Porthca Landing II: Lost & Found

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Eliza felt she had had more than enough adventure on this trip already but fate had other plans in mind. As she heard the sound of crossbows and saw the more experienced members of the group readying for an ambush, she tapped her chest with her wand tip casting mage armor on herself.

She kept to the back of the group and cast her flaming sphere again knocking the bandits left and right. Simultaneously she fired magic missiles at the remaining members picking them off one by one.

With a sickening jolt she realized how unaffected she was by the killings. She mourned the death of her past life spent in now unimaginable comfort and luxury. This life of dirt and fighting was her constant now.

As she Tyrius lift the bodies towards her, she stood there blankly with no idea what to do next. She wasn’t expected to rummage through their stuff, was she? Disguisted at herself for feeling that desperate, she used her mage hand to ruffle through the pockets dumping the contents on the ground nearby. Calculating everyone’s share helped distract her from the horror she found herself in and when she was done she packed her stuff and went back to the cart feeling thoroughly dejected.
 
As the fighting began, Virra adopted her usual tactic of remaining out of sight while launching the most powerful attacks she could, though she soon realised that this may not have been her forte. While Tyrius and Eliza swept the bandits away with bursts of thunder and fire, and Banrigg and Ander and the Knight waded in with weapons drawn, she barely managed to land a damaging shot, and the other missed. The appearance of the newly enormous Tyrius threw her off even more, literally dwarfing her as she gritted her teeth and took her final shot -- after which the man she struck with the arrow simply fell dead.

Moments later the fight was ended, and Virra was left standing still with her shortbow hanging in one hand and a couple of arrows in other people. "...Huh." She took a breath and glanced around at her friends, smiling widely. "We showed them, didn't we? That could have been bad. Hey, Ty, what did you do?" she asked suddenly, running around in front of the giant man and contemplating a way to maybe climb up onto his shoulder before he abruptly shifted back to a normal size. She shrugged, turning quickly to go and help Eliza with the body-searching, though that ended quickly as the half-orc wordlessly returned to the cart. Now Virra was starting to feel a little down.

Working mostly by herself, she gathered up the discarded money and lifted it back onto the cart with her mind, followed by the troupe's weapons, which took several trips and an aching back. By the end of it she couldn't be bothered to strip their armour. "Waste," she muttered as she dumped an armload of shortswords onto the back of the cart.
 
Realising Virra had asked him something while he'd been running around gathering up bodies, Tyrius wondered how to broach the subject. "That - would be Wild Magic." Tyrius said, "I didn't do it consciously. Every time I cast a spell I sort of," Tyrius stopped for a moment, screwing up his face as he tried to work out how best to phrase it, "have a funny turn. Sometimes its barely noticeable. Other times it comes close to overwhelming me. What you saw was my magic overwhelming me." Tyrius realised there was a good way to sum it up. "Think how Pyria's magic acted when she couldn't control her emotions. Mine could do the same, only there is no link to my emotions. It'll just happen."

Moving the gems to the cart, figuring whoever wanted them could help themselves, Tyrius added, "It's almost happened a few times and I was worried it might happen in front of Master Anthol. It's not always as beneficial as what just happened." Tyrius trailed off, remembering where they were headed.
 
Ander recognised an ambush attempt when he saw it. He drew Dawnbreaker and said a quiet blessing over the sword, causing it to glow brightly. He prayed over his friends for a moment, blessing them with the light of the dawn. He then moved toward the bandits and yelled, "This will not end the way you have planned!" He stands ready, holding out his sword with confidence. The bandits land a few hits through his tough armor, but they are nothing more than what Ander would've received in training with Roland. He landed heavy blows onto the would-be assassins, letting the morning lord's might guide his blade true.

When the fighting was over, Ander went to the others who had recieved blows and touched their shoulders, ending on the Salted Knight. Before healing the wound on his new ally, he looked at him with a bit of confusion on his face. "Are you... alright, friend?" he asked, just as Tyrius called out to him. He healed the knight and walked over to the pile of found items strewn about the ground. The holy symbol caught his eye immediately. He bent down to hold it in his hands, thinking back to the Sisters of Dawn who he had loved like his own family. His eyes welled up with tears, and he turned away from the group. He walked away toward the woods, and leaned his back agains a large tree. He stands there, breathing deeply for nearly a minute, when suddenly he draws one of his hand axes and sinks it deep into the tree, yelling a few increadibly horrid curses in dwarvish. He drops the symbol, though it dangles from his wrist as he makes a fist and leans forward, resting his head on the tree before him. He shutters violently, hiding his face from the others.
 
The Knight flinched slightly at Ander's touch and frowned, wondering what exactly he meant before watching as the Ander seemed to lose focus on him. He quickly muttered some words under his breath as his gaze followed after Ander, and at seeing his reaction to one of the objects found on a bandit, the Knight followed after Ander. He approached him slowly and put a hand on Ander's back, his touch far more gentle than would be expected from a grizzled veteran. "Hey, par... Ander? Are you alright, friend?" His warm brown eyes looked on in concern, unsure of what had happened to alter his friend's mood before finally his eyes fell on the holy symbol in his hands. "Oh... I'm real sorry about that, Ander. I truly am..." He was silent for a moment before continuing. "Ya delivered that person's poor spirit the justice that they deserved, though. I saw ya out there, ya were Lathander's vengeance incarnate. Ya also helped protect all of us from a similar fate, and I'm sure I'm not just speakin' fer myself when I say thank ya fer that." The Knight sighed and took his hand off Ander's back. "Its alright ta be angry. It's alright ta mourn. If ya'd like ta say a prayer, I'd be glad ta join ya. If not, tell me ta scram, and I'll be outta yer hair."
 
Virra listened with unusual attentiveness to Tyrius's explanation of his magic ability and its pitfalls. "No kidding? That must be tough to deal with," she said as she leaned back against the cart, looking up thoughtfully at the red-haired man. "It'd be really hard for me if that happened every time I activated my psionics. I use that to lift things or steal knowledge, like, every day," she remarked, suddenly conscious that she hadn't seen the sorcerer use all that much magic in day-to-day life. Her expression became oddly pitying. "Well, thanks for --"

Her head whipped around as Ander began to pummel the tree, each of his Dwarvish curses making her physically recoil. She pressed her back against the cart, put her hands over her ears and shut her eyes for good measure, then began to mouth numbers to herself. One, two, three... By the time she was sure Ander had finished and she took her hands away, her face had lost a little of its colour.

Warily, she looked between the paladin and the Salted Knight until finally noticing the holy symbol dangling from his wrist and pairing it with the Knight's words. After several seconds' hesitation she quietly walked over. "What the..." Her voice came out like a whisper. She cleared her throat. "What the Knight said. Whoever those jerks were, you gave them what was coming." Another pause, then she leaned up and gave his waist a quick hug before pulling back. "I'm up for praying too." To Tyrius, she turned her head and added: "Feels like this trip's been more stressful than the murders, huh?"
 
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Seeing Ander starting to pummel the tree, Tyrius heard the stream of cursing coming from the holy man and put two and two together. 'Damn, that symbol we found must have a meaning to Ander.' Walking over, Tyrius gently placed a hand on Ander's shoulder. "I'm with Virra and the Knight on this." Tyrius said, figuring he'd try and pray as well if it would help Ander.

Hearing the now familiar sound of Virra's voice in his head, Tyrius thought back, 'I agree, the murders were bad enough but until Lestone showed up it was more distant. This - seems like its taking its toll on everyone.' Tyrius looked to Eliza and Banrigg and hoped that getting to Wyford would let them unwind a little.
 
Watching Ander's reaction snapped Eliza out of her funk. She had to remember she wasn't the only one with problems in this group. For better or for worst, they all seemed to have some recent misfortune tying them together. Getting up from the cart again was painful but she hobbled along to Ander but stood there speechless, how do you even begin to comfort a man with such burdens. Well, there was a way... but could she afford to postpone her trip back to Chilldrift any longer? Looking at Ander's state, Eliza couldn't imagine just simply packing up and heading back after Lestone was dealt with. She had stayed initially to help an old friend, and she would be damned if she left when a new friend needed her.

"Ander," she hesitated for a moment before steeling her nerves, "I don't know much about what happened with you, and it although it might not be much, but I promise to help you get to the bottom of this." She leaned exhausted on her staff, hoping her parents would forgive her wherever they were.
 
Ander shuttered, turning slightly to face the others gathered around him. "I'm sorry, y'all. This ain't the way a champion of the dawn should be acting." His voice breaks as he speaks. "These people... The Sisters of Dawn," he held up the symbol, indicating that it belonged to one of them, "my brothers the priests and guards at the temple. They were all the family I had, and they were taken away from me." He grits his teeth, "I'm glad we could bring justice to these murderous bandits, but this," he clasps the necklace tight to his chest, "means that my family died for nothing more than filling someone's wallet." He knelt down, resting his head on the tree once more. "I don't understand this cruelty..." he said, beginning to sob.

"Morninglord! How can lives dedicated to sharing your love and peace be cut short in such a meaningless way?!" He asked out loud before pulling himself up by the axe he had embedded in the tree. "Thank you for your kindness, friends." His head remained down, as he tried not to show off his tearstained beet red face. "Let us get to where we are going, and prevent more hideous tragedies from be befalling anyone else." He does not try to hide the fact that he is still seething, but pulls himself together enough to begin walking back to the cart.
 
The Knight shook his head to Ander, cursing himself internally for making such a show out of all of it before following after Ander. "Nothin' ta apologize fer, Ander. Its... hard losin' family. Even harder confrontin' their fate. I ain't no god. Hell, I don't know a darned thing about religion, but I know that yer family's life wasn't meaningless." He paused as he looked to the bandits on the ground, and when Ander moved to inspect them, walked over to assist. After Ander had revealed the tattoo to him, the Knight recognized the meaning of the images and scowled beneath his helmet. "I've seen these symbols before on my way 'ere. Murders, robbers an' slavers. The worst of the worst. Despicable."
 
Ander sat in thought as he stared at the tattoo. He desperately wanted to walk back to the tree, pull the axe out of it, and chop this arm off as a keepsake like this monster had kept a sister's sun as his. Don't sink to the level of a slaver, Ander. You are not a creature of evil, you are a man of the light. No darkness can extinguish your light, no matter how evil it is.

He turned to the Knight, nodding his head in agreement with the man's assessment. "We may be strangers still, but I feel a bond with you. Thank you for your help. You are a great warrior in your own right, and perhaps one day, the dawn will bring you some well deserved peace." Ander almost reached out to touch the knight, but remembered his signs of discomfort when he had done it before. Instead, he simply nodded before walking to the cart, where he got in for the first time this trip and held the holy symbol above his face as he layed down.
 
The Knight watched as Ander sat deep in thought, wondering what was going through the man's head. He locked eyes with Ander as he turned back to him, and for a moment the Knight felt the urge to tell the man everything, but he suppressed it. Not now. The poor man has enough on his plate. He nodded in response to Ander and called after him. "I pray ya find yer peace as well, friend." He gave the body at his feet a hard kick in its ribs before walking over to the cart, opting to walk beside it and give the holy warrior his space.
 
Following in the Knight's stead, Tyrius elected to just walk alongside the cart for now, give Ander the space to grieve that he clearly needed. He didn't bother kicking the bodies of the slain bandits, though he wasn't too concerned about leaving them to rot in the middle of the field either. His thoughts were more on what Ander had said. Ander's family, who judging by Ander's behaviour would have the most calm and helpful people to have around - slaughtered just because someone fancied a little extra gold. It made Tyrius sick to think people could do such a horrific deed over a few coins.

Walking alongside The Knight, Tyrius was unsure how to start a conversation, but walking along in silence didn't seem right either. "Have you, had many skirmishes like that before?" Tyrius asked, keeping his voice down out of respect towards Ander.
 
The Knight turned in surprise at the sudden voice, having been thoroughly consumed in his thoughts. He then chuckled a little and adjusted his helmet. "Gods, Tyrius, ya almost gave me a darned heart attack. Sorry, helmet doesn't do much fer the peripheries." He thought to himself before nodding. "Suppose ya could say I've had my fair few scrapes with scum like that. Last time I was out in these parts, I didn't have the luxury of carts or companions. Made my way town ta town, helped out where I could. Travel didn't take me through Wyford though. What's it like?" The Knight looked at Tyrius curiously.
 
Eliza stared at the bandits laying at her feet, felled men and woman of various ages. She wondered where they came from, if they had loving families, what made them end up laying dead at the feet of a half-orc with a bad knee. Were they always evil? Or did their circumstances shape their future? Shaking her head at the mess, she followed the others to the cart and took her place, staff in hand and weary of further attacks. "I hope we don't encounter any further surprises along our way."

The half-orc didn't know what to think about how satisfying it felt taking care of evil scum, especially ones that had committed such acts. But she pushed those savage thoughts out of her head. She refused to be such a cliche.
 
Tyrius grinned, "It's a nice town. Not as large as Porthca but it's not small either." Keeping pace easily enough with the Knight, Tyrius looked over at Ander for a moment before turning and continuing to talk to The Knight. "Mostly everyone knows everyone else. Which reminds me, we may get a few looks when we come rolling in." Tyrius wondered how to keep the history lesson simple. "Generations ago one of my ancestors helped defend the town from werewolves. Which is how we ended up with our manor house. It's nothing on the De'Porthca Manor but it's home." Tyrius nodded to the chest on the cart, "Pyria's too now, hopefully." With that addition, he went back to the main topic at hand for the moment, "Most of the business in town is making clothing from pelts, furs. Mostly leather and fur coats. My family owns such a business, we ship down to Porthca through the De'Porthca's in fact."

Looking over the group, Tyrius was glad they'd been so effect supporting each other. Tyrius knew he couldn't have done it alone. "So, where have your travels taken you?" Tyrius asked The Knight, feeling a little awkward about calling him 'The' to his face.
 
At hearing the description of Wyford, the Knight shrugged. "Don't tell yer angry friend back home, but I don't think a whole lot 'f Porthca. Any city ruled by the wealthy leaves little left fer ta rest. Wyford sounds nice, though." He chuckled, before falling quiet at Tyrius's question. He thought to himself for a moment. "It's... kinda a long story. Been all over, but darned if I could remember it all." He was quiet for a few moments before continuing. "Wouldn't mind hearin' more about those werewolves."
 
Tyrius smiled, "I won't. To be honest I lost count of the number of times I had to apologise for Benito's outbursts in various bars around Azarad." Tyrius said, knowing how tactful he'd had to be just so that Benito's outbursts didn't cause lasting damage. "Mostly dealt with Cyne via letter when I graduated though."

Smiling as he remembered the story, Tyrius said, "Well, this was nine generations back so most of it has passed into legend. Story goes that a group of ten werewolves were surrounding Wyford, attacking the town repeatedly in snatch and grab raids. One of my ancestors, a hardy woman named Cortence Elizabeth Silver rounded up a posse and ventured into the forest. They killed all of the werewolves, Cortence personally killing two. One with a silvered arrow, the other with a silvered axe. When they got back to town, Cortence was rewarded along with the others by becoming nobility. When she got ennobled, Cortence changed her surname from Silver to Silverbane."

With a shrug, Tyrius added, "How much of that is legend and how much actually happened I don't know, though our family crest has always had two wolves flanked by an arrow and an axe in it." Looking at the road ahead, Tyrius figured they had time for a long story, "So, what's the most dangerous thing you've ever done, Sir Knight?" Tyrius asked, figuring Sir was a more polite honorific than The.
 
The Knight's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Well, that's quite the family legacy ya got ta live up ta there. One 'r two werewolves on their own are quite the feat, but ten? That's gosh darned incredible! Sounds like yer ancestor was quite the woman. Think she'd be much obliged ta see her family still doin' the name proud." He sighed a little beneath his helmet. "I'm no stranger ta bearin' the burden 'f a legacy myself... not always easy"

The Knight went quiet for the duration of Tyrius's explanation, and then chuckled at his question. "Yeah, figured that question'd be comin'. Hmm..." He thought to himself for a moment. "There was the one time with the pack of worgs in Wakefield. Musta taken down five 'f those ugly buggers before bringin' down the leader sent em scatterin'... Actually, I'd say it was the Chimera of Cryheath. Musta been two decades back, me and a coupla other warriors got drafted by the local lord ta take down a beast that'd been messin' with their herds. Was quite the fight. Leapt straight towards the chimera's gapin' flamin' maw and..." The Knight stopped and shook his head to himself. "Its gone now. Sorry, the memories come and go."
 
Tyrius beamed a little at the mention of Cortence being impressed at his actions. 'Makes up for some of the shittier actions that came further down the family tree.' Tyrius thought to himself. At the mention of bearing a legacy, Tyrius wondered what sort of legacy the Knight had inherited.

Listening to the Knight's story with interest, Tyrius was concerned at the way The Knight stopped mid thought. "That sounds hard to live with." Tyrius commented, knowing how much memory was important to a person. "But it's quite alright. Sounds like you've led quite an adventurous life." Tyrius said, looking around at the rest of the group. "Eliza's spells were quite powerful, weren't they." Tyrius commented, having seen the fire she'd lit around some of the bandits.
 
The Knight shrugged in response to what Tyrius said about his memory. "Sometimes. Other times, there're things I'm glad I don't remember. Its my lot in life, so its what I've got. Still, best I can do is keep makin' new memories with memorable people." The Knight then paused at his last comment before making a curt response. "Quite." He then fell silent.
 
After returning to the cart, Virra sat at the rear and let her legs dangle while she looked for something to occupy herself with. At first she decided that would be putting the finishing touches on Cate's new shoes, but that quickly fell by the wayside as she started to eavesdrop on the conversations going on outside. She listened intently to Tyrius's description of Wyford and the Knight's battle stories, growing more restless by the second, until the topic of Eliza's magic came up and she saw an opening to insert herself into the conversation. She hopped off the back of the wagon and moved around to the side, walking quickly to keep pace with the bigger units.

"Quite? Quite?" she repeated incredulously, doing her own take on the Knight's accent as she said the word. "They were amazing. Didn't you see that ball of fire? Or those silvery things that shot out of her fingers?" As she spoke she turned her head to make sure Eliza was hearing her and hopefully starting to grow embarrassed. At the least it might help to take her mind off things. "Seriously, how could you not be impressed by that? I want to be Eliza when I grow up," she finished with a smirk.
 
The Knight glanced down at Virra startled by her sudden appearance, having been speaking fairly quietly so as to not disturb those in the cart. "Nosy little lass, aren't ya? Here I thought I was talkin' ta my friend here, not all of Okesh." He sighed before continuing. "Anyways, never said I wasn't impressed. I agreed with Tyrius. Her magic was quite impressive, as was Tyrius's, an' Banrigg an' Ander's fightin' fer that matter. More impressive than standin' there doin' nothin', that's fer sure. Glad ta see a few arrows fly this time." He held his gaze on Virra for a moment before quickening his pace and moving up by the horses.
 
Tyrius stayed quiet as the Knight talked to Virra, smiling a little as The Knight referred to him as a friend. As he moved up ahead, Tyrius shrugged. "Well, from my vantage point, Eliza has some powerful magic in her." Tyrius said, with an obvious smile on his face. "She's a good egg. As were you. Was surprised how many bandits there were, if I'm honest." Tyrius said to Virra.

Dropping his voice a little, Tyrius added, "I feel sorry for Ander though, at he was able to get justice for his family but, it's sad they died at all."
 
Eliza blushed a deep red and was glad she sitting up front with her back towards the group. It was only a couple of basic spells, any first year could cast magic missile. But she would be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel weird inside, all warm and gooey. These guys were too much, far too much. So why couldn’t she stop smiling already?
 
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