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Fantasy Banners & Blood (Closed)

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Introduction

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Oakheart. A sleepy village nestled in the southern Deep Wood. Four days ago, Old Symas missed his shipment. It’s something he’s never done in twenty years of driving caravans back and forth from Glewick City.

Rumors began to fly. Some said he was deep in his cups and got his throat slit. Others spoke of the Old Ones’ return and their wake of destruction. None knew for sure. Whatever it is, the chill wind at midday and the murder of crows that seem everywhere and nowhere speak of danger.

Something is wrong. And everyone can feel it.

You stand in the common room of Hook’s rundown tavern. The old barkeep ignores the commotion from the town meeting and wipes glasses with a dirty dishrag. Mayor Brander lifts his bulk from his seat and raises a hand to quiet the crowd.

“Quiet,” the Mayor says. The crowd complies. He gestures to you all as he speaks. “So, then we are agreed? The people you see before you will be sent to investigate why we haven’t had our supply shipment in nearly a week? All in favor, say ‘aye!’”

The crowd murmurs a majority, “Aye.”

You’ve been chosen.


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Chapter 1: First Blood

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The road out of Oakheart is muddy and overgrown. A fog has settled in the Deep Wood making even the morning light seem tainted by shadow. The trees lean into the path as if to block you from reaching the Glewick City. Crows line the branches above, keeping a sharp eye for anything to pick off.


The city is three days north, mostly through the Deep Wood, mostly uphill. In a day-and-a-half you'll arrive at the Sleepy River to cross the bridge. Further on, the wood will give way to plains, and then finally the city.

But now, you're just starting out. This morning has a chill about it. Up on the wagon, Gillie rubs her arms and chest, trying to warm up. Raes, her father, glances at her from his seat next to her and shakes his head. They've been hired for their covered wagon and mule. Should supplies actually be out there somewhere, it's their job to bring them home.

"Jus' the beginnin', darlin'," Raes says. "Get used to it."

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Raes
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Gillie
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Alysha

Alysha quickens her pace to get alongside the mule and looks up at the two of them. "If we keep moving, we should be fine," she says. "It'll warm up as the day goes on." Alysha is Oakheart's sheriff. She's here to ensure the job goes smooth and you don't run off. She left her deputy in charge back in town. As if on queue, she glances at you all.

What do you do?

 
Elias was keeping pace with the wagon, walking on its right. He held his threaded cane in his right hand, rotating it with his thumb, and his pistol occasionally poked out from beneath his coat on his left hip. On his back hung his unique weapon and his livelihood; the whirligig saw. The long-handled mace that acted as the weapon's base hung from a sling over Elias's right shoulder, and the large twin circular saws that gave the weapon its name hung from small specialized hooks closer to his center, its many teeth gleaming ever so slightly in the faint morning light.

"I don't mind the cold so much," Elias spoke up, loud enough so all the others could hear, "but I do hope this fog lifts soon. It simply wouldn't do for us to pass by our quarry because of it. Although," he paused to glance about, "with so many sets of sharp eyes on the lookout it seems unlikely, even in this dense wood. At the very least I know our Silvestris companion could spot it, even if it were in the black of night!"

Elias had Hunted many a beast in the Deep Wood, and to him it always felt like the forest held some deeper mystery in its quiet depths. If the man they were looking for, Symas, had indeed met his fate in the Wood, then Elias believed unnatural creatures may be at work, a thought that excited him greatly. He hadn't had a good Hunt in quite some time, and the itch was always present.

Sadly, however, Elias doubted it'd be that easy; chances were they'd have to travel all the way to Glewick before the man's trail could be picked up, and they had only just set out. I'll just have to brace myself for three uneventful days of travel, Elias thought with just the slightest bit of disappointment.

 
Tanner wasn't with the main convoy. The moment they had departed Oakheart, Tanner had vanished into the tree line. Occasionally he would return to the road to make sure the convoy was still heading in the same direction, before vanishing once more into the mist and shadows. He didn't feel all that comfortable working with such a large group, too many people, too many targets. They drew too much attention to themselves, and just invited trouble.

He was several meters ahead of the convoy right now, slowly making his way back towards the road for his regular check in. Stepping onto the road, Tanner walked back towards the rest, before falling into step silently next to the wagon on its left, his long cloak covering most of his body, and only his eyes emerging from beneath the hooded cowl.

Putting his bow on his back, Tanner waved his hand through the air, the wind itself suddenly becoming thicker and visible. Slowly, currents of the thicker air flew in from numerous directions, all coalescing into a single orb of rotating air. Tanner briefly brought his nose close to it, taking a deep breath, before shaking his head and dispersing the air.

There was nothing, and that did not sit right with him.
 
"Well, I do mind it," From underneath an assortment of satchels, coats, and glass beakers, Finch mumbled to anyone close enough to hear over the clinking of his wares. The air was thick, and the deceased, furred creature nearby didn't smell particularly lovely. Finch had fallen into a sour mood; he was buried under heavy clothing and every item he had first toted to Oakheart, frustrated having to play the role of his own pack mule over the nimble explorer he ached to awaken. "It's way too muggy to see. And I'm so clatter-y we could be trailed from right behind and no one would notice!"

Though he joked and followed along, he really didn't agree with their big, obvious formation. Tanner had the right idea here, slinking about and assessing every tiny detail of the environment so fluidly. Noteworthy smells and subtle but questionable noises could not reach Finch - or anyone in his immediate area, he suspected - over the aromas of potions he had scrambled to gather or squishes with every muddy step he took. Ugh, and that dead thing, it reeked.

So instead of trying to compromise, or improve his disposition, Finch simply huffed and continued to complain. "This shipment couldn't wait a few hours?" It couldn't. The young'in hadn't been able to identify what he wanted out of an answer. The caravan had already departed, the town needed its supplies. They'd be very lucky if they had not been tampered with already. Though he made it out to be so, his personal inconveniences did not outweigh the town's needs. He knew this, and after he'd said it, Fin sniffed and fidgeted with his collar, embarrassed.
 
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Cave etiam silvae opacae, beware the dark forest. Occulta de tenebris suum, the dark secrets of his own. The Deep Woods between Oakheart and Glewick City can only be described as a sick man's dream: a drowsy wraith that hangs over the land and pervades the air. The diseased trees bent in monstrous ways: low-hanging branches, hollow trunks, and the ominous creaking of rooks wheeling overhead. A nightmare for the living. A plague that passed and revelled in it's destruction. Ash walked on the balls of her feet through the mud left from the yesterday of rain, careful to never dig with her toe or heel into the mud lest she gets stuck.
Ash was the embodiment of grace; where Finch's feet warred with the mud, she walked on it like air.

Ash was positioned in the front of the caravan—the main vanguard with Tanner scouting ahead of her. A personal decision for herself, had she chosen to walk on the left or right of the caravan, she would've had to make conversation with the younger hirelings (they were young, was her first impression of the group. Iiolete, Finch, Faythe, Nemeia, and Eldor most of all. Young), and juxtaposed to the front, had she been placed in the back, she would've scoffed at them all. The ungainly movements, the loud characters (she enjoyed working with Elias once upon a time in Longcopse, but nothing more. She wouldn't have a drink with him), and would stare at the extraneous races. She would never admit this but she did stare, her sea-green eyes fixated on the strange.
The Forty Elephants was a modest and Gothic-worked ship run exclusively by humans and dwarves. Call her prejudiced, but she didn't like the non-humanoid races. It was too much work—the tails, the fur, and ... other things, and she would stare while they worked. Ash understood the anatomy of Tieflings, Aasimar, Sylvestri, et cœtera because she read several books and studied their shape and culture, but still, it was humans and dwarves that she had a proclivity for.
Simple and easy.
Large and small.

She turned her head back to the caravan horses behind her. Sometimes they were slower, other times she could feel their breath on her neck. It was a busy quest of travellers, but for her, it was too much. She understood precaution but this was a classic dictionary number twenty-six thousand and forty-three: excessive. Two trained hires would've sufficed for the journey through Deep Woods, but instead, eight.

She exhaled with exhaustion, her breath visible in the warm air.
Warm air.

Her breath was cold where air the was warm. She squinted, noticing the fog rolling in quicker and thickening, as if the wind's direction had changed, as if someone has reversed the poles. 'Wait—' Ash suddenly ordered, stopping in the middle of the road. Elias was right, the fog was curdling with forest growing phantasms. Ordinary fog and mist was made of cool, condensed water, but not this. This was two antithesis side-by side: cold fog, warm air. 'The fog—I ... it's not right.'
 
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Tanner ignored most of their words, content to focus his attentions on the world around him. The smallest details could mean the difference between life or death in this world, something those with experience understood. And as much as it irked him, Faythe was right. A wagon as burdened with supplies as the one they were looking for would have left tracks. It was one of the things he had been looking for since the moment they left Oakheart. There were beasts capable of lifting entire wagons off the ground with ease, but even they would have left tracks behind. They were dealing with another kind of threat entirely.

"There are no tracks for miles in any direction except for ours. It appears as though no one has traveled this way for quite some time. Wherever this merchant we are looking for is, it doesn't seem like he came this way." His words were softly spoken, barely carrying across the convoy as he turned his head, watching the mist approaching. Drawing his bow, Tanner briefly dipped his hand into his cloak, pulling it back out covered in a light purple liquid. He quickly ran his fingers down the bowstring, covering it thoroughly. The last thing he needed was for it to break in these conditions.

Turning to Ash, Tanner walked over quickly, his eyes never leaving the forest. "I feel eyes on us, but I could not find them. Your thoughts?"

Ronan Ronan
 
Iiolete van Rutthe

Convoy indeed. Iiolete couldn't help but recall the great wagon trains moving across the plains out east, hundreds of wagons hitched together and plodding along to their fortunes. They had great roaring fires heated by the scat of their draft animals, stars above moving around in their ether so quickly it was hard to keep up, that was a wagon train. This was a well funded death march.

Iiolete's own wagon followed along behind the supply wagon in their little convoy, her gloved hands loosely holding the reigns of a pair of horses. It was pleasant being up off her feet but the path they were taking out of Oakheart was foreboding to say the least. The Deep Woods were one of those last bastions of untamed wild, free from the sort of constraints that sentients placed on their surroundings. This world they plodded through wasn't theirs yet, it was the wilds.

Not that it caused Iiolete feel any fear, the great Iiolete van Rutthe afraid of a measly forest. Still, she had her rifle loaded beside her as she led her wagon along. As well as a few more preloaded just in case. Her wagon was brightly painted and held a copious amount of gunpowder in it, painting her a target but right now, Iiolete felt that the best thing to do was remain so overt, it'd be covert.

Letting her wagon follow along she called down to the trudging alchemist, a smile on her face. "Oh Finch, my little bird, you know you could have put all that stuff in my wagon. It was a cheap offer." Her tone manufactured to seem care free. "Plus if it's foggy, means moisture, tracks will fill in quick in that mud."

PJ-Flash PJ-Flash
 
Finch glanced up toward Iiolete and gave her a grin, grateful, but stubborn. He preferred to have all of his necessities at arms' length should a conflict develop, although they would without a doubt slow him down greatly. Her offer was kind nonetheless - he wouldn't normally be one to pass on extra breathing room. Something about this forest put him off, however.

"Do you have any room around all that powder?" Finch quipped, his grumpy tone lightening. He shuffled his inventory around now that the ache in his muscles was on his mind, moving bags filled with pointless luggage from shoulder to shoulder. One contained pots, pans, and utensils. Finch didn't cook at all, so as he studied the satchel hooked around his elbow, he wondered why he'd packed it at all. There were other smaller bags, one brimmed with navigational items, including three compasses they really wouldn't have to use. Empty tubes to store ointment, old tinderboxes that were tougher to use than simple magic. The only items he'd really needed for this trek that their caravans didn't already carry were his own brews and weaponry.

He really should've taken her up on that.

Instead, given that the opportunity had fluttered away for the next little while, Finch pushed himself to persevere, briefly mulling over her comment about muddy tracks. This was his first chance to prove he stood on the same ground as the rest of the company, not as just their flimsy alchemist, but also his own wagon that could hold his own stuff. There were more important things he'd like to show off, but those should be saved for another more appropriate time. He was young, still learning, and small, but wouldn't allow himself to be seen as less than his companions. He'd been assigned to this mission for a reason, and he'd show exactly why! Hoo-rah!

The mud occurred to him again as he sank into a nasty puddle, coating the soles of his boots in grime and interrupting his roaring thoughts. "Hm. It's a blessing an' a curse, hey? We might have missed an important trail in all the muck." He glanced behind him to watch his heavy footprints, and the divots of the wheels, snaking through the dirt. If a crucial set of prints had been buried just a few hours before, they may be in trouble.

Teh Frixz Teh Frixz
 
"Why is there so much fog?" Voxi sighed. He was trailing far behind the group. He wasn't falling behind, but he still separated himself from the rest of the group. He had his own little torch, a small flame just barely missing the tip of his finger. "Mud is disgusting..." He also, for some unknown reason, had a cat crawling on him, occasionally sitting on his shoulder. From what Naehorn murmured, it was revealed that the cat's name was Ruth. It seemed to be a conjured pet that he could summon and dismiss at will. "You still holding that offer to let people use your wagon?" He asked Iiolete. He might actually take her up on that offer, seeing as he needed a place to store his physical weapons. He started to realize it was incredibly cold, although that may have been because he doesn't have a very good immunity for it. His breath was visible now, and the personal torch at his fingertips began to weaken.

He began to track a lot of mud on his boots, being obviously disgusted. "I'd continue complaining, but I don't really feel like wasting that energy." He laughed to himself and attempted to strengthen his torch fire, to no avail, which was clearly aggravating. Ruth vanished in a cloud of smoke, and Voxi gave up on his torch fire and attempted to clear the fog.

 
Eldor stands in a corner of the wagon, keeping his eyes hidden under his hood, yet watching every move of the others. He wasn't ready to trust them, at least not yet. He was born into a family of blacksmiths, but hadn't clung to the family profession, and he had spent many days in the woods, hunting or observing. Legs getting stiff in the cold air, Eldor slunk around the short perimeter and deposited himself on the straw covered floor. A bit of dark hair flopped out from under his hood, and he pushed it back grunting with annoyance.
At his grunt, several heads turned to look at him, and he shied away from their glances, looking for a place to go, and finding none, he shrank into the shadows and started to tear apart pieces of straw, as if that would stop people staring at him. He hated them for looking, he hated them for being there, and most of all, he hated them for existing.

OFA
(seems like he really likes them! not....)
 
As Ash ordered the caravan to stop, Elias moved to stand next to her and Tanner. Though he knew the ranger's question wasn't directed at him, he decided to chime in anyway. "Look about us, Ranger. The trees are bent and densely packed; if anything is watching us, I'd say it would do so from up there, instead of risk getting caught in the undergrowth. As for this fog," Elias began to speculate, pausing to take a deep breath, "it is indeed unusual. The heaviness reminds me of smoke, but I can't smell anything burning. Kind of makes me think we're about to walk into something dangerous, or at least its aftermath. How exciting!" He became notably more energetic at the thought, slipping his cane away underneath his coat and drawing his saw, sliding the mace into a slot on the blades' mechanism with a loud mechanical clunk.

Elias briefly turned back to the rest of their company. "Eyes and ears open, everyone! Tanner believes we're being watched, and the gut of a Ranger is rarely wrong. Be prepared for anything going forward."

Turning back to the road, Elias took a confident step forward. "Standing around won't get us anywhere. Let us proceed, and deal with whatever dares come our way."

 
Grunting at Elias's words, Tanner nonetheless nodded his consent. Turning to the two of them, Tanner briefly gestured towards the path further into the forest. "Advance slowly, the path further ahead begins to become less tamed than this. We cannot afford for the wagons or horses to be lost. And keep a whether eye on the tree line, and above, as our...friend here says." Nodding his head to them, Tanner turned away.

Rather than walking forward with the rest of the convoy, Tanner walked further back, approaching Eldor who was standing to the side. Tanner had noticed him the moment they set out, and tales of what the Hunter could do were known far and wide, and even the Rangers respected it. Tanner had yet to see whether or not the stories were true, but only time would tell.

"It does not sit well with me to be the prey. You up for a bit of hunting?" His words were short and harsh, the agitation and unease in his voice leaking into his actions. When he was finished speaking, he reached down and took out his flask, taking a long drink from it, before wiping his mouth and offering it up to Eldor.

Aimless Vagabond Aimless Vagabond Hestialuna Hestialuna Ronan Ronan
 
At Elias' compliment, Faythe simply shrugged beside him, refusing to divide her attention from the path ahead of them. With Faythe atop her warmblooded mare,, their combined strides made a strange rhythm on the sinking mud, a bit like a hand drummer with one hand playing two-four time and the other three-four time. One went faster than the other, but they still covered the same amount of ground. Her green eyes flashed like lanterns in the haze, contemplating her surroundings, as she half-listened to her other companions' conversations. Since embarking on their mission, Faythe has seldom spoken, not having anything of merit to say and content with being left to her own devices.

The Silvestris fell into a daze wholly uncharacteristic of her, and started out of it when the convoy slowed to a halt. Even with the sun muted by the thick foliage above, her body was trained to rest at this hour. She lifted her chin, alert, as she watched the exchange between Ash and Tanner intently. They seemed to have made themselves the leaders of their party, as the couple oldest of them all, but Faythe didn't consider herself far behind Ash's one-and-thirty at her own eight-and-twenty. She seemed competent enough, but Faythe harbors an inherent, deep mistrust of anyone who could rise to a position of authority, a captain, under the age of thirty, and stay there.

Her ears perking at the word "hunt," she dismounted, trudging ahead in her mukluks to approach Tanner and the half-elf from behind. Bored, and not having had the have to kick the ranger's ass after their last meeting, a bit of hunting would do her some good.

"You're starting them early, eh?" Faythe purred, before the boy had a chance to reach for the alcohol, "you won't find any game at the bottom of a bottle."

Aimless Vagabond Aimless Vagabond
Grammatic Grammatic
Hestialuna Hestialuna
Ronan Ronan
 
Eldor looked up to Tanner in disgust. How could the man drink before a hunt, it would muddle the senses, obscure sight and take away the feel, what made hunting so great. As Tanner offered the flask to Eldor, he made up his mind, no hunting with him, ever. Eldor lived by a rule anyhow, he worked alone. In his 19 years of life, (He's underage anyway, but who cares about that in fantasy...) Eldor had come up with this rule, he tried group work in the past, only ending up with the other resenting Eldor just as much as he resented them in the beginning.

Despite this rule, Eldor didn't want Tanner to think him weak, so he spoke back "No, I hunt by myself, I'll start out with you, but I won't stay." With that, Eldor tucked his head into his cloak, and stayed there for a good while. Looking at the newcomer, Faythe if he recalled, he snarled at her as well, saying "didn't you hear me?"
marshmarrow marshmarrow Grammatic Grammatic
 
Nemeia Vie
Every few minutes, Nemeia somehow managed to stumble on an overgrown root. It didn’t matter whether she noticed the hazard or not, as there were always too many to keep track of. Her heavy armour wasn’t helping the situation either, making it more difficult to traverse the tricky pathway. Luckily, her years of experience somewhat aided the situation, with stamina beyond her years. Over time, she entered a rhythm, of routinely tripping over something. Nemi had heard tales of the Deep Wood, but had never actually travelled through it herself. Finally venturing through the forest, she had come to the conclusion of the rumours being true. With creeping plant life and an ominous fog, few venture through here out of choice. Nonetheless, she pressed on; she had a mission to complete.

Nemeia was positioned near the front, closest to a particularly beautiful woman, so that she could take the front of any attacks if they came. Seeing as their group was mainly comprised of rangers and rogues, she felt quite a bit of responsibility on her shoulders, especially as the only with one with heavy armour. She would’ve liked to have been placed right at the front, but seeing as the well-dressed woman had already taken that position, she resorted to the front of the left side. As much as she tried to ignore it, the said woman kept on staring in her direction. It wasn’t only out of curiosity either, she could feel the judgemental aims. It wasn’t anything new of course, but she hoped the woman would satiate her curiosity enough by the end of the trip.

Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. It was the same kind of phenomenon that occurred when she realized she was being watched. But this was much more sinister. Many eyes were watching them closely, or at least, that’s what she felt. As the wagon stopped, a sense of gnawing paranoia consumed Nemeia, with a tinge of fear. Her eyes darted around her surroundings as her companions discussed the issue. Strangely, she could not locate the eyes watching them. But, she put her helmet back on in preparation for combat.

As they continued to travel forward, her suspicions grew as well. She swore she witnessed a shadow darting behind the twisted trees, but she wasn’t sure if she was becoming delirious or not. Constantly looking behind her, she was careful to ensure that everyone was still accountable. Noticing that the fog appeared to grow thicker, even for her darkvision, Nemi decided to take a glimpse at what was in front of them. She knew that one of their rangers had been scouting out the area in front for quite some time, but it was always useful to see the scene herself.

Unsheathing her blade, she whispered ancient words, as a growing spark of light appeared at the end of her sword. Swinging her weapon from the sky to the mud beneath her, the light flew through the fog rapidly, revealing most of the pathway, before disappearing completely. It was almost as if the fog had absorbed her light, as it grew thicker yet again. Usually her sparks of light last at least a minute before fading away. “It seems I shouldn’t use my light magic here…” Nemeia commented softly. Worried about the connotations of this, she began to ponder what the best course of action would be, apart from passing through the fog as quickly as possible.
 
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Grunting at Eldor's words, and the unwelcome intrusion of a person Tanner could only call a rival, he closed his flask, putting it back inside his cloak. Turning to face Faythe, Tanner glared at her for a few moments, before letting a brief smile play across his face. "The prey I hunt is not for food. Something is watching us, following us, and yet remaining outside of sight. If it is the same thing that took the merchant, I do not intend to wait here and let myself be taken by surprise. I hunt what hunts us." Turning away, Tanner began to walk towards the woods, his bow held loosely in his hand.

"It takes far more than a few drinks to make me lose my senses lad, and what I drink now is to help me ignore a pain that would divide my focus. Come, lets get started before we lose all the light of this day. Might as well come along as well Faythe, I would prefer to keep you in my sight, as not to surprise me." He didn't wait for a response from either, instead vanishing into the fog, consuming him in moments.

Hestialuna Hestialuna marshmarrow marshmarrow
 
Iiolete

"A fool and his party are soon parted. This is the Deepwood, don't go running off after things that aren't there. Haven't traveled this way before?" Iiolete drops her reigns as the wagon party came to a halt as she peers over to the party discussing running off into the woods.

"This is an outing with a company, I say we stick to our contract with the city and stay together. Y'all need to slow down and stop jumping at shadows." She locks her leads down and hops on down off her wagon, strolling through the mud in her gold inlaid boots. "Finch, there is always room for you in my wagon" She winks at him before meeting the elf Voxi at the back of the company. "The offer was in return for something, what do I get if I carry you?"

PJ-Flash PJ-Flash elie elie
 
Eldor looked at Tanner, eyes slits, yet still hidden. "Well, that is good for you now, isn't it. I have seen far too many humans get drunk easily to believe that." Not sure that Tanner caught his last words, yet glad at the same time, he turned his attention to Faythe. "Hunt much?" He didn't expect nor really want a reply, but felt the need to see if she would be competition for him as well.
At that moment, Tanners words to Faythe connected with his brain " Something is watching us..." It must be him, how could they know? No he thought, it couldn't be, there was no one else who knew. Unless... but no, she wouldn't have done that to him...
Grammatic Grammatic marshmarrow marshmarrow
 
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Ash bristled at Elias' words. Exciting? They could be the same and polar opposites all at once, Elias with his unbridled blood-lust and Ash with her matronymic 'compassionate blood-lust'. If he killed swiftly and without penitance, she killed with the heaviness of death on her heart—but they are the same: hunters. Murderers. No delicacy or cleverness would ease that blemish.

'They are children,' she hissed at him, loud enough for only his ears despite Tanner's presence on her other side. 'The one that makes a racket and the ... smaller hunter, they can't be adults yet.' It's true; when Ash first met them, she could only see cherubic faces that haven't reached maturity, the unlined foreheads, the soft skin, and lanky, still-growing figures.Young. For Elias, if he had a second name, it would be Reckless. Rallying does nothing if you're poorly positioned and dead. They needed to rethink their strategy for travelling: how far away was dusk, who was capable of fighting, and if worst comes to worst, what then? Return to Oakheart?

She inhaled and turned to Tanner this time and spoke loud enough for Elias to hear as the three of them marched forward along the downtrodden path, 'We should change our formation at least. We have a girl back there, a Silvestris,' she began, tilting her head back to gesture towards the one with hair of gold. 'They're a mammalian race, but her eyes, if she's a pure-blood, she could see in dark and perhaps, the fog, too. She should walk with me in the front. You two can each take a side of the caravan and that Elf—I don't remember his name, but—he seems capable enough to hold the back.'

A good enough start. They could make the corrections as they go.
Ash and Faythe at the vanguard.
Elias, Eldor, and Iiolete one side, Finch and Tanner on the other.
Finally, that Elf and Tiefling who's eyes were always on her (what was her name? Nylah? Nina? Something with N for sure) in the back.

Strong, secure, and most of all: safe.

She only hoped Elias and Tanner took her suggestion as they dispersed, leaving her alone in the front with the Tiefling adjacent from her. She was skittish, Ash decided. It was confirmed when she saw the Tiefling swing her sword just out eyesight, hoping to clear away the dense fog. It rolled back in just as quickly as it was pushed out. Enough, she wanted to say, but if Tanner and Elias agreed with her plan, the Tiefling would be far away from her in no time.

 
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Voxi smirked. "Well, you get the gratitude of helping someone in need, of course!" He remarked, being purposefully annoying. "But, if you do request something in return, I do have quite the coin to pay, if that's what you're looking for." He pulled out a few gold coins out of his pocket and tossed them to Iiolete. He was finally beginning to catch up with the group at this time. "This is quite the company we've got here..." He said, never acknowledging the size of the group until now.

It was bound to happen at some point. Moving a tree branch out of the path, Voxi accidentally released his grip early and he got cut by a great thorn on the arm. It reached up until his elbow. It was a minor cut, but still quite large. Voxi hadn't seemed phased by it, brushing his palm up the cut with a golden glow beneath his hand, as it gradually disappeared. It was almost as if it was a spill he was wiping up. He spent a good few seconds healing himself, and noticed he had gotten quite close to the caravan. He overheard others talking. He laughed slightly at what he heard. "Ha, glad to hear you think of me as capable." He murmured to himself.

 
Faythe stepped lightly, unease prickling the back of her neck as they strayed from the trail. She silently said good riddance to the half-elf, cursing the mayor for bringing him along. Barely out of his teens, he didn't seem that bright, and lacked the self-discipline and eloquence true masters of any skill possessed. It was odd, her thoughts switching to Tanner, to see the ranger in this capacity. They would normally be at each others' throats by now. She could stand to put her spite aside for a while, if it meant her survival, but in any other circumstance she would rather wear a collar and drink milk from a bowl.

She felt strangely at home here, the dense foliage and moist atmosphere similar to her homeland, but the haze surrounding them was just unsettling enough to stay on guard. Wherever cats were, Silvestri followed, and the species had colonies on almost every continent. Most, however, remained in the jungles and savanna--where they were at the top of the food chain. Although she lacked firsthand experience when it came to her species' cultures and customs, her extensive research has shown they are all fond of naps, some clans dedicating working hours of the day solely to rest.

Stifling another yawn, her misericorde seemed to materialize in her palm, another several odd blades hidden in her armor, her pockets, her boots. It was dark and misty, quiet. The pair stalked through the dense canopy of gnarled branches, poised flexibly to attack or flee. Living hand-to-mouth through her childhood and adolescence, Faythe learned quickly that any animal had the power to kill, but a sharp mind was as crucial as sharp claws when her life hung on the line.

Grammatic Grammatic
Hestialuna Hestialuna
 
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"Pfft. Room for things I make you, rather," A chuckle rumbling in his chest, Finch slid a pack from his shoulder, nearly spilling with spare clothing and miscellaneous trinkets, and plopped it into the box of the wagon. It felt great to lift a literal weight from his back, taking a moment to stretch his sore muscles in the group's pause. He waved Iiolete off as she bargained with another poor soul, an elf, he noted. "I owe you.. something. I'll figure it out later." He deposited another group of small pouches inside. Maybe with a lighter load, he'd be quick enough to keep up with the hunting group.

How cool would that be? The lives of his wandering companions felt rich and exciting to Finch, ripe with monstrous beasts and dungeons brimming with rare spoils. He was inspired by their free lifestyle, and though he wasn't a fantastic combat artist, partaking in one of their endeavors would wholly complete him. His encounter with Tanner had been an exhilarating experience. Tracking that slick and sneaky beast was the most fun he'd had in months, despite a few close scrapes they may have had with it. He'd been able to use his creations in battle, he watched an incredibly talented ranger perfectly track such sparse tracks and catch its faint scent on quick winds - it was something he'd never forget and had learned a lot from. He carried the token in his breast-pocket.

Unfortunately, the scout was disbanded by Ash's very imposing presence, and while it disappointed Finch that he would not be seeing or aiding in anything fantastic for now, a part of him couldn't help but agree. Compared to these veterans, he felt very, very small. His potions were helpful, but short-term, and in small quantity. Elias wielded a bloody mace-saw! Ash captained a whole pirate crew, and perhaps the scariest of all, Tanner could handle copious amounts of alcohol. He fell back a few strides, disheartened, next to Iiolete and the elf, whose name he couldn't remember. He felt bad, but he really couldn't recall. His presence wasn't as demanding as the others', so he just hadn't stuck around prominently in his head. He turned toward him and tried to memorise appearance rather than aura. And was that ever something... different. Usually, when Finch considered elves, he pictured obnoxiously fawned-over blond hair, pretty blue eyes, but this guy presented the complete opposite, save for that stiff posture and regal attitude.

He offered a smirk his way. "I'd be careful if I were you. One too many favors with Iiolete and you could be trapped in a hellish loop of gunpowder-making!" Finch joked to drown out his thoughts, which were crowded with the profiles of beasts he'd come across in library books. Many of those silhouettes could fit into the shadows beyond the road. He tapped the hilt of his dagger absently. That's right, monsters. You couldn't handle this blade.

Teh Frixz Teh Frixz elie elie
 
Ruth had appeared once more by Voxi's side, before suspiciously eyeing Finch and making attempts to jump at him. "Betrayed once more." Voxi laughed. "Hmph... As far as I know, the only favors that could be owed would be her owing me some. But regardless, I care not for them. You seem worried. What's on your mind, friend?" This was unexpected, even to Naehorn. He never spent time conversing with a band of people for this long. From here on, he practically burned every branch that was in his path. They seemed to be a waste of his time and energy.

Picking up Ruth, he muttered a few indistinguishable words, and stuffed her in a small pouch he had slung over his shoulder, which seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It would appear he took it from the caravan and emptied its previous contents. He didn't close the pouch, to give the small animal room to breathe and move around.

"Well, I suppose I should get to know the ones here. What's your name? What is it you... do?" He asked, immediately flooding Finch with so many questions. It wasn't like he could help it. If he was going to work with these people he might as well start by getting to know them.

 
Finch stuck his tongue out at the cat and took a few steps away from her fury. His smile never faltered as he listened to the elf's words. He was very precise, and eloquent. Akin to the professor at a lecture, he knew what to say and how to say it, words one would normally see on paper that held a more warm inflection. A majority of the people he spoke to carried accents or used simple slang - and he found a sort of friendliness in their words. Fancy speak, especially by word of foreigners, felt artificial. This was different. The tension in Fin's jaw relaxed, though he kept a wary eye on the cat's pouch.

"I don't think anybody's really happy with this place. I get a murky sort of feeling. We're - er, the big guys near the front, are thinking that something is nearby." He sniffed the air again, displeased with the scent. Though they had walked a fair distance since then, that stupid dead animal still tinged the breeze. The stench would attract scavengers. If there were any remnants of their tracks left, they could be easily followed. "The fog's a bit hard to breathe around, as well. Do you notice anything?"

Just to be careful, he turned his eyes toward the treeline once more, trying to peer into the dark. Almost nothing showed beyond the silhouettes of large ferns and the occasional shadow of a bird. Some short-lived pride bloomed in Finch's chest at being able to recognise the species of one.

Fin glanced back toward Voxi, looking pleased. "I'm Finch, like the little bird. I make potions and some herbal medicines." He gave a little wave in greeting, happy to make conversation. He really needed to take his mind of off the sickness that this forest bled. "What about you? Spells?" If it was all this fellow could offer, he'd have to teach him a thing or two about the natural magic of alchemy, charisma, and stealth.

elie elie
 

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