Fantasy Andros - [ Always Accepting ]

[Roman]

Welcome to Andros!

A land once inhabited by a race of godlike beings known as Astrians. Unfortunately, they ended up going extinct due to a never-ending war. As a result, mortals began to inhabit the land. Making it their own. While the land was littered with ruins, they simply built around them. After claiming territories, many of them began to explore these ruins, finding artifacts that allowed for them to summon the Astrians. It turns out that upon their deaths, the Astrians were locked away into their personal magic artifacts and put into a dormant state. When summoned they offer to make a contract with the person, often being drawn to someone who shares some sort of similarity. Springtime was finally rolling around. The snow had melted away completely and those who found themselves spending the majority of their time inside were finally coming back out. Populating the travel roads and city streets once again. Markets were full of people selling and buying things, whether it be new clothes or food. Before winter, a lot of people were exploring ruins and many of them who were out on these adventures had come across artifacts that allowed for them to summon Astrians. Having an Astrian had become rather popular amongst the inhabitants.

Whether you have an Astrian or not, the world is yours to explore. Do as you please in this land. Make a name for yourself. Be a simple shop owner. Whatever it may be.​

 

[Roman]

Andros
1st of Kythorn
1:35 p.m.

When winter rolled in and brought the cold winds and snow with it, people began to stay home. Having gathered all that they needed before the winter could make it hard for them to perform their everyday tasks. They would, of course, do things such as trade and hunt. Getting the things necessary for their families to survive in the now cold and shorter days. Eventually, all the snow would begin to melt and the days would become warmer and brighter rather than the darker and more grey than they were during the winter... Mostly because it snowed quite a bit that winter when compared to past winters. Some believed it had to do with the rising popularity in Astrians and the power they brought with them. At least that's what a lot of the older inhabitants of Andros believed. While not all of them thought that way, a majority of them did. Things had begun to change in from how they were back when the elders of each race were in their prime, and it was definitely going in a weird direction with the introduction of Astrians. While they may not have been around for long and just a few generations, as they were a lot rarer than and mostly nobles were the ones who had them as they were the only ones who could afford to send people out to find them... Now anyone could have one if they were willing to risk enough to find one.

With winter finally over now, and spring finally coming in, melting all of the snow and the sky revealing the sky and sun behind the clouds, everyone found themselves back outside and enjoying the weather. Children running around their cities and villages playing with their toys or playing games with one another. Merchants set up shop in the market areas, willing to sell their merchandise outside once more with the weather finally making it possible. Farmers getting back to their crops, tending to them to ensure they have the best of what they grow so they too can make a little money. Society was finally going back to how it was before winter with streets being heavily populated with people willing to come outside of their homes more often again. Places like guilds were always open for adventurers looking for work, especially those who took jobs that required them to, in some form or way, protect the city they would get the job from.

With everyone out and about again, a lot of people were also on the search for Astrian artifacts again. Searching ruins high and low. Trade routes were open once again with the various races trading goods amongst each other and pirates finally attending their ships again. A lot of things that were set to the side were now back operating.

[World Setting Post]
​

 

[Kloudy]

Return of the Outcasts
(Eastern Human Queendom - The Martyr Graveyard)

"Hmm… I sense we are drawing close to our goal."

A bemused smile twitched on his face in light of his eccentricity. Marx Aurelius, a noble and adventurer by trade, was consulting a weathered map he had bought from a trader about four moons ago. Atop a trusty steed with his hired sellsword and pack mule in tow, they now found themselves in a heavily forested area close to elven territory. The map seemed to have guided them East from the outpost of the northernmost river. To the edge of the forestry bordering the Cracked Plains to the eastern coast.

Of course, he wasn't sensing anything in as much as simply playing navigator on his quest for the fantastical. The existence of Astrians laid somewhere between legend and rumour, but the recent reemergence of their artefacts pulled it violently out of 'myth' territory. More and more people believed these godlike creatures existed, and no one more than Marx was driven to finding one for themselves.

He turned to the man on horseback beside him, a humorous grin drawn across the noble's handsome features.

"What do you think? It says we should be close upon passing that large hill earlier."

The slight breeze wafted the scent of grass and moss under the larger man’s nose. The black draught horse he rode upon trotted along at an even pace as the small caravan made its way to the eastern aspects of the elvish-human territories’ border. As long as they kept to the northern areas, Kraven could at least maintain a modicum of preparation. He had traveled throughout these areas himself for some time not all too long ago.

The grizzled man eyed his surroundings with his dark green eyes, keeping to the more-so shaded path and keeping his ears out. He couldn’t help but be rather paranoid in these areas, but he didn’t like complaining either.

“As long as we keep to the trees,” he spoke in a voice like the breaking of stone. “And best to keep to the smell of water.”

Admittedly, he had never bothered himself enough to see what supplies they might already have. Not that his inflated sense of pride would let him ask the other. But if they kept near water and shade, they should be at least somewhat prepared for whatever worst case scenario might lurk out there. At the very least, there was water to quench dry mouths.

He looked up at the sky. He wanted them to follow the clouds, at least to a weak degree. Rain always made these things a bit safer, at least in his mind. True, it could make things more difficult, but only if you let it. Either way, so far things were going relatively smoothly. Boringly, but smoothly.

Marx smiled as he glanced at his companion from the corner of his eye. He didn’t need to be telepathic to understand that the gruff mercenary was suitably ill at ease. Marx mused that it was probably what kept Kraven alive all these years; a lack of caution made for a poor man of blood and coin. He knew a little of the benefits of caution himself in these past several years.

“The trees indeed…”

Marx consulted the map once more. According to it, they should be there already. He raised a fist to signal a stop and swung off his horse. Boots planted firmly in the dirt, Marx began to wander somewhat aimlessly, pouring over his map with confused scrutiny. Just where was this supposed graveyard of warriors? He kept walking and found himself walking into some shrubbery. Looking up from his marked paper, Marx was met with the dread-instilling sight of the edge of a cliff. A sheer drop before him, he had already shifted his weight too far forward...

The sudden pull of the noble’s cloak was provided by the ham-hock hands possessed by the sellsword, though certainly without any finesse to do so gently. Kraven glared out into the chasm. At the very least, he didn’t want to hear any annoying whines about broken bones.

"Oh!" Marx exclaimed with a surprised yelp, "My thanks, Kraven."

“This is the last kind of place to take your eyes off of,” he mumbled with irritation.

He sniffed the air again. The place smelled like dust. Weird for some random place outside, for such a smell to be more prominent than all the greenery. But it probably might mean something.

“Might be close,” he grumbled.

"I think so too. As the legend goes," The noble consulted a few parchments of ancient scribbles, "This is the graveyard… and our prize is down there."

Slightly surer on his feet given his uncomfortable clash with vertigo, Marx gazed over the cliff edge. At the jagged rocky bottom was more forest, but if their luck held then they would begin to stumble upon some particularly old findings. Grinning in anticipation, Marx spun to face Kraven once more with a touch of flair. He was a playful individual at times, making his grave motivations innocently. The mischievous glint in his eye sparked.

"Well, I'll see you at the bottom then."

And without a word more, he stepped backwards off the cliff edge with reckless abandon. Plummeting through the air, Marx's descent was controlled into more of a downward glide as his Genasi traits kicked in. Levitating to a slow stop a few hundred feet below his sellsword friend, Marx glanced up for a moment before disappearing under the tree canopy to dig in the dirt for relics.

Kraven sighed, vaguely annoyed. His immediate mental reaction was confirming with himself that he wasn’t gonna bury the kid. No way he’d throw his back out for that. Of course, the logical reasoning did eventually turn the cogs in his brain. Marx probably had something in mind. Besides, if he had just up and died at this point, Kraven supposed he’d have to travel to hell to get his money. But preferably, he wouldn’t have to.

What a pain.

The tall man leaned over the edge in a squat, deadpan in expression as Marx did… whatever that was. Of course it had to be flashy for nothing. At first instinct, Kraven was about to head over to get some rope to throw down, but he thought better of it, quickly enough. If this dude could float back up, he didn’t want to be bothered by an unnecessary trip.

And so he simply waited.

~~~​

Down at the foot of the cliff, Marx was yet again wandering about with a map glued to his face. He was in the right location, there was no denying that, but he couldn't see anything graveyard-like. There was plenty of moss, dirt, trees and other types of foliage. Wading through the undergrowth, Marx's foot hit something hard. Staggering off balance for a moment, he regained his footing and put his map away. The breeze always flowed in his presence, but it smelled particularly stale down here. It tasted of age-old death and natural reclamation. Feeling for whatever it was that had bid to snare him, Marx pulled out what seemed to be a broken sword. It had not rusted a day, although the soil it stuck through did not appear to be newly disturbed. Indeed the design and even the metal seemed completely foreign to him. It certainly was not of human, dwarven or elvish design. That, he would recognise.

Adopting a more serious attitude, Marx began scanning the area with his eyes. If this was an Astrian relic, the artefact would not be far behind. Resting the blade on the ground once more, Marx cautiously walked about, looking for any particularly good places an Astrian may be hiding. Dying in a forest was probably a nicer way to go, but the regrowth of nature definitely obscured his quarry. After a while of searching, Marx sighed in exasperation. This was taking too long. He needed something faster and more surefire.

"Hmm…"

And then he had an idea.

Closing his eyes and concentrating, Marx channeled his mana to a focused point in his mind. Telepathy with a target creature was easy enough, but detecting thoughts in an area was somewhat trickier. Casting the net wider loosened his concentration, but he only needed to find the thoughts. Nothing more. Searching with the help of his Psychic Arts, Marx rescanned the area for hints of consciousness. If Astrians were allegedly still people stuck in items, they were sentient creatures. And that was something Marx could work with.

Within the roots of the tree where Marx had found the sword blade, a little glimmer of consciousness shone to the telepath’s net. A little stirring within a small object. Confusion, fear, and no small amount of turmoil gave away that there was a mind somewhere among the roots of that tree. Within the roots of that tree, partially buried under moved dirt and stones, lay the hilt of a dagger, and within that dagger was the mind Marx could sense.

~~~​

The void was confusing to the Astrian within. There was no indication of time passing, except that it didn’t seem to end. No light, nor sound, nor body, not even her own heartbeat to tell her she hadn’t died. And yet here was a change that Arnora could sense. Something trying to communicate, faintly aware that she existed. ‘I am finally losing my sanity,’ Arnora thought, ‘I am hearing things.’

“Hello?”, she called into the void, “Is someone there?” Proud as Astrians can be, Arnora didn’t care if she was going insane, it was finally something to do.

~~~​

"O… o… o… -omeone… one… there… there…"

Marx could hear a faint echo in the centre of his head, as if it were emanating from between his ears. It was a telltale sign. Someone was definitely there and that someone appeared to be buried beneath a nearby tree. Whirling around, Marx scrabbled at the dirt by the foot of the tree trunk in question. He scraped sodden musty earth away in heaps with his gloves hands. Marx hoped he was not about to find some half-buried merchant that brigands had stuffed in the earth after robbing. One could ask Kraven, it happened often.

And then he found it. Gleaming like a diamond in a sea of coal. Hell, for all Marx knew this thing was made of actual diamond. Feeling a firm grasp of the hilt, the noble pulled the blade from the earth with some effort. Standing to his full 6ft height, Marx held the beautiful dagger aloft to catch the rays of light filtering down from above. It was luminescent and Marx couldn't place the exact colour. A foreign yet familiar energy hummed from the artefact at his touch. Clearly this was something special. He glanced about, but no fauna were in sight. Probably scared off from the stench of decay. He returned his gaze to the dagger.

His only problem now was unlocking the Astrian inside. Simply owning it was not enough, Marx needed to rely on its power to see through his goals. He needed the legend of Arnora the War Hawk. But of course, the merchant from before had no specific rituals or instructions on how to unlock a virtual demigod. So he was left with only one option. To ask her directly.

"Arnora… How can I release you…?" Marx thought slowly and clearly. Too much psychic energy would overwhelm the poor creature's mind after presumably aeons of solitude.

~~~​

Someone was talking to Arnora. A voice besides her own. That was… Arnora didn’t know if she had actually started to crack or if there was actually someone outside the dagger. They wanted… they wanted to release her? The hawk had to take a minute to think about that. She hadn’t thought that far ahead when she’d decided she’d continue her existence. But she was in a dagger, and a dagger had a purpose…

“I think… I think… you are meant to stab yourself with me. That is what daggers are for, stabbing. Likely a vital organ.”

~~~​

Marx was first met with sheer adrenaline as a voice actually spoke back to him. This was it. This was what he had been searching for over the last couple of years. A tense smile stretched his face, only to be replaced by a confused frown and then exasperation. He sighed. Of course the ritual would be something like this, it made sense if anything. The man pulled out another parchment and read the scriptures. It said something along the lines of 'piercing the self' and 'cutting free what lies within' and so forth. Marx only hoped that this summoning ceremony wasn't sacrificial in nature. He had come too far to get cold feet now.

Brandishing the dagger aloft, steel emblazoned itself into the noble's features. A furrowed brow of mettle hooded cooled eyes and he steadied his breath. This was not something he could mess up, or death was a very easy and likely answer for him. He vaguely remembered his father at a time like this, reminding him that nothing easily gained was worth keeping. A new fire burned in his eyes, hatred spurring his actions. Marx grit his teeth as flashes of Siegfried's stony face danced in his mind's eye. His purpose was clear, he knew what had to be done.

"So be it..." He sighed.

"I call upon you, who stormed the tall battlefront. You who confronted the sky clad in steel and heralded the Valkyries of Vengeance. Heed my offering, o' wingèd one. Bind to my heart and join me in battle…"

Marx plunged the cold metal of the dagger directly into his chest, between his ribs and straight into his beating heart.

"Arnora!"

As Marx brought the dagger up to his chest to penetrate his heart, the dagger glowed and began to vanish as it unlocked the ‘gate’ keeping Arnora within. Within Marx’s mind, where he had been communicating with the Astrian so far, he could see a brief flash of battles long past, Astrians at war, with hawks leading the charge. The forest around Marx turned deadly silent, not even a breeze tousling his own clothes anymore. And then feathers fell out of seemingly nowhere. He looked up in wondrous awe to see dozens of raptors perched in the trees above, their feathers seeming to fall off as the hawks themselves vanished.

The feathers fell down into the shape of a person, refining into the shape of a fully armored winged warrior kneeling as though to a leader. The armor, weapons and wings vanished into light, leaving behind the Astrian in the form of a human woman. She appeared to be in her thirties, although by the nature of Astrians that was not Arnora’s true age. Her dark brown hair ran down past her shoulders, some beaded and some braided with occasional feathers in the braids or attached to the beads, leading down into her clothing. Clothing that appeared to be a mix of leather and cloth without sleeves or shoes, with tattoos on her right arm. She blinked a few times, looking around with eyes that had not seen the world in aeons as she stood up. Even though Arnora took the form of a human, she was still head and shoulders above Marx.

“Are you the one that woke me?”, Arnora asked the noblemen in front of her. Yes he was, his hands were still in position to plant the blade directly into his heart.

“Yes, I believe you are…” Arnora lifted her right hand to offer Marx the dagger, this time with a sheath, “This belongs to you, now.”

Marx could only extend his own hand in a stupor, accepting the mystical blade with which he had mortally wounded himself with moments ago. Or… not? He glanced down at his chest and there was no such wound. He was sure he hadn't imagined doing that. This was the work of the Astrian, Marx was sure of it. Shook out of his shock and amazement, the man placed the sheathed dagger at his hip and regarded the unusually tall woman standing before him. A War Hawk. Marx had only read about them in legend, but they appeared to be real. Gradually, various pieces of broken armour and weaponry made themselves apparent in his field of view. Glints and flashes of metal in the foliage, hinting at grave sites of fallen warriors. So this was the Martyr Graveyard after all.

"My name is Marx Aurelius. I have come to offer contract to you, Arnora of the First Sun Battalion," Marx held out a hand to the taller woman, steel in his eyes and a confident smile gripping his features.

"We both have unfinished business in this world."

The Astrian nodded at Marx’s words, “Indeed we do, and finish it we shall. Master.”

With that, Arnora shook Marx’s hand, sealing the deal.

~~~​

By the time the others had finalized their pact and made it back to the top, Kraven could be found resting against the light grass beneath him. Surprisingly, he didn’t snore. It was very apparent he was a light sleeper as his eyes opened so abruptly as Marx and… someone else… approached. He eyed this strange new woman sharply, glaring intensely, but not for long. His gaze shifted to Marx, who had a quizzical eyebrow raised back at him, and back at the woman. No. This was no trickery of sorts. For a brief moment, he had feared the possibility that the woman had come here to do him in. But Kraven let the gears of logic turn once more to realize this was not the case.

Kraven glared a little while more as he slowly started to ready up his horse once more, and then looked away at last. Best to save questions for later.

“If we’re done here, we best get moving.”

"Yes," Marx pulled up into his horse's saddle smoothly.

"Now we ride for Galeford."

RedLeftHand36 Deadwood Deer

 

[Roman]

Connor Fleming
Location: Rudoras, Mood: Hungover and tired, Time: 1:35 p.m., Date: 1st of Kythorn

Nothing short of a long night that was. A tavern was full of people enjoying themselves and just having fun as the spring weather held up from day to night yesterday. As the sun shined brightly, the rays beamed down, Connor found himself stirring around as he began to wake up from his drunken slumber. Having fallen asleep outside the tavern, sitting against the wall, he quickly realized that he wasn't even remotely close to his wagon. With a loud yet tired groan, Connor managed to slowly get up. Unfortunately, he needed to use the tavern's walls as support. He could feel his body aching as he did so. It became apparent to him that he was very active last night. More than likely singing and dancing with the locals as he drank the night away with them. "Geez..." Looking around, he tried to see if the wagon was maybe in an alleyway or something of the sort, but his efforts were in vain. Continuing to use the wall as support, Connor began to walk in the direction that he felt seemed the most promising. "You've gotta be kidding me." Were the only words he was capable of uttering as he continued to walk. Nothing. Nothing... And more nothing.

After more walking, Connor began to suspect the worst. Maybe someone stole the wagon. It did have some valuables in it. Stuff worth selling such as weapons and food. He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case though. There were always people out looking to take from him, especially when he was traveling on his own. The last place he expected it to happen was in one of the human kingdoms though. Maybe he left it somewhere. That wouldn't be much better, as it would still be left out in the open for someone to freely go into and steal from. As he continued to walk, he would eventually catch sight of what he believed to be his wagon. Even though he was tired, he felt adrenaline kicking in as he slowly began to break into a sprint, running after the wagon as it continued to move forward to wherever its destination was. Luckily for him, they were in a city and they were crowded with people enjoying the weather. Pushing past the people in his way, Connor launched himself onto the back of it and climbed inside to get a look around. Looking at the things inside, he realized it was his, but eventually, his plans to reclaim his belongings would come to an end as one of the two men riding it took a look in the back to see what the rustling sounds were, only to see Connor back there with a goofy smile on his face. "H-Hello, g-good sir." Connor stammered as he attempted to scoot away, his hand coming into contact with that he figured to be his pouch of gold. Gripping it tightly, he prepared for whatever was about to happen.

As Connor sat in the back of the wagon, now face to face with one of the thieves, he simply groaned before being pushed out of the wagon. As he went tumbling outback of the wagon, an arrow was fired at him. While it may have missed, it was still entirely too close for his liking. "Oh come on! You can't be serious! What have I ever done to you assholes?!" He then stood up, watching as his wagon rode off into the distance. Looking down at the ground, he kicked the arrow that was lodged into the ground at his feet. "Can't even enjoy a night in Rudoras anymore." Connor began dusting himself off. At least he managed to snag his coin back. Better to have something rather than nothing. Looking at the coin pouch he had dropped when pushed out of the wagon, he simply picked it up and tossed it between his hands a few times to get a feel of how much gold may be inside. It had a decent weight to it. It didn't mean his luck was changing the better yet. At least in his opinion, it wasn't. There was still a lot of merchandise missing. Alongside an entire wagon and his horses. With nothing left to do at the moment, Connor went and found a place he could relax in until he figured something out. He had no idea where the thieves went with his wagon, and he was too tired to chase after them. Pushing himself like that as soon as he woke up didn't really help with the aching of his body. There was definitely more aching than there was before... And a lot less in his possession.​

 

[animegirl20]

Mistie woke up bright and early as usual and got ready for the day. Once she was washed and dressed she had a quick breakfast fed her pet cat Luna and headed into the city. It was beautiful morning and people were out opening their stores and shopping. Mistie worked at the city library who was run by Sandra Edwards. Mistie had been working for her since she was 16 and honestly she loved it. What wasn't to like? She access to every book there and during her breaks or whenever she wasn't busy she could just find a cozy spot sit and just read for hours. When she walked in Mistie saw Sandra sitting at the front desk . "Morning Sandra" Mistie said as she came in and approached the desk. Sandra looked up and smiled. "Morning Mistie," Mistie walked behind the desk and put her bag down and went over to the book cart and started putting the books away.

It was a pretty quiet morning. Had few people come in but not a lot. Usually a lot people didn't start coming until the afternoon and sometimes depending on how many children were there Mistie would do a reading hour and read to the kids. Didn't seem like she would need to today. After lunch Sandra had Mistie head out to pick up a book that was ten days over due and pick up the money for the over due book. Mistie didn't usually have any problems but there were somedays she would have to deal with people who just would try everything they could to get out of paying. Luckily today she didn't have any trouble. While she was out she suddenly saw a man get pushed off a wagon and arrow almost hitting him. Then the wagon suddenly rode off. She was about to approach the guy to see if he was alright but she suddenly heard someone call her name. "Mistie!" Mistie turned around to see it was her three of her friends she grew up with at the orphanage. She waved at them and then turned back around but the guy had already gone. She shrugged deciding to forget about it and looked back over at her friends who were now approaching her. "Hi guys" She said cheerfully. Her smiled faded and she gave them a curious look when she noticed they had a bunch of packed bags with them. "You guys heading somewhere?" One of them, named Amanda, spoke up. "Yep we're heading out. We are on the search for Astrian artifacts." Mistie looked at them slightly stunned. "I didn't know you guys were interested in that." "Who isn't? I mean come on you can't tell me your not the least bit curious yourself." Mistie thought for a moment. "Well I mean...I am curious about their Ancient libraries and I have wanted to see the ruins." "Then come with us." Her other friend, Nathaniel, said as he sat the bag he was carrying down. "I don't know guys. I'm interested sure but I think I'll just stay here." The third one Francis rolled his eyes. "Told you guys she wouldn't come. She never wants to do anything." "It's not that." Mistie said somewhat annoyed. "It's just..." She tired to think of reason but none came to mind. Amanda sighed and smiled at her. "Mistie Your always playing safe for once take chance and do something out of your comfort zone. And maybe pull your head out of those books for a little bit huh?" And with that they left setting off on their journey.

Mistie hated to admit it but Amanda was right. She was always playing it safe she never took chances on anything. Though Mistie had always been content about the way her life was even though as a kid her and her friends spoke of doing so much more. Besides what's the point in learning and reading if she wasn't going to put that knowledge to use? As she was making her way back to the library she noticed the guy from earlier resting on the bench. Mistie walked up to him. He didn't look so good maybe he was just tired. "Hey are you alright? I saw what happen at the wagon." Though she didn't ask she was curious to why those guys were firing arrows at him in the first place.

Interactions: Roman

 

[Roman]

Connor Fleming
Location: Rudoras, Mood: Tired, Date: 1st of Kythorn, Interaction: animegirl20 (Mistie)

An unfortunate day for an unfortunate person... Well, he was never really this unlucky until Astrians came along. Mostly because no matter how much he tried, he could never find one. Now thieves were stealing his belongings and he was practically left with nothing to his name. Either he was going to have to somehow manage to steal the wagon back on his own, or maybe he'd finally find himself an Astrian. As he sat on the bench, thinking about his situation, he leaned back, his back against the bench and his head facing upward toward the sky. "Honestly, those two idiots probably won't make it far anyways. They looked as if they barely knew their way around anything." Muttering to himself wouldn't get him far. He knew that, but he was so tired and worn out from the night before... It was all that he could do. Sitting there, soaking in the warmth of the sunlight, Connor felt himself slowly going back in forth between being asleep and awake. With the events prior to his little sit on the bench, he simply felt like he needed to sleep with one eye open or something.

Even in this state, all he could think about was his wagon. It was the worst feeling in his opinion. Never did he lose something as important as his wagon before. How was he supposed to travel without it? How was he going to make a living as a traveling merchant? It was his way of life and his source of income. Not only for himself but for his parents too. If he couldn't do something to get it back or make some money fast, he was just gonna have to go back home and figure something out there, and he really didn't want to do that. His parents would ask too many questions about what happened. Even at this age, when he'd visit, they still ask questions as if he were a kid. Less about what things he had seen and more about his health and if he were eating enough. Things like that.

Time would pass and Connor would still remain on the bench, practically sleeping at this point. With nothing better to do, like selling his wares, afternoon naps weren't going to affect him negatively. Not now at least. He wasn't all the way there, but close. Before he could completely doze off anyways, he heard footsteps that came to a stop once they were close to him. Then a voice followed. He could tell it was a woman from the sound of the steps. They were lighter than most and the men in Rudoras were often of a bigger stature with heavier footsteps. "Am I alright?" Repeating what he heard, opening one eye as he did to see who he was speaking to. "I guess I am. More angry than anything, but the arrow was a nice touch. Could've been worst if it hit me." Connor then sat up, leaning forward and opened his other eye before looking up at the girl, "Surprised you even cared to ask. Most people have just been walking by. I'm certain a lot of them saw what happened earlier but felt it wasn't their problem... So uh, thanks I guess." He then looked away from the woman, his gaze now being averted towards the ground. Placing his boot on a small pebble that he saw on there in front of him, he began to roll it around under it. "But ultimately, it was out of my control. There were two of them and just little ol' me. I stood no chance, especially since one of those assholes were a lot bigger than me. I'm still aching from how hard I hit the ground when he pushed me out. I'm probably gonna start rambling, sorry in advance if I talk your ear off or something. I don't usually keep company unless I'm in an inn or tavern... Or selling what merch I'd have when I had it." Connor then sighed a quiet, yet audible sigh before looking up at the woman again, his blue eyes almost observing her as if he were appraising a magic item or something. "Who are you anyway? Not trying to be rude or anything. I'm just a bit tired and honestly... Annoyed. If you couldn't tell from what I've said, it's been a long day for me so far." Attempting to not come off as rude, Connor had made the attempt of adding his smile as he finished speaking. Usually, it worked, but being covered in dirt may not help. He just seemed like an angry homeless man. Not that he wasn't technically homeless before this, he just wasn't angry.​

 

[olive]

[class name=container] margin: auto; height: 250px; width: 400px; [/class] [class name=containercont] height: 240px; width: 390px; [/class] [class name=chapterpic] background:URL(https://i.imgur.com/9Gy0VxA.jpg); float: left; height: 240px; width: 190px; background-size: cover; [/class] [class name=scroll] float: right; height: 240px; width: 190px; overflow: hidden; margin-left: 5px; [/class] [class name=scrollbox] height: 98%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 17px; [/class] [class name=text] font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; [/class] [class name=title] font-size: 18px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #515d46; [/class] [class name=codetag] font-size: 9px; text-align: center; margin-top: 3px; [/class] [div class="container"][div class="containercont"][div class="chapterpic"][/div] [div class="scroll"][div class="scrollbox"][div class="title"]MAZOGA, POST I.[/div][div class="text"]Maz walked into the tavern, with a little left over pirate swagger in her step. She practically clanked as she walked, with her dagger and flask at her hip and a massive warhammer at her back. "Four flasks of ale, here," she barked at an unoccupied barmaid, pointing to the nearest empty table by a grimy window. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun streamed in, laying its warm gaze onto the map that Mazoga spread out after she took a seat on a squeaky bench. She unscrupulously weighted the ends of old, curled paper with her heavy wooden pipe and her flask of whiskey as she awaited her client. Rumor had it (Maz knew rumors any place she went - rumors and legends alike, were the lifeblood of her job as a treasure hunter) that this client, Marx, was an exiled prince, the so-called "Genasi Bastard of Estermead." He employed her to take he and his sellsword, Kraven (whom Maz knew of, his tales of slaughter having been told around many a camp fire) to a ruin rumored to be Astrian in origin. She'd mentioned that it was not guaranteed they'd find anything, but that she'd be happy to take them along and use her exploring expertise to their advantage. They were to work out the extent of their deal should they find any artifacts here, at the The Old Whistle tavern in Galeford. Maz patiently waited for them, studying the map and glancing at the door every few minutes.

tags: RedLeftHand36 , Kloudy [/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]

Spoiler: Codeless

Maz, Post I.

Maz walked into the tavern, with a little left over pirate swagger in her step. She practically clanked as she walked, with her dagger and flask at her hip and a massive warhammer at her back. "Four flasks of ale, here," she barked at an unoccupied barmaid, pointing to the nearest empty table by a grimy window. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun streamed in, laying its warm gaze onto the map that Mazoga spread out after she took a seat on a squeaky bench. She unscrupulously weighted the ends of old, curled paper with her heavy wooden pipe and her flask of whiskey as she awaited her client. Rumor had it (Maz knew rumors any place she went - rumors and legends alike, were the lifeblood of her job as a treasure hunter) that this client, Marx, was an exiled prince, the so-called "Genasi Bastard of Estermead." He employed her to take he and his sellsword, Kraven (whom Maz knew of, his tales of slaughter having been told around many a camp fire) to a ruin rumored to be Astrian in origin. She'd mentioned that it was not guaranteed they'd find anything, but that she'd be happy to take them along and use her exploring expertise to their advantage. They were to work out the extent of their deal should they find any artifacts here, at the The Old Whistle tavern in Galeford. Maz patiently waited for them, studying the map and glancing at the door every few minutes.

 

[RedLeftHand36]

Kraven

Strangers for Company

Galeford. If Kraven had been here before, the memory was lost, and to no surprise. It was little different from any other common town, was so ordinary that he doubted many travelers remembered the name. The journey from where this strange and new woman, now to his understandings and Astrian, had entered the party, felt far too long for comfort, dredged in uncomfortable silence as he occasionally glanced at the woman, who stood impressively nearly as tall as he and walked as someone who had certainly seen her share of combat, to say the very least. And even though he knew fully well that this was what Marx had planned to achieve in the first place, it didn't make him any less uneasy yet simultaneously impressed. In truth, one could say Kraven had a thing for amazonian types, and he hated how it riled his mind up on a business such as what he was hired for. No less, he kept his cool, as he did, stoic as ever on the exterior.

While Marx momentarily attended to other matters, Kraven was meant to meet with Marx's contact, a female half-orc; Mag, or Maz, or... something. Maz sounded right. He'd go for that. At least he had the good fortune of the meeting point being in a tavern. To say he could go for a drink was an understatement, as what drink he brought with him went far more quickly than he initially planned. Perhaps some chicken, too, would be nice to have. Meat and alcohol, the essentials of life, and only one place needed to go to find them both. Kraven trudged around for a bot before finding the location he was made aware of being the place of meet. The large man sighed a tired yet somewhat satisfied sigh, and slowly entered the tavern.

Ducking under the doorway as he made his way inside, the mountainous sell-sword glanced around as the murmurs and mumbles of passing conversations drifted and buzzed around his ears. Obviously the usual stares from those upon the realization that the towering new customer was indeed a human. Though Erik had left his signature axe tucked away on his horse elsewhere, the plain, yet scratched and scarred steel cuirass and bracers he wore offered a fair amount of information on the identity of the newcomer that had just come into the tavern, and with his massive size and battle-worn, furrowed face, anyone familiar with the identity of the man known as Kraven the Butcher could hazard a guess that that was this man. It would be wrong to say he was particularly well known, however, as the only thing that set him apart from most well-experienced hired muscle was simply his unique physicality as a human, though his history has allowed him to become a particularly competent individual. But, alas, he was yet another mere sellsword, and though a good-one at that, such adventurers tend to be a dime-a-dozen.

Preferring not to simply look around and wander about the tavern, nor draw too much attention by acting on the brief though to simply yell out MAZ into the crowd, Kraven decided to simply kill two birds with one stone by asking one of the passing barmaids after putting in an order for his standard meal of chicken and ale. It wasn't long before the tall man found himself approaching the half-orc girl, inquiring for confirmation:

"Maz?"

 

[olive]

[class name=container] margin: auto; height: 250px; width: 400px; [/class] [class name=containercont] height: 240px; width: 390px; [/class] [class name=chapterpic] background:URL(https://i.imgur.com/9Gy0VxA.jpg); float: left; height: 240px; width: 190px; background-size: cover; [/class] [class name=scroll] float: right; height: 240px; width: 190px; overflow: hidden; margin-left: 5px; [/class] [class name=scrollbox] height: 98%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 17px; [/class] [class name=text] font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; [/class] [class name=title] font-size: 18px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #515d46; [/class] [class name=codetag] font-size: 9px; text-align: center; margin-top: 3px; [/class] [div class="container"][div class="containercont"][div class="chapterpic"][/div] [div class="scroll"][div class="scrollbox"][div class="title"]MAZOGA, POST II.[/div][div class="text"]"Hmm?" She glanced over at the hulking, mountain of a man who had called for her. "Pop a squat if you've got business with me," she said, smacking her orcish hand on the table, then sliding a flask of ale in his direction. She guessed this was Kraven, though she didn't immediately make an assumption. If it was, fantastic - but where was Marx? Typical noble behavior, she thought. Still can't even show up on time when they're exiled. Then again, she didn't really know if this was Kraven yet, so she just felt bad thinking about someone she'd only seen once (without his sellsword, admittedly) like that. She rummaged her pockets for coin to pay the barmaid, and maybe to pay for the meal of the stranger in front of her, if she liked him well enough.

tags: RedLeftHand36 [/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]

Spoiler: Codeless

Maz, Post II.

"Hmm?" She glanced over at the hulking, mountain of a man who had called for her. "Pop a squat if you've got business with me," she said, smacking her orcish hand on the table, then sliding a flask of ale in his direction. She guessed this was Kraven, though she didn't immediately make an assumption. If it was, fantastic - but where was Marx? Typical noble behavior, she thought. Still can't even show up on time when they're exiled. Then again, she didn't really know if this was Kraven yet, so she just felt bad thinking about someone she'd only seen once (without his sellsword, admittedly) like that. She rummaged her pockets for coin to pay the barmaid, and maybe to pay for the meal of the stranger in front of her, if she liked him well enough.

 

[Athanas]

Drums.
No, not drums, not real ones, at least. Instead it was...His heart. Beating into his chest. Beating so loudly it reverberated back into his ears.
There was violence, and ruin, and death. And he felt alive. He saw the little people scurrying around. Some had picked up pitchforks, machetes, and sickles, and were trying to fight his own men off. Some were parts of the Guard. They had formed a desperate barricade near the town square, hoping to somehow reform and beat back these madmen.
But mostly, the little people were trying to run. Some had fallen on their knees and were begging for their lives. And it amused him all the same.

For this was a nice change of pace. Usually, they did nothing but run their mouths and laugh and complain and give him cross looks. Well, no one was giving him cross looks now! And he was pretty sure that the only laughter was coming from him. He cackled loudly as he eviscerated two guards, one after the other, with two successive strokes. He laughed louder when he saw a one-armed man trying to defend his son, his wild flailing more reminiscent of a faulty puppet. His laugh reached a mortifying crescendo as he saw a young woman, not past her second decade in this world, was dragged, kicking and screaming out of her manor. Instead of pleading for her life, she loudly demanded they unhand her, as if though they were servants! They'd give her a taste of reality soon enough!

With a final stroke of his blade, the last guard was dead. His body dropped lifelessly on the ground, joining the others. His blood pooled on the ground, joining the others. He looked down, and he saw himself reflected back.
A horrible, twisted grin, and red, swirling eyes. A remorseless monster. A horrible pariah. A creature that existed merely to serve as the enemy of order.
The Anathema's Herald.

Belial awoke, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Without thinking, he gripped the pillow tightly over his face and screamed, the muffled sound low but the conveyed emotion tremendous. He could still hear the laughing, and the screaming. And there were faces in the trees.
He shakily got to his feet. Luckily, the one assigned guard duty had dozed off-undoubtedly, because they were in safe territory. He quickly donned his sheath and sword-Never safe enough for him. He quickly scrambled away from their small camp, heading somewhere-anywhere. He just wanted to be away. Couldn't let them see.

He had been walking for some minutes now, and they were all around him. He still heard their cries, and their screams, and their laughter. Particularly the laughter. It grated him. He kept feeling for his face, but he had no idea if he was turning or not-Could he trust his senses?

Finally, he saw what he'd been looking for, under the moonlight. A small stream. He leaned over it, trying to discern what was reflected right back. The water's image almost flickered for numerous seconds, as if unsure as to what it was reflecting, before he saw his face-Scarred and hideous though it may be, it was his. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved back, leaning against a tree. The voices had stopped, but for a split second he could still see eyes peering through the darkness-They weren't gone. They were never gone.

He held his head in his hands, growling. "It's a matter of time. It's a matter of fucking time. He'll see who you are, Bel. They'll all see. And then... Chop. As befits you..."
He remained there for some minutes, steadying his breathing and getting his bearing. Feeling slightly calmer now that the crisis had passed, he shakily got up and was about to begin heading for the camp. However, in the dark, he couldn't see very well, and he tripped on something, barely managing to retain his balance. Looking down, it seemed to be a cloak, a rather nice cloak, actually. He gingerly picked it up, examining it-There was no reason such a nice cloak would be here of all places, but, it probably wasn't important. Druids leave their mortals possessions behind often. This idea seemed to be further supported by what was under the cloak, an ornate wristguard, definitely of better quality than his. Shrugging, he threw the cloak over his shoulder and, with some effort(It was clearly made for arms more delicate than his) donned the item.

"What kind of moron leaves good quality behind? Thing barely has a chink on it" He mused as he stowed his old wristguard on his belt.


CasualTea

 

[CasualTea]

Drums.
No, not drums, not real ones, at least. Instead it was...His heart. Beating into his chest. Beating so loudly it reverberated back into his ears.
There was violence, and ruin, and death. And he felt alive. He saw the little people scurrying around. Some had picked up pitchforks, machetes, and sickles, and were trying to fight his own men off. Some were parts of the Guard. They had formed a desperate barricade near the town square, hoping to somehow reform and beat back these madmen.
But mostly, the little people were trying to run. Some had fallen on their knees and were begging for their lives. And it amused him all the same.

For this was a nice change of pace. Usually, they did nothing but run their mouths and laugh and complain and give him cross looks. Well, no one was giving him cross looks now! And he was pretty sure that the only laughter was coming from him. He cackled loudly as he eviscerated two guards, one after the other, with two successive strokes. He laughed louder when he saw a one-armed man trying to defend his son, his wild flailing more reminiscent of a faulty puppet. His laugh reached a mortifying crescendo as he saw a young woman, not past her second decade in this world, was dragged, kicking and screaming out of her manor. Instead of pleading for her life, she loudly demanded they unhand her, as if though they were servants! They'd give her a taste of reality soon enough!

With a final stroke of his blade, the last guard was dead. His body dropped lifelessly on the ground, joining the others. His blood pooled on the ground, joining the others. He looked down, and he saw himself reflected back.
A horrible, twisted grin, and red, swirling eyes. A remorseless monster. A horrible pariah. A creature that existed merely to serve as the enemy of order.
The Anathema's Herald.

Belial awoke, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Without thinking, he gripped the pillow tightly over his face and screamed, the muffled sound low but the conveyed emotion tremendous. He could still hear the laughing, and the screaming. And there were faces in the trees.
He shakily got to his feet. Luckily, the one assigned guard duty had dozed off-undoubtedly, because they were in safe territory. He quickly donned his sheath and sword-Never safe enough for him. He quickly scrambled away from their small camp, heading somewhere-anywhere. He just wanted to be away. Couldn't let them see.

He had been walking for some minutes now, and they were all around him. He still heard their cries, and their screams, and their laughter. Particularly the laughter. It grated him. He kept feeling for his face, but he had no idea if he was turning or not-Could he trust his senses?

Finally, he saw what he'd been looking for, under the moonlight. A small stream. He leaned over it, trying to discern what was reflected right back. The water's image almost flickered for numerous seconds, as if unsure as to what it was reflecting, before he saw his face-Scarred and hideous though it may be, it was his. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved back, leaning against a tree. The voices had stopped, but for a split second he could still see eyes peering through the darkness-They weren't gone. They were never gone.

He held his head in his hands, growling. "It's a matter of time. It's a matter of fucking time. He'll see who you are, Bel. They'll all see. And then... Chop. As befits you..."
He remained there for some minutes, steadying his breathing and getting his bearing. Feeling slightly calmer now that the crisis had passed, he shakily got up and was about to begin heading for the camp. However, in the dark, he couldn't see very well, and he tripped on something, barely managing to retain his balance. Looking down, it seemed to be a cloak, a rather nice cloak, actually. He gingerly picked it up, examining it-There was no reason such a nice cloak would be here of all places, but, it probably wasn't important. Druids leave their mortals possessions behind often. This idea seemed to be further supported by what was under the cloak, an ornate wristguard, definitely of better quality than his. Shrugging, he threw the cloak over his shoulder and, with some effort(It was clearly made for arms more delicate than his) donned the item.

"What kind of moron leaves good quality behind? Thing barely has a chink on it" He mused as he stowed his old wristguard on his belt.


CasualTea

"The one who left these items here was no moron!" A voice shouted at him before the wind began to pick up and seemed to blow from all sides, the surrounding trees rustling, rather gently. Soon enough, the wind began to form around a sort of humanoid figure, a glowing white apparition whose details are barely visible due to the light. "And you've awoken me from my slumber. It was rather peaceful, until someone kicked it, and began fiddling with it as if their own property." It had a female's voice, a rather strong and demanding one.

Just a few minutes ago, Ventus was sleeping soundly in her little world. She couldn't exactly venture out of her artifact but instead listened to the wind. She sense the animals sleeping in their dens, the night was a very cool one. "It'd be nice to have a stroll right about now... Ugh, how many times have I thought that? I must meditate." She said to herself until she sensed another presence. It wasn't of the animals because they seemed... Troubled. It couldn't be some sort of prey of a hunt, there are no predators around. All the animals should be asleep aside from the owls. And then she felt a violent... Jolt. In her space, she awoke. She could feel the wind suddenly brush against the artifact and felt it move. She was being picked up?! Who the hell... "What kind of moron leaves good quality behind? Thing barely has a chink on it." Alright, that's it.

The apparition's eyes seemed to have opened, a light blue glowing from them. It stared directly at him, into his eyes. It seemed to be examining him, detail by detail. You can clearly see the apparition looking down and up at Belial, making her own judgments in her head.

"Hmpf, just a bandit I suppose. Perhaps an outcast?" She scoffed. "Tell me, what brings you here? You're clearly not of anyone from that manor. That arrogant brat of a mistress comes by to curse at me every so few days, but it's been peaceful lately. Are you the new head?" She asked, as the winds began to die down to a more gentle, but present breeze. It seemed to be circling them as the leaves the wind caught was also circling around them rather slowly. Despite the wind, the temperature was just right. It wasn't cold nor was it anything on the hot side.

 

[Athanas]

Belial nearly jumped right out of his skin when the apparition suddenly materialized before him. He yelped loudly and jumped back, drawing his blade. With his nerves on edge, logical thought was very quickly snuffed by the feeling of constant paranoia induced by the eyes. He slashed at the apparition....And hit nothing but air. His eyes widened as he took a couple more wary steps back. The thing didn't seem hostile, however, merely asking him questions and making assumptions about his being, and so he very slowly lowered the blade-not that it was much good anyway.

"I'm no nobleman, is it not obvious? I'm not even from here. I'm a half blood. And I-" his voice trembled for a moment as he uttered a partial lie. "I'm no bandit either, though I won't blame you for thinking of that. Mug like that, it's a fair assumption." He winced, feeling the thing's gaze seemed to pierce right into his eyes, and averted his gaze. What if it could peer into his true motives and tell if he was lying? He instinctively took another step away from the creature, trying to focus his unquiet mind. After a few breaths, without being able to fully conceal his anxiety, he raised his head again. "I'm sorry I, uh, I stumbled onto your items. I just assumed that they didn't belong to-to anybody, since, y'know-this is the middle of a damn forest! I am..." He paused again as he heard a small whisper, causing the hairs on his back to stand upright. He struggled with the overwhelming paranoia caused by the darkness, feeling a tiny bit of bile forming in his mouth. "No, No, I'm...I'm a Royal Guardian, aye! I serve prince Thomas, who has come to these lands as an Emissary! If-If I may ask, what...what are you?" He didn't trust himself to assume the creature's identity, and he felt as if though a wrong answer might have dreadful consequences. Surely, it was more powerful than he is, and even if he wasn't, elves were horribly sensitive about the weird creatures of their forests. It definitely would not reflect well on the prince to have one of his guards butcher one.

Reluctantly, he stowed the sword, as a sign of trust-though his trembling hands probably weren't exactly reassuring. He waited for the curse to take effect, and for the creature to express hostility. He could only hope it would not reach the point of violence.

 

[CasualTea]

Belial nearly jumped right out of his skin when the apparition suddenly materialized before him. He yelped loudly and jumped back, drawing his blade. With his nerves on edge, logical thought was very quickly snuffed by the feeling of constant paranoia induced by the eyes. He slashed at the apparition....And hit nothing but air. His eyes widened as he took a couple more wary steps back. The thing didn't seem hostile, however, merely asking him questions and making assumptions about his being, and so he very slowly lowered the blade-not that it was much good anyway.

"I'm no nobleman, is it not obvious? I'm not even from here. I'm a half blood. And I-" his voice trembled for a moment as he uttered a partial lie. "I'm no bandit either, though I won't blame you for thinking of that. Mug like that, it's a fair assumption." He winced, feeling the thing's gaze seemed to pierce right into his eyes, and averted his gaze. What if it could peer into his true motives and tell if he was lying? He instinctively took another step away from the creature, trying to focus his unquiet mind. After a few breaths, without being able to fully conceal his anxiety, he raised his head again. "I'm sorry I, uh, I stumbled onto your items. I just assumed that they didn't belong to-to anybody, since, y'know-this is the middle of a damn forest! I am..." He paused again as he heard a small whisper, causing the hairs on his back to stand upright. He struggled with the overwhelming paranoia caused by the darkness, feeling a tiny bit of bile forming in his mouth. "No, No, I'm...I'm a Royal Guardian, aye! I serve prince Thomas, who has come to these lands as an Emissary! If-If I may ask, what...what are you?" He didn't trust himself to assume the creature's identity, and he felt as if though a wrong answer might have dreadful consequences. Surely, it was more powerful than he is, and even if he wasn't, elves were horribly sensitive about the weird creatures of their forests. It definitely would not reflect well on the prince to have one of his guards butcher one.

Reluctantly, he stowed the sword, as a sign of trust-though his trembling hands probably weren't exactly reassuring. He waited for the curse to take effect, and for the creature to express hostility. He could only hope it would not reach the point of violence.

The apparition scoffed at the reflex attack, but after further investigation, he's just troubled. On edge, really. Was it paranoia she thought? She chuckled a bit, her gentleness finally coming out.

"I am Ventus Erindel. I am the Astrian of that artifact you hold currently. I can control and manipulate the winds around us to my will. But I can't harm someone as such as yourself. You're merely afraid." She said. "And it's as if that fear is not only because of me but... Your own thoughts of paranoia? Rest assured, I cannot attack you so there is no need to be on guard. However, if you truly wish to take those items with you, let us make a contract first."

She offered, taking a few steps forward toward him. She patted him on the shoulder, however he didn't exactly feel anything. Just a gentle breeze brush against him. Her voice also had a more gentle tone, a large contrast to her previous tone.

"You say you serve a Prince. So I take it you fight for what's good? Perhaps redemption of sins? If you form a contract with me, I can help you. Not only with power, but as well as your well-being." She said as she walked around him, but not intimidatingly. She had moved her hands behind her back and was watching the winds that surround them. She was trying to express her harmlessness towards him as well as someone whom he could trust.

 

[Athanas]

His brow furrowed as he heard her introduce herself. An Astrian? Gods know he wasn't exactly thrilled to meet another one after...him. Her power was definitely notable, however. Explained the wind away, too.
His scowl only deepened as she mentioned his own thoughts of paranoia. Curses! Was it really that obvious? He resolved to keep the mask on more frequently if that was the case. Can't have people catching on. Not only would it be detrimental to the young Prince's reputation, but it'd probably cost him whatever little benefit of the doubt was still harbored for him amongst the other soldiery. "That's...That's good to know. Pardon me, but most things that pop out of nowhere on a dark night ain't usually the friendliest bunch."

Alas, she continued to speak, and she offered him a contract. He found himself split between the two choices: On one hand, he was not exactly eager to get himself in bond with an Astrian again. The Godlings were relentless in their pursuits and machinations, Ronath had shown him that much. Their power was absolutely dazzling, but the manner with which they wielded it, much less so. Many were petty, others, blindly obedient. Many more were power-hungry, and a final portion of them were absolutely irrational and blood-crazed. Yet this one seemed somewhat friendlier, if anything. As she approached to pat him on the shoulder, he instinctively flinched, taking a step backwards. Physical contact, he was a stranger to-Those who sought to grab him usually had malicious intent. This one didn't seem to, but instincts took over nonetheless.

At her words about serving a prince, he actually laughed loudly. "Just because he's a prince, you assume he's some sort of moral paragon? Huh. You must have more faith in people than I do. Though in this case, you're right, he's the exception, not the rule."

His words got choked in his throat as she mentioned redemption, and his voice rose in volume, somewhat. "Redemption? Me? Don't be illogical. No prince'd have a criminal in his-In his retinue, for sure. No sireeee."

Seeking to change the subject posthaste, he added. "Well...More power to better protect my Lord sounds like a good trade, and getting you of this forest is probably something you want, eh? ...Very well, I'll give this a shot. However, know that I am not stupid: I want to be aware of the explicit sacrifice required for the bond before I go ahead. So, will you tell me?"


CasualTea

 

[CasualTea]

His brow furrowed as he heard her introduce herself. An Astrian? Gods know he wasn't exactly thrilled to meet another one after...him. Her power was definitely notable, however. Explained the wind away, too.
His scowl only deepened as she mentioned his own thoughts of paranoia. Curses! Was it really that obvious? He resolved to keep the mask on more frequently if that was the case. Can't have people catching on. Not only would it be detrimental to the young Prince's reputation, but it'd probably cost him whatever little benefit of the doubt was still harbored for him amongst the other soldiery. "That's...That's good to know. Pardon me, but most things that pop out of nowhere on a dark night ain't usually the friendliest bunch."

Alas, she continued to speak, and she offered him a contract. He found himself split between the two choices: On one hand, he was not exactly eager to get himself in bond with an Astrian again. The Godlings were relentless in their pursuits and machinations, Ronath had shown him that much. Their power was absolutely dazzling, but the manner with which they wielded it, much less so. Many were petty, others, blindly obedient. Many more were power-hungry, and a final portion of them were absolutely irrational and blood-crazed. Yet this one seemed somewhat friendlier, if anything. As she approached to pat him on the shoulder, he instinctively flinched, taking a step backwards. Physical contact, he was a stranger to-Those who sought to grab him usually had malicious intent. This one didn't seem to, but instincts took over nonetheless.

At her words about serving a prince, he actually laughed loudly. "Just because he's a prince, you assume he's some sort of moral paragon? Huh. You must have more faith in people than I do. Though in this case, you're right, he's the exception, not the rule."

His words got choked in his throat as she mentioned redemption, and his voice rose in volume, somewhat. "Redemption? Me? Don't be illogical. No prince'd have a criminal in his-In his retinue, for sure. No sireeee."

Seeking to change the subject posthaste, he added. "Well...More power to better protect my Lord sounds like a good trade, and getting you of this forest is probably something you want, eh? ...Very well, I'll give this a shot. However, know that I am not stupid: I want to be aware of the explicit sacrifice required for the bond before I go ahead. So, will you tell me?"


CasualTea

She giggled a bit. "Well, before I tell you the sacrifice I need, I just wish to prevent you from falling down the dark path my old master did. But that's a story for another day, if you say these words in my language. So, repeat after me." She said before she stopped in front of him and her mouth opened. She was smiling as well.

"Graid es towai di, Mii Heipe es crai ni eik tollm ticcarm es grei ni."

She said using her language which sounded like nothing anyone would hear before. The apparition soon turned around and looked up at the moon with her hands behind her back, patiently waiting for the half-elf to try. Surely, he would slip up. But if he was persistent on getting it right, it would be enough for her. She then explained what sacrifices he would need to offer. She already figured he had an Astrian already, so he was asking what sort of sacrifices he had to make for the bond so she might as well give him what he wanted, if he already didn't figure it out.

She spoke, continuing to look at the moon. "Repeat those words exactly and the contract will be formed." She said. "Truth be told, the forest here is peaceful and I wouldn't mind staying here. But you look like someone who is in desperate need of help. And well, there is a place I wish to see. I suppose... The place where my old friend should be buried."

 

[RedLeftHand36]

Kraven

Strangers for Company

The large man exhaled as he slowly sat in an armless chair across from the half-orc woman. He was at least mildly less exasperated by the offering of ale, as small of one as it may have been, at least for him. He sniffed it momentarily and shrugged before swigging it all down in a single gulp. Might as well make it obvious that this wasn't going to be enough. After all, he did order for a steady flow of quarts, and several whole chickens to go with it. In all honesty, it was a bad habit of his to order such copious amounts of food, especially since half the time he never paid, either putting it on someone else's bill, or simply dining and dashing. Always fun options. He tugged on his mind a bit to get back into the situation at hand. He sniffed for a moment before getting to the part he hated most: talking.

"Name's Kraven," he started. He supposed names were important. "I'm with Marx. Little shit's somewhere out there 'taking care of some other business' in the meanwhile. Sent me here to establish contact or somet'n."

The chair beneath him creaked and groaned as tried making himself a bit more comfortable without making much of a fuss about it. At the very least he saw one of the servers come over to him with a couple entire pitchers and... two mugs? Ugh... no turning back, now.

This ale was meant for me, and me alone, he thought to himself. In all honesty, he hated sharing his grub, quite a bit. He could only cross his fingers that the she-orc wouldn't get the wrong idea as we waited for his chicken and forwent the mugs and simply grabbed the pitcher to drink from.

"Can't say I know much other than yer supposed t' bring us to some fancy ol' ruins or somet'n."

 

[olive]

MAZ, POST III.
Maz watched Kraven, sizing him up, a habit from her more brutal days. Maz was stronger than most average humans and above average humans, but this guy could probably chew her to pieces in a bar fight, depending on how smart about his moves he was. Appropriate (and wise) for a twiggy noble to hire someone like him. She watched him take his massive gulp and smiled - this guy was probably one of her kinds of people, battle-hardened, judging by the multitude of scars adorning his face. She went ahead and finished her own ale, grinning. That stuff was awful, classic piss-tasting tavern stock. She had to have more of it. "Name's Kraven," she heard him say. Perfect, this was indeed Kraven. Then she heard about Marx taking care of other matters. Marx is elsewhere? Fantastic, maybe I can drink more than usual! "Little shit indeed," she muttered. If Marx didn't turn up anytime soon, they'd have to stay the night at an inn. Maz didn't go to ruins at night unless she had to. Anyone with a can of beans for a brain knew that visiting a magical, possibly over two thousand year old ruin at night was a bad idea. Grabbing the next mug, she lifted it to her face and gulped - only to see after she'd put it down that Kraven was drinking out of a pitcher. Whatever. She'd seen this kind of thing before, but she wasn't paying jack if he didn't give her any. Apparently Marx had informed him of what they were setting out to do, thank goodness. "That's correct. It's gettin' late though, Mister Butcher. If Marx doesn't show in an hour we're going to have to spend the night somewhere, least I am. I'm not goin' to any ruins at night. Ancient, magical and night time don't mix well for me, or for just about anyone. Jus' common sense," she said, eyeing the pitcher he held. "Since you're here, I may as well give you the low down." Maz pointed to the map she'd spread out on the table. "Accordin' to local myth, there's an old tower covered in blood about, mmm, say two hundred yards due east of here." She pointed to a large rock in a woodland on the map. "Nobody goes over there, for obvious reasons. Unless they're exaggeratin', which is always possible, the blood on the tower always looks fresh. They say the people who've visited there always come back with somethin' off about them."

 

[Diphylleia grayi]

Spring arrives in generous brushstrokes of verdant, uneven in its application and at first dotted by the reluctance that is the winter's last stand; sculpted flakes of frost clinging to the wiry tangles of last seasons growth. As the months progress the air grows tepid, the diffused sunlight banishing the chill to memory as buds of blossoms sprout upon thawed branches in its stead. In the towns the streets bustle with life anew, stalls opening up left and right in a diverse assembly of powdered spices, rusty red and jaundice on one end and freshly baked goods on the other. Toes being trodden on, ears ringing with the hollering of special deals and shoulders bumping; the heart of the people slowly heats, the change palpable in the more frequent exchanges of greetings and the outbreak of aimless smiles.

Clinging to the side of one of these streets was a woman, ragged in attire and tawny skin glazed with the trickles of perspiration. Each step was a labouring process of dragging feet upfront while resisting the urge to incline forward as the weight in the weathered hands warranted, fingers tracing the outlines of a full belly. She paused to puff for a moment, reaching out to lean on the wall when a sudden pain ripped through her body and registered in the buckling of knees. The bypassing crowd stirred, curious eyes glancing sideways but none stopping to help. The woman saw this and laughed a burst of laughter that betrayed nothing but hatred. Hatred for those good-willed liars who had done nothing but pointed fingers and demeaned her while spouting words of faked sympathy and hatred for herself for having fallen for those words despite knowing better.

No matter what she did she was always alone in the end.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT HUH? IS THE TOWN WHORE THAT ENTERTAINING? WELL GUESS WHAT, SO DID YOUR HUSBANDS THINK HAHAHA".

No, she had been alone since the beginning.

The crowd rustled and retreated a step back, a peal of whispers of 'she's crazy', 'poor girl' and 'she deserves this' soon filling the air between the crouched figure and her onlookers. Grasping a handful of gravel she lashed out and threw it at the closest ones, causing them to reel back and throw a few dissenting scowls of their own before eventually moving on upon which she shrank down again. Shoulders slumping tiredly once not being watched.

The woman laid a hand on her stomach, her words nothing more but a weak croak between the strings of half-choked sobs.

"This is all your fault..."

There is a rustle of metal and gravel crunching under boots, then there's a shadow which sweeps by in the blurry corners of tear-filled eyes before it decidedly halts to hover above her. On the ground, in front, she peeked a pair of glistening pointed sollerets which could only belong to that of a knight or mercenary and she froze; gulping down nervously when the figure then lowered to a knee.

"Ma'am, your water broke." A voice as delicate as silver bells yet soft like the murmurous flutter of wings calmly soothed from above; a gloved hand reaching out next to gently brush the tangled locks of burnt amber hair away from reddened eyes which didn't dare rise to look.

Proffering a leathered thumb the stranger wiped her flushed cheeks dry and nimbly buttoned the front of her dress up which had her cleavage shamelessly at display. Swift and precise, no breath wasted. Having never experienced such aimless kindness before the woman was stunned to silence, only managing to blink sheepishly as the knight helped her up from the ground and dusted off the sand from her knees. Knight? Although the figure looked the part, decked out in shining armour complete with a sword hanging from its waist, something was off.

As this train of thought crossed her mind they suddenly made contact, her own hazel eyes meeting the jaded gaze of bluejays peeking through lush crowns of lashes.

A woman?!

The stranger smiled as if having read her mind and lifted her hand in her gloved one, giving it a light reassuring squeeze as she did so.

"Does ma'am know if there is a doctor's office nearby?".

The question made her snap back to reality and immediately withdraw from the stranger, looking strangely defensive all of sudden as she clutched her hand tightly against her chest and glowered suspiciously.

"I don't have the money for that kind of luxury." She snarled, hoping to scare the other away.

Surely no one would keep insisting on helping someone that clearly didn't harbour any gratitude towards them? Was her thought process at that moment but would soon be proven wrong as the knight lookalike merely glanced down at her abundant belly.

"I see." The other one simply affirmed and then turned away as if readying herself to leave to which she couldn't help but bitterly purse her lips.

However, her expectations were once again subverted as the knight only moved to stop a passerby to ask about directions before returning to her side.

"I'll escort ma'am to the doctor." She then stated and started to string her along with a startling determination which starkly contrasted against her soft features.

The next events came and went in a confusing flurry as they navigated their way to the doctor and the knight had her be received promptly. Seemingly paying for the fee with her own money and having no qualms about going to such lengths for a complete stranger, making one wonder who could be so generous and for what reason? Nonetheless, the pain was too overwhelming for her to be pondering over such mysteries and with relief nowhere in sight she decided to settle for the one answer that she had gotten: whether or not this saviour of hers was a knight or not.

No, I'm a priestess.

A priestess? Why would a priestess need armour, she had thought and sneered yet had still refrained from asking further as the contractions would come to dominate her whole being. The respites between the pushing and heaving were brief, the agony hot flashes of white as eyes rolled back and veins popped under skin lustrous with sweat. Unwilling to re-engage with the world under closed lids, senses dulled to the point of the bed feeling alien, she could only barely make sense of what was going on around her. The hands touching her body, the nurses sprinting back and forth for new freshwater, the cold rag which was so carefully placed upon her forehead in a momentary blessing of bringing clarity to her mind. When one of those fleeting moments came she seized it and opened her eyes to wearily gander at the faces above; one, in particular, being the fair profile of the one that was changing the rag.

Once the doctor deemed her suffering to have been enough he demanded her to push and so she did, and in a guttural grunt delivered the baby into the hands of the nurse awaiting below without further effort. Probably startled by the sensation of cold air suddenly brushing up against its skin the baby broke out into a cry, nose crinkling up in displeasure and tiny hands curling into fists. Wrapping it in a blanket the nurse moved to hand the new life over to its mother but before she had the chance the aforementioned whipped her face away.

"I don't want to see it." She growled between gritted teeth, breath yet to descend from its hitching crescendos.

Everyone in the room was aptly taken aback, despairing gazes being exchanged behind the mother's back as if asking each other what they should do now. Then from the side emerged a pair of gloved hands which ushered the baby into a pair of new arms, its cheek soon brushing up against the chilled breastplate of the priestess' armour.

"Then should I kill this child?".

Her face betrayed no emotions as she asked the unthinkable as opposed to her careful handling of the little one. The mother only stirred ever so slightly from where she laid, gaze still stubbornly pinned on the window sill as she spat back in response.

"I don't care."

The room was plunged into chaos, the doctor and nurses alike moving to snatch the child away from the priestess who promptly and confidently shut them down by unsheathing her sword and baring the blade against them. None dared take another step after that, instead even reeling back once the blade was pushed up against the soft throat of the child.

The priestess drew a deep breath and exhaled in a sigh.

"I see."

Upon the split second that it looked like she was about to slash there was a sudden movement from the bed and the silhouette of a person sprinting to their feet. However, weakened from the ordeal that they had just been put through said person managed to trip over their own feet and was sent stumbling forward; only barely reaching to latch onto the arm of the priestess before falling flat on the floor.

She trembled as she screamed, "ARE YOU INSANE? AREN'T YOU A PRIESTESS? THEN HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A THING?!".

Bluejay eyes narrowed as they came to gaze down at the dishevelled mother, something imperceptible tugging at the corner of her mouth as she then moved to push the other off.

"Weren't ma'am the one who said she didn't want this child? I'm merely doing it a favour by ending its suffering here and now."

Her voice was raucous yet composed, flat yet undeniably frigid. Imparting a slither of winter in the peak of spring that was palpable in the frosted shivers darting down one's spine. Seeing as how the priestess wouldn't be shaken by guilting her the mother latched onto her feet instead, desperately grasping for anything and everything that would save her from this situation.

Eventually, she was forced to relent anyway and scrambled to her knees; bowing deeply down before the doctor and his crew after exchanging gazes.

"Please, allow us to have a moment for ourselves."

Once alone the priestess dropped her sword and instead helped the woman back into bed before pulling up a chair beside to take a seat. The child had, surprisingly enough, fallen asleep in the midst of the chaos and was now breathing softly in the arms of its almost killer; blissfully unaware of what had just transpired before its nascent eyes.

The priestess spoke up first, nailing the now upright snivelling mess that was the mother against the bed frame with her gaze.

"It's the doctor right?" She stared until the woman had processed her words and nodded reluctantly upon which she then closed her eyes thoughtfully.

Fiddling with the edge of the blanket the woman had once again fallen back into the habit of not looking straight, chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she debated whether or not she should ask the question that was on both minds. The priestess seized the opportunity first again, looking rather unfazed as she answered the question which had yet to cross any lips.

"You didn't look at him. That's how I knew."

Silence filled the room, a flash of doubt appearing in the lowering of brows.

"That's all?" The mother wavered.

"That's all." The priestess remained steadfast.

As if knowing that this wouldn't be enough to dispel the other's curiosity the priestess fastened her gaze anew on the woman, lips curling into a faint smile as she did so.

"Why else would such a brazen woman who throws gravel at the public suddenly become so demure and tight-lipped?" A light chuckle slipped out as she recounted the events and the woman blared up, cheeks glaring crimson as she turned her face away with a pout.

Having stifled the remaining laughter the priestess suddenly turned serious, expression drawing into a frown.

"Even if that's the case...and even if it hurts you must never subject your child to harm's way." She looked down at the innocent face below, laughing eyes teeming with an unspeakable familiarity as she spoke "This little one only got you to depend on so you must take care of it."

The woman swallowed and clenched her fists.

"I promise."

"Swear on your life."

Their eyes met, none steering away this time.

"I swear on my life."

The priestess looked down once again.

"Then allow me to be the first to congratulate ma'am. Congratulations ma'am, it's a girl."

She leaned forward and allowed for the petite body to slip from her grip and into the bosom of its mother, cheek now resting against the ample and soft breast which it should've been acquainted with first. The child roused, seemingly having noticed the sudden change of carriers, and was now weakly grasping for the face above; mouth rooting for milk as crescent eyes slid open to reveal dark half-moons. Taken aback the mother forced her teeth down into the flesh of her trembling lower lip, silent tears rolling in beads down cheeks sore from crying.

Wiping the wetness away with the sleeve of her dress, she drew a laboured breath of mucus and air through her nose and raised her gaze just in time to catch armoured figure on its way to leave.

She hurried, "Priestess won't you say a prayer for this little one?".

The priestess halted in her step but didn't turn around immediately, seemingly hesitating. But what was there to hesitate over? She was merely being asked to perform her duty. She scoffed and pivoted around, hands clasping in front as callous eyes peered blankly down at the pair in the bed.

"Then this priestess will dedicate a prayer to the little one, even if it is but mere words:

Eternal Father, eternal light in the darkness, I ask of you with a troubled heart. Illuminate this child so they may make the right choice. I beg this of you with open arms, o god of gods. Glorify them with your illustrious warmth."


Upon a faraway field of verdant greens, aquatic blue, and cotton white stands a lone shadow; basking away in the golden warmth and stealing the flowers precious seconds of efflorescence. A stillness has rooted itself in this place, breezes far and few in-between, leaves quietly wagging and the dew, yet to shed from the petals. Then there's red and chaos, blade brought to slide over the palm of a scarred hand, eliciting trickles of blood to paint the ground below crimson.

 

[animegirl20]

"Am I alright? I guess I am. More angry than anything, but the arrow was a nice touch. Could've been worst if it hit me. Surprised you even cared to ask. Most people have just been walking by. I'm certain a lot of them saw what happened earlier but felt it wasn't their problem... So uh, thanks I guess."

"Oh that's not necessary I haven't really done anything. I'm sure someone would of come up and the same."

"But ultimately, it was out of my control. There were two of them and just little ol' me. I stood no chance, especially since one of those assholes were a lot bigger than me. I'm still aching from how hard I hit the ground when he pushed me out. I'm probably gonna start rambling, sorry in advance if I talk your ear off or something. I don't usually keep company unless I'm in an inn or tavern... Or selling what merch I'd have when I had it."

"Your fine besides I've been told I'm a pretty good listener haha." Mistie noticed him suddenly studying her. She titled her head to the side wondering what he was staring at. Did she have something on her face?

"Who are you anyway? Not trying to be rude or anything. I'm just a bit tired and honestly... Annoyed. If you couldn't tell from what I've said, it's been a long day for me so far."

She held back a laugh as he attempted to smile at her he looked annoyed and a bit worse for ware. "No your fine. I'm Mistie, Mistie Will and I actually work up here at the library." Speaking of which she needed to get back and deliver the money and book to her. Just then she heard someone call out to her and turned to see a little girl running towards her then hugging her. Mistie smiled hugging her back. "Hi Vanessa!" The little girl looked up and smiled at her not even noticing Conner. "Me and mother are heading to the library will be reading story today?" "Well depends on how many kids show up today." Mistie said as she smiled down at her. Vanessa then suddenly noticed Conner and stared at him for min and then suddenly said. "Whose dirty homeless guy?" Mistie laughed nervously. "Ahaha That's very rude Vanessa you don't say that to people." "Yeah but he looks-" Mistie cut her off. "Ok Vanessa go catch up with your mom huh? I'll see you later." The girl smiled, nodded and then turned to Conner. "By homeless guy" She then ran off catching up to her mother. "Uh.... sorry about that haha......" Though now Mistie couldn't help but wonder if he actually had a place to go. "Not to be rude but since she brought up it" She said referring to Vanessa. "Do you have any money or a place to stay?"
Roman

 

[Athanas]

Belial blinked as Ventus clarified the requirements and neccesities. Her remark about preventing him from falling down a Dark path did throw him a little off balance, however. There was no way, absolutely no way she would know, right? It was many years ago, and the artifact had been here for a very long time!

He ignored the remark, merely chuckling a little as she mentioned singing.
"Singing? Me? Are you sure that's wise? I'm neither Troubadour nor Bard. I've heard frogs that have a better singing voice than I do. Is there no other way...?" His voice trailed off as he made the realization that he'd have to go along with it. He huffed, looking around and making sure no one could see. At least, he was far enough away so as to not be heard.

The language sounded very... Exotic, really. He guessed it was this creature's ancient heritage. Undoubtedly, the whole thing would sound rather appealing, under different circumstances. She had stopped in front of him, and without his mask, he could practically feel the distance-it was making him slightly uneasy.

He was about to begin but her final remark interrupted his train of thought again. "I'm not desperate for help, and I dont understand why you'd think that! I mean, none would accept a royal guard that was troubled! No, I simply... Uhm... I simply had a very bad dream, is all. Aye."

Deflecting quickly, he added. "But I can oblige ya, assuming it's near our path. Final farewells are important for souls in the afterlife or so I've heard, anyway.
He paused, drawing a deep breath. "Alright. Here goes nothing"

"Graid est towaid... dis? No, no..."
"Graid es tawail dis, Mii Hipe es-"
"Graid es towrai dis, Mii Heipe es crainni elks...-"
"Graid eas towai di, Mii Heipe es crai ni eik tosllsom-"

Several minutes passed of such failed attempts, interrupted only by the occasional curse. But although he slightly improved, he was still nowhere near close anything resembling singing. Frustrated, he punched a nearby tree, letting forth a new string of foul language.
"Why couldn't you just have a blood sacrifice like every other Godling, huh?"

CasualTea

 

[CasualTea]

Belial blinked as Ventus clarified the requirements and neccesities. Her remark about preventing him from falling down a Dark path did throw him a little off balance, however. There was no way, absolutely no way she would know, right? It was many years ago, and the artifact had been here for a very long time!

He ignored the remark, merely chuckling a little as she mentioned singing.
"Singing? Me? Are you sure that's wise? I'm neither Troubadour nor Bard. I've heard frogs that have a better singing voice than I do. Is there no other way...?" His voice trailed off as he made the realization that he'd have to go along with it. He huffed, looking around and making sure no one could see. At least, he was far enough away so as to not be heard.

The language sounded very... Exotic, really. He guessed it was this creature's ancient heritage. Undoubtedly, the whole thing would sound rather appealing, under different circumstances. She had stopped in front of him, and without his mask, he could practically feel the distance-it was making him slightly uneasy.

He was about to begin but her final remark interrupted his train of thought again. "I'm not desperate for help, and I dont understand why you'd think that! I mean, none would accept a royal guard that was troubled! No, I simply... Uhm... I simply had a very bad dream, is all. Aye."

Deflecting quickly, he added. "But I can oblige ya, assuming it's near our path. Final farewells are important for souls in the afterlife or so I've heard, anyway.
He paused, drawing a deep breath. "Alright. Here goes nothing"

"Graid est towaid... dis? No, no..."
"Graid es tawail dis, Mii Hipe es-"
"Graid es towrai dis, Mii Heipe es crainni elks...-"
"Graid eas towai di, Mii Heipe es crai ni eik tosllsom-"

Several minutes passed of such failed attempts, interrupted only by the occasional curse. But although he slightly improved, he was still nowhere near close anything resembling singing. Frustrated, he punched a nearby tree, letting forth a new string of foul language.
"Why couldn't you just have a blood sacrifice like every other Godling, huh?"

CasualTea

The apparition frowned. "Determination. If your determination is weak, it's easy to give up. It'll be a lot harder for me to help you that way. Plus, I do not like those sorts of sacrifices. I'm more humane than you think. A blood sacrifice is very unnecessary, so as battles that mean absolutely nothing." She said as she leaned on the punched tree, crossing her arms.

"Besides, for you to use the powers I will contract to you will require more chants in my language. If you cannot even say this simple phrase, how would you be able to use my power?" She asked curiously before returning to the opening and looking up at the moon. She soon had an idea.

"Perhaps, this shall help you." She said before she extended her arm as an apparition of a sword-like object appeared in her hand. She swung it towards Belial's direction, but it was only a gust of wind. It didn't affect Belial, however it carved the scripture into the tree bark. Now that Belial can read it, perhaps he can manage it. She 'sheathed' her blade before looking back to the moon again. "Please. Try again, or forfeit."

 

[. D O V E]

[class name=name]font-size:50px;[/class]

[div class=name]HARIN[/div]​

Death.

It smelled like death.

A hooded figure stood in the middle of what appeared to be a forest; tall and thick trees of old protruding from the blanket of green foliages expanding across the obscured horizon. From above, a cliff was casting its shadows over the area, making the dimly lit woodland look even more foreboding as though beasts were lurking behind the silhouettes of each plant and rock.

A huff escaped the mysterious individual, the smell of musty earth and decay permeating through her wooden mask- intricately depicting what seemed to be the daunting face of an otherworldly beast with three sharp horns sticking out of its forehead.

“It seems like we’re in the right place.” She said, her voice donning a certain gentleness that was a glaring contrast to her ominously shrouded appearance. She then knelt on the ground, one hand reaching out to palm the marshy soil before bringing a handful close to her face. “Fresh tracks.” She whispered as she pulled herself back on her feet, shifting to gaze upon her companion.

“He was here.”

AI10100

 

[AI10100]

O S H I A R , Y X I A L​

Her companion looked around, familiarizing himself with the terrain. It was silent, eerily so without a single voice reaching out to him. The stench of death must have warded them off, a warning to anything that moves to stay out. Whatever had died here must have been a powerful being of sort - and he felt familiarity.

“How can you be so sure that it is this person you’ve been looking for?” He questioned through his own mask. Though his response was snappy, it held genuine curiosity in her conclusion. He was well aware of who she was looking for - this so-called destiny of hers that he had feasted on during their first meeting. But what he knew, she did not. She was guided by blind resolve - or madness, depending on who you ask. She was following the tracks of but a mere specter.

He walked past her when a foreign object caught his attention. He inched closer - it held no great power in it, whatever it may be. He let out a chuckle as he picked up the broken sword. This was definitely forged from a time long past - a time long forgotten but once more unearthed. He turned to the hooded figure with the blade clasped firmly in his hands.

“Whoever you are looking for seemed to have quite an ambitious goal.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he extended it to her. “An ancient blade, but still in such pristine condition.”

. D O V E

 

[. D O V E]

[class name=name]font-size:50px;[/class]

[div class=name]HARIN[/div]​

“That’s…” The masked female began as she slowly reached out for the ancient blade and held it under her scrutinizing gaze. She flipped it around for a few times, almost as if she was searching for something. It was an old and broken sword, one that would be more useful in a display case than in a fight, so the chances of her taking an interest in looting it was low. But the question behind her interest was quickly answered when she lowered the sword and faced her companion once more. “I know it was him. The cliff, these trees, and this sword… I saw all of these in my visions. He was here…”

With shaky hands, she plunged the sword back on the ground and continued following the tracks that belonged to neither herself or her companion. It led them towards a tree, old and lofty like the rest of its neighbors, with large roots bulging from the ground. The female let out a gasp when she noticed something peculiar at the foot of the tree. It was a small patch which was strangely devoid of any foliages, as if somebody intentionally cleared it with their hands or feet.

She crouched down, inspecting the oddity even closer. “What’s this?” There was a puncture on the ground, and it would only take anyone with two eyes to realize that something was embedded in there for a long time but was recently pulled out. “It can’t be that sword. The hole is too small. Maybe something smaller… like a dagger?” She then stood up and dusted her hands. “Well whatever was in there, he took it. Could that be the reason why he came here in the middle of nowhere? What do you think, Yxial?”

AI10100

 

[AI10100]

O S H I A R , Y X I A L​

He merely hummed as she mentioned her visions. Truly, he had some questions about the Astrian who helped create the Aasimar. It was a shame that the sword was broken, it could have fetched for a pretty coin had it been functional. He was sure a certain companion of theirs would appreciate such a gift. He followed behind her slowly, taking measured steps but not really scrutinizing the area.

He stopped next to her, crossing his arms as she continued to examine the depression in the ground. As she said, it looks like it was intentional - something was dug out from beneath. “I would think so.” He bent down to look at it longer. “From the blade earlier, I’d even take a gander that whatever was buried here holds a certain amount of power. Perhaps, someone like myself.”

Though he couldn’t be too sure. He could not sense any presence of other people in the area - much less his kind. Had they arrived a bit earlier, then he would have been able to tell immediately. The war had scattered their artifacts far and wide - and had certainly hidden them all well. After all, they’ve only been recently discovered. It would make sense if an Astrian had been buried here, especially with the lack of fauna around. It was likely that the power that radiated from the item had scared them away.

“It was certainly intentional. But what really matters is that he’s not here.” He pointed out as he took a step back and let his arms fall to his side. “But since these all look recent, whoever you’re looking for should be close by.” He looked back to where they had come from. “If that’s the case, then don’t you think we should make haste, master?”

. D O V E