them, and before either of them could look up, there was a rush of wind as a Skyship dipped in low as it passed overhead, its lightsails glinting and sparkling in the fading light. The ship quickly moving out of view as it landed in a distant airfield, docking and perhaps unloading its merchants against the backdrop of setting sun.


"Welcome to Fairbreeze, first merchant town south of the Alliance.. and our last stop before the Northlands..."

~ Translations ~

​

"Ed' i'Eweca lemba! - By Eweca's behind!


"Arwen en amin, lle tyava quel?" - "My Lady, are you alright?"


Arwen Arhandar - Lady Arhandar


Namaarie, aa' i'sul nora cirya lanne'lle - Farewell, may the winds fill the sails of your ship

 

[Original Hylion]

Elven horses honestly, to Lucis, felt no different than the breeds in the alliance area, though, Lucis was no man of beasts. His understanding of horses was simply of use. He feeds and provides it shelter, it provides him transportation. He had his own personal horse at one time during his younger years of course, but it was a short lived relationship as he had a bad tendency of riding them to death then and still now. Horses were wildly used by knights of course, for jousting and other uses, warhorses and such, and lords enjoying riding horses for sports. Lucis's only investment in riding horses was for the fact that it could move faster than he could at a sprint. It helped with getting one place to another faster, which could applied in many ways. Often though, with his employment of fighting things that were considered fearful things, his horses would run scared or die dramatically. Lucis keeps from even knowing the horses names, a relationship with a fragile horse could only lead to trouble. Along with that, he keeps his belongings off of the horse, as if they would to run off, his belongings would never meet his hands again. So Lucis cared little for this elven horse's odd twitches to stop and check on its owner, to Lucis it was more bothersome to have an animal with so much caution for its owner. Could get in the way and cause trouble.


His proposition was shot down. The rogue seemed content in following the other elf's orders. He understood that the guide was needed, as well that she was his "passport" of sorts, but he knew very well that a hurry did not mean taking a break at every town. The guide herself said that they should hurry else the snow beat them to the mountains. Lucis was sure he could endure a bit of the cold, and the travel was definitely not far enough to be defeated by the winds. Lucis was content on believing that the elf intended on traveling only by day and resting at every town they would come across. If the rogue's job was to guard, then her opinion on the trail taken should not be too much of a burden on either Lucis's or the guide's back. He was tempted to simply break off from the two and continue down the highway northward, but the horse would most likely not allow it, as well there was some trouble a head.


"Spite."


A border outpost, an untimely placed one. He caught the glance from the rogue, to keep tongue silent for the meeting. He understood the reasoning, but he was slightly against it. He did not expect elves to be very stupid people, a man and an elf carrying another noble looking elf across the border was simply asking for trouble. Lucis was actually pressed to grasp his sword hilt under his cloak in preparation for danger to come. Lucis was no racist, but he knew little about the borders, they could simply attack Lucis for lacking ears with point or legs with stoutness. The elven speak was spoken fast and Lucis could barely keep up, but it took little time for him to focus and pick apart the foreign language. The first phrase from the guard was easy enough, the word for stop or be still was called, then in a questioning tone the words of name and where. Obviously they wanted names, but Lucis was not sure whether they were asking for where they came from or where they were headed. Lucis doubted the former, as there were few places that they could come from and arrive here. Elari introduced herself and switched to common, making it slightly easier for him.


She continued to explain and the border guard interrogated. Even with the truthful explanation of "she isn't dead, she's drunk" the border guard seemed to be smart enough to have suspicion. The question of papers was brought up, and at this point Lucis was content on at least holding his sword hilt. He was not given papers for the journey, he was not sure why but they seemed to think he had no need for them. Lucis began counting his chances against the group of border guards, assessing how trained they would be and how he would best go about getting through this situation. He began to count the enemies he could see and estimated the ones he could not. This was an outpost so there at to be more inside. There were too many of them to take them each out silently, so there was no need in releasing the heavy firepower, though, he doubted they would let him sling his pack around and let him locate his pistol and bullets. He could try going off the facade that he was searching for the papers they required. He would have to trust the rogue to supply some type of back up, as his shot could only hit one of the enemies, without a guaranteed kill. The odds were against him, but time was of the essence and Lucis was becoming more and more fed up as time went on.


With the awkward and loud shuffling of body movements and curses, the "noble" elf fell to the ground and began flopping around. Lucis watched the fish on land only for a moment before cursing the gods as his eyes averted upwards. There was elven being thrown back and forth again with some common, this time Lucis found no need to include himself in it, or even pay much attention. It took little time for the guide to sort things out and allow them to precede with little interruption. While Lucis slightly regretted knocking her out in the first place, his stubbornness told him that if he were alone things would have gone even smoother. The rest of the trip, Lucis kept silent. He let his hand away as the border outpost shrank.


Fairbreeze was an all alliance port town, while Lucis would no doubt see some Aryans here for trade, he doubted that his stay here would be at all enjoyable, enforced by the seemingly excited guide. Maybe she had a lover here. When she began to talk about skyships, Lucis was prepared to spit no, but the incredibly interruptive noise of the ship flying over head silenced him before he could draw air in. He could already feel the his stomach rising.

 

[Erica]

"...not the sort of lesson I hired you to teach her!"


Laleri Narvanthal's voice sounded exceptionally loud from behind the black of her daughter's closed eyes. It also pounded on the sides of Elari's head. She would have protested, but Caladur joined in, making it worse.





"Like it or not, it's precisely the lesson she needs. Would you prefer she discover her limitations the hard way?" If her mother's voice beat a drum to the throbbing pain in her head, Caladur's drove a spike into it; right behind her eyes.


"This isn't the hard way?! Look at her! She's bruised from head to toe..." Concern mixed with indignation in her mother's voice. Elari tried to move and realized with a groan that her mother was, in fact, correct about her injuries.


Meanwhile, Caladur continued to respond with calm and clinical logic in cold counterpoint to her mother's rage. "Technically, from head to hip. I stopped them before they got to her knees."


Elari's moan covered the last half of his sentence, and she heard someone - probably her mother - moving closer as she attempted to sit up. The bed beneath her kept doing an impressive impersonation of a bucking horse. She opened her eyes to glare at it and saw her mother's pale features knotted in concern.


"Before you start playing nursemaid, I need a moment with my student." Caladur's tone was familiar: Elari had heard it often during her weapons training. It left no room for argument.


For a brief moment it looked as if Laleri would defy him. But eventually she laid a hand gently on Elari's shoulder and offered what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile. Her motherly concern ruined the attempt, though. Then she leveled a warning glare at her daughter's instructor and left the room. If Elari's father had possessed full knowledge of Caladur's vocation and the kind of training he provided, that moment might have went very differently. Then again, Caladur was fully aware of the dynamic in play at the Narvanthal household. He knew precisely how far he could push Lareli.


With her head pounding and feeling the tight pain of bruised muscle all along her torso, Elari looked at him, wincing more at the thought of his judgment than the bruises.


After listening to her brag about her thieving skills for a over a month, Caladur had given her first assignment: infiltrate a low-level lord's house and acquire a particularly lovely necklace. Having stolen from houses in the poorer neighborhoods around her parents' tavern many times, Elari had believed it a chance to impress her teacher. That night, she had learned much about what status and wealth afforded people. Things like magical defenses and hired swords. Caladur had saved her from being turned into the authorities or worse, but not before the lord's personal guards had taught her a very physical lesson.


She had blundered. Badly. Still, what she wanted more than ever was to learn how to beat them; how to be good enough to beat the magical wards, that those guards would never even know of her presence, and that - if they should discover her by some turn of fortune - they would never touch her. Now she knew how much she had to learn. But she had spent so much time bragging to Caladur about her skills. How foolish she must have sounded! Now her greatest fear was that Caladur would abandon her as a student.


Now, in the wake of her failure, her instructor studied her for a long moment. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke with amused sarcasm. "That went well." A half-smile graced his lips after he said it.


He often used these three words in their sparring matches when she made a mistake. They signaled his belief that she was finally ready to toss away her perceived "knowledge" and learn what he had to teach.


In her bed, covered with cuts and bruises, Elari laughed and discovered she had at least one broken rib.

~ * ^ * ~

​

Their border crossing was about as graceful as a troll on ice. The guards watched them skeptically for some time after letting them pass, and Elari was fairly certain that Lucis’ hand remained on his sword even longer. That pass had silenced the guards’ arguments, but then the noble court’s royal seal had a way of doing that. While Fyrilis possessing the pass made perfect sense, she was still a little nettled by its casual use.


Elari kept silent as she and Fyrilis rode Ehtelera down the road with Lucis at their side, but one sarcastic thought kept running through her mind. That went well. In Caladur's voice, of course. Unfortunately, she didn't believe their little group was ready to learn from each other. Not yet anyway.


Fairbreeze was impressive to Elari’s eyes after Haven. The differences between Alliance architecture and attitudes were subtle, but they felt like a second skin to her. Although she had never been here, so much of the place felt familiar. The pace here was less hurried and more focused, or so it seemed to her eyes.


Their arrival went largely unnoticed by the locals, although a few of the elves eyed Lucis curiously. Humans were rare but not unheard of here. His demeanor matched the arrogance of the wealthy with sufficient connections to get a pass into Alliance territory, so most of the locals looked away - eventually. As in Haven, there was some assessment of their abilities, but the threat here was remote if existent at all.


Elari caught Lucis' expression at the mention of Skyships. It figured that the man would pale at something as banal as heights. Scoffing, Elari watched the Skyship pass overhead on its way to a landing field. Not everyone could afford the most advanced form of transportation. She had never been on one, but she had climbed enough trellises and lingered on enough rooftops to be comfortable with heights. As Fyrilis practically bounced with excitement, Elari smirked at Lucis. It would be an interesting voyage if he couldn’t open his eyes on the way North.


Elari guided Ehtelera to the stables beside the Raging Griffin, with Tálagor following obediently behind. When they reached the stables, she dismounted first before offering Fyrilis a hand to assist her in dismounting. She imagined that the sun elf’s head was pounding and didn’t need to hear about another tumble from the saddle.


“So… we stay here tonight, then take a Skyship North? Or were you just making conversation?” Realizing her tone was a dry as dust, she attempted to temper it with a half-smile at the end. Unfortunately, kinesthetic memory made it look more like a smirk in execution.