Fantasy The Blue Caravan - Open/Not Accepting

Wilhelm had been in a mediative state the for the majority of the trip, breaking only to eat and rest. The trip north itself had been uneventful for the most part. It did repeat the same old patterns. Travel for a few hours, break for lunch, travel for a few more hours, break for dinner, and then stop so that the lead can sleep. They had picked up a few more travelers along the way, their humble crew growing in size to include more colorful characters.

He had seen them only in passing, usually when people were eating, but mostly kept to himself. Since his reunion with Kai, Wilhelm’s memory had been coming back to him in a staggered manner. His time back on the Onronian Atoll had been blocked out, but he has trouble remembering if it was a natural block or one caused by a spell or traumatic event.

His focus had been interrupted by Kai calling out to him, telling him she was going to be out for some time with Orien. Wilhlem had fleeting memories of him, but nothing that he could say “made him stand out.”

His interruption to his meditation had been a sign that the caravan was stopping for dinner, also evidence by the smell of cooking rabbit that made its way inside his quarters. Standing up, Wihelm rolled his shoulders and neck before walking out of his wagon, joining the group by the campfire, the smell of the rabbit making him salivate. Looking around, he did notice the crew had certainely expanded. They even had picked up a Drow, who stood out compared to the rest of the humans.

"Great, I'm starved... Good thing we have an actual chef travelling with us. I don't know how long I'd be able to last on nothing but burnt meat," Rega spoke.

Talia heard the woman with pure white hair that reminded her of snow and very sword sharp golden eyes that the chef was nervous about getting cut on with just a stare. The woman wondered if that was the reason why Rega did not look people in the eyes often. How often did her gaze actually cut? The pale blonde spoke gently regardless, “I hope that my simple cooking holds up to the high expectations.” Talia’s eyes seemed to smile a little as she stirred the pot making sure to prevent the food from burning to the bottom of the cast iron cauldron.

It was then that a long raven haired man, known as Eriol, who was a bit shorter than she, walked over towards her caravan with a bleeding plump doe on his shoulder, “Apologies for the delay Talia. I hope my returning with a rather large rabbit is enough compensation?” Eriol spoke.

She stopped stirring the pot for a moment and made her way over towards the man only to gently take the doe’s head in her hand gently petting the deceased creature, “Thank you,” She spoke gently, “I’ll take care of her later, um please can you put her there,” Talia pointed to a wooden table next to her caravan where she butchered the animals. “Thank you again, ser.” She made little eye contact with the man for with his graces she felt he was some kind of woodland prince from various fair tales as well as her being rather shy with people she did not know well.

Talia then walked back to the cauldron to check on the flavor by pulling out a clean wooden spoon from her apron and dipped it into the stew scooping a trivial amount. She brought the spoon to her soft lips, gently blowing on it so the food didn’t burn her, which she found she rarely got burned even in the fire-no she didn’t want to think about that.

”I hope it’s alright. Mother always said I was pretty good as a camp cook, but I’ve never quite got the hang of proper cooking.” Inyri spoke with a broad smile and polite enthusiasm to which the slender chef tasted the stew letting it rest on her tongue for a moment before chewing the meat, then finally eating it.

“It’s fine, Inyri, you did well, and thank you again.” Talia smiled warmly as she pulled out some spices from her apron and seasoned the stew a bit more stirring in the salt and pepper into the stew.

The chatter around the fire continued as she noticed the one called Sahak, who had soft brown eyes that have seen so much suffering and pain. Talia did not want to think of the things that he might have seen for it would remind her of her own pain. He shifted away from her so he could focus somewhere else as he spoke pleasantries towards the dark elf, Keelester. The grayish purple being with long pointed ears, longer than her own, who wore greenish gray armor of some kind while their eyes were concealed behind a pair of strange spectacles with dark tinted glass. “Rabbit? And Rosemary? Hmm interesting I'd rather have spider and mushroom though the size of the arachnids up here is lacking.”

Talia glanced over at Keelester for a moment and spoke, “I apologize, however, I have not had the opportunity to make such a dish before,” She paused for a moment, “I have not encountered a spider of the size that would have enough meat for a stew.” Her mind started trying to figure out how large of a spider would be enough which made her wonder even more of what the underground realm was like. “I am open to learning if that is not inappropriate to ask,” She spoke with her soft and gentle almost motherly tone.

Seeing the rest of the members of the caravan piled around the campfire enjoying the smell of the stew and chatting up a storm warmed Talia’s heart, it reminded her of the good times when she and her husband ran the Babbling Brook Inn. There was constant merriment, loud passionate conversations, and also quiet comfortable moments. She closed her golden slitted eyes for a moment while just listening to her surroundings, her arm still gently stirring the stew for a moment. Time seemed to pass slowly as she stirred quietly as a small gentle smile widened on her face. Unknowingly, her magic weaved mostly unnoticeable as her pleasant emotions laced the food with a magic that warms the soul and comforts the broken, for a time. She then opened her eyes and spoke, “The stew is ready, um if you have your own bowls please hold them out,” She then would ladle some stew to put in the first bowl presented.

It was a good rabbit. Well... kind of. It looked like a rabbit. If you squinted. And in the right lighting. And if you took your glasses off. Maybe a bit more like a squirrel, really. Wulfthryth assumed taxidermy would be a little like dressing bodies, but maybe not. Bad assumption. Very bad. She delicately set the needle and thread down and pushed her stool back to take a break from her work. She caught a glimpse out of her caravan window, and noticed the fellowship gathering around the big soup cauldron outside. Lunch! She scrambled to clean her desk, she put away the needle and thread, she wiped down her table, she scooted the stuffed rabbit facing away from her- that's better. And she set foot outside.

Wulfthryth usually did not like to come out of her wagon with people around, but stew... maybe if she tried to look inconspicuous, nobody would try to strike up a conversation?
She was the exact opposite of inconspicuous. She looked exactly like how you would expect an undertaker to look. She was tall, thin and gangly, dressed from head to toe in black- all stiff, uncomfortable collars and buckles. Her spectacles hung precariously from her work apron and she smelt strongly of arsenic. Not necessarily bad, just strong. Good for keeping bugs away from animal hides. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but erred more on the side of intense. All in all, she looked very imposing. A lot more imposing than she meant to look.

She skirted her away gingerly around the crowd, looking for a break in the group where she could scoot her way in for some soup. She really just wanted to get her food and then get out of there. She went so far to avoid people, that she even brought her own bowl from her caravan instead of grabbing one of the spares that were offered.
Wulfthryth could not for the life of her identify a line anywhere yet. She had better think of something natural to do, instead of standing around with an empty bowl. However, wrack her mind as hard as she could, she couldn't think of anything, so she wound up just standing on the outskirts of the group, clutching her bowl, laser-focused on the stew cauldron. She looked like she was ready to murder it, but really she was just feeling antsy. "Is the soup ready?" She asked aloud, to nobody in particular.

Charlize's passions, like anybody's, she mused while sat down in the circle, were dangerous without moderation. The smell of a freshly prepared meal ached her nose in a good way, and seemed to awaken her body from its 'bibliostatic coma.' Ah, yes, the stomach needs mush to turn into different mush, or the whole person gets sick and dies. This wasn't a problem back home. The High Library of Shahrazad understood this trance quite well, and there was always something akin to an overseer in place to ensure a student did not unintentionally malnourish themselves. On multiple occasions, the duty even fell to Charlize to rouse her elders from their interment within the tomes, usually with a bowl of steaming broth to keep them going without disrupting their workspace. Perhaps an arrangement with Talia was in order. But once her hands cradled a bowl, the thought slipped.

Turning at the sound of unsure footsteps in the grass behind her, Charlize turned to find the grimly-dressed mortician attempting to find an angle between herself and the cauldron. She smelled strongly of her trade, but no part of Charlize was fazed. A well-informed text on the complexities of the funerary sciences excused Wulf's eccentricities in her mind. Taking note of her uneasiness, Charlize offered the lady a warm smile and scootched out of the way with her stew, leaving a clear path to Talia before the newcomer. "Talia's prepared us a nice rabbit stew. Won't you join us?"

Wulfthryth was taken aback by the invitation- partly because she hadn't expected anyone to answer, the other part being the friendliness of the bookworm in front of her. Wulf was very used to people being put off by her business and demeanor, but this warm gesture did not go unnoticed and was very welcome. Her intensity seemed to lessen, and she stepped around Charlize to fill her bowl with some rabbit stew. "I suppose my duties can wait for a minute." She was sure her taxidermy would be grateful for a break too.

She had caught glimpses of Charlize a few times before, sometimes through the curtains of her wagon, sometimes when she slipped out later in the evenings to grab some dinner after everyone else had finished. She was aware that she sold books, but didn't know much else about her- or anyone, for that matter. Wulfthryth tended to be more reclusive. She knew she had an unlucky talent for making people uncomfortable, so she tried to keep to herself.

She noticed the empty space on the log beside Charlize, and did something very unlike herself- "Do you mind if I sit here? I don't want to take anyone's spot." She tried to smile, in a way that she hoped was friendly. Bravery and non funeral related social situations were far beyond her, but because of the kindness offered, she wanted to repay the measure.

"I'd like that." Quite well aware that Wulfthryth had her fair share of trouble socializing with the living, Charlize was half-tempted to redouble her efforts and turn the charm up to a dangerous high. But that would've been foolish. Especially so when considering the type of girl she was. Wulf's specific line of work was highly esoteric, but at her core, she was just the type Charlize grew up with. Studious, always with their nose in a book, or in Wulfthryth's case, entrails. Types like her expected the world to be like what they knew best, and when it wasn't, it could be jarring. Or worse, capable of stunting emotional growth. An affliction quite common in the older librarians who had the privilege of only conversing among their kind. Kindness would given in small doses, like strong medicine.

Perhaps a counterproductive solution, but the memory of a small table of shrill, wrinkled crones huddled around their recent historical fundings gave Charlize an idea. Sahak was a natural friend option for Wulfthryth! Knowledgeable, passionate about his work, and with the right supply of preservative or ceremonial herbs, a perfect assistant to her funerary work. After rather noisily slurping her food, a habit Charlize picked up as a child and never shook, she turned to their healer. "Sahak? I read somewhere that sallow milk is lethal to most insects," she began nonchalantly, making sure to restrain herself from instinctively eyeing how Wulf reacted. "It being a drug, it wouldn't make much of a disinfectant, but maybe it could take the place of the arsenic our Wulfthyrth has to use to keep them at bay. Mash up some rotten fireberries with it and leave it in a trap outside her wagon, I bet they wouldn't even make it past her window. Have the herbs for it?"

babette
Noam

It was good stew. Sahak took another sip and raised his eyebrows. Very good stew that settled warm in his stomach, and just having enough to eat settled his nerves at being so far from anything familiar with so many strange people. “It’s delicious,” he told Talia and Inyri.

In all fairness, most of the strange people were strange, but in the same harmless way that he was strange himself. Barring the Guard, none of them seemed dangerous. He just didn’t know them yet, and he was entirely too old to be scared of talking to strangers.

He turned to Charlize and…Wulf, he decided to call her in his mind, because he was absolutely never going to be able to pronounce Wulfthryth. “Ah, well. That is...maybe not the best use for sallow milk." He did have some, but it was for getting people to eat, not fending off insects. "Lavender will work, though. Mosquitos don't like the smell."

He took off his healer’s pack and untied the cloth cover to reveal a multitude of tiny wooden drawers carved from deep brown wood. One held dried lavender, and he pulled out a few sprigs and handed it to Wulf. "It would be better if it were fresh, but--soak this in water and then paint the water around the edges of your wagon. The bugs should not bother you then."

( Kassandra babette )

From his seat, Carrick could "spot" the various people in the caravan even when they were not in sight. Their auras milled about him and centered around the hearth and food. If he were to close his eyes, he wouldn't even be able to tell if they belonged to those who were alive or departed. The auras were like fires bustling out from the cores of the folks' beings, and he could identify their owners through the auras' shapes, types of presence, and their strengths. For example, he could practically taste the poise and fury that epitomized the nearby Rega, who like him was waiting for food. He could even pick up the presence of Orien and his current companion Kai upon the river a bit further yonder.

His sixth-sense was in all a very useful technique for someone in Carrick's position. Not only could he use it to monitor the people around him, but it allowed him to pick up magic imbued in objects, such as the spring he found on his latest scouting trip and even the slight bit of magic that flavoured their forthcoming meal. Carrick remembered the first day that Talia had began serving where he worked his way into taking the first sip of the meal (despite his first initial thoughts of having Orien do it) as a result. But after that trial and subsequent observations of Talia, Carrick had since grown inclined to think that giving cooking a bit more warmth was all the magic was there for and that she wasn't conspiring to slowly create more work for Wulfthryth. He had no reason to distrust Talia, not yet anyway in all of his days of knowing her thus far.

The crowd by the cauldron had yet to thin out so he decided to go check up on how his fellow caravan guards were faring. It didn't make sense to loop off to the distance to find the kid, Orien, when Rega was so close by, so he opted to approach the woman instead.

"Rega," he hailed her as he drew within earshot. "I see the caravan is doing well and that I was correct to believe I had left it in safe hands." This would be the point where he would expect a report, but he was open to seeing what Rega would ultimately deliver for him. As he called upon her, the head guard prepared himself to face her steely gaze. Despite his thief and roguish background, Carrick was rather gruff and regal himself. Yet, something about Rega, beyond her height alone, always made him stand a bit taller and want to act a bit more professional.

( Kassandra )

Sat down with Willy, with a bowl of something warm and magically imbued with contentedness, there wasn't any wonder why Rega was in such a good mood. In all honesty, she forgot she was actually standing guard in Carrick's stead. Conditions weren't right for a bandit attack, anyway. Sun was out, everyone was awake and alert, and any half-decent scout would've spotted her get-up and realized her presence would just make an attack that much harder. The sound of Carrick's voice reminded her of this reasoning, and why she'd left to do laundry instead, something she never would've done if the order had come from her king. Rega credited this newfound flexibility to the blissful disorganization of caravan life, and in the past year, had noticed her mannerisms become less rigid.

"Eh... Aye. Good thinking." Rega addressed him without even turning all the way from her seated position, and shot Willy a look and rolled her eyes. The self-congratulatory attitude from leaders always struck her as odd, even in the army. She recalled a colleague, affectionately nicknamed 'General Rudeness' by his own men behind their back. She didn't think of Carrick that way, but the way he seemed to interact with her failed to seem genuine in her eyes. And hardly worth putting on 'Rigid Rega' for. "Sit down and eat something, you won't get a chance once we start our night watch."

Wulfthryth seated herself beside Charlize, and was about to take a bite of her soup when she realized she still had her work gloves on. Whoops. She did not really feel like giving herself arsenic poisoning, so she took them off and tucked them carefully into one of her pockets, hoping nobody had noticed. Before she had time to even think about worrying about social queues, someone else had been invited into the conversation.

She perked up immediately. At the mention of anything related to her craft, her demeanor changed and became much more outgoing, as it was doing in that moment. Wulfthryth watched as Sahak reached into his pack to find what he was looking for- she wondered what else he could possibly have in there, when he pulled out some sprigs of lavender. She accepted them gracefully, and tucked them into her other pocket, taking care to keep them away from her contaminated gloves. It was tremendously kind of them to think of her. It was true, her business attracted all sorts of unwanted critters, even when she wasn't tending to the recently deceased. She took care of a variety of mourning flowers in her wagon, not to mention all the smelly chemicals she had to keep track of (not to mention even the taxidermy). The lavender would be a welcome addition.

"You don't think," she looked around, and once again realized that the people around them were eating dinner. She thought better of it and lowered her voice, leaning in as if about to share a great secret. "You don't think it would also work for animal skins, do you?" She asked in a quieter tone. Wulfthryth didn't know if they would have any idea. But there wasn't any harm in asking, right? Sahak and Charlize seemed like learned people. She snuck a bite of her stew while the question was in the air. It was delicious! She regarded it with new eyes. She had never tasted anything like it before. It was considerably better than the flavorless porridge she was used to back at home. She made a mental note to learn who was responsible for the meal.

Keelester turned to inyri when she asked about drow food all he could do was smile a little. " Oh yeah very common in fact there basically a aracnid for everything all the way up to serving as a horse." The drow explained cheerfully turning to talia who appeared almost apologetic for not making the dish the dark elf had suggested or at least not having done it before. " Oh prehaps but the spiders are far too small up here still" keelester paused taking a slurp of soup. "Wow nindol zhah zuul'raght" in keelester surprise he let his native tounge slip the much more neutral tone he had in common suddenly became a far elegant and beautiful tone keelester smiling cheerfully at talia almost as if he expected everyobe to have understood what he said.

Sahak paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth and furrowed his brow in thought. "I...have no idea. You mean leather, yes? Because it is toxic to horses. To all animals, really." He hoped she meant leather. Surely a funeral director, or whatever she was, would have some knowledge of poison.

The guards were shifting around, talking in an off-hand way about shift changes. Sahak very deliberately did not listen in. Better not to get in the habit. Better to just avoid thinking too hard about what they were doing. He would be traveling with these people for months and watching them every moment was not going to be sustainable. All it would do was keep him up at night, and he didn't need any help not sleeping.

He dragged his attention back to Wulf and Charlize. "The problem with horses is that they will lick themselves and ingest it. But it shouldn't harm leather or furs, so far as I know. It is not really my area of expertise." He tried for a smile. "I'm more concerned with the living."

( babette Kassandra )

Charlize smiled into her stew, amidst another bout of noisy noshing. Sahak and Wulfthryth were lovely fiddles, and their songs were darling, but at the end of the day, it was her playing them. What fun it was to play the well-meaning puppetmistress. She was quite certain her magic had little to do with it, too. Intuition didn't come from any ceremony or come with any grim responsibility, after all. Clearly, neither did a little back-patting. "And all my leather binds pages together. I can't say for certain either, I care for my books with saddle soap and a barely-damp cloth. Something with hair is another story altogether."

She didn't think it prudent to ask too many questions about what she was up to in that wagon. Charlize wasn't aware of any funerary traditions involving animal skins, and keeping things preserved longer than they were buried didn't seem like the purview of a mortician. "Mm... Makes the heart glow warm." She brought the bowl away from her lips and set it down near the cauldron. "Think I've had my fill. Thank you again, Talia. If you two need a librarian guide to join you in your adventures in... Mummification, come find me. I'm still digging through my latest haul of journals and any jeweler needs to know the value of her product." With a bow, Charlize began excusing herself back to her wagon.

babette
Noam

Carrick didn't need his magic to sense the sarcasm in Rega's voice. He took it as a sign that all had remained well, and according to his plans. It helped that the man's secret of the sixth-sense had him assigning himself to scouting duties, but the real reason why Carrick assigned Rega and Orien to stay at the caravan was to give them a break. Wisdom would have it that they choose a safe location to camp -- Carrick could sense that there weren't any unsavoury folks around, after all. And, by that logic there wasn't much to worry about and plenty of opportunity to relax. Carrick wasn't aware of Rega's use of the recent past to freshen up her threads, but he wouldn't have been opposed were he to find out, and otherwise trusted her to have taken care of herself rightly besides.

Carrick gave a nod to Rega's companion before returning his attention to his subordinate. Her words drew a grin on his face. Whether her words were spoken for his good or to prevent him from being a burden down the line, her concerns about his wellbeing were heartwarming, to say the least. He glanced at the line for food, which was starting to thin out. "Well, I've always wanted to try my hand at juggling a swordfight in one hand and a bowl of stew in the other, but I suppose tonight would not be the night," he replied. "I'll have to grab two and make sure Orien gets a share," he spoke, mostly to himself before preparing to turn around to set off.

(@ Kassandra & @Paperface)

Wulfthryth stirred her stew, suddenly deep in thought. She was wondering if she could use the lavender on her animal hides for her little sewing project. Should she tell them about the taxidermy? No, it would be an awful idea. She already knew that her reputation was scuffed by default as an undertaker, they didn't need to know that she was also trying to stitch animals together. That would be way too weird. She thought better of it, after all, she had probably said too much anyway. "Hmm. I will try to keep that in mind. Regardless, it's good for keeping bugs away from my wagon." She nodded, satisfied with that.

Wulf was thankful for the kindness from Charlize and she hoped that it showed. In a very stilted way, she waved goodbye to Charlize, even managing to smile a little. She was always bad at goodbyes, at least when it came to the living. For the moment, her attention returned to Sahak. "So, you're a healer then? That's good, that's a very noble profession." She could appreciate his work. They were both similar in a way. Both devoted to the care of others and taking up a duty that many would be uncomfortable with. She could respect that, for sure. "How did you get into your line of work?" Even though talking to others was often difficult for her, when she felt passionate about something, it came to her more naturally. It also helped that they had much in common.

His line set, he glanced over at Kai, a worried expression crossing his face. If Isan were here, Orien knew he would be able to help Wilhelm. His father could do anything. But he wasn’t here, and not for the first time, he regretted not telling him in person that he was leaving to go find Wilhelm. He might have gone with him, like just after they had heard what was happening to displaced Order members. Instead, he had simply left him a letter.

”He would definitely know what to do. I keep going through the journal he gave me… he said, patting the pouch on his right hip where he kept the book with him, always ”...trying to see if there’s anything in there that might help. It was his, so there’s a lot of stuff in it. But I don’t even know where to start.” he said a little despondently. He didn’t doubt there was an answer in there somewhere. But, try as he might, he just couldn’t find the right entry.

Without thinking, he adjusted his line to the spot Kai indicated. Almost immediately, something large and powerful took the line. Orien hauled back on the rod hard, knowing that neither the rod, nor the line, would break. They were magically reinforced, after all. But the fish fought back with demonic strength. He gave a much more vigorous tug, hauling back on the rod as hard as he could, and the mother of all fishes splashed out of the water onto the bank. Orien immediately pounced on it to stop it from flopping back into the river, but it was powerful, and an extra frantic wiggle nearly unseated him. He managed to stay on, but a final jerk from the fish brought its head up hard enough to smack him square in the chin. Keeping most of his weight on the fish, he grabbed a nearby rock and hit it in the head. Immediately, the fish went limp, and he made sure it was actually dead before he got off it.

Slightly out of breath from the effort, he grinned at Kai. ”Good call. Look at the size of this thing!” he said. He bent to pick it up, and it was so big he had to carry it with both arms. He turned to face Kai, still grinning from ear to ear. ”Let's take this back to the camp. I bet Miss Talia can turn this into something delicious!”

Lucunda Somina

Inyri held out her bowl for Talia to ladle some stew into it, while she listened to Keelester explain that there were spiders for every occasion where he was from. This time she was ready for it, so the thought of horse sized spiders didn’t cause her to react negatively. Instead, she adopted an interested look as she listened. Despite her initial reaction to the notion, she recognized that different people lived differently, and it was not her place to judge their lifestyle. Even if she personally found it… creepy. ”Well, I’d never have guessed that. I suppose they’re quite tame, though, if you use them as horses.”

She accepted the bowl back from Talia and spooned a mouthful of the stew. Her mouth being full of delicious stew, she was unable to express her compliments before Keelester. She savored it for a moment, then swallowed, and said [I agree! Very very good!] enthusiastically, not even realizing that she had spoken in the same language that Keelester had just spoken. That realization came a moment later, her spoon dropping into the bowl of stew as she clapped her hand to her mouth, her face burning red, as though she had spoken a particularly nasty insult. She was usually able to control it, he ability, when she was thinking about it. But she hadn't, and her parents had warned her that open display of her skill could be dangerous to her, if she used it around the wrong people. She didn't really have an idea about who "The wrong people" might be, and she didn't think anyone in the caravan were such people. But frankly, she didn't really know them all that well.

Huntertabbysandshark3 Quinverra

"The same way most people come into their professions, I suppose." He shrugged. "I was apprenticed to a healer when I was young because my mother thought it was a good idea, and I found I liked it." Bringing up his magic so soon felt...tacky, somehow. And he couldn't predict how Wulf or anyone else would react to it. Cleaning wounds was inoffensive as magic went, but some people still found any magic at all unsettling.

He finished his stew, scraping the spoon around the edge of the bowl to get at the last of the broth. "You are a..." The word in Common escaped him. "You make leather things. Is that your other job?" It would explain some of the smells coming from her wagon, and what she was doing with the caravan. So far, she had given her occupation only as undertaker, a word he did not fully understand but which he knew had to do with caring for the bodies of the dead.

A worthy job. But probably not the most profitable for someone on the road.

( babette )

“Oh well the certainly can be, tamed though the wild ones can be a bit of a hassle at time they do get everywhere honestly“ keelester commented back to inyri in regards to her comment About the spiders. “there are plenty of rather unquie stuff in the underground you just don’t really get up here but same can be said for the surface only issue I have is the darn sun.” Keelester chuckled little finishing his stew he’d place the blow to his side rather surprised that inyri knew enough elvish to understand specifically the drow dialect considers how uncommon it was to begin with. ”brushed up on your exotic languages and dialects hey“ keelester replied cheerfully towards inyri. [“well then I suppose we can chat without anyone else knowing rather amusing the hey?] keelester spoke again the same smooth elegant speech that sounded kinda feminine if one were to listen carefully. “Anyway does anyone exactly have an idea of our next destination Im itching to see Some of my newer product get a bit of field testing”

The flood of compliments of the deliciousness of the stew made Talia smile gently, feeling a sense of peace and comfort as she gladly ladled out more and more of the stew to those who wanted some. Oddly, when Keelester spoke in that odd language, Talia looked rather confused but the words. She did not see the older leader of the caravan, Mr. Phineas Elias Hawkes, the blonde elfish woman felt a bit intimidated by the man and generally kept conversations with him to a minimum; mostly because he seemed so busy all the time. Talia only spoke to him about inventory of the food stores as well as cooking equipment. Though while the others were talking, the lean built woman glanced around at the other wagons until her eyes, yet again, spotted the leader’s wagon.

Her slitted yellowish golden eyes shifted away looking over at the other guards who were dutifully standing at attention, making sure that some wild beast or bandits did not rampage this space. The “elf” felt in her heart a peace and worry generally about the armed individuals. Her mind would often roam into more darker thoughts wondering not if but when they would turn their arms toward her.

The others that were gathered around the fire thanked the cook for the warm meal to which she would humbly hold her hand up and say, “Just doing my job, nothing more,” offering a gentle smile before moving away from the cauldron to check on the other members of the caravan, gently knocking on each wooden door and calling out, “The stew is ready, please make sure you have your bowl and a spoon.” It was after all her responsibility to make sure that everyone was well fed and cared for. She then stood in front of the door of the caravan leader’s again; she knocked gently on the door and called out, “Excuse me, Mr. Hawkes, the stew is ready, if you are hungry please um bring your bowl and spoon. I can do the dishes afterward.” The blonde haired woman waited for his response before checking the other wagons to see if everyone was accounted for.

Once she was done making her rounds Talia returned to the cooking fire seeing that the stew had barely enough for the rest of the members of the caravan and she thought of what she could do to fill the rest of the bellies, should the stew run out. The simply dressed woman pondered quietly about the doe that was brought in by Eriol, though she rationalized that she couldn’t butcher the doe in time. Though she did recall that they did have some salted pork in their reserves. She sighed quietly to herself not wanting to interrupt the members from their conversations.

A chance to travel, a chance to make some coin and most importantly, a chance to entertain the masses! That is the reason Alcred had joined up with the this caravan that was passing through town. Presenting himself as a troubadour with tremendous talents; skilled in the art of mummery, mimicry and song. Able to play an array of instruments if they were placed in his hands, and to tumble like a true acrobat….Alcred had a tough time making his case about why he was useful and how he wouldn’t just be another mouth to feed.

Alcred promised morale and keeping the travelers entertained, as well as a percentage of any coin he picked up in town, which was enough to satisfy the leader of the caravan. Now, he did have his opinion on the people traveling. Simply put, he found them to be fascinating and he was more than happy to put on a show for them at night when people ate dinner. One night he had told them an ancient tale, acting in a one man show playing each and every character while they ate, another time he had dazzled with acrobatics, tonight? He was thinking of breaking out an instrument and giving today’s dinner a little ambience with a touch of music. Digging into his knapsack, he retrieved a piccolo he had acquired before joining the caravan. He preferred string instruments, but those were a bit cumbersome to store. He had a performance to put on and people to entertain.



Stepping out of his shared space, the smell of the stew immediately hit his nostrils. His compliments were to the chef for preparing such a mouthwatering meal in the wild and he would want to know what spices were used to create such an appetizing meal. The smell had attracted the rest of the travelers from their quarters, all lining up to get their serving of the night and to unwind.

Her grin was confident, unlike her thoughts for Wilhelm, so she shoved them aside and trained her eyes back towards the patch of river with slightly more activity. Mother had always told her to be mindful of the current, should she ever get the chance to travel north, and planting the soles of her boots firmly onto the ground she honed in on the gentle thrumming of the water.

In her meditative stance, her stones gently glimmered in the sunlight, their brilliance reflecting and refracting more with each pass of her cloth. Currently an emerald laid cupped in her worn hands, her callouses a striking contrast to the smoothness of the gemstone, and her fingers passed over the gem before storing it, as well as the other gemstones away for safekeeping.

” He would definitely know what to do. I keep going through the journal he gave me… her eyes darted to where he patted and then leisurely glanced around to see if anyone had noticed or was watching them. ”...trying to see if there’s anything in there that might help. It was his, so there’s a lot of stuff in it. But I don’t even know where to start.”

A flicker of interest welled inside her at the mention of his diary. While it would have been convenient for Isan to be here, she knew it to be better if he wasn’t. A man of his stature was best left to his own devices, and they did not need any more attention than they already had on them. Plus, the note that she had left him should be enough.

“Maybe we could go over it together,” she began, but did not expect an answer, as a mammoth of a creature took purchase of his line. Startled, she scooted back, her hood falling down as she jerked back. Her eyes went wide and her breathing picked up, and-if for only a moment- she swore she could hear the rushing of sand in her ear. Closing her eyes and shaking her head cleared that incessant noise from her mind, and with her newfound energy she shifted her spear so that her lantern now hung from a clasp on her pants and, standing up, she held her spear and held her position to aid Orien in his catch.

She had seen many sights in her travels with Orien, but today she could now say that she saw a fish smack him in the face. Trying not to laugh, she thrust her spear down into the fish’s head for an extra measure and looked over to Orien and offered her hand to help him get up, but did not dare look at him.

” Good call. Look at the size of this thing!”

For a moment she was tense, her lips pressed into a fine line as he spoke, and her stomach clenched inwards only to tighten as she let out a chorus of ruckus laughter, “Look at the size?! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACE WHEN IT SMACKED YOU IN THE JAW!” With this bout of laughter her smile stretched across her entire face and coughing a few times before she gathered her breath. At the mention of having the fish cooked by Ms. Talia, Kai swiftly pulled her spear out from the head and tried to breathe deeply only to have another, small, giggle fit before she finally calmed herself down and wiped away the joyful tears and assisted Orien with the fish back to the group.

“WILHELM! Look at the size of the catch Orien just caught!” She yelled out to her mentor, looking at the size of the caravan and realizing just how many had joined; though, that thought melded into another as her eyes caught sight of another familiar face. One that she was grateful to see and it clearly showed upon her features.
{“Sir Ojeda,”} she began in her native tongue, only to catch herself and bowed deeply to Sahak. “It is good to see you after so many years…”

A soft ‘Ppprbbt’ called her attention and without looking away she stooped down and reached out so that her cat could leap up and cradle the back of her neck. In that motion, her hood was knocked back further, but she didn’t much mind, as she glanced over to her companion and gently scratched her feline’s head as they rubbed their face against her own.

So many people were dead, so many of the survivors scattered, and of all the people in Oronia might have joined the blue caravan, Kai Kapule's face was not one Sahak had expected to see again. Yet here she was. Older than when he'd last seen her, but nobody else he'd ever met had purple hair.

"Kai," he said, a startled grin splitting his face. {It is good to see you as well.} Alive, he doesn't say, though he's sure she can figure it out. When he last saw her, she had been taken in by another family, but he doesn't remember the details. {Who did you come here with?}

After an evening of leisure, the members of the Caravan retired to their respective beds for the night. Only the guards, Orien and Rega, and the drow Keelester remained awake The guards on watch, Keelester in his element. It was a cloudless, chilly night, and with the full moon that eventually rose over the peaks of the mountains, the visibility all around was good. As midnight came on, it seemed like the night might pass in peaceful serenity.

The growl of thunder called Rega to brief attention. She didn't recall seeing a gray cloud in the sky before the sun went down, but a cloudburst wasn't impossible. Then it became rhythmic to her ears, like a second heartbeat. Rega jumped to her feet and scanned the forests, searching for someone who might be hitting a war drum, before her eyeline skimmed just above some nearby trees. Wings, powerful ones. Wasn't much her sword was going to do about that. "Dragon… Orien, dragon! Wake our people, we need to find cover immediately!"

Even as the alert was called out, the Dragon swooped overhead in all its menace. Something like deep voiced laughter boomed through the air as it skimmed the caravan, and the draft animals, paddocked close to the wagons, bellowed in fear, burst their leads, and fled into the forest. Just as they did so a ring of crackling flames erupted around the caravan, preventing any others from fleeing into the woods after the animals.

For a moment, nothing else happened. Then the ground trembled, and the dragon stalked through the ring of flames. It had a red and black coloring, a broad chested body, and a long snake-like neck. When it walked, it did so on two hind feet, while it’s front was supported by claws at the joints of its wings.

“I have found you at last! Cowards and murderers , or friends of murderers in the least.” it spoke. It eyed the caravan malevolently. He didn’t know any of these beings by sight, of course, but he would know the scent of the one he was looking for, a male Shahzaradian. “As you can see, it would be pointless to try and run now that I’ve caught you. Bring forth the one I seek, and I may still be inclined to let the rest of you go. I seek that murderer, who so callously slew one of my kin, a young dragon, in Cantarta. I seek Caden Alinari.”

The dragon's soul-strummingly sinister laugh brought Charlize out of her slumber, her eyes met with a wall of text. The finest handwriting in her collection, and admittedly up for debate on whether or not it was as fictional as she treated it. A tale of young mages based in the deserts east of Shahrazad, adventurous and free, but who lived in fear of some great force that dominated the heavens. It was always made explicitly clear that neither the gallivants, nor the great king of the skies, represented either good or evil. But Charlize hadn't been awoken by something as worldly neutral as a thunderstorm.

"He's coming! You said he wouldn't realize we stole the prender for at least a day!" I yelled over the whine of the earth as I coaxed her from the sands. Samans, carrying the chest over his back and shielding us from the noon sun all at the same time, seemed to share my sentiment. The plan had been for us to find shelter after finding a place to stash our latest prize, but Anaisette was mistaken in believing we had more time than we assumed. Her scouting for a week was for naught, but I could hardly blame her. The king was fickle. Random. Storm and star and magic with teeth sharp enough to rip his domain of clouds to ribbons, if he so chose.

Click to expand...

Out the window, she saw another wall, but made of fire. The animals were gone, thank goodness, but their absence didn't outweigh the presence of something much, much more imposing. Charlize spilled out from her caravan, clutching a handful of books including the one she fell asleep to and took a tumble into a set of gilded marble arms. Rega. "Look alive, soldier! Stay out of our way and get a wagon between you and... That!" Charlize stumbled again out of the guard's hold before she could remind Rega she wasn't some private she could yell at and looked up at their attacker. They'd demanded someone who wasn't even in their party, but the surname reminded her vaguely of home. Clutching her small stack of books, those she deemed most valuable and irreplaceable, Charlize did as Rega said and got behind her wagon. At least, the wall that was most opposite the source of the fire.

"Damn it... Carrick, out here, now!"