Fantasy (Closed) Retough IC

Liathana had found great comfort in the trek to the temple. The mountain top, while unfamiliar territory, was still reminiscent of home for her, if only in the weather. While the encounters with the Returned were a challenge, she viewed it as a welcome one. She offered her help on the grounds that her combat skills would be useful, so it came as a great relief that she could prove herself to the group. And, she thought more than once through their travels, it's really quite nice to reconnect with Danny again.

"We've got to make the most of every day, and some of you need some serious catching up to do when it comes to self defense and unit cohesion."

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Lia nodded in response. "Training is an excellent idea," she commented, a grin on her face. "Plus that alone will be a fun way to get to know each other a bit better." She led her own mount into the stable, finding a nice place for the chestnut mare to rest while she gathered hay for the horse. Once she was satisfied that her mare was comfortable, Lia headed to her assigned bunk, gear in tow.

She had to admit, it was a bit odd to be in such a structured living situation and the questioning looks from the soldiers did not go unnoticed. She was sure to smile and nod if she met their eyes, trying to put them at ease. Or, as at ease as they possibly can be when on duty in some cases. She pondered the situation she had gotten herself into by offering to join this band as she approached the room that she was assigned.

She let out a bit of a sigh as she entered and found herself to be the first to arrive. She really didn't want to be the first to claim a bed, it just felt a bit... off to her to have the first choice. Nonetheless, she set her equipment down, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. She leaned back on her hands, trying to stretch out any of the remaining tension from riding for so long. She needed to be in top shape for training after all.

The journey was long. It was actually a little fun if he was honest, he did always enjoy any chance to kill a few Returned, especially beside Lia. It was sad that they existed, and awful to see them shambling around, but that's all the more reason to take off their heads. Just shatter some bones and cut into the neck and they stop moving, then take off the head to be sure. There were more hunters than they had time to deal with. Other hunters would be along to kill the Returned, it didn't have to be him or Lia. They had more important things to do for once.

On the trip, Daniel did his best to help the group, whether through foraging or luckily recognizing a path or two or taking a late night watch, and spent quite a bit of downtime chatting with Nyota or Lia and catching up. If anyone wanted to speak to him he made conversation, but those two women were his go-to conversation partners. Between himself and Lia he managed to go through his entire flask before the journey's end even when he was trying to ration it (it would be rude to not share a drink with an old friend, no?). Night watches around the fire were all the more comfortable thanks to Lia's company.

The temple was big and fancy and full of not quite fancy, but certainly well trained, people. Never a military man, Daniel sat back in the saddle with ease while Lera did all the talking, and a rather good job of it, too. She was on top of things and easily commanded the respect she deserved.

Viper Actual said:

"Windy today, no?" He said aloud to nobody in particular, still looking at the captain.

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"Get the feelin' that might be typical around here," Daniel chuckled quietly toward Maldorn. He looked the man over and noticed that the snow wasn't quite touching him and decided that was definitely weird, yes, but the man was clearly a master mage. Weird things just surrounded him. That was mages for you.

Solar Daddy said:

Get settled and meet me back out in the courtyard in an hour. We've got to make the most of every day, and some of you need some serious catching up to do when it comes to self defense and unit cohesion.

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Danny managed to not roll his eyes. He knew Lera was right, however, it seemed a bit ridiculous to start something this evening after all they had done. Still, Lera was the boss, and again she really was right. It didn't mean it wasn't a little annoying but he was mature enough to be able to keep his mouth shut and give respect where it was due. He winked and joked to Lia, "Dibs on fighting you first, it's been a while since I've fought against you and not at your side."

Daniel took Hickory to the stable and made sure to take off her tack and equipment. He pet her on the nose and back lightly before going to find his assigned room. He smiled and nodded to any staff or soldiers as he walked. It wouldn't be a good idea to make enemies this quickly. Some were more accepting and returned the nod, even with the half-smile of acknowledgment, some looked his armor over and raised an eyebrow. Ah, well. Can't win everyone over.

Unlike some in the group, he was very used to sleeping on the ground while in his armor, but that didn't mean he liked it. A bed was always preferable when it was an option. Usually when he was on a hunt and actually landed a contract or any kind, even if unpaid, someone would either be kind enough to let him sleep in a barn or a church might offer some space for him to stay in. If he was exceptionally lucky, an inn might be willing to host him on a hunt, otherwise he had to pay for it and half the time it wasn't worth the coin.

So this room was definitely rather luxurious. Odette had yet to arrive. "Evening roommate," he smiled at Nyota as he walked in. Daniel around the room slowly and paced, quickly noticing the lavender flower, pine cone, and honey. Right, this was the way she did things; he wasn't about to forget her ritualistic habits. It clearly brought her comfort and was so far harmless. He gave her a nod and said, "The room looks quite safe, thank you. How are you faring after that whole journey?" as he set his pack on an empty bed.

( Pipsqueak )

It was really happening, this Syndicate business. Although he had put up the most resistance to joining it, Sohrab was, by no means, the only one among the group feeling doubtful about the whole affair. Although actually, he said to himself after the group’s first tango with the Returned, he no longer had any claim to doubt. No, he had sidelined his uncertainty as preparation for accepting the Bishop’s various arguments as reason enough for his involvement. Doubt still skulked around the group, but it, like the frigid weather, had no dominion over Sohrab.

A biting chill in the air never slowed him. Even the ragged fur-lined cloak upon his shoulders had faced far worse than this. It not so much flapped in the wind as rode it, lazily cresting raging flurries of snow, its own weight maintaining its staunch position covering Sohrab’s shoulders. Lera’s order to meet in the courtyard in an hour had Sohrab give an amused snort as his only affirmation; training novices in this climate would be a true trial by frost. He wondered if Lera had considered such a thing, and what her background was. If she was always stationed at Port Hemmis, drinking in the dry salty air, even she might underestimate the environmental impact of this place upon a human’s body.

He decided not to mention it. She’d either adapt or acclimatise very quickly, which would inform him of her skill, or she’d struggle. The latter would let him demonstrate the value of the skills of mountain travel and combat, made ubiquitous in his life through his history.

Sohrab entered the temple soon after Lera, after providing his horse with what it needed. He intended to be polite, to brush the snow from his attire before he entered properly, but something strict took hold of his mind when he stepped in. The Primarchy seemed to bear down on him from every wall. Frilly edges, time-consuming rituals, religion in every meaning of the word. Whatever it was that caught his mind was reminding him of how different he was in this country. But, just as his cloak had navigated the icy winds with comfort and ease, he was going to move with just as much confidence.

The group was splitting up in various directions, most headed towards where their rooms apparently were. Sohrab walked the other way, past the fire and towards a pair of soldiers standing guard by a door.

‘Honour to you both,’ said Sohrab. ‘I am a member of the Syndicate, agreed to be housed here by Captain Hale, wonder if I can get some help from either of you?’

A few seconds dragged by while the two soldiers eyed Sohrab, neither one of them looking particularly keen to assist. Eventually though, one of them rolled their eyes.

‘Make your request quick; I’m on duty.’

Sohrab nodded slowly, and opened his hands. ‘All I ask for are a han’ful of candles, they don’t have to be of high quality.’

‘You’ll find the barracks lit well enough.’

That strict tension in Sohrab’s mind strengthened its grip, but his vocal tone and expression did not change. ‘I want ‘em for a Prehlaami ritual, not for lighting. Soldier.’

The individual he was talking to took a while to respond, so their partner, stationed at the other side of the door, took initiative. ‘Give him the damn candles. The Captain wishes him housed, so we ensure that happens.’

The soldier glanced at their partner, then turned with such sharp precision that Sohrab almost stepped into a defensive stance. They led Sohrab to the storeroom and began to search it, eventually exiting the room with some thin candles, which they presented to Sohrab. By their shape, they would have been rejected from social environments, and by their colour, that rejection had happened long ago. The soldier said nothing, but the candles they had selected spoke volumes: this was the highest quality Sohrab deserved.



The whole debacle had worn Sohrab out more than today’s journey. Still, he wasn’t about to be lax. He had candles to light.

He stopped by that fireplace in the main room, reaching one of the candles forward until the wick caught.

Finally making his way to the barracks, Sohrab allowed himself to feel the various aches that had welled up in his body; where he had taken a blow during the Port Hemmis fight was mending nicely, with only the faintest bothersome twang upon rare bodily contortion. He estimated that pain to seldom be a bother during Lera’s training: in truth, it had only arisen while he was clambering onto his mount.

Liathana had arrived in this room before him, and claimed a bed. The first thing Sohrab needed to do though was get the candle situated. He decided to use a crate, which sat in the room seemingly as some sort of table. Once he got that candle down, he laid down the others, all in a line, but did not light them. Finally, he sat on the bed closest to the crate and glanced at Liathana. She had proved quite a warrior in the scuffles with the Returned, placing herself on the combat scale at the exact opposite end to Sohrab. She used power, she used steel; he used agility, he used shadow.

The question he decided to ask wasn’t one of curiosity into her persona, nor to check on how she was doing. The question was, ‘Have you ever fought in snow, on mountainous terrain before?’

--
Interactions: Shadowed-Cherry-Blossoms

Syrr's Temple, led by a Captain Isabelle Hale, appears to have been left mostly unmaintained, considering its state of disrepair. It's possible that the structure has been employed more often as a military fortress rather than a house of worship, though it is unclear if this was always the case or if its purpose shifted over time. Whether the temple retains any of its religious facilities is yet unclear, and I am not certain whether the soldiers will

Dahlia raised her pen, frowning. Then she drew a line through the last clause with a sigh and began rewriting it in the third person. The collector scribes back at the Academy would have caught and edited the mistake, of course, standardizing the language with the rest of their records. But it was unlike her to slip up like that.

The woman shivered, watching her breath turn into mist in the frigid air. She still had a bit of time before Lera would summon the group to the courtyard, and Dal wanted to jot down the few details she'd noticed about the temple on their way in.

She wasn't making as much progress as she would have liked, and not just because of the climate. Many of the soldiers had been shooting her sharp looks since she'd stepped through the gate, and she doubted that standing around taking notes assuaged their suspicions at all. None of them had demanded she stop or accosted her in any way — something she attributed to the captain's orders and Lera's presence — but Dahlia wasn't sure how much trust she should place in either. From her experience, military types excelled at following orders, but if someone not under their explicit care — especially a citizen of a hostile nation — fell through the cracks? Well, no one would ask any questions.

Dal shivered again, though not from the cold. Maybe it was time to go inside. It wasn't like she was getting any useful information, anyway.

When she stepped into the room that Captain Hale had allocated for her, Dal found that two of her companions were already there. Hazm, apparently tired out from the long trek, was fully asleep, while Lera was sitting on her bed, sharpening her weapons.

"It's a nice place," Dahlia said, her voice just above a whisper. "Have you been here before?"

"Doesn't seem like it'll die down at all, either."

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"Such is the will of the gods," responded Maldorn before glancing up towards the sky to utter a silent prayer. May Varaena's light shine bright and true, even in the thickest of blizzards and in the most violent of storms.

"Get the feelin' that might be typical around here," Daniel chuckled quietly toward Maldorn.

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Nodding, Maldorn gestured with a sweeping motion. "We're at the mercy of nature itself while we stay here. Thankfully, so will our enemy be- and I reckon that we are far more prepared and experienced with cruel climates such as these."

He glanced at Hazm and Dahlia. "Or at least, most of us are."

Once the party entered the temple-turned-redoubt Maldorn walked the courtyard in silence, inspecting the battlements and greeting some of the soldiers stationed inside who met him with only brief nods and little to no words in return. He understood their suspicion and overall guarded natured, though he hoped that they would all soon realize that none wished to slit their throats in the dark of night.

No, for we all serve the same side, regardless of banner, faith and nation.

After his brief walk Maldorn ventured to his quarters, discovering that his two roommates were already present inside. "Greetings," he said with a genuine smile upon seeing both Liathana and Sohrab. "Looks like we'll be sharing quarters for the coming days."

He approached the only vacant bed and set down his satchel atop of it before carefully setting down his staff as well, placing it so that it could rest against the wall without tipping over. Maldorn then sat down on the bed and watched Sohrab prepare the candles. The hermit stared into the lone candle flickering gently, heat and light spreading in the immediate vicinity...

A very long, long time ago...

The city of Ladlasburg had been set ablaze. Lined with a partial wall- more or less destroyed ten years prior- and a wooden stockade the sleepy border city was under siege from three directions. In this case however- unlike many similar sieges Maldorn had partook in- he was not up on the walls or peering out of a killhole. Instead he found himself hunkering down in a hastily dug defensive trench on the northern side of the city surrounded by men-at-arms donning both tabards and banners of the Kingdom of Intemor.

Next to him were also two of his brothers- Karrath and Jangun- with all three being dressed as officers of the Intemor military. Out of the real officers present only one knew of Maldorn's and his brother's true identities and purpose, for this siege was far from an ordinary one;

Horned creatures chanting in a twisted and cursed deminic tongue mocked the invaders in their trenches as massive ballistas hurled projectiles at the battlements. These projectiles were met either by green fireballs shrieking through the sky or by shimmering wards lining the walls. Some projectiles however did meet their mark, cutting through swathes of demons as well as destroying parts of the much weaker and frailed wooden palisade.

"Well?" Asked Karrath, slightly annoyed for having to sit and wait. Maldorn grunted i response, his hands forming a small orb of light. Karrath and Jangun did their best mask what Maldorn was doing for on a battlefield such as this the last thing they wanted was for a demonic sorcerer to spot him and attempt to repel his magic. As such neither of the three Keepers wished to test their luck or that of the Intemor soldiers around them. Thankfully most- if not all- of the demons were busy ducking as the Intemor armsmen harried their battlements with both ballistas and catapults as well as sporadic salvos of blessed arrows.

Another figure approached and took a knee next to the three Keepers. It was none other than the battlefield commander on the Intemor side, general Harvayan. "My scouts report that the foul creature has nested itself within the city hall. It will be a bloody fight."

"For them," replied Jangun. "For their blood shall be spilled in the name of the Light."

Harvayan nodded, though he looked skeptical. "As you say, Keeper. Just know that my men and I will be right behind you."

"Naturally, we cannot win against these numbers on our own." Said Karrath, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Meanwhile the orb in Maldorn's hands was growing larger and larger. When it finally reached a good size he nodded towards Karrath, Jangun and Harvayan. "I am ready, let us cast these vile creatures back into the depths from which they emerged from.

"For Varaena," said both Karrath and Jangun, nodding.

"For Intemor and the First Ruler," said Harvayan.

The general cleared his sword from its scabbard and stood up, blade pointing at Ladlasburg.

"CHARGE! FOR INTEMOR!"

Responding immediately, the hundreds of soldiers waiting dutifully in the trenches rose up and vaulted over the trenchline. Maldorn rose as well, lifting the orb above his head and sending it straight up into the air where its light and intensity exploded, showering the city in divine light. The demons cursed and covered their dark and misfigured faces, cursing in their own tongue. Wards failed and sorcerers that had been intercepting enemy missiles were now too stunned to act.

As the first Intemor siege ladder reached the wall Maldorn, Karrath and Jangun were close behind. Upon reaching the wall Karrath looked at his two brothers and at the nearby Intemor soldiers. "Raise your blades, o soldiers of Light."

Complying right away a dozen swords were raised, to which Karrath responded by raising his own. "Infernis!"

The swords shot alight, divine fire burning bright and engulfing the blades entirely. Maldorn nodded.

"To the walls! Let us end this menace!"


Maldorn blinked before refocusing his attention on Sohrab. He gestured towards the candles. "I am not familiar with this ritual, though it has been quite some time since I visited your people. What is the purpose of it?"

Shadowed-Cherry-Blossoms 0stinato

Lera looked up once the door to their room opened once more to let in their third and final roommate. Dahlia Verne, the scholar from Ykrum. Lera did her best to give a warm smile, one she wasn't accustomed to giving, but the effort was there. Before long though, Lera was back to focusing on sharpening her gear in the lull between activities for the day.

"It's a nice place," Dahlia said, her voice just above a whisper. "Have you been here before?"

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Lera slowed her sharpening as her focus shifted from her knife to the scholar in front of her. "Once before, yes. This is where I wintered a few of Her Years past with a small detachment of my battalion. The place was once a Terin temple, as I'm sure you could surmise from the name. But, wartime places of interest, specifically bastions tucked away from prying eyes, were deemed more important than places of worship. So, the temple was converted. The name stayed to keep invaders from learning it's true purpose."

Lera hoped her small history lesson proved further she was less intent on providing Praetian superiority and instead focused on fixing the Realm's problems as a whole. She'd shown Ykrum citizens a hidden Praetian fort, told of its secrets, one that could be used to guess other potential hidden targets; all in the name of providing some backstory for the old, dusty building they were to sleep in for a few nights. Everything was a gamble.

Lera began putting away her tools, figuring maybe it looked slightly threatening to hold a conversation while doing such an action; she was still new to this whole diplomacy idea. As she was doing so, her pack fumbled and clattered lifelessly against the ground, causing Lera to wince. She quickly looked over to Hazm, mouthed 'I'm sorry,' before turning back to Dahlia as if she hadn't just woken up the grumpy old man.

"So, have you been this far south before? Or was Port Hemmis your furthest trek into Praetum before now?"

"Madha? sawf sikhifa-" Hazm gasped, jolting upright at the sudden sound of clanging metal. In his groggy state, the room was blurry and spinning a bit more than he was used to while sober. He leaned back against his arm, still mostly lying down, and rubbed at his eyes. When everything was clear, he found the girl soldier and the book girl seemingly engaged in conversation. The girl soldier's pack was on the ground.

There was no attack. He was safe.

Hazm sighed in relief. "Forgive me," he muttered, this time in the Praetumian tongue. He forced himself upright, in spite of the protests from his aching back, and leaned against the headboard of the bed. "The sound of weapons is wont to jolt even the calmest to their senses." He rubbed at his eyes again and yawned. "Are you two enjoying the room?"

"So, have you been this far south before? Or was Port Hemmis your furthest trek into Praetum before now?"

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"No," Dahlia replied, reaching into her cloak to pull her notebook out again. "I've only taken a few trips to Praetum before. Most of my work has been in Ykrum and Amkaor, so all of this is rather new to me."

She paused with her fingers wrapped around her book, her cheeks tingling slightly. Would Lera mistake Dal's eagerness to summarize the information a sign of misplaced loyalty? It was a frustrating thought — why should Dahlia have to explain herself to some soldier who probably never cracked open a book?

Dal shook her head sharply, trying to dispel the thoughts, then realized that Lera was still looking at her. She threw on a smile again, removing her hand from her cloak without withdrawing the notebook. Recording histories was a game of priorities, she reminded herself; if she antagonized Lera now, the other woman would doubtless refuse to answer any other questions.

Dahlia opened her mouth to ask Lera about the deconsecration process, then realized Hazm had woken up. She turned her smile toward him in apology. "It's better than what I'm used to," she lied. "Although I can't say that I'm used to such bitter cold."

Lera was glad to see that, despite his initial confusion, Hazm wasn't intent on berating her for waking him from his nap. He almost seemed pleasant, despite the stark contrast of their stressed first interactions. Of course, an invasion will do that to a person. Lera supposed she was just as much at fault for raising tensions at the time. They'd spoken little to each other in the week up to the mountain temple, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. There was no need to force interaction where it wasn't naturally occurring. At some point - like now - they'd find something to talk about, and things would naturally take off from there. Plus, Lera was still in her spokeswoman position; she didn't want her company to assume every word out of her mouth was saturated with propaganda and bias simply to turn opinions favorably.

"It's nice having a bed again," Lera admitted with a soft laugh. "Felt like I was back on marching orders in Carina again. I don't often get good sleep, and the cold, hard ground doesn't help. Even this bed frame, barely holding together, will probably give me the best night's sleep I've had in weeks."

Lera then turned to Dahlia. "Praetum is beautiful further south. In Wexem, where we're heading, it'll be a bit swampy, but overall the country is filled with beautiful mountains and lots of green." Lera paused for a moment. "Praetum is definitely colder than Ykrum, that's for sure. Never been there myself but there's plenty of talk from traders gloating about its magnificence. I'd like to visit someday, without the context of the Syndicate guiding me."

‘I can’t speak for all people who practice Prehlaam,’ Sohrab said, replying to Maldorn after a few seconds had passed, ‘because the frequency of ritual performance seems to differ all around Amkaor. Wherever you travelled perhaps did not even hold this ritual in high esteem. It’s not purely an orcish religion, either.’

He reflected upon that truth, glancing at the candle. The clan he was born into practiced only rituals that were quick and cheap to set up. Fortunately, many Prehlaami rituals fell into those categories by their very nature. But there were no multi-day fasts, ceremonies or the like. Well, not until it came to funerals. Within his clan, there became a tradition of constant walking for two days after the death of a loved one. It had apparently started as one lap of a particular mountain path along which the dead were placed, embalmed and prepared, to sit and mummify against the mountains’ winds. It had evolved since that point, due to unhealthy competition amongst the grievers. The problem, as Sohrab considered it, was this: whether or not you committed to the constant walking was solely down to your own judgement of how dear you were to the deceased. And, in the stained arena of personal opinion, disagreement was a common adversary.

Even now, Sohrab carried silent embers of annoyance towards the multiple times he had seen fistfights break out near to his mountainside embalming chamber.

He personally thought an amendment to the tradition should be gagging yourself while on the walk.

‘This ritual, I don’t know if it has an official name. You light a candle, and after an hour, you blow it out. The next day, you light the same candle, and an additional one for an hour. You can keep going indefinitely if you replace the candles. Of course, you don’t usually sit and watch, as I’m doing now; you carry on working, but you have to pay attention to when an hour has passed. They remind us to be vigilant to time, and provide illustration to how time passes faster than we think… I… I like to perform this one if I can, though I had to leave my last candles in Port Hemmis.’

He wondered vaguely about Saul Nyte’s little business, the fertiliser he would have been making even now if that sea-borne invasion had not burst through on that day. Making fertiliser, and preparing to sneak out to make use of the dark alleyways to exit the city without being seen. But time had passed, all to quickly. Just as his candle quietly stated, flickering in the cold air.

Thus far, Maldorn had spoken as if he had seen 400 seasons flitter past without a care, and smiled far too readily. But he didn’t inspire suspicion. Some sort of mysterious eccentric without malice. Though, Sohrab wondered, if his suspicious eye wasn’t taken up completely with the silhouette of that Ykrum dastard Hazm, would it have fallen onto Maldorn instead? Or even onto Liathana, who had encountered Daniel randomly out in the woods...

No, he had thrown away his doubts about the Syndicate, so he should place some faith in the others members too.

‘For what purpose did you visit orcs?’ Sohrab eventually asked.

--
Interactions: Viper Actual
Mentions: Shadowed-Cherry-Blossoms

‘For what purpose did you visit orcs?’ Sohrab eventually asked.

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Maldorn clasped his hands together and fell silent as he listened to Sohrab with great interest. Some of the orc's words were met with slow nods as the hermit seemed fixed on Sohrab himself. When he finished with a question of his own Maldorn smirked and looked upwards into the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought for a moment.

After a brief silence he looked at Sohrab and shrugged. "One reason for my visit was curiosity," he said. "But my goddess, and the light which she use to guide me, had staked out a path for me to travel on- one which eventually let to Amkaor."

"I did not travel very far into your homeland and I was there for a mere two weeks before duty called, sending me to other foreign lands. After vanquishing a necromancer in hiding- for he had committed a grave crime by using the dead as his own undead servants- there was little time to mingle and learn of your history, of your traditions and of your people."

Maldorn chuckled. "I did learn your language, or at the very least attempt to."

He looked at Sohrab, bowing his head. Maldorn then placed a hand upon his own forehead before gesturing towards Sohrab slowly with an arcing motion. "[Blessed be your carpet, my dear horse wagon leg.]"

Immediately after speaking Maldorn grimaced. "No, wait, that didn't sound right..."

He scratched his head and glanced over to Liathana. "Did that sound right to you?"

0stinato Shadowed-Cherry-Blossoms

The question was, ‘Have you ever fought in snow, on mountainous terrain before?’

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Liathana had paused in her stretching when Sohrab entered their shared quarters. She allowed herself to relax as Sohrab moved about, setting up his ritual. She had to admit, it was quite fascinating to watch the methodical process. She blinked for a moment, having been caught a bit off-guard with what he had been asking. A grin crossed her lips as she answered, "Quite frequently, both at home and in my travels. Though, it will make this training Lera has planned a bit more interesting."

Not much was said after that, giving Sohrab the room to keep focus on the candle until Maldorn joined them. Lia nodded in acknowledgement of the older man, the smile still not fading as she enjoyed what was admittedly quite the peaceful moment. Despite this, her attention was entirely focused on the conversation at hand between the two about the Prehlaami ritual. She was not all that familiar with the religious practices of others, though she could recall perhaps seeing this particular ritual once or twice before. However, learning more about the significance of the ritual she found to be quite illuminating on those hazy memories of long past companions.

When Maldorn spoke of learning Arkish, she felt her eyebrow raise, curious as to what he could recall from the two weeks that had been spent in Amkaor. No matter how much he remembered, the fact that he remembered any at all she found to be quite impressive. It had taken her several trips to learn enough of the language to be able to get around with minimal assistance. She swallowed the chuckle that threatened to escape her throat at his attempt, before snapping to attention as Maldorn turned to her.

He scratched his head and glanced over to Liathana. "Did that sound right to you?"

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She sighed, "I'm not fluent, but..." she trailed off. Liathana shot a fleeting glance at Sohrab, struggling to come up with the best response to a rather straightforward question."I'd say it sounded about half right?" she finally got out, looking to Sohrab for confirmation that at least some of what Maldorn had said was accurate.


Viper Actual 0stinato

(Collab with Pipsqueak )

Ntyoa:
She’d dozed off again. By the time she’d been forcibly awoken, Nona had cuddled up to her side in a heap of feathers, Nyota’s own hair looking much like a bird’s nest itself. She glanced hazily about the room until she noticed the bulky figure standing in the doorway. Nyota shot up suddenly, startling Nona into a full blown panic, before realizing it was only Daniel.

“Oh, it is you!” She couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice before clearing her throat.

“Hello Daniel. I made sure to keep us protected from those who come through here. The lavender is for a calming effect, the pinecone for spilling truths and the honey for a sense of security. I hope this is suitable enough, since there is no more supplies left.” She furrowed her brow as she watched the man inspect their sleeping quarters.

“The trip was suitable enough, no? My horse, Hoof, has gotten Nona and I safely here. That is all I should ask for. Are you doing well?” Though the questions about the others were burning on her tongue, she held back. As if on instinct, she scoured Daniel’s figure over, noticing cuts, marks and any such disturbances in his features, new or otherwise.


Danny was rather used to startling people at this point, whether because he tended to manage to get places he shouldn't, or because he was surprisingly quiet given the amount of armor he wore. “Your precautions are more than suitable, and very generous of you,” Daniel said with a glance at the honey. It was generous of her to be putting the last of her superstitious supplies around this room. He doubted anyone would try to mess with them anyway, but found it interesting she included an item for 'spilling truth.' “We can get more supplies for you to use later.”

He sat back on the bunk with his supplies. "I'm doin' good! It was a nice journey, all things considered." He even included the handful of undead they encountered in that 'pretty good' - it had kept things interesting and nobody got hurt.


Nyota smiled at him with a side eye. She expected nothing less from him, really. He always seemed so optimistic, even at the worst of times. His disposition to do so did make her somewhat jealous… She needed to get a hold of herself. She’d spent so long avoiding the war that it had finally caught up to her, and this was how she greeted the reality. She wasn’t the only one fighting now, and she couldn’t be selfish and wallow in such desperate times.

Letting out a defeated sigh, the young traveler sat herself up, rubbing her hands together to prepare herself for the inevitable turmoil of letting her past go. It seemed the only way to survive now, and make sure the others did as well.

“So… you must know a great deal of the others, yes? What are they like? I have not yet had the chance to meet them properly.”

More like you were too caught up in your own self pity.


Danny was a bit caught off guard by the question. It was fair, he was relatively sociable, but he certainly didn’t know a lot about them. It was hard to talk while riding horses on the trail, and they all had been fighting exhaustion. “The others? I mean… the only two I know are you and Liathana. The others… I don’t know too much yet.”
He sat down on the bed and thought his words over. It wouldn’t do well to gossip, but he couldn’t blame her for hoping he could provide extra insight. “Liathana is very reliable. I know her well. She’s a good person, if occasionally impulsive, but definitely someone I think you’d like. Lera seems rather… priority oriented. Maldorn… I think he is friendly but knows a lot more than he lets on. I don’t think he’s intentionally lying about anything, though. Sohrab… I don’t know. I wouldn’t rely on him for survival because I’m not sure he won’t run away, but I think he’s willing to help. I’d like to learn more about him. Dahlia, she’s smart. She seems polite, very smart, brave, probably reliable , I’ve been trying to not bother her... You should speak with her, though.” Danny knew he could come off as a bit intimidating but also Dahlia usually seemed more concerned with observing and writing things down.

“Hazm I don’t trust. I think that if a situation turns bad he’ll turn his back on us. He’s made it clear he does not consider us friends. Odette… I don’t know. I’d like to try to talk to her but when we don’t have a language in common it’s hard. She seems very smart, possibly dangerous.” She also practically radiated magic, but Daniel wanted to point out positives here. “Maybe… she needs a friend, though.” Really, he wanted to encourage Nyota out of her shell as much as possible without misleading her.

Nyota nodded, doing her best to keep her eyes focused on Daniel. He was smart, and certainly kind. She knew if anyone were to have the best instincts about the others, it’d be him and Lera. As she rested her elbows on her knees, Nona had taken to perching on Danny’s bedpost. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as if he was planning on scaring her again.

“I do not like the masked man so much. He is… quite rude. I think I would like to get to know the Dahlia woman more though! She presents herself with such grace and determination.” From what she could remember about the daze of a trip here, Dahlia was a very pretty woman who seemed very well educated and nearly delirious with curiosity about everything. She reminded Nyota of herself, when she first set foot on her adventures to find her father.

“Daniel… What did you say you did before all of this? You used to travel if I remember, yes?”

Daniel had started going through his bag to try to get things in order (adventuring was no excuse for not knowing where your equipment was within your bag) and looked up at Nyota in surprise. Had he never told her..? Maybe not. “Oh. I travel, yes, have been for a good few years now. I’m a monster hunter.” That’s what he did before this task specifically, of course. Before the hunting, well… that wasn’t what she asked about.

She nodded again, watching carefully as he put his things in order. Should she even ask? It had been in the back of her mind for years now. It never seemed to leave, no matter how large her growing disappointment seemed to get.

“You… would not have happened upon a man… His name is Bazz?” That’s what his mother always used to call him, at least. She’d never asked his real name.

“Bazz Priestly?”


It was a gentle question, a bit tentative. He tipped his head to the side, “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize that name.” He looked at the adventurer’s bag his calloused hands were in and then looked up to Nyota again. “If you want to find him, I promise I’ll do what I can to help. We can find him together.”

After the hour had passed, Lera made her way down to the sparring rink, and a bell was rung four times to signal the Syndicate to group up in the main courtyard. The weather outside had deteriorated further, with the gale picking up and now carrying the endless snow over the ramparts. Lera felt as though she could barely keep her eyes open lest particles assault her vision endlessly. She'd redone her hair twice in an effort to keep it from blowing into her face, with little success each time, while her boots sunk into the snow as it reached higher and higher. She could've asked Hale for her mages to block the storm, but the added nescience would only further test her party. She - along with the others - would simply have to deal with it. There was no halting their mission, and no halting their need for training.

When the majority of the group had amassed, with a handful of Captain Hale's soldiers watching from the sidelines or up in the relative safety of the hourdes upon the wall, Lera stood before the others, firm against the wind with a bit of difficulty. When she spoke, Lera needed to compete with the wind by practically shouting. "We'll begin with a demonstration of skill and proficiency. I've seen most of you handle Returned, or haphazardly deal with a few Invaders. This is your chance to prove how well you fight in conventional ways. You will use whatever you are most proficient with; magic, swords, axes, everything goes. You will use wooden versions of your typical arms; including catalysts. First to land five strikes wins. If you are thrown out of your sparring circle by your opponent, you lose. Everything goes, but try not to kill or seriously maim one another." There was a short pause before Lera glanced through the ranks. As she spoke out sparring partner duos, she left a pause in between each.

"Daniel, you'll be fighting Liathana. You both look fairly evenly sized."

"Odette will fight Dahlia, our battle of the mages. Try not to destroy the entire temple."

"Hazm will fight Sohrab. Doctrine versus cunning."

"Maldorn will fight Nyota. We'll see if your old bones can keep up with a fleet footed messenger."

Lera knew this scenario inherently favored some of the cast. The mages were stuck in the same sized circle as the rest, when magic was typically used from a distance. Poor Sohrab had no way to skirmish when he was held within a few meters of the opponent constantly. But this was the best they had in the moment. She needed to gage their frontline abilities.

"You will all spar simultaneously. I will overlook them all. Training weapons can be found along the perimeter of the courtyard. We begin once everyone is within their circles." After finalizing her message, with everyone heading to the weapon racks, Lera ascended the circular staircase up to the top of the rampart to watch from above. Once everyone was in position, her voice once again boomed over the wind. "Begin!"

She sighed, "I'm not fluent, but..." she trailed off. Liathana shot a fleeting glance at Sohrab, struggling to come up with the best response to a rather straightforward question."I'd say it sounded about half right?" she finally got out, looking to Sohrab for confirmation that at least some of what Maldorn had said was accurate.

Click to expand...

Nodding, Maldorn smiled to himself. "Maybe I am not quite as rusty as I thought I was." He nodded towards Sohrab in a friendly manner. "Perhaps your ritual has awaken old memories of days past."

"It wouldn't be the first time," he finished, chuckling.

Shadowed-Cherry-Blossoms 0stinato

"Maldorn will fight Nyota. We'll see if your old bones can keep up with a fleet footed messenger."

Click to expand...

Leaning on his staff as Lera spoke, Maldorn observed both her, the rest of the party and the members of the garrison currently observing them all from the safety of the battlements lining the courtyard. The storm was a bit too windy as far as the hermit's own preference went but like before the snowflakes seemingly vanished around him, his ragged robes remaining dry and mostly warm.

When Lera announced the pairs Maldorn's eyes sought out his sparring-partner and nodded towards her. He then looked at Lera and chuckled. "Don't you worry, these old bones are quite fast."

As to really make his point Maldorn attempted to stretch his left ankle and calf, grimaced and stopped. "Usually," he added with a toothy grin before looking back over to Nyota.

"Ladies first, dear."

Solar Daddy Pipsqueak

Odette had remained somewhat withdrawn since the group’s arrival at this place, still unsure of her companions and their motivations. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure what they were doing in this dump, and what any of it had to do with her righteous destiny. No guiding dreams had come to her, so she supposed going along with this farce was her only way forward.

She sized up this Dahlia girl. Scrawny, unsure — an easy target. She stepped into their assigned ring, not bothering with any of the weapons offered to them. She needed nothing more than the spoon at her hip and the dagger concealed in her underthings.

Odette crouched low and waited for her opponent to take her place. She smirked a bit, despite herself. She would do her best not to kill the poor girl.

“I don’t much see the need for this type of thing,” Dahlia repeated, holding her staff in a defensive stance in front of her. “As I keep trying to tell Lera, I have no intention of becoming a combatant. I believe my skills would be better allocated to another—“

She stopped short, staring blankly at the young woman in front of her. Was Odette smiling?

“Are you even listening?!” Dahlia shouted, stamping her staff into the frigid ground.

Solar Daddy said:

Once everyone was in position, her voice once again boomed over the wind. "Begin!"

Click to expand...

Odette wasted no time with a reply to her opponent’s sudden question, though the answer was a definitive no. Instead, she sprung from her crouched position, drawing her dagger from her bodice in the same swift motion, closing the distance between them.

Dahlia yelped and stumbled backward, and probably would have tripped out of the circle if she hadn’t stabilized herself with her staff. She hoped no one was watching. The last thing she needed was to be labeled as the spoiled foreigner girl who lost her match without even getting hit.

She whipped the bottom end of her staff forward, scraping a thin trail through the fallen snow. The air was already so cold she barely felt the warmth sap from her fingertips as she summoned her magic to her aid. Immediately the precipitation on the ground in front of her bound and froze, snow turning to ice with a wicked-sounding crack. It was a simple spell, easy enough to avoid if you knew what you were doing, but it’d buy Dal some time to reorient herself. She hoped.

Odette watched the girl brandish her staff, and suddenly the ground beneath her feet was slick with ice. In the same moment, she felt her bare toes lose traction and slide out from under her.

Fine by me. She let herself fall. She’d learned the hard way – and far too many times – that there was no use in fighting gravity. Better to let the girl think she had the upper hand for a moment anyway.

Dal felt an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction as she watched Odette eat ice. She hadn’t thought this trick would work that well, but maybe she was better than she’d thought. Or maybe Odette was just less experienced.

Dahlia stepped forward, the frost beneath her shoes receding as she did, and stretched out her staff to prod Odette. Would that count as a point? It felt like it should. She was sure she could convince Lera of it, in any case.

The troublesome staff poked her in the ribs so gently Odette had to stifle a laugh. She’d been worried the girl would use it to keep distance between them, but clearly that wouldn’t be an issue. Got her now.

With one quick motion she grabbed the staff and yanked, aiming to pull the timid girl down to her level.

Dal yelped, not expecting the maneuver. She felt herself heaved to the ground, her right shoulder stinging as it slammed against the frozen ground. Some Ykrumic combat schools specialized in ground-level fighting, a part of her mind recalled, emphasizing rolls, grabs, and tackles. Pity she never attended one of those lessons.

Somehow Dal managed to hold on to her staff, more out of desperation than anything. If she lost her spellcasting impetus, she was finished. She summoned a pinch of energy to her fingertips, wicked-looking spikes starting to crawl along the length of the weapon, threatening to stab into Odette’s fingers.

Tricky little bitch. Odette yanked her hand back a moment too late, slicing her thumb in the process. She ignored the sharp sting as she drew back onto her heels, ready to pounce.

Dal thought quickly, the hand that wasn’t holding onto the staff already turning and twisting as she prepared a spell. Odette was too fast and too, well, downright vicious for Dal to leave unencumbered. She needed to slow the other woman down.

Rather than getting to her feet — like a more experienced combatant might have — Dal slapped her free hand on the ice. A faintly visible wave of white-blue magic, like the color of milk left out too long in a winter evening, shot out across the ground, leaving yet another layer of ice in its wake. The frost seemed to grasp greedily at Odette’s feet, freezing them — and her — to the surface with a sharp snap.

Fuck. Odette was stopped short with a cold jolt around her ankles. No time to think, or it would all be over.

She grabbed for her spoon with her free hand, still grasping her dagger in the other. Just a small one, controlled. She squeezed her eyes shut and flicked her wrist toward her own feet.

The resulting fireball was not as small as she hoped it would be. The familiar smell of singed hair filled her nose before she even registered the pain, or that her feet were moving again, towards her target.

Dahlia managed to scramble to a stand, her mouth agape with disbelieving horror. Was this some kind of sick intimidation tactic? What kind of fighter nearly burned off their own legs in a fight? And was that a spoon?

“What in th—” Dal’s chiding yell was cut off as Odette burst into striking distance. The frost mage, her eyes still wide in shock, raised her staff to defend herself. Too slowly.

Odette side stepped the girl’s pathetic attempt at a blow and found her opening. Before the troublesome staff could move to counter, Odette grabbed the mage’s elbow with the grip Hazm had taught her and pulled her forward, spinning her to face the opposite direction and finally wrapping her other arm around to hold her dagger to the now exposed neck.

“Nice try,” she whispered, her mouth pressed to the girl’s ear. She stayed her hand from her instinctual next move. She wasn’t supposed to kill this one.

Dal pushed Odette back. Her temples felt warm enough to melt the falling snow. “I suppose you’re more bloodthirsty than I thought,” she snapped. “Congratulations.”

Severe response to minor external stimulus — in this case a sparring match — and physiological reflex suggest assessed threat is more social emotional than physical, some part of Dahlia’s mind offered. Refer to Ataran’s text on childhood development for—

“Oh, do shut up,” Dal muttered to herself, stomping away from Odette and back to the starting line.

*Made with Shadowed-Cherry-Blossoms *

It was a hard scene shift: going from the warmth of a small, relatively cozy little room, to the raging wind and snow that was outside. On the way out of the warm rooms, Daniel had pulled the layers of his scarf up a bit to protect his face at least partially from the cold. That plus the hood on his cloak made him at least a little better covered than some of the others. While he was relatively adaptable, he wasn’t sure the others would fare too well with this, and morale may fare even worse.

Danny cocked his head to the side at Lera’s muffled proclamation. Were they really going to be training right now? It wasn’t the weather that had him worried, (because they would have to fight in some rough weather eventually) it was the fact that her first choice, of anything, was sparring. Surely her idea must be to gauge who was good at what but… clearly she seemed to have an idea of that anyway. If he’d had his choice the first training session would have been how to fall without injury or how to fall and get back up so they would be less likely to grievously injure themselves while training, but he wasn’t in charge here.

He looked to Liathana and shrugged, the grin audible in his voice, “You heard her orders!”


Liathana, who had been leaning into the wind as Lera spoke, smirked. She had been enjoying the weather quite frankly. It was certainly helping to energize her after the rather soothing conversation and candlelight of the room. At the very least, she knew she would sleep well tonight. Nothing was quite like a comfortable space to rest after a bout, and it was something she had rather been missing. She had to admit, it was rather bold of Lera to suggest combat training first and foremost. She also had to give the Praetian soldier credit, the pairings were rather reasonable considering the makeup of the group.

She met Danny’s gaze, “Been awhile since the last time we did this. Can’t wait to see how you’ve improved.” She gestured to the training weapons surrounding the yard. “Sparring with weapons, or would you prefer hand-to-hand,” she offered, a twinkle of amusement in her steely eyes.


It was a good question, as either skill would be important. After a second to think, Danny smirked and playfully said, "With weapons, we have to put on a show, after all!" Whether he meant for everyone or just for Lera was unclear but he was already on his way over to the racks of training weapons.

Daniel looked over the options, finding a fake large battle axe but only one smaller axe. It was pretty typical for a polearm-style two handed axe to be favored in battle so it was understandable they wouldn't have multiple hatchets. He picked it up with ease, noting how light it was by comparison to his usual weaponry. He idly noted to himself that it seemed to be fir wood - made sense given the location, but it would have to be replaced after a certain number of fights as fir was a relatively soft wood compared to something like oak.

Knowing that Liathana used a hand-and-a-half sword, Danny took the one hatchet they had and put it in the ring on his belt so he'd have it if they got to close quarters. He grabbed the shield as well to keep on his left arm and also a greatsword that was comparable in size to Lia's own. "Catch," he called as he walked over and tossed her the wooden greatsword.


Lia, new wooden sword in hand, eyed it critically as she shifted the weight, trying to get a feel for this new option. It was certainly comparable to her usual choice of weapon, if not just a touch longer. The lighter weight from the material certainly helped with the balancing of it. “Do you think it would serve well as entertainment if I broke this one, or do you think our hosts would be quite upset?”

As she moved into position in the ring, she glanced again at the array of weapons, considering her options for any future bouts. It had been a while since she really got to work with other weapons. Lia couldn’t help but hope that there would be more combat training to come, even if just for the opportunity to polish up her other skills. She could feel the tension in her body, every muscle ready for the opportunity to fall into old habits and rely on nothing but instinct.

Still, with a grin, her focus locked onto Daniel. “This goes without saying, but do actually try to beat me? Sometimes you’re too kind to old friends,” she commented, a clear teasing edge to her voice. Part of her would have to admit that Danny would always be one of her favorite sparring partners, though thus far, the number of individuals that could rival him were steadily dwindling. Though perhaps Lera… the thought drifted through the back of her mind for the briefest of moments as her body shifted into a readied stance.


Danny chuckled at her question about breaking the sword. "Maybe don't try to break it, but if it happens it happens. I'll just make them a new one." He spun the wooden hatchet idly and cocked his head to the side. "Look, I'll try to win but it's not my fault if you're better than me," he said with a smirk and casual shrug. He definitely didn't want to hurt Lia too badly. , and these training weapons could hurt.


Lia couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his comment. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she responded. “At least, not today.” Her eyes narrowed, though with the smile on her face it was difficult to tell if it was from the preparation for the bout or as a result of her amusement.

Upon the shout from Lera, Liathana wasted no time in lunging forward with a heavy slash to Danny’s left side. She knew that she was putting herself at risk by making the first move, but she was not one to waste time even off of the field of battle. This was even more true when up against a foe she had faced before.

Danny really shouldn't have been surprised at Lia pouncing like that. He stepped to the right, wincing a bit as the fake sword made it past his shield and slammed along his left side. It left a fantastic opening though, as he swung the fake hatchet in his right hand to hit her on her left side. With the way both of them were moving he couldn't put much force into the swing, but he didn't want to hit her too hard, either.

The grin on Lia’s face was undeniable. This is what she’s loved to do for the majority of her life. There was just something about getting lost in the moment in combat, the spike of energy coursing through the body as you try to survive. While this sparring match was by no means life-threatening, it got her blood pumping in a way that other exercises couldn’t fully replicate.

A small hiss escaped from between her teeth as Danny’s blow connected, but it left her with the opportunity to drag her arms upward as his right arm was extended. While an actual blade would’ve done some serious damage, the wooden sword in her hands would still do enough to sting as it sliced at her opponent.

Danny scowled as the wooden sword "sliced" him. There was enough force behind that move that he felt it through his patchwork armor. Her move knocked his hand away and left him vulnerable, so he stepped back, getting some space and holding his shield up. Maybe he should stop playing nice before she actually won… it would be only a touch embarrassing if he got thrown to the ground this quickly. Then again, he really was on the defensive now.

Trying to make the most of the small advantage she had gained, Lia pressed forward. There was no way she was going to give him the space he was trying to reclaim. It was time to remind him why she told him to actually try against her. She struck out again, gritting her teeth as he blocked her blow with his shield. It seemed for the moment they were at a bit of a stalemate.

Luckily he was able to block her blow with his shield and push her blade out of the way, leaving her open. The goal was to knock her in her back, not kill her, so instead of swinging his axe he presses forward with his shield raised and bashes into her.

Having been left open by Danny’s move, there was little way for Lia to recover from the blow from his shield. Using the layer of snow on the ground to her advantage, she regained enough traction to keep from losing her balance. With balance regained, she moved to strike Danny again. However, she didn’t account for the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on the bottom of her boot. When she stepped forward, her foot caught a patch of ice, and with the snow covering what grip she would have had, she felt her momentum shift suddenly as she slipped. Her face burned a little, embarrassed that she would have made such a careless mistake.

Daniel had just been moving in for a hit to follow up the shield bash - he was planning a quick hatchet chop to her chest, thinking maybe the force would be enough to knock her down. His eyes widened as Lia slipped and he quickly stepped back before she could fall - either toward or away from him. He had to hold back from reaching out to catch her, but he knew she was the type to use that to try to get the upper hand. Luckily she caught her footing so he wouldn’t win because of something so silly. And given her extensive experience with the snow, this was definitely just some really poor luck for poor Lia and he wasn’t about to make that worse. He smiled at her and laughed reassuringly, “See? This weather is a bitch! But let's be honest, you’d already have downed me if it was a clear day.”

A laugh escaped her throat as Danny backed off. “Guess that just means that we’ll have to spar again on a clear day, just to test that theory!” She was still chuckling a bit as she went in for her next attack. This one was more sluggish than the last, her laughter providing a bit of distraction that gave him enough of an opportunity to avoid her swing by dropping to a knee.

"I'll lose to you in any weather, just let me know when you want to spar!" Daniel dropped to one knee and dodged the attack. He looked up at Lia with a smirk as her slash went by overhead. That one was an easy dodge. He knew they were supposed to be taking this seriously, and he was to an extent… after all, this was absolutely something he would do to an actual enemy. It was just a bonus that it was fun and added to the theatrics.

Danny slipped his shield off of his forearm and scooped up one metric shieldful of snow and stood, throwing all the snow directly in Lia's face with a grin. In battle, this would hopefully blind and surprise her and give him an opening. In this sparring match, it was less strategic and more just good fun.

To say that she was expecting to be pelted in the face with a shieldful of snow would be a lie. Should she have been surprised? Probably not, considering it was the type of trick Danny would pull, even in an actual battle. Wiping the snow from her face, Lia sighed, more dramatically than strictly necessary. “Well, if that’s how you want to play it, we’ll do this your way,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Liathana dropped the sword she was holding to the ground. After all, she wouldn’t need it for what she had planned. She lunged for Danny, her arm going to his neck as she wrapped around behind him. She had to use her weight to pull his head and neck a bit lower to maintain the hold she had him in. Was it the easiest move to make on an opponent who has the height advantage? No, but she was always up for a challenge.

Danny had to give it to Lia, she had a hell of a grip that he actually couldn't break. But that was fine, he just needed to get her where he could hit her. He ducked his shoulder down and shifted, bringing her to his side, and she still managed to cling onto him. It didn't matter, at this point they weren't really even trying to fake kill each other, it was all just some wrestling after all that time hiking and having to actually be on alert for real danger. He managed to get a hand under her arm so she couldn't keep any pressure on his throat. While his hand was there, he took the moment to subtly make sure his scarf was still up too, just making a mental note of it for his own reassurance.

At a certain point, it was simply easier to let Danny move her. In fact, it almost put her in a slightly better position. Being able to utilize an opponent’s movements against them was one of her favorite elements to hand-to-hand combat Lia, realizing that her arm was no longer directly on his neck, decided to switch up her tactic a bit. With the arm that wasn’t maintaining her hold, she started reaching for his hands. More specifically, she was reaching for the axe still in his grip.

So she wanted to disarm him? He grinned. "You could have just asked me to drop the axe," he said. He dropped it and with the opening she left reaching for the axe, he instead wrapped his arm around her waist and shoved his shoulder forward, managing to break her grip on his neck as his other arm grabbed her shoulder and he slammed her back into the snow, immediately getting over her with a forearm to her throat. He grinned and said, just a bit smug, "That was fun."

Lia couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she returned his grin with one of her own. “It was very fun.” she agreed. “Now would you kindly let me up? You are still rather heavy, after all,” she continued, wiggling to try and free herself from underneath him.

Danny smiled and sat back on his knees, still straddling her around her waist. He was careful not to put much weight on her. "I don't know, maybe laying in the snow will help you be less hot-headed," he chuckled, extremely aware how stupid that pun was.

Her grin shifted to an equally smug smirk. “So I’m hot-headed am I? Well then you shouldn’t mind if I do this!” she laughed as her right leg came up. Once her leg was high enough to be level with his hips, she used all of the strength she could muster to knock Danny off-balance by shoving her right knee into his side as her left leg slid into his right knee. With the remaining momentum, she rolled onto her stomach, her lower half pinning him to the ground. Carefully, she rolled one more time so that she was sitting on Daniel’s torso. “One last touch,” she muttered before picking up a handful of snow and dropping it over his eyes, careful to avoid his nose and mouth.

This definitely shocked Danny but he could acknowledge that it really, really should not have shocked him at all. Lia may not have had a weight advantage, but she had never needed it before, and she was an incredibly skilled fighter. Honestly, her knee hitting his side almost hurt more than the strikes with the wooden sword. He wrinkled his nose and laughed as she dusted snow over him, admitting, "Maybe I deserve that a little bit."

He shook his head to get the snow off of his face, grinned, reached up to grab her by her upper arm and yank her to the side with a, “but I’m not just going to just stop bothering you that quickly!”

There was a small yelp before Lia dissolved into giggles. “Round two it is then!” She pounced on Danny, relying on momentum to continue their wrestling match. This was one of the reasons why he was one of her favorite sparring partners. Every spar was guaranteed to end with them laughing.

Despite the weather, Lera barely blinked as she watched over the current spars going on. She was pleasantly surprised at the ferocity most seemed to use, most of all the sassy child seemingly out for blood against the Ykrumic scholar. She'd seldom witnessed such ferocity on an actual battlefield, let alone a training match with a bookworm. Lera admittedly feared Odette would prove useless for her banner, little more than a miscreant she was, but now there was renewed hope. With some proper training, maybe some shoes, Odette could be transformed into a menace on the field. Of course, she'd need to make sure her loyalties were with the correct people before delving into such training. Dahlia also surprised Lera with her footwork and use of spells. Sure, she was green to combat, but the fundamentals were there. She could be conditioned. After all, who would ever really be prepared to fight an opponent that damn near sets themselves on fire?

Just off to the side of their spar was Daniel and Liathana. At first it seemed rather in-doctrine and standard, few points of interest came from that group. They were clearly taking pauses to speak to one another, but with the wind and snow, it was impossible to listen in. She allowed it to continue only because they were still actively trying to kill each other, but enemies would seldom be in the talking mood during the real thing. She knew Daniel and Liathana didn't need to be told that, but maybe a reminder at some point would help ground them.

Then they would up on the ground, weapons aside, using theatrics of snow and grapples like children playing outside. Giggling, existing without a care in the world. The sight was shocking enough that even Lera felt a smile creep at her lips. Something, someone was not all gloom and despair. Of course, it took only a moment for her to realize that she was supposed to be the gloom and despair. This was no time for frolicking.

"Kill each other!" Lera shouted above the wind down at the courtyard, scooping up a bundle of snow off the guardrail and hurling it at the duo. She caught Daniel damn near directly in the back of the head, to which she once again had to suppress her smile. This was serious business, she was a serious person, doing seriously serious things. No smiling.

She faintly smiled still.

Lera admired those down below, each fighting with their own peculiar stances, strategies and proficiencies. Many were... unorthodox in her mind, but right now, the realm needed less by-the-book types. Maybe their lack of professional training would even be a boon in times like this. Clearly the way things are always done hasn't helped to heal the lands in the millennia Man has existed in Retough. Not to mention the raw power she saw in a few select among them. Retten demanding that this group - not a retinue of Praetum's finest, or a select guild of military prowess - was to be the start of the next Syndicate, it simply didn't sit right with Lera at first. She imagined them to fall to a boar in the woods on the first night. But their time together over this past week, and this training session, began opening Lera's eyes to Retten's foresight. She didn't think the Bishop was lying; but she was only just now starting to see the potential.

The duos completed their spars, each a burst of intense fighting rather quickly. Lera came down from her perch upon the temple walls to talk with them all at eye level. "I liked what I saw, for the most part. Not that you needed the vote of confidence, but I'm assured you all can handle the tasks ahead. Daniel and Liathana, do me a favor and don't have a tickle fight when Invaders are at our doorstep, yeah?" The slight hint of a smile at the corner of Lera's lips betrayed her scorn. She may have tried to seem like a steeled soldier, but she really was just the grown-up of a girl who enjoyed making wreaths and helping those around town where she could.

"Let's do a few more rounds, this time I'll take turns with everyone for some more hands-on training. Proper stances, stamina preservation, things along those lines. Dahlia, you're up first! Everyone else, find a new partner and begin again."

---

Two days passed with little more than training and resting. The Temple was busy with activity from both the Syndicate and the Praetian military, both going back and forth between drills, maintenance and plotting. In particular, Lera had once again employed Nyota with help making course for Crim, their next destination. With the weekend to gain strength after a week in the saddle, the Syndicate would need to spend another two days of riding to reach Wexem. Invading scout parties had not made their way past the Wyrm Mountains and as such the journey this time was much faster and less prone to sudden attacks and fleeing. The Praetian countryside was as beautiful as ever, untouched by war or famine. Mountains and dense forests provided sightly vistas for those unaccustomed to the land's inherent beauty, but otherwise most focus was on the task at hand. Alwyn's the Wretched; a vile recluse with a hunger for power, his crusade little more than a thinly veiled need for turmoil and exploitation. The swampy region was of little importance to the Primarchy, but its proximity to the capital made it a constant threat to not just Praetum, but its allies in the event their strongest neighbor suddenly fell to internal revolt. It was the Syndicate's job to keep all realms from falling, and this would be their first crucible.

The bogs of Wexem were smelled much sooner than they were seen. The region-wide caldera seemed little more than runoff for all of Praetum's rain, resting in a vat of grim sewage and muggy fog. The trees took on a twisted, mangrove-like appearance as they sprouted from flooded ground. The beauty of Praetum, it seemed, had ended a few kilometers back. Here forward was new territory and potential threats.

Lera led her party on one of the main roads into the region, avoiding the harshest the bogs had to offer and staying relatively dry in the process. The drawback of such a decision, it seemed, was that the checkpoint established by Alwyn's men was nigh unavoidable. She attempted to steer them clear of the checkpoint, but the insufferable bog - filled with unknown dangers and miasma - proved simply too wicked to attempt a crossing. It seemed their only way forward was through the checkpoint.

Slowly, they made their way up to the three guards sitting out front of the ruins. All of them appeared rather relaxed and - to put it bluntly - unprofessional. Their hauberks didn't fit right, and their collars, gloves and boots were all poorly upheld. Anyone with military experience would know a real commander would cause untold harm to a subordinate lacking their proper maintenance. These men were clearly thugs in guard armor.

"Halt there, naer'do'well. Posthaste, and all that. No admission to the province, on the Archon's orders. Hurry off and leave us be." The lead guard, who didn't even bother standing, spoke to the Syndicate. He barely glanced up from under the brim of his kettle helmet. His unshaven face was visibly riddled with untold pathogens, clearly uncleaned from the last week of peas porridge crusted in his beard. The other two weren't much better.

"The Archon's been dead for weeks," Lera pointed out in fact with a raised eyebrow.

"Well there's a new Archon, yeah? And he says no admittance. Bugger off."

Some loutish musers of proverb and maxim liked to suggest the great leveller of men was the need to sleep, eat or retire to the outhouse, but within the Syndicate, Sohrab was quietly deciding their great leveller was a bog. Typically, group members gave him a wider berth than they would give each other, possibly due to his concoction of noisome dirt he had brewed up in a particular pocket that served as his war-paint, but since traversing the bog, even the most careful carried a certain scent that might take a few nights of vigorous scrubbing to remove from the softer clothes. Lera’s attempted subversion of the main path had not been successful, so here they all were now, down at Sohrab’s level.

It wasn’t that Sohrab was against personal hygiene, far from it - he simply found power in the unique blend of distracting disgust an opponent might feel, and possible intimidation he may have over someone upon facing a barbaric figure spinning with metal. Out here in the wilderness, he would play the game however he must to progress forward victorious. There was no shame in his presentation: he would always walk with vicious purpose, his morals as stained as his armour.

When the group was stopped at a checkpoint Sohrab kept his brow low, listening to how the guards spoke. There was no professionalism in the words they chose, and while Sohrab’s eye would not be as adept at noticing the inconsistencies in the armour appearance as Lera’s, he could at least anticipate what this type of guard was missing out on saying.

When a hesitation overcame the Syndicate in response to the gregarious guard’s impolite request for them to make themselves scarce, Sohrab slunk between the various members, dipping two fingers into his war-paint and streaking it below his eyes. Its musk was potent but stale.

He stepped up next to Lera and raised his head to the guard who was speaking.

‘Colour me insulted. You can’t even be bothered to attempt to extort them wanting to pass? Need a reminder of how it’s done?’

He stepped forward, closing the distance with a rogue’s speed. An armblade flashed white, sheer against the light. Sohrab remained only a step away from the guard, and with his face positioned in a hard, practiced snarl, he brought his glare forward.

‘I’ll take your gold, or I’ll take your guts. Only one of those you can live without. Alternatively, you can move your pitiful selves aside, and I won’t have to dirty the ground with your blood.’

Danny glanced over the "guards". He liked to think he wasn't a judgmental person. Maybe this was judgmental less in the critical way and more in the situational awareness, pattern recognizing kind of way. These "guards" were still a blatant reminder why, even traveling, he carried a razor and a reflective piece of metal. After all, if you were going to try to look intimidating, don't look intimidating like you can't take care of yourself, look intimidating the right way: by being slightly unhinged and very well armed.

Sohrab certainly had that lesson down pat.

Danny watched all of the interactions before him with a little half smile of calm amusement. These were just some pesky bandits. Odd that they weren't attempting to extort the team for money - these bandits were clearly well fed and someone had to be paying them to be there if they weren't attempting to rob the team. Danny's eyes traced over the area while Lera spoke politely and Sohrab made threats. No obvious reinforcements or battlements of any kind, however plenty of footprints and some hoofprints and a wisp of smoke from a fire - so maybe a few others of similar rank and skill? Those were fair odds, especially since the Syndicate had mages with it. What if these men ran off and raised an alarm that they let this team through? Well they'd be admitting their own failures if they did and that didn't seem likely.

What would take more time? Threatening them and then them boasting and posing and then having to murder them and hide the bodies and etc etc etc or just being nice and convincing? Idiots never backed down from a threat, they just puffed up bigger. Unless you could really baffle them.

Sohrab was doing a perfect job of being the obvious threat - so they should take a more neutral option offered to them without issue. Especially if the neutral option was just as violent.

Danny smiled and stood a step behind Sohrab, addressing the other guards as well,
"I think what my friend means to say is, really, move or be moved."

He grinned and tipped his head to the side, "I mean! You can even keep your gold far as I care, though giving us a tip would be a mighty nice motivation for my friend here to let you keep your organs and for our wizard to not incinerate you. He hasn't had much practice recently and I know he's been dying to try a new spell or two, you know how mages are." If there was one thing idiots feared it was any word related to magic. Sure, they couldn't tell for sure if a wizard actually traveled among them, but did they really want to try to call Daniel's bluff? Danny wasn't about to admit that three of the young women traveling with him were also mages - let them be the aces up the sleeve if this did become a fight.

He swung his pole axe down off his back with a spin then leaned against it, still grinning. "And after all it is easier for you to step aside while you still have legs."

Slightly unhinged.

Then...

When Lera announced the pairs Maldorn's eyes sought out his sparring-partner and nodded towards her. He then looked at Lera and chuckled. "Don't you worry, these old bones are quite fast."

As to really make his point Maldorn attempted to stretch his left ankle and calf, grimaced and stopped. "Usually," he added with a toothy grin before looking back over to Nyota.

"Ladies first, dear."

Click to expand...

Still standing in the cold, Maldorn cleared his throat and nodded towards Nyota. “Well, let’s not keep our spectators waiting, dear.” He offered her a faint smile. “I’d rather not spend more time out here than we need to.”

Maldorn then shrugged. “Though I suppose I still have some good years left in me still if you’re aiming for some grand, long-term, psychological strategy.”

The hermit then waved with his staff towards Nyota’s bird- whom he had forgotten the name of;

“Does it speak to you? "Does it sing?”

Nyota took a hesitant step forward, the edges of her mouth turned down slightly in disgust.

“This is an awful, terrible thing. I do not want to fight you tall man, and neither does Nona.” She glanced at the owl momentarily, though Nona’s eyes were trained on Maldorn. She clicked her beak threateningly, ruffling her feathers as a warning to back off.

“Oh, no, she wants to fight you. But I do not. I am not a fighter, and I prefer to keep it that way, yes? My Nona baby can speak to me in ways others cannot. Through the pinches of her claws or nips of her beak, perhaps squeaks of unhappiness or… What is the word… Surprise, yes!”

Nyota kept her gaze locked with her sparring partner as she spoke, knowing it was quite possible he would attack if she let down her guard. Her legs were braced, ready to drag her out of the way of any danger thrown her way.

“She is a smart owl, the smartest of them all! I have not yet met another who could precisely make such decisions as my Nona.”

Maldorn’s soft expression remained upon hearing Nyota’s words. “I too prefer to use words rather than force, though I fear that the journey ahead may thrust us into situations where we do not have the freedom of choice.”

He sighed, balancing his staff gently with one hand. “If you would allow me, we could instead focus on testing our defensive postures rather than an offensive one- I’m sure our armored leader would find the results just as satisfactory.”

Maldorn then tilted his head slightly; “I can maintain a thin barrier around my person, should you and Nona prefer to press on instead. It will be invisible to the eye of a mere Man and your strikes will still connect without harming me.”

Nyota studied the man for a moment, then cast her gaze to those around them. They were all keen on the training, drinking in every bit of harsh criticism their new leader gave them. She wasn’t so sure Maldorn was speaking truth. She’d seen what he was capable of- what kind of violence his hand had cast against others. She’d hardly known this group for long, but first impressions were everything. The fact that everyone was so quick to jump on the violence wagon was a mystery to her, and to Nyota’s surprise, she felt a bit guilty.

Her whole life she’d gotten herself into shape for running. It was what she was good at. Dodging, hiding, avoiding conflict. Running to find the truth about her father. Running to deliver those crucial last words of love, of hurt, of longing to those who needed to hear it. The war had shaped her, but not in the way it seemed to have shaped others, and this seemed to dawn on her quite suddenly in the training grounds. That was where her guilt lay. She would slow them down.

As always, a soft cooing sound tickled her ear, and she was brought out of her thoughts by Nona. Nyota gave her a quick pet on her feathered head and sighed.

“Okay then… Defense it will be.” Nyota agreed softly, walking up to Maldorn with a hesitant step. Her eyes never left his as his figure seemed to grow ten feet taller as she got closer.

“You will tell me if I hurt you.” It wasn’t a question.

Without warning, she struck her hand out in a flash, her pale hand colliding with what should’ve been the man’s ribs. He did not flinch. Nyota remembered something about him through her dazed adventure through the city. He could do magic, or something akin to it.

“What did you do?”

As Nyota advanced Maldorn adjusted his footing, entering a guard with his staff ready in both hands. However- as she struck without warning- his defenses were tested in a different way as the protective barrier absorbed the strike.

He glanced downwards, showing genuine surprise at the speed and velocity that Nyota had demonstrated. “Impressive speed,” he said, giving her a nod while altering his stance.

This time he lowered his staff and moved his grip farther down, mimicking that of a spearman or perhaps a soldier with another polearm- such as a halberd- which would force Nyota to exercise great caution when attacking head-on as that would be where a soldier with such an armament would be the most lethal.

When Nyota asked her question Maldorn tilted his head lightly. “To what are you referring to? This?” He asked as he used one hand to make contact with his chest, causing a weak shimmer as the barrier collided with itself.

“It is one of many defensive spells I’ve mastered over the years. Some would require quite a lot of practice to reach my level of aptitude though truth to be told I’ve had more time to perfect my magic than most others.”

He offered Nyota quick smile. “The perks of an enhanced lifespan.”

Nyota backed away as Maldorn repositioned himself, taking in his new stance quicker than she could actually come up with a good way to go about getting a hit in.

“I do not quite understand. Does your life contribute to your abilities? I have never met a magic user, though truth be told I do not occasionally stop to do chit chatting with strangers.” Nyota failed to look at Maldorn’s face as she spoke, instead shifting through ideas on how to reach the man. The weapon could reach her pretty much anywhere, but…

She let out a series of short whistles, higher in octave then dipping lower. It was quick, but Nona took charge instantly. The owl dove for Maldorn’s face, uninterested in any kind of harm, but enough to be a distraction. The white bird steadied herself, blocking his eyesight as she tried to balance herself on his head.

Nyota slipped over to the two quickly, eyes darting wildly from Nona to Maldorn’s weapon. Any opening was better than none, she realized.

Before answering her question, Maldorn took note of Nyota's lingering gaze. When the whistles came he attempted to both dodge the distraction caused by Nona as well as foil any potential attack planned by his opponent.

To achieve this he took half a step backwards, spun and- while moving- dragged his staff against the snow to create a white mist in front of him.

Once the snow settled Maldorn stood ready in a similar position as before, just mirrored.

"My lifespan does indeed contribute to my abilities," he started. "But not in the way you perhaps imagine."

"No, a prolonged life such as mine has provided me with experience, time and perspective. To survive and to become better one must first accept new knowledge- seek it, even- as well as remain humble and honest."

"My goddess Varaena may have given me powers and set me on a path but only I and I alone can make change true."

"As for magic it comes in many forms and while I consider myself proficient in most of my own abilities I am no master of the arts," Maldorn finished with a wry smile.

Nyota gasped as snow blinded her, instinctively covering her eyes against the cold powder. Overhead she heard Nona’s panicked flapping as the owl did her best to brush off the attack.

“The earth is my goddess.” Nyota stated, standing to regain a sense of control over herself and brushing off the snow that clung to her pale skin.

“She has lent me much knowledge of the nature she provides us. I can tell you about the little plants that covers much of this region, and the animals that take shelter in them. I have found it easy to direct those wonderful creatures as friends, or as enemies. I suppose it is not the same in writing, but maybe we are the same in some ways, yes?”

Nyota took a breath to steady herself, eyes widening with a sudden curious idea.

“Do you suppose your goddess and mine are friends in their land? And that yours might provide me with the powers you have received? I may not be a fighter, but if I could protect myself such as you…” She pondered this for a moment. Sensing Nyota’s wandering mind, Nona flew back to perch on her shoulder.

“I could… what is your word for it,” She snapped her fingers before pointing at him, “travers the landscapes easily while I deliver my letters! I will not have to worry about the hiding and the constant fear. In turn I will teach you of nature, yes? A… win- win, as you say.”

"Perhaps," Maldorn started, smiling faintly. "We shall find time to exchange such knowledge." He bowed his head politely while maintaining his stance. "I'm sure Varaena and your deity are indeed friends, for Varaena serves Light itself, all those that live and thrive within it and balance between light and darkness."

"In a way, one could argue she is more a 'Goddess of Balance', if you will."

"Should our journey allow it I'd be very happy to share what I can, for we who serve Varaena are few and separated by great distances. Such is our burden."


Now...

After days of training it felt good to be on the road once more, or, at the very least, for Maldorn it felt good. The beautiful sights of the mountains and their surrounding woodland realm did much to visibly improve Maldorn's spirits as the old man seemed to be excited to leave thbe relative safety of their temporary garrison home and escape out into the wilderness.

Wexem looked about the same as it had done some three decades (or was it four?) ago when Maldorn had previously passed through the region, albeit merely skimming alongside the outskirts of this interesting region.

Once the party reached the checkpoint Maldorn watched the 'guards' with great interest, something which only grew tenfold once their lazy orders were met by Sohrab's quick advance and the threat that followed.

When Daniel backed up Sohrab and mentioned magic Maldorn's eyes narrowed and his lips curled. Casually, hoping to appear just as old and demented as most folks thought him to be, he let out a deep burp followed by a short cackle as well as a fireball projecting from his staff, arcing through the air and exploding upon reaching an overgrown stone pillar to the right of the checkpoint.

Maldorn then feigned a look of surprise, bowing his head deeply. "My deepest apologies, dear guardsman, for my aim is not as true as it once was."

For Nyota, she was in a most pleasant mood. It seemed a rare instance these days after her first (And earth's willing, only) murder. Her woken hours were filled with hazy intents and half forgotten conversations. At night, the man's face seen gaping back at her as blood covered his clothes and the light of life seeped towards her in a taunt; Look what you've gotten yourself into now, dear Nyota. Look at what you've taken away! This essence was not for you to judge! You must be punished...

Those nightmares seemed miles away now. Nona flitted happily above the group's heads, high above the trees. Nyota herself watched the looks on each of her party member's faces as they took in the sights around them. She had done well choosing this path, which didn't at all surprise her but still seemed to make her heart soar with joy. She had made them happy! She'd finally done something right.

"Pluck the flowers, pluck the flowers..." Nyota whispered contentedly as she occasionally bent down to pick up the various plants that grew around these lands.

"Purple ones and red ones and white ones! You will all be friends right in here." She patted her satchel happily as it grew in size with the many collections. She'd gotten four pinecones, dozens of different flora, tree bark, and even a broken antler! Some of the rocks she had decidedly agreed were too pretty to be left behind were kept in a separate pouch. Those were not to be used, but to be admired.

Her hoarding had given her a fair distance between herself and the group, and her awareness to the "guards" was equally delayed. Only when the molt of fire exploded nearby did Nyota snap up from where she was bent, eyes wide and alert. Her heart raced and her hands sweat as she jogged to join up with the others, confused when met with nothing more than a small group of bandits dressed poorly as professionals. They weren't attacking, clearly, and seemed only mildly inconvenienced by the group's presence. Unfortunately it seemed the others were ready to pick a fight, not taking Nyota back in the least.

"You are ready to spill each other's blood on such ground?" She spoke to nobody in particular.

"Are we being stolen from or not," She called to the men, "If not, you may go back to waiting for mother nature to retrieve you for such an offensive sight. If so... I'd much prefer to know now. Perhaps this situation might call for a less extreme ending, if you must be stubborn."

Making her way to the side of the group to get a better view of the men, she sized them up with annoyance. In her mind, a prayer was sent to the earth to protect them from more unnecessary bloodshed.

"You are thieves, are you not? Posting as a guardsman with no order, and... what is the word..." Nyota clicked her tongue when her mind came up blank.

"Well, no matter. We have all seen enough violence to last a lifetime. I should rather not like to see more in such a glorious place as this. Though I do understand the unfortunate circumstances you must be under to create such a... interesting plan in hopes someone might make their way here, I fail to see how turning on one another might make anything better, yes?" Glancing up, Nyota caught sight of Nona circling overhead. The owl was quite aware of the rising tension as her claws seemed to grasp at nothing in aggravation, but Nyota only moved her gaze back towards the thieves.

"Do let us pass."

Sargash, the lead soldier, was so unprepared to be accosted by the short orc - let alone an entire group of combat ready, murder-happy vagabonds - he didn't even bring his weapon with him as he stood, Sohrab's blade resting near his throat. Sargash let out a surprised gasp and froze his muscles as to not accidentally cut himself on the edge. His polearm clattered to the cracked pavement beneath him. Behind Sargash, the two other guards immediately braced and held their weapons ready, point facing out, but otherwise didn't move in.

The three soldiers all reacted with heavy flinches as the fireball engulfed the side of the stone pillar, knocking loose a few large stones and clearly destabilizing the already shoddy tower. Long after the impact, dust and pebbles fell from the impact point of the spell.

"He's - he's - he's got one of them world endin' spells, he does!" The low pitched, cracking voice of the leftmost soldier cried out. "Watch your boots boys, he's like to turn us t' frogs, he is!" Four more guards poured out from behind the small ruins of the checkpoint, all with various states of disarray in their gear. Some were missing bracers, or gloves, or even helmets. One of them didn't even hold a weapon. They all paused a few meters back from the original trio of guards, unsure what to even make of the situation.

Lera looked down at the commotion from atop Bellum, one hand on the hilt of her blade and the other holding the reins. She wasn't expecting combat, however. She was more so admiring the situation from where she was. Maybe her rowdy group wouldn't need so much guidance after all. Even if their tact was a bit brash, she couldn't deny the results. The slightest amused grin tugged at her lips.

Sargash still braced against the blade. The threats from half the party gave him plenty of time to come to a decision. He couldn't even understand half of what the Launceen lady said thanks to her accent. "Stand down," Sargash's voice wasn't nearly as steady as it was before. "No need riskin' frogs-becometh, and whatnot. We've no chance against a speller." Sargash held his hands up in surrender. When a pause passed without any movement, he continued. "Bartash, Gurt, step aside. Alwyn said I's to command, so command ye I am!"

Bartash and Gurt hesitated, but stepped aside, and the other four soldiers followed suit. All the soldiers kept their backs against the walls of the ruins, keeping their eyes on the Syndicate.

"You're free t' go through. O, Alwyn'll have my head fer this..." Sargash groaned. "Welcome to Wexem. It's no place for travelers and spellers alike nowadays. You'll all hang by morrow-week."

"He's - he's - he's got one of them world endin' spells, he does!" The low pitched, cracking voice of the leftmost soldier cried out. "Watch your boots boys, he's like to turn us t' frogs, he is!"

Click to expand...

Maldorn feigned a look of surprise, which was followed by looking over both of his shoulders in a bewildered fashion. "Who? Me? Nooo..." The hermit smiled as he produced an apple from his satchel. "I am, however, running out of apples..."

"Welcome to Wexem. It's no place for travelers and spellers alike nowadays. You'll all hang by morrow-week."

Click to expand...

Nodding towards the lead guard, Maldorn offered the man a wide grin. "Why, thank you kind sir. I wouldn't worry too much if I were you though, we won't be troubling you again."

He glanced towards the others in the party before continuing; "Lest I'd urgently require some frogs."