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Fantasy Setting Summer Dawn

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Setting Summer Dawn Setting Summer Dawn - Lore Setting Summer Dawn - OOC Setting Summer Dawn - Guidelines & Characters Setting Summer Dawn - Firelight tales
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Desrick smiled sheepishly at the two women's praise for his cooking ( Flutterby Flutterby The Suspicious Eye The Suspicious Eye ). He watched the fairy take the bowl and eat, regarding her curiously when it seemed a cloud fell over her disposition.
"Your master must have been a great mage indeed, but from what I saw, you are putting the knowledge to very good use. I wouldn't be too hard on yourself."

Desrick let the stillness of the night stretch out between them, he turned his face to the scattered stars that winked brightly even drenched with the light of their fire. The stars were such a constant in his world that he couldn't even imagine a place without them.
"I suppose you have different names for the stars in Sumenna. We've named them after Cyndabrynde's deeds, and the creatures here..."

He cut himself off as a loud rustle sounded on the edge of their camp and a scruffy young skin changer appeared ( velleity velleity ), uttered a few words of greetings and then promptly collapsed. Desrick was on his feet in an instant but the sumennan healer ( idalie idalie ) was already at her side.
"You should be resting," Desrick begun, but as she began to heal her new patient he didn't say more. It was clear she wouldn't be stopped. The orc could only watch and shake his head with concerned irritation.
When she had done her work Desrick carried the skin changer to the fire and put her on his bed roll, pulling the blanket over her small body.
"Our party is growing." He sighed, though there was relief in it as he saw the expert work their healer had done.
He wasn't sure about bringing an unknown Cyndaran into the midst of his village, but, considering what else he was bringing, she seemed the least threatening.
The skin changer taken care of Desrick went to check on Eir, who was already curled up in her bed roll, and looked fast asleep.
"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you hmm?" He rumbled softly, taking a moment to pull the cover up to her chin and tuck it about her shoulders carefully.

He rose slowly, going over to a raised slope at the edge of the clearing. It made a good lookout spot. "I'll take the watch. You should all sleep while you can. We have a long trek ahead."

~*~*~

Thankfully the next few hours were quiet. Desrick caught himself yawning several times, but managed to stay awake. Every now and again the call of some beast or other sounded close by, but none of them felt brave enough to venture close enough to be seen. The air had warmed a little since they had left the mists and now carried moisture and the sweet scent of freshly-blooming flowers.
Desrick found himself looking back up at the stars, letting their familiar patterns bring him comfort. He tried not to think of the dead villagers he had found, or of the others still missing without so much as a trace. Crispin had probably reached their home by now. He wondered if they were gathering fighters.
All of these concerns played themselves out upon his face as he thought the others were still asleep.

idalie idalie Zazz Zazz The Suspicious Eye The Suspicious Eye Brendanfp Brendanfp Flutterby Flutterby deer deer
 
Eirianwen Llewellyn​
The young elf had her eyelids barely parted, lashes brushing eachother as she heard Desrick's distant voice and the movement of covers as they were tucked up beneath her chin. It was kindness, the same that reminded her of being home. She was doing her best to be the woman people had wanted her to be; wise, eloquent, graceful. And yet from the slightly muddied white robes and expense of power beyond her capacities, Eirianwen didn't feel wise or graceful in the slightest. The Healer dozed with the pounding ache in her head till it lessened, waking up to a parched throat and nauseous stomach in the midst of night. A general malaise easily cured by water and fresh air she decided -- after all, it was nothing new to add when it came to the symptoms of casting on low mana.

Llewellyn sat up, putting a hand on her upper chest to curl slightly; now cradling her shoulder whilst she got to her feet, sleepily now searching for her waterskin. Eventually, she'd found it amongst the dewy night grass and taken a long draught to quell her thirst. But, it was by some amount of bad luck that she was far too awake to be going back to bed so soon. Noting where Desrick was keeping watch, Llewellyn tiptoed over -- clutching the waterskin to her abdomen. "Hey," She whispered, initially to get his attention. "I can't get back to sleep. Mind if I sit up with you? I'm not sure I can stay there alone anyway, not with the way the forest looks. There's something skeletal about it."

Eir slowly sat herself down beside the orc, "I'm sorry about the whole healing business. I know I should've held off, but I suppose panic got the best of me." She aimed a small, sheepish smile. Tired, undoubtedly, although unwilling to leave her newfound company in fear of the dark -- or rather the things which could be lurking in it. "A penny for your thoughts, I know few men who look at the sky like it's one big question, but when they do, it's almost certain they've got weight on their shoulders ... not that you have to share! I'm not pushing for anything like that." Eirianwen gave a quiet laugh, uncorking the top of her water for another sip. "I know my mother called me too chatty, still does. I've got a knack for it."

SilverFlight SilverFlight
 
A familiar voice sounded behind him and Desrick looked around to see Eirianwen approaching, the light of the fire casting an orange halo of light about her and shrouding her face in shadow. The orc only nodded when she asked to stay with him and tilted his head in curiosity when she spoke of the forest.
"I suppose, a lot of this is strange to you."
He sat by her and listened, a smile growing on his face as she spoke. It stayed there even after she fell silent. "It's good you talk. I don't."
Then, with a small sigh he thought about how to share what had been on his mind. "Those bodies you saw, back in the village before the mist. They were orc. My people don't fit very well with most of Cyndara, we...they value physical strength, and fight a lot. Many tribes have been exiled out from the most sustaining parts of the forest. It is dangerous past the mists...lately, villages have gone silent. That was one of them."

It was the most he had spoken in a long while and the length of it made Desrick shift uncomfortably.
Somewhere in the distance something bellowed, the sound reverberating through the trees. It startled a fluorescent bird, which took flight in a burst of bright blue.
"I don't know what to do with my people. They won't change, but, they cannot fight the whole of Cyndara...Where I am taking you though, is not to the orcs, but my second home. To the wood elves."
He paused for a moment and then added with a half smile: "They have the best healers."

idalie idalie
 
As the harried band stumbled out of the mists and into the wild beauty of Cyndara, even the familiar sights of the glowing plants and wildlife did little to rouse Ciaran from his silence. He’d thought the Summer Folk would fear little more than small beasts, carry no more darkness than a rained-out picnic. He’d thought that there was little more the darkness could show him than he had already seen.
He’d been wrong.
His jovial spirit had not faded as they entered the mist, and even the first dark whispers did little to dampen his enthusiasm for the adventure, but as the stench of blood reached his nostrils and grotesque corpses lined the way, he recoiled in horror both from the sight and the strangers associated with it. The carnage was clearly nothing of nature, but was wrought by the fallen’s own kind. The kind that were travelling with them now. He cast a suspicious eye over the Sumerans, wary of walking with his back to them now.

Then, the mists came for him. They’d come quietly, at first. He’d been watching the regal dwarf-woman approach Ora when a movement caught his eye and a voice called out. Willing himself not to look or listen to the familiar voice, he slowly turned his gaze towards it. Bannic was there, smiling with his arm around Fya, holding a slate which Ciaran knew would hold his pardon. All he had to do was to make his mark and he would be free to return to his people once again. Even the fact that Bannic acknowledged his presence was evidence that all was in place, that he needed to journey no further. His heart ached as the rope tugged him forward and he lost sight of Bannic, but he knew it was impossible. Fya was long gone, for one, and he knew the elders would never rescind their orders. It was impossible, unless the stars themselves should intervene. The vision was false, as insubstantial as the mists that created them.

It was then that he heard the screams. Until this point, he’d only seen the general sights of the visions, his staff’s wards shielding him from most of the more immediate sensations. Except for the stench of blood, which was a particular horror of his, there had been enough of a distance for him to see their thinness. Even Bannic, though achingly familiar, looked and sounded as if he was speaking from across a great chasm. But then, perhaps searching his mind for more primal terrors, the mists struck again. The screams cut through the wards like a knife, searing deeply into his mind with all the more fury for their resistance. Bannic and Fya were within arms reach now, but now surrounded by angry, leaping flames that licked at their faces and danced through their thrashing limbs.

With a cry of anguish, Ciaran reached out to them, but a wave of fire caused him to shrink back. Breathing heavily against the smoke and shielding his face from the blistering heat, he made another tentative attempt, fighting his fear to brave the fire. But his hesitancy was a moment too late. As he finally forced himself to thrust his free arm into the flames, his relatives succumbed and fell away from him, leaving only charred bodies. A scream tore from his lips as he fell to his knees until he was dragged by the rope around his arm out of the mist, pale and trembling mightily. After a few shaking breaths of the clear air, he forced himself to stand and walk with the others, but didn’t speak a word to them.

When they finally reached the campsite, he ate his meal with gusto but uncharacteristic silence. Desrick was right; their party was growing rapidly, and it made him uncomfortable. Travelling alone for so long had left him uneasy in large gatherings of strangers, feeling overwhelmed from having to keep track of so much at once. He wanted to be alone, but was afraid of being abandoned. Feeling the instinctive search for security in groups, he chose a shelter much closer to the others than he would have otherwise. But even that security did little to comfort him, did nothing to drive away the glowing-red images that still played through his mind. Finally, he gave up and sat under the trees with his knees pulled up to his chest, listening to the quiet, peaceful sounds of the forest.

After a while, he heard soft voices and peered around the trunk to find their source. It was Desrick and the healer, the emotional elf-woman. He was uneasy with the presence of the Sumerans, but she seemed harmless even if she did have malicious intent, which was admittedly difficult to imagine. But they were surely good manipulators, excellent at practising deceit. For all he knew, the bubbly healer could be a terrible and fearsome warrior. Despite himself, however, he could hear himself doubting it. After realising that he wasn’t going to sleep for a while, he pushed himself up with a sigh and joined them through the darkness.

“The wood elves are indeed excellent healers, but I wonder… if they cannot perform what healing is most needed.” He gestured toward the mists, not daring to look in their direction although they were now out of sight.
“What we just saw… should not have entered Cyndara. Cleansing is needed, dispersing of the evil. If the elves come into contact with it, they may become infected themselves. What power have they against such a curse?”
SilverFlight SilverFlight idalie idalie
 
Everything snapped to pitch black the moment her temple collided with a stray stone, though it was probably for the best; had Vyara known that a Sumennan of all things was tending to her wounds, she might have flown in a confused rage. There was no such thing as a good Sumennan in her mind. There couldn't be. Not ever.

The darkness in her mind was only that, pure black, untouched by dreams or nightmares. Within that darkness, she knew only a faint, almost pleasant warmth that spread across her core and washed away her pain bit by bit. She heard voices, but couldn't make out the words. She felt her body sway as though she were being carried, but where? The warmth intensified, the scent of smoke surrounded her, and her breathing grew quick and shallow. Her lips pulled back with a whimper as the darkness turned to the blazing light of memories--of nightmares.

Outside of her mind, on the orc's bedroll next to the fire, Vyara fidgeted and twitched away from the flames. No stray spark caught her skin or hair, no creeping flame licked her cheeks or singed her linen clothes, but the threat remained. She had no way of knowing this, unconscious and dreaming as she was, but the fire that raged behind her eyes was far less merciful. The hours passed, but the memories never left her. They replayed over and over again, sometimes differently than before, but always ending with the sight of bones and ashes.

Her whimpering grew to choked back cries and a tear escaped her tightly shut eyes. "Aur... eh... juh...!"

All at once, Vyara's eyes snapped open and she bolted upright with a frightened gasp. Gaze still clouded by fire and fear, she glanced about frantically, her body shaking.

Orc. Cyndaran. Good.

Dark Fairy. Cyndaran. Good.

Elf. Sumennan. Bad... Bad...!

Another Elf! Another Sumennan!! Bad, so bad, so very, very bad!!

Dark Elf. Cyndaran! Maybe... but... too pretty... too gorgeous... Sumennan?! Good? Or bad?!

Who were these people?! Why were they here?! In Cyndara, in the Mystlands, in her Mystlands?! Why wasn't the orc doing anything?! Or the fairy?! They were sitting there! Talking! Fraternizing with the enemy!!

She knew nothing, no one. This wasn't where she was supposed to be... She... was supposed to be... where...? A... a temple... a temple... Aureja!!

Vyara scrambled to her feet and jumped far back from the firepit, a snarl erupting from her throat. This was real! She knew it! Finally! They invaded! They turned her own people into pawns, her own people, damnit all!! It was too soon! She had no army! She was alone. All alone... With no one...

Her jaw split with a bestial roar, her fangs glistening in the light of the fire. Alone? Fine! Then alone she would fight!

Her head snapped to one side to find one of the elves, the Sumennan closest to her. The woman sat with a book in her lap and a quill in one hand, no doubt strategizing and noting every potential weakness of the night-drenched lands, of Vyara's home! The skin changer trembled now with rage rather than terror and lept for the other woman, her form morphing seamlessly in midair to the shape of furious snow leopard. Claws outstretched, fangs dripping, throat parched and ready for blood, Vyara pictured how easy it would be to rip the elf's face from her skull, to tear her to shreds like every other light-lover who dared to cross the border!




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Everything snapped to pitch black the moment her temple collided with a stray stone, though it was probably for the best; had Vyara known that a Sumennan of all things was tending to her wounds, she might have flown in a confused rage. There was no such thing as a good Sumennan in her mind. There couldn't be. Not ever.

The darkness in her mind was only that, pure black, untouched by dreams or nightmares. Within that darkness, she knew only a faint, almost pleasant warmth that spread across her core and washed away her pain bit by bit. She heard voices, but couldn't make out the words. She felt her body sway as though she were being carried, but where? The warmth intensified, the scent of smoke surrounded her, and her breathing grew quick and shallow. Her lips pulled back with a whimper as the darkness turned to the blazing light of memories--of nightmares.

Outside of her mind, on the orc's bedroll next to the fire, Vyara fidgeted and twitched away from the flames. No stray spark caught her skin or hair, no creeping flame licked her cheeks or singed her linen clothes, but the threat remained. She had no way of knowing this, unconscious and dreaming as she was, but the fire that raged behind her eyes was far less merciful. The hours passed, but the memories never left her. They replayed over and over again, sometimes differently than before, but always ending with the sight of bones and ashes.

Her whimpering grew to choked back cries and a tear escaped her tightly shut eyes. "Aur... eh... juh...!"

All at once, Vyara's eyes snapped open and she bolted upright with a frightened gasp. Gaze still clouded by fire and fear, she glanced about frantically, her body shaking.

Orc. Cyndaran. Good.

Dark Fairy. Cyndaran. Good.

Elf. Sumennan. Bad... Bad...!

Another Elf! Another Sumennan!! Bad, so bad, so very, very bad!!

Dark Elf. Cyndaran! Maybe... but... too pretty... too gorgeous... Sumennan?! Good? Or bad?!

Who were these people?! Why were they here?! In Cyndara, in the Mystlands, in her Mystlands?! Why wasn't the orc doing anything?! Or the fairy?! They were sitting there! Talking! Fraternizing with the enemy!!

She knew nothing, no one. This wasn't where she was supposed to be... She... was supposed to be... where...? A... a temple... a temple... Aureja!!

Vyara scrambled to her feet and jumped far back from the firepit, a snarl erupting from her throat. This was real! She knew it! Finally! They invaded! They turned her own people into pawns, her own people, damnit all!! It was too soon! She had no army! She was alone. All alone... With no one...

Her jaw split with a bestial roar, her fangs glistening in the light of the fire. Alone? Fine! Then alone she would fight!

Her head snapped to one side to find one of the elves, the Sumennan closest to her. The woman sat with a book in her lap and a quill in one hand, no doubt strategizing and noting every potential weakness of the night-drenched lands, of Vyara's home! The skin changer trembled now with rage rather than terror and lept for the other woman, her form morphing seamlessly in midair to the shape of furious snow leopard. Claws outstretched, fangs dripping, throat parched and ready for blood, Vyara pictured how easy it would be to rip the elf's face from her skull, to tear her to shreds like every other light-lover who dared to cross the border!

 
Ora listened silently to the conversation, privately trying to figure out what they meant by the words "mage." It was an unfamiliar word, but she figured it must mean something like "a person who does magic." Which was simple enough, but she wondered why she had never heard it before.
Her puzzling ended as the conversation did, and she found the quiet that settled between them to be surprinsingly comfortable. Like it had once been with her master, in the forge. She was indulging herself in that nostalgia, albiet a little romanticized, when Desrick spoke again. His eyes had turned upward, and he said something about "stars." She was about to look upward as well, when her attention snapped away. An instant just before Desrick, she focused on the edge of the clearing, and watching as a disheveled someone stumbled into the clearing, and promptly passed out.

Ora let the others handle it, since they seemed to know how, and held herself back from stopping Eir even as the healer was clearly tiring. With two people down for the night, and Desrick offering to watch, Ora unrolled her bedroll near the fire, next to their newest addition. She took a moment to wash her face and hands on the stream, and then curled up inside her covers. After a few restless turns, she settled and nodded off to sleep, gazing up at the stars that Desrick had mentioned.

When Ora woke next, it was sudden. She turned her head, and found herself looking at the savage-woman ( velleity velleity ). She had woken with a cry, and was looking around with intense confusion. As Ora watched silently, she seemed to work herself up into a rage. The dwarf untangled herself from her bedroll, slowly reaching toward her belongings and picking up one of her swords.
The skin-changer, which was clear as she changed into a large white cat, didn't seem to notice Ora, but focused on attacking the obvious Sumennans. She leapt for the closest one, and Ora shouted, "Desrick!!" before colliding with her furry side to try and knock her off course.
SilverFlight SilverFlight
 
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L
ittle blue birds sway in the wind - the mantra continued in her head until the mist conceded from her view and an open clearing made its way. She paid no mind to the others - or rather didn't take note of the others around, their figures nothing but shadows as she focused ahead seeing, feeling the shift in scenery. Her eyes gazed upon the trail and the various colours that the glowing orb brought to light. She was drawn to the light and the magnificent beauty of the hues of the leaves. But, what her eyes viewed next could not be unseen - it was surreal. She drew a breath, captivated as the land illuminated with each step she and the rest of her companions took down the path. Rossarinya could not believe her eyes as she found herself attracted to the twinkling and rapture of the allure of the Mystland. Oh, if Braxius could see her now. The She-Elf wanted to commit the scenery to memory and mind as the image before her could not be conjured up in her wildest dreams. Never had Rossarinya felt. . . bliss and blessed to have been able to admire the beginning of light in such a wondrous way. Books in the Summena library could never compare as scholars from her land could never begin to possibly believe such species of leaves, trees, and plants existed. A secretive smile made way to her lips as she thought of what her brother Andaer missed - as she was in Cyndara rather than Summena.

Relieved to be rid of the contraption that restrained her, Rossarinya focused ahead as her other senses gave way to what she was seeing and comprehending. Her head raised above, hearing the noises of other creatures that laid in the Mystlands. However, the great stag that stood before them only opened up the wondrous area of the Mystland as flowers started to bloom and the glow of life in the area came alive. Everything came to her in blurs of different lights, sounds, and smell. The creatures flourished above and it only reminded her of Shereglev forest - the forest she had yet to explore as it went on from miles on end. A sense of adrenaline rushed through her frame as she wanted to take the time to slightly wander on her own. Was Braxius in Cyndara? She remembered the stories he used to tell her of his time but hearing is different than being physically in the space. Nevertheless, as Desrick welcomed them to Cyndara and the rest of the company started to unwind from their trek away from the mist, Rossarinya took the time to compose herself away from the others but still in the vicinity of the surrounding areas. She'd hate to get lost despite her peaked curiosity.

As food was prepared by Desrick and a fire was started to keep warmth, Rossarinya could only mutter her small thanks as she received her own bowl. But, what she didn't expect was to surprised by the unique taste from Cyndara. Her palate seemed to be heightened as she ate, not hiding her surprise at the simplicity of the food that more than satisfied her taste buds. However, as time seemed to pass, more travelers seemed to join their little "party". It didn't unnerve her to know that there were late-comers joining the fray, but what had unnerved her was how she was suppose to interact with all of them. It seemed the other effortlessly started to slowly open up, especially with everything that happened in the mist. A part of her felt vulnerable thinking of the matter once more and the other part of her wanted to just ignore it and pretend as if it never happened. Of course, she could very well just listen in on the small conversations that were happening around her, but even then . . . . expressing herself was not her strong suit. How could they trust her when she isn't making an effort to interact and get to know them? But, what gained her attention the most was the subject about the stars. Her ears perked as she looked on over, listening to Desrick's words until someone came into the clearing - worn and depleted.

Her brows furrowed slightly in concern as she watched Eirianwen heal another. She should be resting and not using up all of that energy. But, rather than voicing her thoughts and concern seeing as it would fall on deaf ears, Rossarinya didn't concern herself as she finished eating and went to sit under a tree to lean against. Her eyes flicked to and fro as the others began to call in for the night, resting up their energy. Rossarinya, on the other hand, could not sleep a wink - never had been able to. So, instead, she sung a soft lullaby to herself before Desrick went to patrol. Not before long, Eirainwen and another Cyndaran left the clearing in the direction of where Desrick had headed. For a little while, Rossarinya could only hum to herself, closing her eyes as she listened to the sound of the creatures in the night. She relaxed slightly, taking a deep breath in and out, calming down her beating heart. But, deciding to not just really on her memory, Rossarinya took out her small leaven journal and began to write with her quill. Memories could become fuzzy, but words never fail, not on paper.

However, before Rossarinya could realise the predicament she was about to face, the fallen Cyndaran abruptly woke up in a fright, practically growling in alertness. Lifting her head from her journal as she stopped writing, Rossarinya's eyes widened, her brows furrowing in confusion as she watched the Cydnaran snarl in contempt and protectiveness. Her antics reminded her of the moment she met Cerys, her half-wolf half-dog familiar who nearly bit her the moment he awoke from his state of mind. It took a long time for Cerys to trust her but even then, it was tough to try to console the creature when he didn't want to have anything to do with her. But now, in the situation at hand, the Cyndaran's eyes and stance mirrored Cerys - one that is filled with anger and terror. Rossarinya could only compare her facial expression to that of a beast ready to strike at anyone they could get their paws on. Through the fire, the woman looked frightening and intimidating and just like clock-work something ticked inside of the female before her. Rossarinya watched in horror yet awe as the woman's frame shook and soon enough, the woman leaped towards her, baring her teeth, snarling, as she shifted into a creature Rossarinya couldn't recognise.

Out of pure instinct, Rossarinya grabbed a hold of whatever was near her and in her possesion. As quickly as she could, Rossarinya threw her book at her, not really aiming but hoping it was headed towards the Cyndaran in hopes to block her view so that she could leap or roll out of the way of the attack. But, it seemed it was too late, the shifter was able to nick the side of her gown when she rolled, her claw scratching her thighs as she hissed loudly in agony. All at once, she heard Ora's voice calling for Derrick and Rossarinya could only back away slowly from the ground, quill in her hand in a position of defense as she stared down at the Cyndaran, her chest rising up and down quickly, preparing herself for another strike.

tag: velleity velleity , SilverFlight SilverFlight , Flutterby Flutterby , The Suspicious Eye The Suspicious Eye , idalie idalie , Zazz Zazz , AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath
 
Desrick looked around as he saw the strange fairy from earlier. A much more somber air about him now and a look of unease on his gentle face.
"I trust Cyndabrynde's magic." Desrick began, taking the fairy's concerns seriously. "Besides, I don't know anyone who can cleanse the mists." He was right though, Desrick thought, but he daren't say it aloud in the earshot of their 'guests'. What they were bringing into the forest could well be far more dangerous than anything inside of it, but as desrick's gaze trailed back to the Sumennan healer, with her delicate grace and self-conscious air he caught himself smiling.
"A troubled past doesn't make a dark heart." He said finally, leaving that as the last word.
idalie idalie AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath

His name being yelled back in camp made him start in alarm. He looked to his gathered companions urgently before springing back towards the fire. The scene he saw unfolding made him gasp. The skin changer was gone from his bedroll and in her place, a snarling white leopard had lunged at one of the sumennan elves. Ora intervened in time to deflect the creature's attack but not before her claws opened a gash in the woman's skin.

"Enough!" Desrick roared. He stomped forward, his face an angry snarl, though his axe remained sheathed on his back. Whatever the offense, Desrick was not inclined to draw steel on a Cyndaran.
"Stay your fangs skin changer! Or I'll throw you in the pond! These sumennans are under my protection."
He maneuvered himself to stand between the leopard and most of the sumennan party, his towering bulk a formidable barrier to a second attack.
"Are you all right?" He asked Rossarinya, his tone very suddenly gentle and quiet.

velleity velleity deer deer The Suspicious Eye The Suspicious Eye idalie idalie Zazz Zazz AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath Flutterby Flutterby
 
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E
ars ringing. Heart hammering against her chest. Rossarinya's eyes widened in surprise as she looked over towards Ora who collided with the shifter. A small gasp escaped her lips as she slipped Ora's name out of bewilderment, concern displaying. Was it wrong that a part of her wished the shifter was able to succeed in doing more than just nicking her own thigh? Shaking those thoughts, her gaze tried to find Ora's, ignoring her current state as she wanted to see if the half-dwarven woman had made it out, hopefully, unscathed. It came as a surprise to her just how quickly Ora sprang into action to stop the shifter from getting what she wanted - their heads and blood. Nevertheless, it occurred to Rossarinya that it was just the matter of she, herself, had let her guard down and it was a moment of opportunity. "Muinthel (dear sister), what did I tell you?" Her brother's stern voice echoed in her ears, "No matter where you are, especially, in a place not under our protection. You need to get your head out of the clouds and look at your surroundings!" A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she remembered her brother's words, circling in her head. Dirt on her face, a slightly torn gown on her side, and small blood oozing from her thighs, Rossarinya's thoughts went to and fro chaotically as she stared the shifter in the face. Rossarinya wanted to see past the shifter's appearance and to her eyes. What was she feeling aside from the obvious emotions displayed in her body language and stance?

Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest as Rossarinya's tightened grip never seemed to loosen on her quill - the surprise attack still causing her to stay her current defensive position. Shifting slightly, Rossarinya scooted further away from the shifter before Desrick's voice shocked her. Jumping from the surprise, Rossarinya's head whipped towards him, watching him as he maneuvered himself in front of her and the Summenans. However, what his voice rung out - or rather what he said, nearly left another impression on her as she turned to him in more stupor. He'd protect them against his own? Shaking her head, Rossarinya slowly got off the ground, slightly staggering as she tried to find her balance, taking a deep breath. As she looked down at her thighs, Rossarinya could only stare at the colour that seeped through her skin and silk, finding slight curiosity at it. Gently, Rossarinya glided her fingers over the open wound as she winced slightly. However, when Desrick directly spoke towards her, Rossarinya gazed upon him as he towered over her in stature. Trying to compose herself, Rossarinya could only merely nod, clearing her throat as she spoke softly — a slight raspyness in her voice, “Thank you. . . Desrick. Yes, I am alright.” Rossarinya reassured him. She had more to say but for a few moments her mouth opened and closed slightly, adjusting herself to the situation. Her eyes glossed over towards the shifter as she slightly nibbled her lip and rubbed her thumb and index finger together out of habit. “She just woke up and may be confused.” Rossarinya informed him. “. . . . Is there a nearby river? I would love to get cleaned up. . . I would also rather not have Eiraiwen heal my wounds, she has done enough, this small scratch will be no issue healing on its own. . . unless there is poison on her claws?” Her gaze gave way to a slight curiosity on the shifter before she cleared her throat, the pain of the wound numbed. ”After things have settled. . . we can fill her in as to what is happening and pretend this didn’t happen? I don’t want any trouble and I can understand the distrust, it would be odd if there were not any sort of animosity.”

tags: SilverFlight SilverFlight , velleity velleity , Flutterby Flutterby , idalie idalie
 
Passionate fury.
Overflowing terror.
They clouded her eyes and seeped into her core with every snarling breath. One moment, fueled by her heart, she was in the air, claws scraping across skin, blood in sight, fangs mere inches away from their target--and the next, she was sent sprawling, knocked aside by another body.

"Desrick!!"
The woman's shout rang hollow and formless in Vyara's ears. All she knew was struggle as she scrambled to her feet on clumsy, heal-drunk paws. Another roar bound from her throat. Her eyes fixed now on the dark-skinned woman.

Horns... Horns! How they curl around her dark face! Cyndaran. She had to be!
But the way she stood between Vyara and the elf, so quick, so protective.... Sure she was another Mystlander bewitched by the curious horrors of Sumenna's Light! Vyara crouched low and prepared for a second strike. A gutteral growl resounded from her chest and shook the very earth beneath her paws.

"Stand aside," she commanded, her voice deep and as beastly as her form. "Do you not know what that witch has done to you?! Stand aside, now, or--"

"Enough!

Vyara's head snapped to the side to shoot a snarl at the approaching orc. Protection?! Them?! He truly was bewitched! Cursed! His mind was no longer her own, and if that wasn't proof enough for Vyara, the sight of him and that elf, that shrew, that Goddess-be-damned monster, talking so pleasantly and so full of concern shoved the fact in her face. An orc of all people giving in to the enemy. Were she in human form, the color might have drained from her face. Her knees would have slacked. She might even have fainted all over again and be left to Sumennan spells and burning light. As a snow leopard, however, she was left slack-jawed and wide-eyed, vision blurry now with tears than emotion.

She didn't want to.
She really didn't.
Maybe, in the afterlife, in Mother Cyndabrynde's arms, maybe she could tell him that.

Vyara launched forward once again, without a snarl of warning. She raced toward Desrick, jaws wide, only to fake out at the last second. She ducked around Ora's legs and circled back, bounding forward low to the ground, hoping to sink her teeth into the Orc's calf.

She would rid her world of traitors, no matter how unwilling, as well enemies! That was her duty as a Cyndaran! As a protector of her people!



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Passionate fury.
Overflowing terror.
They clouded her eyes and seeped into her core with every snarling breath. One moment, fueled by her heart, she was in the air, claws scraping across skin, blood in sight, fangs mere inches away from their target--and the next, she was sent sprawling, knocked aside by another body.

"Desrick!!"
The woman's shout rang hollow and formless in Vyara's ears. All she knew was struggle as she scrambled to her feet on clumsy, heal-drunk paws. Another roar bound from her throat. Her eyes fixed now on the dark-skinned woman.

Horns... Horns! How they curl around her dark face! Cyndaran. She had to be!
But the way she stood between Vyara and the elf, so quick, so protective.... Sure she was another Mystlander bewitched by the curious horrors of Sumenna's Light! Vyara crouched low and prepared for a second strike. A gutteral growl resounded from her chest and shook the very earth beneath her paws.

"Stand aside," she commanded, her voice deep and as beastly as her form. "Do you not know what that witch has done to you?! Stand aside, now, or--"

"Enough!

Vyara's head snapped to the side to shoot a snarl at the approaching orc. Protection?! Them?! He truly was bewitched! Cursed! His mind was no longer her own, and if that wasn't proof enough for Vyara, the sight of him and that elf, that shrew, that Goddess-be-damned monster, talking so pleasantly and so full of concern shoved the fact in her face. An orc of all people giving in to the enemy. Were she in human form, the color might have drained from her face. Her knees would have slacked. She might even have fainted all over again and be left to Sumennan spells and burning light. As a snow leopard, however, she was left slack-jawed and wide-eyed, vision blurry now with tears than emotion.

She didn't want to.
She really didn't.
Maybe, in the afterlife, in Mother Cyndabrynde's arms, maybe she could tell him that.

Vyara launched forward once again, without a snarl of warning. She raced toward Desrick, jaws wide, only to fake out at the last second. She ducked around Ora's legs and circled back, bounding forward low to the ground, hoping to sink her teeth into the Orc's calf.

She would rid her world of traitors, no matter how unwilling, as well enemies! That was her duty as a Cyndaran! As a protector of her people!

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Ora tried to tuck and roll after the impact, her blade flat against her small chest. Finding her feet as quickly as she could, she could hear Desrick approaching, but Ora kept her eyes fixed on the skin-changer. She had never, in all her life, seen magic like this beast-woman displayed, leaping into the shape of an animal effortlessly. This woman scared her more than any of the other Cyndarans- she was unpredictable and unknown, irrationally angry and violent. In her mind's eye, Ora saw the white leopard killing the elf with a few lucky strikes. She flexed her hand around the handle of her blade, and swallowed softly as Vyara growled at her, ordering her aside.

Desrick rushed between them, blocking the creature from her sight. She knew Desrick would be able to handle her, especially with help from the others, but Ora didn't move. The blood rushing in her ears drowned out the sound of his voice, and of Rossarinya's response. The snow leopard didn't move back, didn't release the tension in her shoulders. There's no way she would attack Desrick.. she would have to be insane!
Clearly, that wasn't too far from the truth.

Ora wasn't fast enough; first she was too surprised that Vyara would attack again, and then she couldn't figure out just who she was attacking. The leopard sped past Desrick, but didn't seem to be headed for Rossarinya. In that split second, Ora thought she must be the target, and readied to knock Vyara down with her blade. But the leopard didn't strike her, and Ora's counterattack ended up being misjudged; the edge of her sword missed the skin-changer's side by a few inches, and veered down toward her hind leg as she flashed past. It carried her off balance, so she could only watch as Vyara continued toward Desrick.
 
Once Eirianwen had treated the newcomer and fallen asleep, Lohrithe stripped out of his clothes and belongings, setting them by the bank of the stream with his sword. He waded into the water, his skin reflecting the light of the moon. He tossed the metal clasps from his hair onto his clothing and freed his pure white locks. The man scrubbed the dirt and bloody sap from his body and cleansed his hair, his back to the camp.

Out of the water and clothed, Lohrithe was about to turn in for the night when the newcomer woke in full attack mode. The drow had his feet tangled and was unable to help, at first, but Ora managed to push the now beast aside. The she-elf made it out with a torn dress and a bloody scrape. Lohrithe managed to stand by the time Desrick came into the fray to calm the skin changer, but was unarmed. It was when the leopard lunged for the horned Sumennan that Lohrithe finally entered the scuffle; Ora caught the creature by the edge of her blade but essentially missed her target, thankfully. Lohrithe ran forth and caught the beast head on, grappling with its great front paws with a strained grunt of force. He wrestled with it, climbing over the leopard and wrapping his strong arms around its neck. "By Cyndabrynde, stop!"
 
The leopard moved so quickly Desrick could barely track her. He was strong, but slow and he would not have been able to dodge without help. He saw Ora move, the beast's agility out-maneuvering her. He prepared for the pain, only to see a flash of white hair. Desrick only had time to draw in half a sharp breath before Lohrithe tackled the skin changer, trying to subdue her. The threat of his friend in danger galvanized him into the action needed. Desrick, face like stone closed the short distance to where the dark elf grappled with their new 'guest'. He made to grab the scruff of her neck, his other arm coming up to rest just by her jaws. He held it there, giving her the best opportunity to savage him, trying to catch her wild eyes and stare a challenge if she tired.
"Bite then, if you've such a need for violence." He growled. It was not how a wood elf would solve the problem. This was how an orc would. Desrick met the skin changer's ferocity with a cold, immovable will.
His gaze flicked only momentarily to Lohr. 'Trust me' it said.

velleity velleity Zazz Zazz

idalie idalie Flutterby Flutterby The Suspicious Eye The Suspicious Eye AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath deer deer
 
Ciaran pulled a face at Desrick’s words, unconvinced by his optimism. Though the tales of gentle and kind Cyndabryde were as familiar to him as any other, he privately doubted that, if she really was responsible for the horrific mists, she could be as benevolent as the stories told. After seeing the wilds of Cyndara, he thought of her certainly as beautiful and full of life, but also as cold and pitiless as the mountain stones. He was about to say something about it, but was interrupted by a wild roar behind him and the voice of one of the Sumenans calling out to Desrick. He whipped his head around to face a snow leopard standing where the exhausted stranger previously lay. Staring with wide eyes at the fierce feline, he blurted out, “Whoa! You’ve got to teach me how to do that!”

Jumping up as the rest of the camp reacted, Ciaran scrambled for his pack to take notes on the unusual creature, but was caught by the back of a great paw, sending him tumbling backwards for the second time that day. He sat up and rubbed his head ruefully, briefly musing that perhaps he should pause a little bit longer before jumping into dangerous situations. He promptly forgot the thought, and hurried over to where the creature was snarling and restrained by Desrick and the dark elf. It reminded him of the wild creatures that he once watched over, so long ago. Seeing the beast’s wild and panicked eyes, imagining himself captured and threatened by strangers, he imagined the primal terror of an injured and cornered predator and flung himself towards it to intervene.
“Wait!”
He hurried over to where the two larger beings were tangling with the leopard and ducked under their limbs to reach the creature. Laying a hand on its furry head, he gently stroked it and tried to stare into its eyes.
“It’s okay, don’t be afraid… You’re safe, don’t be afraid…”
He glanced up and looked straight into the others’ eyes.
“They’re not going to hurt you…”

velleity velleity SilverFlight SilverFlight Zazz Zazz
 
Ora stumbled as her swords failed to meet resistance; she ended up with one elbow in the dirt and her tail thumping painfully against the ground. Lohrithe intercepted the large cat, catching her up by her neck. The half-dwarf felt herself relax a little- between Desrick and the dark elf, she should be under control now. The dark fairy, the one who mistook her for a Cyndaran, stepped in to help calm the beast. Ora herself took a few steps away, since she couldn't do anything more now.

Her eyes were wide, and her tail-tip lashed back and forth. It broadcast her agitation clearly. Ora decided it was best to disarm herself, now that the situation was mostly settled. Her hand shook as she set her blade down near her pack. Quietly, she withdrew, standing where she could watch the interaction without being a part of it.
Her breath rushed in and out of her more quickly than it should; she felt like she had sprinted a mile and could still go for several more. But she wasn't hurt, and she wasn't being helpful, so Ora tried not to draw attention or be in the way.

You would have killed her, if you could have, if she had been going after you. A sentient being. If you had landed that first blow.. well, would you have been able to stop yourself? The sneaking voice had returned to her head, now that she had rested and its energy had returnes alongside her own. Ora finched, and swallowed as she stared at the scene before her. As always, the voice wasn't wrong.
 
She would make his a quick death. She would sink her fangs into his throat and yank his head to the side. She would ensure that this orc would suffer Sumennan mind curses no more, and he would thank her a million times over for it when they meet again in Cyndabrynde's arms! They all would! She was doing the right thing!!

. . . Wasn't she?

Vyara kept her eyes locked onto her target, a silly mistake, and never saw the blade that caught her leg. She snarled through the pain and stumbled to one side, but continued forward with a limp. It was now or never! She was so close, just within claws' reach, pulse hammering against his throat and mocking her with every beat─

And then she was on the ground once more in a tangle of limbs and fur. As much as she tried to wriggle out of the dark elf's grasp, his knee gouged her carved leg and drew a pained roar. She kept her fangs bared and jerked her body from one side the next, staining the earth beneath them red. Before she could do any more damage to herself or anyone else, her scruff of her neck was caught in the orc's grasp and he forced her gaze to his.She met it with unfettered fury.

"Bite then, if you've such a need for violence."

She paused, her jowls slacking. Was this a trap? It had to be. There was something in his blood, surely! The curse! Is it blood magic?! Or did they poison him?! If she spat quickly enough, then maybe... But could she risk it? If the Sumennans were already here, then she was Cyndara's only hope! Could the Mystlands survive losing her so soon, at the expense of a single stolen Mystlander?! If she drew her fangs down in such a way, he would bleed out. Maybe that would save him! If she bled him enough, maybe that free his mind somehow, or do something, or....!

Vyara's head launched forward towards his arm, but she hesitated at the last second, her canines barely scraping skin.

What if she was wrong?

Her head snapped to the side at the sound of approaching footsteps. The fairy! Her struggles resumed when he maneuvered his way in front of the orc and placed a hand on her head. She knocked it away and jerked to each side and twitched and kicked and flailed, forcing the dark elf to switch his hold and circle his arms around her neck.

The change was sudden, all at once. One moment, a snow leopard flailed about, the next, a woman lay pinned and eating dirt.

"Get off!" she screamed, her words muffled against the earth. "Get off of me, get the fuck off, you damned drow, you low-born, Sumennan-loving, no-good, piece of sh─!!"

The fairy. His hand still sat on her hair, stroking her mass of tangled curls. Her body tensed, her chest heaving breaths through clenched teeth.

"It's okay, don't be afraid... You're safe, don't be afraid..."

She craned her neck to meet his gaze and found it soft and full of... was that... compassion...?

"They're not going to hurt you," he said. The skin changer glanced around, from orc to dwarf, dwarf to elf, elf to fairy. For a moment, she almost believed him. But the pain in her leg saw otherwise.

"Why are you helping them?!" she pleaded, her voice full of fury and sorrow, a strange mix for a woman so usually full of optimism and cheer. "What have they done to you?! They're Sumennans! They're the enemy! They're not supposed to cross the border! They're monsters!!" At this point however, Vyara wasn't entirely sure if anything would prove sufficient answer.



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She would make his a quick death. She would sink her fangs into his throat and yank his head to the side. She would ensure that this orc would suffer Sumennan mind curses no more, and he would thank her a million times over for it when they meet again in Cyndabrynde's arms! They all would! She was doing the right thing!!

. . . Wasn't she?

Vyara kept her eyes locked onto her target, a silly mistake, and never saw the blade that caught her leg. She snarled through the pain and stumbled to one side, but continued forward with a limp. It was now or never! She was so close, just within claws' reach, pulse hammering against his throat and mocking her with every beat─

And then she was on the ground once more in a tangle of limbs and fur. As much as she tried to wriggle out of the dark elf's grasp, his knee gouged her carved leg and drew a pained roar. She kept her fangs bared and jerked her body from one side the next, staining the earth beneath them red. Before she could do any more damage to herself or anyone else, her scruff of her neck was caught in the orc's grasp and he forced her gaze to his.She met it with unfettered fury.

"Bite then, if you've such a need for violence."

She paused, her jowls slacking. Was this a trap? It had to be. There was something in his blood, surely! The curse! Is it blood magic?! Or did they poison him?! If she spat quickly enough, then maybe... But could she risk it? If the Sumennans were already here, then she was Cyndara's only hope! Could the Mystlands survive losing her so soon, at the expense of a single stolen Mystlander?! If she drew her fangs down in such a way, he would bleed out. Maybe that would save him! If she bled him enough, maybe that free his mind somehow, or do something, or....!

Vyara's head launched forward towards his arm, but she hesitated at the last second, her canines barely scraping skin.

What if she was wrong?

Her head snapped to the side at the sound of approaching footsteps. The fairy! Her struggles resumed when he maneuvered his way in front of the orc and placed a hand on her head. She knocked it away and jerked to each side and twitched and kicked and flailed, forcing the dark elf to switch his hold and circle his arms around her neck.

The change was sudden, all at once. One moment, a snow leopard flailed about, the next, a woman lay pinned and eating dirt.

"Get off!" she screamed, her words muffled against the earth. "Get off of me, get the fuck off, you damned drow, you low-born, Sumennan-loving, no-good, piece of sh─!!"

The fairy. His hand still sat on her hair, stroking her mass of tangled curls. Her body tensed, her chest heaving breaths through clenched teeth.

"It's okay, don't be afraid... You're safe, don't be afraid..."

She craned her neck to meet his gaze and found it soft and full of... was that... compassion...?

"They're not going to hurt you," he said. The skin changer glanced around, from orc to dwarf, dwarf to elf, elf to fairy. For a moment, she almost believed him. But the pain in her leg saw otherwise.

"Why are you helping them?!" she pleaded, her voice full of fury and sorrow, a strange mix for a woman so usually full of optimism and cheer. "What have they done to you?! They're Sumennans! They're the enemy! They're not supposed to cross the border! They're monsters!!" At this point however, Vyara wasn't entirely sure if anything would prove sufficient answer.

 
Desrick huffed impatiently. This skin changer ( velleity velleity ) was shaping up to be more trouble than she was worth.
"You're ignorant." He said it as a fact with no menace behind it. He continued to speak in a matter-of-fact tone, though it had an edge of admonishment, as if he might actually have been concerned for her safety: "If I was any other orc you'd be dead."
He released her and stood to his full height. "Now, you're going to calm down and you're going to find manners. Then, Lohrithe ( Zazz Zazz ) will let you up. And then we can talk."
Next he looked to the young fairy ( AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath ) who had helped subdue their new 'friend'. "He's right. We won't hurt you. Not if you don't give any more reason."
He turned away from them, trusting Lohr and Ciaran to keep the skin changer calm, making his way back to Rossarinya ( deer deer ), kneeling down and taking a small pouch from his belt. The pouch contained a pungent, leafy-smelling salve and with two fingers he gathered some of it.
"We will let our healer save her strength. Show me the wound."

While waiting he looked about the camp. Some things had been upset but all in all, it was intact.
"Is anyone else hurt?" His deep rumble was clearly audible in the stillness that followed the skin changer's shouting.

"I want to know a few things, Daughter of the Leopard: Where is your tribe? Why are you so eager to throw yourself into danger?" He gestured about the camp to all the members gathered there. "If you had kept attacking maybe you would have killed someone, but someone else would have killed you. Are you so eager to die?"

velleity velleity deer deer Flutterby Flutterby Zazz Zazz idalie idalie AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath
 
Eirianwen Llewellyn​
It had been pleasant, sitting with Desrick. Putting a tentative, albeit reassuring palm on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Sorry you had to find them like that, I grieve with you when it comes to innocence being lost. I know often brawn can be difficult to handle, it's like all soldiers are the same sometimes." She let out a sigh, pulling away. "You have a good heart. I think I may've told you that before, but I stand by what I say." Eir smiled, "If you need help, I would gladly accompany you to check on them and I do promise, I'm not some sort of Sumennan spy." The healer rolled her eyes and shook her hands humorously, dropping them in a jump as the noise erupted and set off a large, blue bird. Eirian cleared her throat and put a hand to her heart for a moment, "Well, if you have managed to become the man you are, perhaps your people can too. A gentle hand to guide them, try and make them see sense?" She added hopefully, in that optimistic pitch of voice. It wasn't long before her pixie-like grin returned at the mention of healers. Some of the best around; which made her even more excited to see where Des would lead them. The wood elves sounded like a people she could certainly seek similarities and kinship amongst, accompanied by the fact there would be a chance of learning from a seasoned, fully-fledged master of the restoration school.

They were joined, eventually, by the faerie from earlier, Eirianwen twisted to look at the odd character, her eyes less of a twinkle and more pure-embers, making it a wonder how she managed to contain such enthusiasm without bursting at the additional comments. Her expression dropped a moment as he continued to speak on darker terms over the mist they had traversed. "What do you mean? Is it not a natural thing?" She glanced to Desrick. "Was it not Cyndabryde who put that in place?" Llewellyn's brow crumpled

Ora's shout caused the halfling to turn suddenly, her eyes widening at the scene which played out. The healer felt useless; frozen as she gripped the waterskin tighter for comfort whilst the leopard wreaked havoc. Whilst the first encounter was nothing but a scratch, the skin-changer returned for a second blow, Ora aiming to hit and being put off as it headed toward Desrick and aiming for his leg before it was taken down and manhandled, earning a rather sharp inhale from the healer as she threw herself to her feet. People had been hurt and yet she felt inadequate for the situation. Whereas entering Cyndara she'd been well-rested and prepared to encounter monsters, now it felt out of the blue from those dwellers she'd met and become acquainted with. Alongside that, she could barely raise her hand to someone, let alone an animal if the time called for it.

Lohrithe, thankfully, was the one to wrestle the Leopard down beside Ciaran and Des. The orc gave her a choice, and the skin-changer responded -- violently. Ranting and raving, it was the fae who managed to calm her seemingly whilst Desrick continued to attend others and question Vyara in that stern way of his. Llewellyn finally found herself able to move, scurrying over toward them in a cloud of white robes and thick halo of wavy hair. "Oh my -- Des, let me help. I won't use any magic I promise." She clasped her hands together and returned her attention to the girl tangled in a heap on the ground, the leopard now without her wild form, looked far less intimidating if it hadn't been for the shouting which occasionally made Eir flinch. It felt wrong to speak whilst the Cyndaran was being interrogated, yet all the same, there was sympathy. Surely, something terrible must've happened for her to hate Sumennans as she did. Or so Llewellyn believed. A reason behind everything; even if it appeared silly and small, was enough to ignite even the worst crimes and feuds.

SilverFlight SilverFlight velleity velleity Flutterby Flutterby deer deer Zazz Zazz AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath

 
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C
olorful hues passed through her glossy, emerald green eyes as she stared ahead. The ground continued to waver beneath her as she stood on her good leg, switching back and forth her weight to steady her balance and posture. Put on a show. Smile. Don't show your pain. The shifter's screeching anger rang in her ears as she heard the beast-woman's insult calling her a witch. A grim smile made way to her lips as she furrowed her brows finding the irony in the mockery. ". . . A witch? No. . it was . . . that man . . priest. . " However, Rossarinya's eyes widened as the shifter managed to run around the campsite of her own free-will, creating chaos and confusion everywhere she ran. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when the shifter ran straight for Ora, but, thankfully, the half-dwarven woman managed to be free from injury though the beast-woman wasn't so lucky. Rossarinya found herself comparing the shifted woman to Cerys continuously. The second time Cerys had woken up from his rest. . . he managed to find strength to wreck havoc inside the house. He didn't trust her nor Braxius and the way the woman was acting - lashing out at all of them and creating an enemy between her and them without talking only made her even more confused. To, Rossarinya, she could only imagine the emotions the shifter was facing being both woman and beast. Though, perhaps the shifter was the type to act before she thought, nevertheless, whatever the case may be, Rossarinya could only whisper out Desrick as she helplessly stood behind the orc watching in slow motion the change in direction and the next target the shifter was headed towards.

Rossarinya, out of instinct, had stepped forward towards Desrick, her hands extending out to push him out of the way, but before she could get near Desrick, another being stumbled into the fray. Lohrithe. With a slight jump, Rossarinya watched as the dark elf managed to catch the woman, restraining her from moving. A part of her winced at the idea of being restrained as the other part of her wanted to turn her eyes away from the sight. Something about seeing. . . such stunts made her uncomfortable. . . and perhaps it was the fact that the shifter before her was also a being. . . not just . . animal. Soon, Desrick, without a moment's hesitation, went to aid Lohrithe in holding down the beast-woman around her neck, telling her to bite him if she needed blood to dissipate her anger. But, for what seemed like mere hours, another being came into view: the male fairy and what laid before her eyes confused yet enlightened her as the beast-woman slowly shifted back into her normal form. Rossarinya didn't get a chance to marvel at the. . . idea of someone being able to. . . shift into another being, but regardless. . . something inside her told her that it wasn't. . . all it was cut out to be.

However, when the fairy spoke softly towards the woman, Rossarinya's eyes twitched sightly. Lohrithe, Desrisk, and the fairy were right. . . she wouldn't be hurt. However, it wasn't their affirmation and reassurance that struck a chord in her. But. . . the sorrow and the pleas of the woman's voice and most of all, questions. Although the interrogation of the Cyndaran was a private yet intimate moment, Rossarinya sharply turned her head to look at the shifter. . . her eyes glossing over once more as she found herself imagining that she was in the shifter's position. At one point. . . she was. . . she remembered staring into the eyes of other Summenans, pleading with them to try to understand her - to try to explain to her what was so wrong with her. Nevertheless, Rossarinya soon turned her head away quickly, as angry tears seemed to form around her eyes as she slowly lowered herself to the ground to sit, dropping her quill next to her. It wasn't until she felt someone approaching her before she sucked in a breath, hearing Desrick's words. She merely nodded in approval at letting their healer rest to save her strength.

But, what confused Rossarinya the most was the moment when Desrick took out what seemed to have been . . an ointment of some sort, something she hadn't seen before. Blinking back her surprise, Rossarinya shifted slightly to the side, listening to him without protest. Eyeing the dried blood as she looked at her torn attire, Rossarinya sighed slightly as she slowly removed some of the silk that was in the way as she exposed the wound towards Desrick. She didn't say a word, not wanting to disrupt the questions Desrick had for the shifter and could only turn to look at Eiraiwen, slightly smiling, though it didn't reach her eyes. Rossarinya didn't know when she appeared but. . . she nodded once more, "If you are needed elsewhere. . . Desrick," she started, her head motioning towards the other Cyndarans, "I am sure Eiraiwen can help place the ointment on my wound. It is but a scratch." She spoke gratefully before reaching over to reach the pouch, hesitantly smiling before handing it over towards Eirainwen. "Will you. . .?" Rossarinya softly spoke, tilting her head slightly, not wanting to bring anymore attention towards herself as she kept an open ear to hear the shifter's words.

tags: SilverFlight SilverFlight , velleity velleity , idalie idalie , Flutterby Flutterby , Zazz Zazz , AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath
 
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Ora watched Desrick, Lohrithe, and Ciaran manhandle the leopard with a blank expression. The change back to her human form was sudden, and startled her, but at least there were less teeth and claws now. At the sound of Vyara's strained voice, Ora's eyes slid away. Her flinch at the word monsters was visible, traveling down to the tip of her tail. It curled under itself, half-hiding between her legs, trying to make her presence smaller. She needed something else to think about.

Rossarinya requested Eir to place the ointment, but Ora moved toward her ( deer deer ), stepping to Desrick's side. "I can do this. You and Eir should tend the skin-changer, if she'll allow it." There was a pause, and her tone was suddenly apologetic. "I hit her leg, hopefully not too deep. I shouldn't have struck her at all." She spoke softly, like she didn't want anyone else to hear her, but it was more so that her voice remained steady.

The half-dwarf glanced over at Vyara, her face neutral, but dark eyes worried. Did she injure her badly? Would it heal quickly? Would it worsen the distrust she clearly felt of Sumennans, making it even more dangerous to be here?
Will it make you her preferred target for next time?
Ora looked away from Vyara quickly, pressing her lips together against the nagging voice. That's not what matters here.

SilverFlight SilverFlight idalie idalie deer deer velleity velleity AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath
 
Desrick, allowed the pouch of ointment to be taken from his hand ( deer deer ). He listened as the Summenans began to take charge of themselves. He appreciated their cohesiveness and their strength and told them so with an approving smile.
"Ora has a point." He took a small pit of the salve before he relinquished it to the dwarf ( Flutterby Flutterby ) and gestured for Eir ( idalie idalie ) to follow him, saying over his shoulder: "Bind it with the ripped silk."
He administered as much healing as the skin changer permitted, then moved to the fire and began to kick dirt over the glowing embers.
"We should move on." He said calmly. "It isn't safe to stay in one place too long out here."

Once he was certain Vyara ( velleity velleity ) was't going to attack anyone else he had his friends ( AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath Zazz Zazz ) let her go. "You may come if you wish, but I won't tolerate you being hostile." It was all he said before walking away, grumbling to himself: "Get enough of that from my kin..."
It was fairly well-known that the forets was dangerous to travel alone, and a pack-less skin changer was generally especially vulnerable. Desrick had no idea how she had lasted this long, but it must have been a testament to her strength...Or savagery.
The next person he went to was Lohr ( Zazz Zazz ) , who had been the first to grab onto their new guest.
"Are you all right?" Even as he asked his eyes searched for cuts on Lohr's chest and arms. Finding none he seemed to relax visibly. "That was dangerous. She could have killed you." There was a note of admonishment in his voice and suddenly Desrick was taken back to the memories of his time with the orcs, protecting the young dark elf from their brutality. He would always deny it, but he fretted over Lohrithe since that time.

The group taken care of Desick began to pack up came, and soon most of the supplies were shouldered on his broad back.
"It is another twelve marks to my home. Once we are there I hope you will find what you need. There is a library, and scholars...but before I allow you anywhere, you must visit the temple of Cyndabrynde. The priestesses will want to meet you."
His hands fell to his sides as he turned to lead and one of them brushed the white-fletched arrow shaft still hanging, fully visible, from his belt. He looked down at it, having forgotten it was there. In the darkness something called nearby and this snapped Desrick out of his thoughts.
"We go now."

Flutterby Flutterby Zazz Zazz idalie idalie AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath velleity velleity deer deer The Suspicious Eye The Suspicious Eye

((For the sumennans, anyone will recognize the arrow as one used by the Evereach elite archers, you can bring it up anytime.
I will be time-skipping to the village next post, is that ok with everyone?))
 
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Lenore
Lenore glanced over to Desrick beyond the steam of the warm bowl. She gave a soft yet saddened and aged smile. Taking a heavy breath she let her negativity release out of her as easy as her breath. Giving a soft nod she spoke softly, “Thank you, Desrick. I will try.” She looked back down at the shop and listened to the stillness of their home. She took a deep breath of the still air and smiled as she looked back up the stars as Desrick mentioned them.

Her attention taken by the disturbance of the calm as she heard the sounds of shifting earth. The attack was swift but not one that couldn’t be stopped. Ora was swift enough to stop it the shapeshifter in her tracks, and Desrick finished the fight. Watching the action before her Lenore didn’t see a need to attack her people. She’d done that once and once was enough for her. Never again would she lay a hand on her own kind. The thought of her past made the once warm and filling food cold and empty. She watched as the orc comforted the foolish Summer elf, Lernore was curious if she had a death wish. Shaking her head slightly her head snapped back to see the leopard pounce again. Only this time the girl seemed to be more confused and finally began to communicate.

Lenore knew the girl was not wrong, the old ways stood amongst a few. Though in truth she preferred the new way of thinking she saw merit in the old. The shapeshifter should not be penalized for that. It was surprising to see a fairy help like that. She wondered how different the fae now are compared to when she lived her life. They certainly have more interest with other kinds specifically human. The bad taste in her mouth only worsened thinking of those of her kind. Hoping that no Fae lasted these eight hundred years let alone the tale of the traitor earth fairy who fought against her own kind for the sake of a Summenan war. Finishing her meal she decided to give another word of wisdom to their chosen leader.

Lifting up off the ground she floated over to Desrick’s side, before landing gently beside him. Not noticing the arrow that he held to his side she gently placed a hand on his arm. “Desrick. There is a difference between hospitality and walking into danger. Do not open your arms to wide to those who aren’t family. I learned this lesson in a way that you do not. Show strength not weakness. Lead but use caution. As I promised I will help you, so I give you my words. Use them as you wish, young orc.” She turned and stepped away ready to take the back of the group as they lead to the home of the orcs.
Flutterby Flutterby Zazz Zazz idalie idalie AlbaGuBrath AlbaGuBrath velleity velleity deer deer SilverFlight SilverFlight
 
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"You're ignorant," he said and those two words struck her core. Vyara's struggling ceased, confusion and rage blazing in her wide eyes. "If I was any other orc, you'd be dead."

She cut off his next words with a snarled response, "If you were any other orc, you would fight beside me and those wretched light-lovers would be nothing more than bloody fertilizer for our Great Mother's world! These people, these things hate us, despise us, can't stand to look at us, how can you be so blind?! They aren't worthy to cushion Cyndabrynde's ass, so why the fuck are you protecting them?!" But it seemed her own speech fell on deaf ears as he turned and attended to other members of the party. Vyara huffed and groaned and jerked her head away from the orc's direction, finding the dusty skin of the dark elf's arm far more interesting than the sight of a traitor's face. Her struggle for freedom may have come to a sudden halt, but she remained tense and ready to burst back into action.

Her curiosity--no, no, vigilance bid her look, however, at the so-called light-lovers as they mumbled about themselves, apparently arguing over who was to heal whom. Pathetic, Vyara thought. Play your games, daylighters , but I see you. I know who you really are. Her gaze brushed the half-elf's and found pity behind the distress. It made the shifter's stomach churn and she ripped her eyes away in favor of the half-dwarf's dark stare. She held it easily, a threat's promise plain on Vyara's own face, a satisfied ghost of a smile when Ora glanced away.

She found the dirt again when the orc and the elf made their way to her. When he spoke again, the utter loathing in her expression was marred by a not-so-slight tint of sadness. The thought that she would have to fight one of her own to the death, a fellow Cyndaran, was no happy matter.

". . . ."

"I want to know a few things, Daughter of the Leopard: Where is your tribe? Why are you so eager to throw yourself into danger?"

". . . ."

"If you had kept attacking maybe you would have killed someone, but someone else would have killed you. Are you so eager to die?"

Her head snapped back, her expression deathly serious and unfamiliar on her face. "You don't know that! You don't know me! I was trained by a great priestess, the greatest in all Cyndara! I won't die so easily, scar face! I can't! Not until--! . . . I just can't!" She caught herself just in time; it certainly wouldn't do to tell this band of her army aspirations. Certainly not. Vyara resolved herself to speak as little as possible, a more than difficult task in any normal situation for her, but this was far from normal. Save for a single instance where she bared her teeth at the simpering half-elf for attempting to touch her with the orc's strange salve, she kept her mouth tightly shut.

The moment the dark elf's hold slackened, she rolled to one side and sat up. Her breathing hitched, lips parted, fingers spread and curled like claws. But she made no offensive move. Not yet, anyway. She wasn't the brightest of her kind, but was far from stupid; she would bide her time, wait, watch, listen. Gather information. Learn their motives, their weaknesses. And then, when the Mother of Spring deemed it right, she would strike and sound the alarm and then be hailed a hero of her people. Yes. How very fine that would be!

So Vyara kept her guard high and movement slow and steady. She snatched up a small handful of rich midnight soil and pressed it to the wound at her thigh. She knelt her head to whisper words to the earth and when the soil fell free, it was little more than parched desert sand, her cut now a fresh and gnarly scar. She stood and gathered her things and donned her armor, wary and tense and twitching at every move and breath the Sumennans made. When the Orc was ready to leave, so was she.

Like it or not, the skin changer would follow..



scarecrow.regular.png


"You're ignorant," he said and those two words struck her core. Vyara's struggling ceased, confusion and rage blazing in her wide eyes. "If I was any other orc, you'd be dead."

She cut off his next words with a snarled response, "If you were any other orc, you would fight beside me and those wretched light-lovers would be nothing more than bloody fertilizer for our Great Mother's world! These people, these things hate us, despise us, can't stand to look at us, how can you be so blind?! They aren't worthy to cushion Cyndabrynde's ass, so why the fuck are you protecting them?!" But it seemed her own speech fell on deaf ears as he turned and attended to other members of the party. Vyara huffed and groaned and jerked her head away from the orc's direction, finding the dusty skin of the dark elf's arm far more interesting than the sight of a traitor's face. Her struggle for freedom may have come to a sudden halt, but she remained tense and ready to burst back into action.

Her curiosity--no, no, vigilance bid her look, however, at the so-called light-lovers as they mumbled about themselves, apparently arguing over who was to heal whom. Pathetic, Vyara thought. Play your games, daylighters , but I see you. I know who you really are. Her gaze brushed the half-elf's and found pity behind the distress. It made the shifter's stomach churn and she ripped her eyes away in favor of the half-dwarf's dark stare. She held it easily, a threat's promise plain on Vyara's own face, a satisfied ghost of a smile when Ora glanced away.

She found the dirt again when the orc and the elf made their way to her. When he spoke again, the utter loathing in her expression was marred by a not-so-slight tint of sadness. The thought that she would have to fight one of her own to the death, a fellow Cyndaran, was no happy matter.

". . . ."

"I want to know a few things, Daughter of the Leopard: Where is your tribe? Why are you so eager to throw yourself into danger?"

". . . ."

"If you had kept attacking maybe you would have killed someone, but someone else would have killed you. Are you so eager to die?"

Her head snapped back, her expression deathly serious and unfamiliar on her face. "You don't know that! You don't know me! I was trained by a great priestess, the greatest in all Cyndara! I won't die so easily, scar face! I can't! Not until--! . . . I just can't!" She caught herself just in time; it certainly wouldn't do to tell this band of her army aspirations. Certainly not. Vyara resolved herself to speak as little as possible, a more than difficult task in any normal situation for her, but this was far from normal. Save for a single instance where she bared her teeth at the simpering half-elf for attempting to touch her with the orc's strange salve, she kept her mouth tightly shut.

The moment the dark elf's hold slackened, she rolled to one side and sat up. Her breathing hitched, lips parted, fingers spread and curled like claws. But she made no offensive move. Not yet, anyway. She wasn't the brightest of her kind, but was far from stupid; she would bide her time, wait, watch, listen. Gather information. Learn their motives, their weaknesses. And then, when the Mother of Spring deemed it right, she would strike and sound the alarm and then be hailed a hero of her people. Yes. How very fine that would be!

So Vyara kept her guard high and movement slow and steady. She snatched up a small handful of rich midnight soil and pressed it to the wound at her thigh. She knelt her head to whisper words to the earth and when the soil fell free, it was little more than parched desert sand, her cut now a fresh and gnarly scar. She stood and gathered her things and donned her armor, wary and tense and twitching at every move and breath the Sumennans made. When the Orc was ready to leave, so was she.

Like it or not, the skin changer would follow.

 
Ora took the salve, with a small nod. She dabbed at the cut gently with one finger, testing Rossarinya's pain level. Then, gently as she could, she spread the salve over the clawed marks, the only sign of emotion being a bit of tenting in her brow. Once she had covered it, she mumbled softly, "This is an awfully fine dress to turn to bandages.."
But she did as Desrick said, cutting the torn silk free from the rest of the dress with her hunting knife. She bound it securely, but not tightly; it would keep dirt out, without restricting healing. "There we are." She looked up briefly, and added, "My apologies that I couldn't knock her further away. She was a little heavier than I realized." With that, she stood, and moved away with a small smile.
deer deer

Ora had heard the words of the skin-changer, and found them embedded in the back of her mind. She wasn't all that surprised, that some Cyndarans didn't wish them to be there. It was, in truth, less surprising than the fact that this group had been so welcoming. But the look that she and Vyara had exchanged.. well, you just better not let down your guard. You'll be the first to go, if there's a chance.

At least they were moving now, not that she would be able to sleep again. She tried to pack her things slowly and gently, with the skin-changer so close nearby, twitching like a spooked animal. By the time Desrick was ready, Ora was standing with her pack on, swords strapped in easy reach, watching the skin-changer unabashedly with a blank face. Part of her wondered if she had marked her as a Sumennan, or if she had mistaken her for Cyndaran as some of them had. Not that it mattered, she still wanted her blood.

Her head turned to listen to Desrick, and her stomach flipped a little at the mention of priestesses. Religion was not her most favorite thing. He paused, staring at something at his hip. Ora followed his gaze, and found herself looking at a vaguely familiar arrow. It wasn't dwarvish; the shaft was too slender, and she didn't know any dwarf that would use feathers like that. Her own were fletched with light brown feathers, of a type of hawk that hunted in the Dwermounts. After a second, she decided it was elvish, because of the feathers, and belonged to one of the higher Houses, because the materials looked expensive. You had to have money and power to get the best. So.. Evereach, most likely, maybe Soleil.
As they started to walk, Oralia glanced around the group. Rossarinya carried a bow. If it were hers, Desrick would've given it back.
Ora looked back at Desrick's turned back, and bit the inside of her lip. There shouldn't be an elvish arrow here. Where could he have got it, if not from us?
The thought made her blood run cold, even though she didn't really know why. Her face remained neutral, but she tried to catch the eye of one of the other summerlanders as she walked.
 
Once he was more or less certain the leopard woman had come to her senses, Lohrithe left her to Desrick and went to pack his things. He saw the way the skin-changer eyed the Sumennans, and the way the half-dwarf twitched at every movement she made. Lohrithe glanced at the newcomer with sadness before taking the role of guardian for both Ora and Rossarinya. He kept close to them, his midnight and green eyes watching Vyara carefully.

He cleared his throat and spoke quietly to the half-dwarf beside him, his hand on the pommel of his large sword. "You needn't be afraid," he promised gently. Lohrithe's gaze flitted over her spiral horns before settling on her eyes with a soft smile. It was a little eerie, what with his strange eyes, but it was clear he meant no harm.
 
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