Fantasy Ballad of Renegades

[Rohan]

[✦] Hunadi Dralis- Group 3​

The boat pitched and rocked against the steep waves, making Nadi’s stomach flip with each rise and fall of the wooden vessel. Every wave seemed to heave the boat up to one side before dropping it down again. Don’t throw up, don't throw up....don’t th-- Another wave tipped the boat nearly to its side and Nadi felt the contents of his stomach rise into his throat. Instinctively, his hands reached up in an attempt to cover his mouth but were stopped abruptly by the tight shackles that limited his movements. It was hard enough being so close to water, one of the few things that made him physically uneasy, the other being restrained just as he and the other prisoners were. He sensed other bodies near him but didn’t know how many or how close they were. Beyond his better judgment, his body hunched forward as his stomach seemed to heave in sync with the ship. His throat burned as his stomach emptied itself onto his boots, the cramped space feeling smaller and hotter than it had before.

If only he had followed his instincts, he may have avoided his current predicamant altogether. Having been tracked through several villages for stealing and pickpocketing, he wrongly assumed he would be safer blending into the crowds of a larger city. His plan seemed to work for a while, laying low and taking to the streets only for necessities. He mentally kicked himself for letting his guard down and allowing himself to be captured. In his defense, he had put up a good fight and nearly escaped but was soon outnumbered and overpowered. Nadi had done a number on the first few guards before they had overtaken him, which was probably why he had received several extra beatings before getting stuffed into the dark belly of the ship.

Relief flooded over Nadi as the ship skidded to a halt along a sandy beach. It was short lived as taskmasters rushed about the vessel with their saps and whips swinging in every direction. Trying to stand, Nadi found his legs numb and stiff from the long voyage. His slowness earned him a strong whip across his left calf and a hiss escaped his dry lips as his leg buckled. If he hadn’t felt so disoriented, and his restraints were not so constricting, he would have lunged at his captor. Seeing the situation was not in his favor, he thought better of his actions and limped off the boat with the other captives.

The march inland was slow and heavy due to the shackles and his throbbing calf that subsided to a dull ache by the time they reached the second water crossing. There wasn’t much to take note of on the way, but Hunadi made sure to casually glance at the trees..or lack there of- incase he should return this way at a later date. Reaching the second water crossing, he knew better than to show his hesitation. Another damn boat... he cursed inwardly as they were herded onto the small vessels. It had been hard enough just hearing the water against the outside of the first ship, now being seated so close to open water was making his stomach tighten again and he leaned forward a little incase he was ill once more.

By the time the ferries reached the citadel, Hunadi was nearly ready to start begging to be let off. His head throbbed as his boots touched land again and he swayed against the chains unsteadily. While he wasn't fond of being captured and treated like a herd of goats, he had to acknowledge the lengths his captors had gone to in their attempt to hide their location.The dark ship, traveling deep inland through forests, and the citadel that loomed over them as they trudged nearer. It all was enough to make it seem like they had entered a new world. Which perhaps they had in a way. With his two biggest fears, water and confinement, working in unison against him Hunadi has lost all sense of direction. It had been a long time since he had lost his way entirely and he briefly thought of giving his compliments to one of the taskmasters when he felt better.

The last leg of their journey seemed endless, with steep steps and the threat of being branded with hot irons if they could not climb fast enough. Hunadi did his best to keep up with the group he was shackled to, not wanting to be the reason they were all flogged. His sore leg had begun to throb in time with his aching head and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to stay focused. Despite the echoing screams of torture, it was a miracle to hear the sound of chains and shackles being released once they had reached their cells. Nadi rubbed his wrists gently where his binds had chaffed and irritated his skin, shuffling to the end of a thin stone bench before easing himself down to sit and press his back against the wall. Tilting his head back, Hunadi eyed his fellow cell mates with little interest. He wondered how long they all would last before they began fighting over scraps. A day or two at the most judging by the screams and cries for mercy that echoed through the hallways.
Home, sweet home.. He mused blandly to himself, as the tension in his stomach began to fade.

Goonfire AriAriAbabwa escapist
​

 

[Corn Orc Vandal]

Khadija Aslan​

Group 1 ( BlueXBlood , Zazz , Xen6n , Aegis )​

Khadija leaned over the cart to see what the Seeker had written in her journal.

"Thank you for helping us. You've earned favor amongst the Seekers. - Aris Iyesgarth"

"Hah! Favor amongst the Seekers? That's no small thing, I'm sure. Well met, Aris. My name is Khadija Aslan of Axasterke. Pleased to make your acquaintance," Khadija said, giving a slight bow. The Seekers were proving to be good company, so far, now that they had some means of communication. Khadija took the flint from Aris, weighing it in her hand like it was some alien stone, foreign to this world.

Aris and Bal hobbled off the cart, and Khadija helped the former when she stumbled. What a sorry lot we are. I hope R'hllor is more dangerous than he looks, otherwise some bandits might make quick work of us, she considered, glancing at the man as he read from some ancient-looking tome. A scholar of the Order, perhaps. Khadija sat down and set about starting a fire, or at least trying to appear that way, as Bal limped over to the tent. Through some means, which seemed like some form of outlander magic to Khadija, she straightened the tent out to stand tall enough to accommodate more than two prone bodies. "Well done, and thank you!" Khadija said from her seat in the grass. "See? Not that hard to show a little gratitude." Khadija saw Bal's previously clean bandages grow red with blood and grimaced. Those were the last of the clean cloth she'd stolen during their mad escape out of Kildeo. Even she knew wounds should be treated with fabric not coated in blood and grime. Khadija let the matter rest for the moment; she sensed the gladiator's patience was wearing thin.

"It's a hidden gem among the lands of Kirlia, I wish I could've stayed there a bit longer than I did."

Khadija smiled at R'hllor's comment. Certainly it was a gem to her, and there was no place in the world like it. "Aah, so you have been to Axasterke. No amount of time there is enough, I'm afraid. You'll always wish to return." Again, she grew silent, introspective. Thoughts of home, and those in it, raced through her mind. She pushed the memories aside and redoubled her efforts banging flint against stone like some primitive at the dawn of time. She reflected that, hundreds of years ago, starting a fire to her people would have been second-nature.

"Khadija, where did you learn how to use magic?"

"Is a lady not entitled to some secrets? Some tricks up her sleeves?" She asked, giving a sly wink to the Seeker. "Unfortunately, the answer is rather mundane. The Imperial Academy teaches all students with magical aptitude rudimentary spells. Nothing too intensive, but I took a liking to it." Khadija set the stone down and held out her hand. A large golden coin, with R'hllor's face inlaid in profile, sat there. It felt real enough, heavy and cool against the skin. She tossed it to the man. Within a few hours, the coin would grow shimmery and faint before disappearing entirely. "Parlor tricks, really, just illusions. But they are quite fun, aren't they? No, the real magic is drawn out with that," Khadija added, nodding to her tanbur, a long-necked stringed instrument, in the cart.

After numerous attempts, sparks flew from the flint and caught on the small pile of tinder she'd gathered. "YES!" She exclaimed. The half-orc looked around for fuel to feed the fire. Dry grass. More dry grass. Grass as far as the eye could see, and not an ounce of kindling. Unless they planned to stoke the fire all night with grass, which would belch thick smoke endlessly, it looked like tonight would be without fire. "Well, it is a warm night, no? Perhaps no fire is needed," Khadija considered. She stomped the embers out so as not to start a wildfire on the steppe.

"You all are welcome to sleep in the tent; as for myself, I'll take first watch and rest in the under the stars tonight." Khadija knelt down and ripped a length of brocade fabric from the least-soiled part of her robes. She frowned at the ugly, jagged pattern it left, but there was nothing to be done. Khadija wordlessly handed the fabric to Bal before hopping onto the cart.

 

[Corn Orc Vandal]

Agonos Isles​

Group 1 ( Goonfire , Aegis , @Tool, @Daylight Fantasy).​

As the two skiffs glided closer to the shore, the rough likeness of people standing in the sand came into focus. They were ragged. Thin. Just frames of people in tattered hides, shimmering in the gentle heat. Cries of hope and cries of sadness traveled over the calm waters, and already those strong enough were wading into the shallows to greet the rowboats.

The Hesper’s first mate, a stocky dwarf with a matted beard and two missing fingers on his right hand, cursed as he watched the desperate people trudge towards them. “Right. Soon as you can touch the bottom, hop off and head ashore,” he said to their passengers. The rowers picked up their pace, the skiff’s wooden bow colliding with the first of many would-be boarders. The man, his face pockmarked with festering boils, begged to be let aboard, but he was shoved away. Eventually, the skiffs could row no further, surrounded in knee-deep water on all sides by the weak and the dying. The first mate recognized many of these sorry souls. The Hesper delivered many to the cursed island. Now, they wanted off. Their faces were warped by disease and desperation, but the first mate could make out one in ten at the very least.

“Alright, you lot know the drill!” He bellowed. “Women and children first, then we take on the rest!” In his ten years aboard the Hesper, he had delivered many youths to the island with their parents, hoping to cure their children of disease or save them from death. They never retrieved any children though. The island, and its inhabitants, was not kind them.

The skiffs were loaded up with the weakest of the refugees. Sailors shoved and cudgeled those who tried to throw themselves aboard without permission, lest the entire boat capsize. New arrivals to the island slinked away unnoticed for the moment while the attention was on potential escape. The skiffs filled as quickly as they emptied, and soon they were at capacity and driving off all seeking passage with club and oar.

“Please!” A cry cut through the din. A woman, her eyes beyond ruined, waded through the water. She shoved her way through the crowd, holding above her head a small bundle of rags. “Please,” she repeated, now pressed against the port side with water up to her chest.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no room,” the first mate said, hardening his heart.

“My baby. Take my baby,” she cried, holding out the bundle. The first mate paused, and gently took the woman’s burden from her with his rough and shovel-like hands. She felt the weight lifted from her, and cried tears of sorrow and joy from tattered sockets as she melted into the crowd. They pushed off into deeper water where only the strong followed, and even then not for long.

The sailor looked down hesitantly at the swaddling, slowly unfolding it. There was nothing within. No baby, just soiled rags.


Once ashore, the newly arrived were met with a similar swarm of islanders, this one healthier, less eager to leave. They hawked wares, offered services. Bodyguards, guides. Some promised enchanted trinkets made the Conclave’s very own mages, in exchange for any food or weapons they might have brought with them. A fair trade, they promised. Thieves rifled through pockets and snatched any loose belongings, dashing off with their ill-gotten goods before their victims realized what they’d lost.

On the outskirts of this mob, more patient, more dangerous predators stalked. They watched the newly arrived through sunken eyes, burning centroids of murder and malice.

 

[Aegis]

​

Group 2 ( BlueXBlood Corn Orc Vandal Xen6n Zazz )​

After the party turned in for rest, the long night did sink its teeth fully into their weary and aching minds. It had been a long journey for all of those who had seemingly gathered through happenstance; for some, it was a physical burden, and for others it was a profoundly more mental one. The harsh heat of the steppe gave way to twisting zephyr that seemed to bumble through the grasses before glancing at the skin of those gathered around a fading, flickering flame in the vast expanse of black that was this uncivilized place. The unforgiving chill of night sapped the warmth from whomever left skin exposed from under blankets for now-harsh gales of the steppe.

Dust hurtled itself violently from the parched lands of Hakugei--sand infesting the mouths and throats of those unaware of the harsh nights of the Steppe. It was a long night. A long night of tossing and turning and holding their covers up in hope of dissuading the wind and dirt, but to no avail.

By the time the sun breached the inky black, the night was another battle to notch onto the belt of the ever-weary travelers. The carriage was now home to several piles of sand and dirt, each member of the group stood to have similar substances spill from their clothes, the unbearable cold giving way to a brief respite of heat before they began to get cooked once more. Truly, the lands here were for the desperate and the experienced.

It was a quick departure toward the Dragon-Tooth Spires--eagerness in their steps, as the horses drew their carriages from beyond the parched and dismal lands of Hakugei and into something greener and more forgiving. The sun seemed to bite with less strength, birds chirped with a light-hearted delight, and if one listened they could even hear the gentle flow of nearby creeks. The foot of the Dragon-Tooth Spires was a land of plenty nestled in a valley, and many great hunters and explorers often ventured out here. However, their journey only began here.

Looking upward, the colossal cliffs carved their impression deep into the sides of stonework that jutted into the very clouds themselves. Who knew how many animal trails and forgotten paths laid buried in their guts? Who knew what mysteries dug themselves into the embrace of that harsh land? Aris and R'hllor knew of one such path, but how many others were there?

The carriage veered away from the lush basin they were headed toward and onto a gravel path that seemed to snake up the Spires for as far as the eye could see. Wooden wheels groaned as the ground beneath shrank to a size that was far less developed--the wagon mere inches from a sharp hundred foot drop onto spikes of granite. The wind beat down on them with a great fury, their lungs unable to catch a full breath, but still the party pushed on. They pushed on until the land they knew bled grey from the green and only lichen and the stoutest of trees still remained. They pushed on until they were forced to dismount and get behind the wagon to push; the horse too tired to continue on its own.

Despite having been there already once, even Aris and R'hllor may have begun to doubt whether the Sanctuary was a real place, yet just as evening began to firmly set on the mountains their struggle was rewarded. The harsh upward trail finally levelled out to an open flat with an almost railing that had been built up to allow one to get close to the edge and peer over at the sights below: a lush forest of blue and green cutting along the base of the mountains. More importantly, though, there seemed to be nowhere further to climb, and while the two Seekers knew what to do from here--the Sanctuary obscured just at the other side of the flat, it was the ultimate time to decide whether to bring the other two on. Their last chance to shape things exactly how THEY wanted. Then again, they had already come this far together...

 

[BlueXBlood]

Group 2 - Aris, R'hllor, Khadija, and Bal'Kafaz ​

As the day was spent toiling in an attempt to trudge closer to the sanctuary, it was easy to become bitter toward the harsh lands, the Hakugei Steppe especially. A few unprepared nights in such a place could quickly lead to an eternal loathing of dust, mountains, and anything resembling a slight windy chill. Aris learned not to hate it after her few years of traveling for one reason or another, but truthfully, it was impossible to grow fond of. Not the sensation of sand invading your clothes, at least, which Aris still had yet to wash off from Prigalla.

But that was the least of her worries... R'hllor occupied the least of the half-elf's thoughts, as she knew he was accustomed to the varying landscapes as well, and even the gladiator earned little concern from her, as she doubted any offer of assistance would be appreciated anyway. Rather, it was the bard she considered. Aris had found herself watching Khadija every now and then, just to see how she was holding up. Yes, her incompetence as an outdoorsman contributed faintly to the half-elf's concern, but the bard's attitude also had her intrigued. The fabric of her clothes, torn for the sake of the gladiator, and the cold night endured without complaint. She still had a long way to go before Aris would grow fond of her, exactly, but it was enough to earn some level of respect, which Aris expressed unconsciously through moments of quiet attentiveness.

As the terrain started to grow stoic and grey, it was beginning to resemble what Aris was more familiar with seeing at the end of her long missions. Not the noble stature of Iyesgarth, no... Rather, the previous sanctuary she had made a home of in the Northeast. Another decaying fort, enclosed in the depths of the mountains, overlooking the rolling hills and plains. Grand in its isolation, as she imagined every other sanctuary was after encountering the one they were in the process of coming upon. Reminiscent of each other in every way, save for the pervasive emptiness of the latter. Having lifeless tapestries of older days representing the sanctuary's history instead of cynical mercenaries and self-interested rogues almost made one's perception of the Order feel innocent and virtuous again, though a far cry from what it's been in many years.

For the past few weeks, however, Aris hadn't minded as much. For once, it felt like she had found a place to separate from her tiring life, either as a sell-sword or as a soldier. She had only gotten to rest there for a short while before meeting with R'hllor and leaving for Prigalla, but even just for a few days, the peace and tranquility were priceless. She could serenade herself for hours on the terrace with her ocarina if she wanted to, and there was nothing to interrupt her. It left her with feelings of anticipation in the present moment, the sanctuary being a reward at the end of this coarse road.

As the panorama of the verdant landscape came into view from below, Aris was almost caught off guard, brought to a momentary halt. Though the sanctuary was the true prize of respite at the end of their tedious journey, the experience of witnessing such a sight still felt like a soft kiss from nature to bless the weary travelers who made it this far. It certainly left Aris enamored, though she was a tad bit embarrassed to get distracted so easily, pulling the brim of her fedora over her face slightly and pressing on. She didn't want to be the one to hold the group back over pretty scenery, as gratifying as it was to stop and stare. Especially when none of the rest had been to the sanctuary, forcing her to lead and choose their paths.

It wouldn't be long before they'd arrive, and Aris held on to the thought. At that point, she cared less for whether or not the two half-orcs joined them for a few days. She simply wanted to rest for a while.

[ Aegis , Xen6n , Corn Orc Vandal , Zazz ]​

​

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Group 3 Rohan Goonfire escapist​

Either the gods had long since abandoned her, or they could not bear to look at this place. Maybe it was a mix of the two? Maude wouldn't blame them. Nothing could go through this little seafaring trip and leave the same. Unlike the time of her apprehension, Maude remained silent. She had watched as other unfortunate souls tried to fight. Yelled and struggled against their captors. Yelped as the last of their courage was beaten away.

She knew better than to waste her breath. She lost. Hard. No amount of fight could change that.

Like a tamed giant, she walked with the rest of her shackled buddies, not even sparing a grumble. As the waves crashed against their ship, she sat in contemplation. Even as the slaver's light shone at her, she remained still. Clinging onto the one thing she had left: her dignity, which she knew was very much at stake.

And Maude needed whatever she could keep.

Upon reaching the Isle of Kupari, part of her stony facade finally cracked. Not of duress, but one singular chuckle. Dire amusement at the fact that she was sent here of all places. She could tell by the stupid grins on the captors' faces that they knew this. Their unmistakable sadism as they whipped sap after sap. Maude watched them with an unreadable eye. She'd been on their side of this coin—more than once. Funny how things work out, she thought.

Beyond that, she did not dare act out. As things were, her life was in the slavers' hands. And as long as this annoying, scratchy choker pulled her neck, she had no cards to play—no hands to play them with! So she walked where she was told to walk. Climbed (to the best of her ability) when the smug slavers demanded she climb. And trudged into her new cell.

It was the smallest bit of relief when their shackles disconnected. Still an awful—yet familiar—environment. Maude watched one of her prison mates scratch their legs with a tinge of envy. Oh, how she missed her bloodied hands already...

Now that they were alone, Maude was first to break the silence. I'm still here, she thought through dry laughter. "I'll bet these guys got a real kick out of sending a hand-less gal to do labor!" she remarked, making use of the stone ledge seat. "What do they think I can do? Lift crates by my teeth?" Her toothy grin sunk a bit at that. "Ah, piss, they would, huh? I know I would've."

 

[escapist]

Jac'aal the Vagabond - Group 3 ​

His captors' professionalism had become evident to Jac'aal in the moment the short devils had continued beating him, maybe even with increased motivation after his hood had fallen back, revealing his gruesome visage. He could still feel the parts of his body throbbing where their fists and weapons connected with his flesh. Not a usual reassignment and - he would have dared bet on this one - not by the average prisoners. The way they handled their small group and made sure the prisoners have no clue where they were, all of the little detail pointed out to the fact that Jac'aal found himself in big trouble. When he had been accused with witchcraft as if they were living in the previous century, he had thought he would get out of prison after a few week. Now, as he was standing on the boat and was listening one of his companion vomiting, he started questioning he would get out that easily. "Heuu" He couldn't help but started gagging, not out of solidarity but because the sounds and the acidic smell inspired his stomach to sway like the waves against the boat.

As they were led by the dwarves, Jac'aal's biggest problem was to follow the rythm of the other prisoners' steps, trying not to pull after himself or hold back anyone. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had turned out that there's a third lake within the final island where they got off the boat and were guided down on the winding slope. Jac'aal closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sense Harpy, the headless chicken, filled with his life energy. The chicken was still alive, he could tell for sure but besides a subtle sensation, he had no idea where his little friend had gone after he had gotten captured. Not like Harpy would be able to rescue him but sensing it still gave him a little stroke of hope.

"Finally...!" He thought as the cell's door opened and one of the many shackles, that had been biting in his flesh, got off of him. With an almost relieved sigh he strolled in the cell, finding himself the darkest corner and threw his massive, weary body down on the ground, the subtle shadows hid his twisted face just enough to feel himself relaxed. He savoured the first peaceful moment since he had met with the dwarves, catching his breath and trying to find the most comfortable position in the corner. The floor under him was wet and cold - he wanted to get out here already. Restless soul.

He smirked as he heard the woman with a robust physique matching with his own, complaining about the lack of her hands; Jac'aal could tell that none of them were here out of coincidence "I heard they said I would endure the corvee" He said, his raspy voice echoes unpleasantly in the silence of the cell. Jac'aal had been in enough cell to know that a wrong word and the inmates end up slaughtering each other but staying quiet wasn't one of his strengths. "So why don't we put together any information we have?" He adressed the others, sounding more like an advice than a question.

Goonfire Rohan AriAriAbabwa​

 

[Nebulous Stars]

Group 4 | Rael, Eibor, and Quart
The Forests Southwest of Iyesgarth ​

A soft wind drifted through the forest where a bird and a man gathered together, carrying the slightest distant noise. As they settled in next to each other and spoke, something grew closer, first becoming audible after their first exchange. It was an eerie noise, a shuffling step, dragging through the undergrowth. Something moved in the darkness with inhuman strangeness, something unnatural too these woods.

When it emerged fully visible it didn’t get much better, a strange shape in the darkness stumbling forwards. It seemed like nothing so much as some sort of shambling undead, creeping aimless and uncontrolled through the woods. The quiet groaning mumble now audible didn’t help, wordless sound with a little too much gurgle and roughness for comfort.

The moment was however fully ruined when it took another step forward and there was an audible thump, immediately followed by it jumping up and down clutching its hand at its foot and audibly swearing, “Where the fuck did that root come from, I swear I was looking right at that damned patch of ground. Gods I need proper boots.”

It was at that moment the source of the now clearly feminine voice looked up and made a noise that could be best classified as a squawk of surprise, falling over on her ass as she realized she had unexpected company in the woods. Wide eyes now shone from under what was revealed to be the hood of an old gray cloak, small cracks lighting up her eyes in a very literal sense and a myriad of colors. She blurted out, “Where did you even come from?”

Earlier

Quart was, in a word, lost. Granted she hadn’t actually been found at any point, not having any particular destination or map. Still, wandering through the woods at night was much less than ideal. She should have found a safe place to curl up and rest a while ago but she had been distracted with foraging in the evening and lost track of time. Now she was just being stubborn and trying to find some relatively clear ground. She was used to sleeping rough, but she still wanted to minimize how much her bones hated her in the morning.

Perhaps she should have lit up the night, but while a basic lamp spell was something even she knew how to do, she hadn’t been able to get it any less than blindingly bright in years. Seemed more trouble than it was worth, especially with how it destroyed her night vision and was lost to any significant distraction. If she was to be honest, there was something comfortable about picking her way through the woods, a quiet peaceful solitude, just her, the trees, the breeze, and all the little critters.

That didn’t mean it was perfect though, the aches in her bones were starting to rise above normal levels, and she could tell she was getting tired and distracted. She would need to stop soon one way or another. The ground beneath her feet had drawn her eye too much, half watching where she stepped, half considering whether it was worth paying the price of morning aches for earlier mistakes.

Unfortunately it didn’t save her from the mossy root into which her shoed foot firmly slammed. The blinding flare of pain at least woke her right up as she hissed and danced the dance of a badly stubbed toe. Her annoyance with herself didn’t have long to last though, as she then happened to look up and see a man and a bird sitting under a tree, witnessing her embarrassment.

She promptly fell on her ass, utterly startled to find other people in the forest. She could feel the fear pulling her magic into her eyes, but in the hopes that they were peaceful she first called out, “Where did you even come from?” Hopefully they wouldn’t see the wince afterwards, she had never been a talented speaker, and not having spoken to another person in months doesn’t seem to have helped.

[ @LumeNym , @Rusty of Shackleford , BlueXBlood ]​

 

[Corn Orc Vandal]

Khadija Aslan​

Group 1 ( BlueXBlood , Zazz , Xen6n , Aegis )​

The night hard for Khadija.

It was not the cold or the wind or the darkness that disturbed her. It was the solitude, and the thoughts that came with it. The sting of whipping sand against her face reminded her of home, a welcome pain. Khadija’s mind went out and came back and went out again like a ranging dog, exploring all of the darkest avenues of her mind. Here she was, divested of all that she had been, origins as remote as her destiny. Those she cared for either thousands of miles away or gone from this world entirely.

If only my heart was hewn from stone.

There was little to do on her vigil, and even less to see, even with her keen eyes attuned to the darkness as they were. She had half a mind to wake Bal just for the dull conversation that might ensue, but Khadija knew the wounded gladiator needed rest for the journey ahead. So she waited and watched and tormented herself for lack of better alternatives.

Sleep never came for her, so Khadija did not wake the others until the eastern sky turned a deep cyanic blue.


As they marched through the grasslands, Khadija chattered inanely, sharing stories of little consequence and what she knew of the surrounding regions, their kingdoms, their rulers. Reinvigorated by their companionship, such as it was. She studied flora and fauna, enthralled by the greenery, of which she had never seen the likes of before. The musician silently regretted lending her journal to Aris, for she wished to try her hand at sketching some of these green wonders, but let the thought go. Instead, Khadija simply admired the flowers of this strange land, each a novel wonder. With gentle reverence, Khadija gathered a few, weaving them into the dark tresses of her hair—blossoms of yellow and pink, living tokens of this lush world. She marveled at foreign birdsongs, mimicking their cries with a singsong voice and was endlessly delighted when they replied in earnest. The hem of her robe grew damp with the morning’s dew, a phenomenon both alien and amusing to her. Khadija wondered why the Seekers hadn’t established their base here, in this peaceful valley.

As the land rose under her feet and they ascended out of the verdant basin, Khadija’s ramblings tapered off. Up until this point, the traveling had been uncomfortable, but tolerable. Flat ground, sitting in a wagon, a climate familiar to her body. The flourishing trees gave way to thin whisps of life eking out a place in the rocky soil. The trail grew narrow and steep. Her muscles screamed with a pain unfamiliar and crude. Her breaths grew ragged. Her skin slick with sweat and grime. Each step took a titanic effort, and the half-orc's sunken eyes fixated on her feet beneath her. Khadija feared her spirit might falter if she looked anywhere else. Above to the mountain peaks and she might lose hope, seeing them tower over her with so much further to go. Below, to the pleasant meadow, and she would abandon her efforts and seek refuge in the streams and shade. Her robes snapped in the wind as she pressed onwards, head down like some whipped penitent.

Legs shaking with fatigue, Khadija felt the terrain level out, and she collapsed into a pile of robes and flowers. “Is your sanctuary nearby?” the bard asked miserably, her chest rising and falling heavily. No quips or jests this time. She'd concealed her fatigue well enough up to this point, a sort of bullheadedness she drew upon that often got her into trouble, but Khadija was at her breaking point. If they were nowhere near, she had half a mind to just lay there among the rocks until the buzzards stripped her flesh and the sun bleached her bones.

 

[Zazz]

GROUP 2: Corn Orc Vandal BlueXBlood Xen6n Aegis

With every step up the mountain, Bal's thighs burned and ached. Days of lying in a cart, unconscious and wounded, had done a number on her endurance. She was used to perhaps half a day of rest after a particularly rough battle, maybe two if she had fared worse for more coin. But sedentary life weakened her muscles, as did malnutrition. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she just needed a decent meal.

She had seen a few mountain goats on the way up, when she wasn't taking a turn pushing the back of the wagon. It was all she could think about when she *was* pushing. Her wounds from the sand hydra's bite had, at the very least, scabbed over, but the sand and dust made them itch. Bruises from every other beast darkened her skin an unpleasant blue-green.

At the plateau, the loudly dressed bard collapsed to the ground, and Bal's legs faltered. She held onto the cart so as not to meet the ground, even as her heart pounded in every muscle. She felt as though she would be sick if she walked any further.

"I can't," she breathed, just loud enough for the wood of the wagon to hear her.