Fantasy Setting Summer Dawn

[Flutterby]

Ora wasn't surprised when the little skinchanger spoke up; she had already gathered that the newcomer was not an assassin or agent, which put her into the category of artists, traders, and normal folk. She watched the stranger for a moment, thinking deeply about something, when the old newcomer spoke up. Feyre had not socialized with the group at all at Gideon's, as far as she could tell, and was making a point of riding ahead and somewhat separate. When she tried to shoot down the idea of music, the dwarf did her best to hide a scowl. They were a group, a team, a family. She knew that people like Feyre (and frankly, people like Iolas, Azaria, and herself) preferred their own company out of necessity, but it dug at her that the half-elf seemed so set in not joining them fully when that was the new order of things.
Ora parted her lips to say something, but Iolas, blessed Iolas, beat her to it. Somehow, she didn't think that poking at Feyre would make her any more receptive. Ora set her lips together, and reached up to adjust her hood.
Her mood lifted a good deal as she watched Pyrrhus, and listened to Cripsin beside her, and by the time they decided to rest, she had mostly forgotten about her irritation.
Baconhands LazyDaze Ms. Sparrow

*~*~*

Ora relaxed and enjoy the traveling as much as she could. The fact that they had decided to stop in Eskaro made Dwerstand seem less pressing, less worrisome. At some point, she had decided to call her pony Melys, regardless of what her original name was.
When they stopped to rest the first time, Ora pulled Pyrrhus aside and gave him the piece he had requested. She had worked on it painstakingly. Folding, then flattening the copper to form the basic idea of a feather had been the easy part- she had agonized over the details, where to put the little chinks in the sides, how many to put, if it should be straight or bend.. In the end, after three days of fiddling with it, she had used Crispin's wrist to help her size it (he was taller than Crow, but lanky enough that she though it would work) and said a prayer that it would be good enough.

Spoiler: Feather Bracelet

SilverFlight
*~*~*

As they drew closer to Eskaro, Ora started to feel nervous. She wasn't sure if it was her own nervousness, or if she was just empathizing with Pyhhrus, who had been fiddling for miles. She thought about going up there to talk to him, but convinced herself that it would be proper to let Crow handle it, if anyone was going to. Instead, she stayed next to Crispin, and tried to enjoy the way the sun dappled through the leaves of the forest.

 

[Baconhands]

At the centaur's choice of song, Meera was somewhat surprised that she couldn't recall it, though this feeling did not stay for long. When the chorus came for the third time, she joined in, once she'd found a more stable shoulder to perch on. If they weren't on the move, she would have changed form and would have danced and clapped.
----------------------------------------------------
As they travelled, Pyrrhus, as it turned out the centaur was named, made sure Meera knew who was who. Desrick, Crispin, Iolas, Feyre, Lohrithe, Oralia, Crow, Trileon, Nova, Azaria. She was determined to learn them off by heart before they reached the next settlement.
For the next few days she didn't really leave Pyrrhus's side, mostly for this reason. The shapeshifter was also determined to learn as much as she could about this travelling group, where they were based, what they might have to sell if they did have anything to sell. When she revealed where she was from, she was genuinely delighted at the fact he had recognised The Troupe, and that he had such good things to say warmed her heart. She assured him that if he were ever to run into them again, that he would be welcome to stay as long as he liked. The Troupe had never turned away a Cyndaran.
SilverFlight
As they entered the forest, Meera found herself hopping from plant to plant, changing forms to collect a few samples, primarily berries, here and there after checking with the party if they were considered dangerous or not. When buildings began to come into view, with Desrick's warning replaying in her mind, Meera took the conscious decision to remain in her human form. She made a point of walking alongside Pyrrhus, though she was somewhat concerned by his nervous motions.
Moving so that she was now walking alongside... Oralia(? Yes, that was her name, Oralia!), Meera ventured a question, "Why is Pyrrhus so nervous? This place is more like home than any other place in Sumenna. Admittedly, I haven't been to many places in Sumenna but I suppose the point still stands." She spoke quickly, "I don't think we've spoken a lot. I'm Meera, by the way."
Flutterby

 

[Flutterby]

Ora had just started to reminisce about the only good part about the ball, about dancing with Crispin in his light-dappled green costume, when the skinchanger appeared next to her. She had kept to Pyrrhus so far- they seemed to have bonded over music and some shared past, something about a troupe that she had been a part of. Ora wasn't sure, but it sounded like a group of bards or traders or something.
Ora glanced at Meera as she spoke, and gave a cautious smile. Her dark eyes flickered back up to the canopy for a moment, and then back to Meera.
"I suppose you're right," Ora said, "This forest is not all that different." She was thinking of the moment in Gideon's solarium when she said it. Her eyes drifted to Pyrrhus.
"Well.. he and Crow, the human man," Ora subtly pointed at him, "are in love. Eskaro, where we're headed, is Crow's home. So I suspect that Pyrrhus is nervous.. to meet Crow's people, see his home, now that they're a couple." There was likely a lot more to it than that, but Ora didn't want to soil the conversation by trying to explain the pretend slavery and the Bishop and all of that. Meera could learn the complicated bits later.
Ora glanced at Meera again, and gave a small nod.
"I'm called Ora. Has Pyrrhus filled you in on what we're doing?"
Baconhands

 

[Phayne]

Flutterby mothspit Goonfire SilverFlight LazyDaze Zazz Baconhands Ms. Sparrow​

It wasn't too unsurprising that for the majority of their trip thus far Azael had been in deep slumber. The feline form the skin changer had found himself residing in for the duration of this heist currently nestled comfortably atop the pile of hay he had used to separate himself and the potatoes. The trip thus far had spanned for several days, several long days that Azael had been forced to endure in the confined space of the large potato sack he presently called home. Whilst the space itself was sorely lacking, Azael could not be faulted for his commitment to the cause; the determination and sheer will power to sit it out for this long in incognito going a long way to show his resolve. But alas, everyone has their limits and Azael was teetering on the edge of his, another day spent in this sack of spuds was another day closer to insanity.

When not in the comforting grasp of slumber, Azael's time spent awake was largely time spent eavesdropping on whatever conversations he could catch from within his 'prison'. The casual chatter in between Pyrrhus's singing and lute play, doing very little to actually peak his interest yet a far preferred 'past-time' over doing nothing. The only other activity he had at his disposal was to carve images into the potato's, his claws easily slicing through the hardened exterior of the hardy vegetables. By now, he had a collection of carvings stashed underneath the pile of hay; the majority of them depicting how he imagined the dragon bell to look like, his favourite being the horned bell he had carved as well as the minute carving of Marillene which he had kept to one side. If he could not find anything worth stealing, perhaps he could give her this as a thank you instead.

Call it good fortune or what not, but it had been pure luck that the sack had remained largely untouched during their travels his discovery postponed thanks to it. The only consistent interaction he had received from the 'outside world' was the occasional bump of someone or something passing by whenever it appeared to be 'meal time'. Largely it had been the sacks around him that had been touched; whomever it was that did the cooking seemingly abhorring the idea of using potato's or perhaps there had been more than one sack of them; afterall if memory served him right there were a couple identical sacks slung along the pack horse. Of course, there was the one instance a few days ago when his sack had been unceremoniously dropped onto the floor; the careless act causing him to awaken from one of his naps. It was a mission simply reigning himself in; the desire to leap out from hiding and claw his 'attacker' almost throwing his whole heist into jeopardy. Someones life had been spared.

Back to the present, Azael stood upright in the sack with his face pressed against one side of the sack; a small slit cut into the fabric allowing him to see forward; the unwelcoming sight of a horse's rear end greeting him. Azael sighed and instead pressed his ear to the slit in the sack; awaiting the good news of their arrival in Eskaro.

 

[Baconhands]

Meera nodded, a broad smile appearing almost instantly. Love was something to be celebrated in the Troupe; the welcoming of another person into the family was cause for jubilation. Nerves were understandable, therefore; Pyrrhus surely wanted to give a good impression. Meera was more than happy to help him do that: maybe she could encourage Crow's people to let the centaur sing when they met. She caught her thoughts before they ran too rampant; the Troupe first, Cyndara second.
"Oh, well, I knew you were called Oralia," Meera assured the dwarf, "Pyrrhus has made sure I at least know what all of you are called and I have endeavoured to be a good student. As for precisely what we're doing here: not so much." She admitted honestly, "Can I guess, though? Is Pyrrhus here to meet Crow's family? And you're all here to support him? I suppose it would be quite daunting to meet the family of the person that you love."
She paused, and an inquisitive expression came to her face. "Are they both from Sumenna?"
Her eyes flicked to the centaur and to the human and then back to Oralia. In but a split second after she had asked if they were from Sumenna, she continued with her guesses, "Am I allowed more guesses on why we're here? Because some of you look... armed. And from what I've seen the wildlife here is significantly tamer than Cyndara. So are you expecting trouble?" Meera drew her blade, "It's not exactly a sharp weapon, I haven't looked after it, but if I needed to use it I... well... I wouldn't want to."
She looked up to Oralia's eyes, concern resting in them, "Are you expecting trouble?"

Interaction: Flutterby
Mentions: SilverFlight Goonfire

 

[Ms. Sparrow]

​

Feyre Yinnelis

Feyre gritted her teeth at the sound of Iolas’s annoying voice grating her ears, confirming her suspicions. If anyone were to be the bane of this journey, it was going to be him. It seemed he had not forgotten their exchange at Gideons. Well, she happened to like playing games just as well. Feyre glanced back at Iolas, smiling poisonously at him, “Your friends must think your hilarious,” she said in a sickly sweet tone, “maybe you should sing a solo,” she lamented, her tone turning dry.

She didn’t fail to notice Pyrrhus’s wink at Iolas when the words exited her mouth, Feyre opened her mouth to protest further but before she could utter the word “no”, Pyrrhus burst into song. Feyre gave the centaur a deadpan stare, glancing at the wood elf as he joined Pyrrhus in song, the centaur prancing around as he melted into the tune. Feyre’s lip twitched up slightly before she looked away, hiding her lips with her hand as she let out a quiet chuckle into her hand.
~~
The next several days had passed by slowly, though the centaur had kept the mood rather joyous the entire time. Feyre was more grateful however, for the cool shade the trees enveloped in them, providing a welcome relief against the burning sun.

Feyre lifted her face to the sky, her eyes closed in silent euphoria, savoring the cool feel of the darkness as they approached Eskaro. The usual joyful centaur had drawn unusually quiet, looking more and more tense as the buildings grew nearer. Curious, and suspicious, Feyre rode up beside the Pyrrhus, glancing at him, “you’re nervous,” she said, more a statement then a question, “why?” She asked, her tone cool, but her brows coming together in slight concern. If he was worried, perhaps she should be to. And though she’d never admit it, she was slightly concerned for the centaurs well-being.

To hide her own exotic look, Feyre quickly tied her hair back into a loose bun before throwing her black hood over her head, a bit of everyone else’s tension wearing on her the slightest as sat more upright in her saddle and waited for his response.

LazyDaze SilverFlight

​

​

 

[Flutterby]

Ora watched Meera as she spoke, mostly thinking out loud it seemed. Her opinion of this newcomer had softened quite a bit over the last few days; if anyone could spend so much time with Pyrrhus, they had to have a kind heart. She did glance at Pyrrhus's back when she asked if they were Sumennan, and there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth. But she said nothing, not until she was finished talking and had settled on a question.
"Yes." Her voice was absolutely certain. There was no doubt of trouble. She let that sit for a moment, and then explained.
"We are headed to the dwarvish city of Dwerstand, that's where I'm from. There are a lot of politics involved, Sumennan and Cyndaran, that we are still working out but.."
Ora wasn't sure how much she should tell this person, so she kept it vague.
"But the short of it is, our countries are preparing to go to war against each other. We don't think that its the right thing to do. We're hoping to stop it, so we don't destroy one another. We are going to Dwerstand because we need the dwarves to stop supporting the high elves. Getting that to happen will be very difficult, and very dangerous."
Ora hesitated, and then added, "If you don't think you're prepared for that, you may want to consider going home. If you do stay, I can help you sharpen that blade."
In a lighter tone, Ora continued. "As for Pyrrhus and Crow, no, they are not both Sumennans. Crow is, but Pyrrhus is from Cyndara. Same with Crispin and I. I'm from here, but Crispin is not." There was a faint blush on her cheeks. "I suppose.. its rather taboo, but.. I have a feeling some of us will be relocating anyway, if we make it through this."
Baconhands

 

[LazyDaze]

Iolas answered Feyre's retort with a carefree smile as he and Pyrrhus linked up and made eye contact. Operation Sing Along would soon be under way. It was probably better for Feyre to swim with the stream, rather than against it when it came to Pyrrhus. He had a magnetic ability about him in which you just found yourself following his lead. Furthermore, she seemed especially perturbed with anything Iolas said, something he did well to take note of...not that it would deter him in any form or fashion.

Iolas picked up the song quickly and actually thought it was quite hilarious as well as insightful. I mean imagine being able to predict the future, but being able to change anything. At the end of the day you were only witnessing misfortune twice. Iolas was actually a decent singer. He was not amazing by any stretch of the imagination, but he could at least avoid embarrassing himself. The entire ordeal turned out to be a stress reliever considering what was to come. He spent most of the journey observing others, and interjecting a few jokes here and there. This was by far the most carefree he had been since Ora and Pyrrhus went shopping.

---------------​

When they had arrived everyone seemed to be hesitant for some reason or another. The conversations turned to a much more serious tone...or at least that's what he observed. Pyrrhus was fidgeting and fussing; it was actually quite adorable. Meera was either confused or intrigued..Iolas could hardly tell the difference anymore. Either way she was starting to look more and more like dragon bait every day. Iolas chuckled at the silly thought and took in the scenery as he remembered Crow's promise to help him procure a weapon...or rather create it.

"Eskaro...does not appear to be a deathtrap." Iolas said to himself. He doubted that they needed to worry about their safety until Dwerstand, but Iolas remained vigilant nevertheless. One could never be too careful. If the people here were anything like Crow...they might already have eyes on them. He gave Azaria a sharp glance as if to tell her to stay on her toes, but he was sure she did not need the advice. He knew if anything was to happen they would have to react quickly.

Goonfire Flutterby SilverFlight Baconhands Ms. Sparrow Zazz

 

[Zazz]

As much as Azaria cared for Pyrrhus, she was not in the mood for music. In fact, she avoided it by alternating between riding ahead and falling behind, scouting their surroundings. Let the rest have fun, she thought to herself, while they still could. Who knew what Eskaro and Dwerstand, or even this road, would bring them.

It was on one of her tag-alongs that she noticed something peculiar about one of the bags on a pack horse; it wasn't even with the bag on the other side, and it... twitched? The following rest stop, she made a point to drop it on the ground, to see if whatever was inside would show itself. However, it did not, and the assassin decided to leave the mysterious being be. If it was that determined to go unnoticed, she would play along. Though, she kept a sharp eye on the bag the rest of the way.

The forest leading up to Eskaro was a welcome treat, and she could see Lohrithe and the other Cyndarans visibly relax below the foliage. Except for Pyrrhus, her dear friend. Azaria smirked to herself; it was rather cute, seeing him all nervous to be in Crow's hometown. She wondered how the Bishop would react to their coupling, and hoped for the best for her friend. ....Friends.

She caught Iolas's look and gave the slightest of nods. Rarely was there a moment she was not on guard. The last time she had truly slept for more than a catnap had been with the high elf, nearly naked in his bed. She hadn't strayed too close to him since then, preferring to be the group's eyes and ears, staying up to watch over them while they slept.

 

[Goonfire]

On the road, Crow nodded along rhythmically to the tunes. For those few days, things seemed lighthearted, carefree. However, not all good things last.

The imposing walled city of Eskaro was heavily guarded; only the best agents could slip past the myriad archers spaced along the ramparts. At the gates, guards thoroughly inspected visitors’ baggage. Pikemen ensured their safety, while armored figures oversaw all work at the checkpoint from a balcony at the gatehouse.

Crow, having fallen silent, rode to the front of the group to meet the guard, who demanded, “Show me your passage visas.” The inquisitor then carefully dismounted in response and pulled several papers from his bag. Something the guard saw caused his eyes to flicker up to Crow and back to the visa. The next page was a piece of parchment with an ornate sun insignia. “Welcome back. Who are they?”

“My guests; we’ll be staying one night and departing tomorrow.” Crow’s declaration earned another scrutinizing nod.

“Right... Prepare for a contraband inspection.” With that, several guards stepped out to perform a routine inspection.

“If you have any drugs, tranquilizers, or poisons, allow us to hold onto them until we leave the city,” Crow called back to his companions. “I trust none of you would attempt anything unscrupulous, but our law bars such things from entering, due to past assassination threats. We can’t make exceptions, unfortunately.”

Following that explanation, the inspectors fanned out. The Cyndarans and elves from both sides received a few especially critical glances.

SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Flutterby Phayne Ms. Sparrow Baconhands

 

[SilverFlight]

Pyrrhus started when Feyre came up to ask him a question.
"O-oh, nervous?...well, I suppose I am...a little." He glanced at her concerned expression. "There is no danger to the group, no real danger at all I don't think, just the potential to be judged poorly by people that matter to...someone that matters to me."
He had pulled something from his jacket pocket and was playing with it idly. Pyrrhus had been amazed at the sight of the copper bracelet Ora had designed on his request, fashioned from one of the decorative rings that adorned his hair. Since then he had been trying to think of a good way to repay the dwarven smith for her incredible work, but now his thoughts were focused on Eskaro, and the bishop.
"I don't want to make a bad impression, though I admit if one is made I doubt it would be for anything I would have done over...what I am." He glanced at Crow as they came up on the gate.
"I care for him very much, and it would be just awful if he was put into a situation where he had to choose...I can't do that to him."
Ms. Sparrow

As they came on the guards Crow rode ahead. Pyrrhus lingered in the back, so nervous he was nearly trembling. He obliged when the guards came over to check his bags, he wondered if they would treat him as they likely had seen his kind treated, as slaves, part of him wondered if he still needed to play the role, though he desperately wanted to leave it behind.

Then they shifted to the pack horses, and they found the cat, curled up on a bed of straw, in an old potato sack.
Pyrrhus gasped. "Sir Paddy Paws! How on earth did you get in there?!" Pyrrhus went over to collect the cat out of the saddle bag.
"You naughty thing! Mari will be worried sick! Oh, I wonder if I could send a letter back to Gideon's estate..."

It was Desrick that had the most trouble. They asked him to pull back his hood and the shocked exclamations could be heard throughout the entourage. Desrick was asked to dismount, which he did, not flinching at the weapons that were drawn or close to it. He stood calmly with his hands well away from his weapon and gave Crow a pointed look.
Handle this. It said.

Flutterby Zazz LazyDaze Ms. Sparrow Goonfire mothspit Phayne Baconhands

 

[Goonfire]

Crow assessed the reactions to the party; this was not going too well. He overheard Pyrrhus exclaim something about the cat and slid over to see. “How did that cat get here? Isn’t that... the one Marillene brought home?” Noting the worry and tension in the centaur’s mannerisms, Crow gave a sly, reassuring pat on his flank. “We could send a letter back. The next mail transport to Brynson goes out today.”

The inquisitor straightened up and squinched his eyes shut upon hearing the sudden commotion. That would be the sound of the inspectors discovering an orc among the group, no doubt. “Cease this! Suspend your outrage!” Crow immediately demanded.

“What is the meaning of this?” The ringleader pried furiously.

“He is not a puppet of Evereach; he is a diplomat. If you wish to raise further fuss of this matter, contact Bishop Stenmann directly.”

There was some consideration before a messenger was sent full-gallop into the city. Then, everyone played the waiting game...

Fifteen minutes passed, with other Sumennan caravans and travelers passing regularly. Finally, the messenger returned with word of their course of action: “By the order of Bishop Stenmann, this group is to be brought directly to the Saint Solveig monastery! No action will be taken against them, and nothing is to be confiscated from them!”

Recovering from the initial shock of their exemption from standard procedures, Crow gave Desrick a thin, nervous smile and a light shrug as if to say, ‘I handled it.’ From there, a contingent of guards prepared to escort the team to an imposing structure that looked closer to a fortress than a monastery. The sign didn’t lie, though: ‘Saint Solveig Monastery’.

SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Flutterby Phayne Ms. Sparrow Baconhands

 

[Baconhands]

Meera's eyes went wide: the two countries at war? Surely that didn't make sense? Weren't the Half-Sun Hills supposed to be forbi- The thought stopped before it became hypocritical: if they were, it was obvious that a lot of people were willing to cross from Cyndara into Sumenna and it was obvious that some Sumennans would do the same, given the opportunity.
What would a war mean? Obviously the endangerment of the family, and probably a lot more than just that. A shiver ran down her spine as many dark thoughts began to propagate in her mind.
"If I can do something to stop a war, then I'll do it." She said to Ora determinedly. "But... I don't see much of a point in sharpening the blade if I'm going to be honest. It's grown dull for a reason; I've never had to use it. And I never want to use it. If anything it's more for show to caution the few people that don't grant traders some form of hospitality. But I can... well, I know some basic healing and I can make a few potions, so... that could be useful to you."
She kept her thoughts quiet on the relationships, as Oralia continued. Meera simply nodded, though her expression varied from somewhat disapproving to neutral.
Flutterby
----------------------------------------------
"Contraband?" Meera looked to the others in the party for some form of guidance. As an inspector approached, and asked what was in the bag, Meera simply showed off the various herbs and the few vials that were in her bag. The potions and antidotes were confiscated, and the herbs and berries deeply scrutinised. At the reveal of the orc, and the trouble the inspectors then caused, the shapeshifter was of a mind to try and take back her potions, change forms, and fly for some form of safety.
By the time the messenger had returned, Meera was utterly distraught, and as her potions were returned she gave the inspector a piercing glare, practically snatching the vials from their hands. If such things were normal in Sumenna, Meera did not want to trade there.
Goonfire

 

[Ms. Sparrow]

​

Feyre Yinnelis

Feyre dipped her head in understanding as it became more clear to her. She wasn’t—they, weren’t in any real danger, at least for the moment. He was worried about the Bishop and his possible prejudices. She glanced at Crow briefly, the same time Pyrrhus had, before looking back at the centaur, more specifically what was in his hands, a beautiful copper bracelet that was either of gift to him, or gift he planned to give for Crow. Dawning seemed to understand in Feyre’s eyes as she looked directly into Pyrrhus’s eyes with her glowing blue orbs, “you love him,” she said, wonderment and suprise registering in her voice. She glanced forward as Crow addressed the inspectors and guards at the gate, “and your worried the Bishop will judge you for what you are rather than who.” Feyre said bluntly, though her voice was cool and wistful as she considered the Bishop, recalling the information she knew of him, watching the collected way Crow addressed his people.

“I believe for right now, even if you want it to be, it’s no longer in your hands. Right now, it’s up to him, and he knows it,” she said calmly, dipping her head in Crow’s direction. Feyre watched the inspectors file out and start inspecting everyone, “take it from someone who’s seen it all. Love is a fickle game, but...” Feyre trailed off her voice revealing some hidden compassion within her as she looked directly back at Pyrrhus, “when its real, you can’t walk away.” With this statement, Feyre allowed her horse to fall slightly back as the inspectors closed in upon her, her words left for him to think upon. She hoped for her sake, he wouldn’t mention her words to anyone. She had a reputation to keep after-all.
~~
Before the inspection of the orc had become a problem, Feyre had been very compliant. She handed over her bag of supplies that consisted mainly of her various vials of poisons that she used to coat her weapons, or poison people the old fashion way. Some poisons she used out of mercy. Others were used for the people she thought required a much more slower, painful death. She dismounted from her horse after being asked to remove her a hood, a few suprised glances exchanged between a few of her inspectors as they took in her unnatural features, from her dark complexion to her cyan, white flecked hair, which earned her more critical stares if anything, to which she returned with poisonous smiles in the critical inspectors directions. As she was handing over her sturdy sack of poisons, commotion erode and she glanced over to find the orc being halfway harassed by the inspectors, some of their weapons drawn upon the peaceful orc.

One of the inspectors reached out to take the bag of poisons from her extended arm, which she instantly snatched back upon seeing the weapons near the orc, giving the inspector a cold stare. He opened his mouth to object to her actions, to which she held up her hand to silence him, “I’ll not give you the poisons, until you sheathe your weapons,” she said in a low, deadly tone at him. There were few things Feyre despised more than prejudice, and such an aggressive display irked her easily. One of the inspectors grabbed her arm to take the bag, in which she flinched and recoiled back instantly with a snarl, shooting her inspectors a murderous look, “touch me again and your gonna start loosing parts,” she growled, before her her lips briefly turned up in a mock, icy smile that didn’t at all match the sea of rage in her eyes. None drew their weapons on her as they had the orc, and she too had made no move towards her weapon, though was very tempted. It was clear their prejudice against the peaceful, but intimidating look orc was much stronger than her threats.

Before any more hostilities could be exchanged however, the inquisitor, Crow, addressed the inspectors angrily, keeping her own shimmering anger at bay, glad to see she wasn’t the only one thoroughly angered at the display. She waited patiently as a messenger was sent into the city, not breaking her icy stare with her inspectors the entire time, leaning back lazily against her stallion, her bag of poisons clenched tightly in her hand. The messenger later returned, bearing good news. As he spoke, Feyre gave her inspectors a thin, cold smile, “thanks for the company,” she crooned rather cockily, returning her small bag of poisons back to their place on her leather bag, making her movements excruciatingly slow to rub it in their faces further. After giving them another jaunty smirk, she turned on her heel and sauntered off after the group. Now escorted by a handful of guards, Feyre took in her surroundings as the group neared the imposing building ahead, her eyebrows lifting slightly at the sight of the monastery though she said nothing.



SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Flutterby Phayne Baconhands Goonfire

 

[Zazz]

Azaria hung back at the rear of the pack, taking the opportunity to observe. To an outsider, she likely looked bored and mildly put off by the inconvenience; a practiced manner of nobility learned from her mother. But those who knew her well would clearly see that she was evaluating the defenses, both strengths and weaknesses. Every crack in the pavement a chance to twist an ankle, every nook a hiding place, every chip in the wall perfect for climbing. Even the strongest fortress had its failings, weaknesses awaiting exploitation.

She said nothing when Sir Paddy Paws was pulled from the suspicious potato sack. There was clearly something off about that cat. After the guard, she discreetly double-checked the bag; her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the skillfully carved potatoes. The assassin kept her expression neutral as she covered up the contents once again.

She stayed back as her group began emptying their possessions, until Desrick was surrounded by blades. Clearly, word of Everreach's business had reached here, and it was not welcome in Eskaro. Well, good. Lohrithe's hand went to his sword, but thank the gods he had the sense not to unleash the blade, or Desrick would surely have been skewered on the spot. A guard approached her, finally, as word was sent to the Bishop, but a single look told him to keep his distance. Azaria hardly moved on her black mare, keeping up the appearance of irritated, inconvenienced nobility.

 

[Flutterby]

Ora watched Meera as she responded, frankly a little surprised that she was prepared to join them on such little information. Ora kept her expression guarded- no one, not even someone like her, earned trust that easily- but gave a small nod. She took note of the vague disapproval when she spoke of the couples in the group, but found it didn't bother her. She assumed it was because of the mixture of lands, which she definitely understood. Several weeks ago, she would have had a much more intense reaction.
Baconhands
*~*~*

As they drew to a stop at the gate, Ora fixed her face into a neutral expression, and was sure to keep her eyes somewhat downcast. It was the opposite of the behavior others displayed- still learned early, but for a different reason. Where others could get away with being haughty like the assassin, or rough like Feyre, Ora had learned to not draw attention. She wasn't physically imposing enough to be convincing, and too obviously "ugly" for anyone to respect a superior attitude from her.
She dismounted and quietly handed over her pack, lowering her red hood calmly when requested. The guard that was inspecting her belongings glared at her with confidence. She stared straight ahead at a point somewhere beyond his left hip. It hardly registered that they had a stowaway cat along.
When the guard wasn't looking, distracted by the discovery of Desrick, Ora reached out a hand and gave Meera's forearm a squeeze of encouragement. At the same time, she slowly looked over at Crow. He would have to talk them out of this one.
When they finally began to move, thanks to their friend the Bishop, Ora kept her eyes forward and led the honey-colored pony with one hand. The other fiddled with her two necklaces- the wooden carved horn and the silver mount.
SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Ms. Sparrow Phayne Baconhands Goonfire

 

[LazyDaze]

"Ah I was afraid of this," Iolas said as he stood calmly in the midst of the approaching guards. He smiled and nodded politely to all the gaurds. "Oh, its a surprise party? You shouldn't have...really." Iolas stared the guards down who seemed wary, angry, and just perplexed. Maybe they thought he was Lassard.

The guards were just doing their job, but they did seem a bit more eager than normal. Perhaps it could be attributed to the recent events that took place in Brynson. It would be a lie if Iolas did not think it was a bit disheartening to be looked upon with disdain everywhere he went. Everreach was doing wonders for his image...and he could not help but feel for other high elves facing similar prejudices as strange as that might seem. Despite these thoughts Iolas maintained a playful tone throughout the routine check when the finally gathered their nerve.

"Usually there is a dinner and conversation before this kind of behavior but if you must..." Iolas joked as they began to search him a bit to vigorously for his liking. "Just whatever you do please don't look in my left pouch." Right on cue they checked his left pouch which contained...absolutely nothing. This earned him a bit of a 'not so friendly' nudge from one of the guards who was as annoyed with Iolas as he was with them. Although he often wore a carefree mask, he was not trying to fool anyone this time. He was confident that Crow would get them out of this troublesome scenario, so he was free to fool around and dabble in reckless behavior. Once they finished Iolas stretched as if he was just waking up. "Over already, and I was just getting into it," Iolas said with a sly smirk. If Crow hadn't been there they would have definitely initiated some form of retribution for his attitude. That was when he saw something inexplicable, something so heinous and evil that even Iolas nearly lost his trademarked composure and flinched toward his sword. It was a cat.

Iolas sped up to Desrick when they were back to their trek, still trying to hold his smile although it looked a bit forced. (Thank gods for his bangs or else everyone would see his protruding vein that would betray his efforts to hide his visible discomfort.) "Ahem, what clever fool decided to invite the damn cat..." Iolas whispered. Ironically the statement still held some eloquence to it. At this point Iolas complete disregarded their current conversation....their were greater...furry evils across the horizon.

SilverFlight Goonfire

 

[SilverFlight]

Pyrrhus considered Feyre's words with much thought.
"You're right. I do." He admitted quietly. "You sound like someone who has loved," He added, "but you came away with more hurt than healing."
He let the silence creep in for just a moment. "I"m sorry Feyre. For what it is worth...I might know how you feel."
He watched her fall back and turned his attention instead to the guards who had now begun to back away on Crow's orders.
"Sir Paddy Paws" was safely in his arms now, he didn't trust the creature to walk on his own. Clearly the cat had a penchant for mischief.
Pyrrhus wanted to go to Crow, but the fear of what the action might do stayed him. This was the inquisitor's world, not his. Pyrrhus stayed where he was, and settled for watching the back of Crow's head as he lead them further.
Goonfire Phayne Ms. Sparrow

Desrick lowered his arms as the weapons vanished from his periphery. He nodded politely to the guards, trying to keep the smile on his face less smug than he felt. Walking past Lohrithe he subtly took the drow's hand from the hilt of his sword and engulfed it with his own.
He had noticed when Pyrrhus had found Marillene's cat and kept looking ahead as Iolas sidled up to him.
"It's a cat Iolas." He explained to the uneasy high elf. "It goes where it wants, when it wants...a bit like you. It must have found the bag a comfortable place to sleep...though, I do find it odd it stayed in there for days without food or water.."
He didn't have much time to dwell on the beast however because before long they were moving again, making their way toward the monastery.
Zazz LazyDaze

Crispin brought his mare up next to Ora's golden pony.
"That was a bit touch and go." He looked behind him at the guards, some still giving them distrusting glares.
"So these...holy people. They're on our side right?"
He watched her closely has her hand went to the pendants about her neck.
"I'm sure we'll be all right." He tried his best to sound reassuring.
"Crow's a clever lad, he wouldn't have lead us in here if he thought there would be a risk."
Flutterby

It did not take them long to reach their destination, Desrick followed closely behind Crow, content to let him do most of the talking, but ready to put on the mantle of "diplomet" as soon as it was needed. He only hoped that the Bishop remembered them.

Goonfire Flutterby Zazz Phayne Ms. Sparrow LazyDaze Baconhands mothspit

 

[Baconhands]

Meera remembered jumping as someone squeezed her arm. It took her a moment to realise that the hand belonged to Ora, a moment that she almost took to change into a raven. Almost. Desrick's ominous warning seemed to resonate quite well with the young shapeshifter - this was a foreign land, with foreign dangers. Any and all advice had to be valued in some capacity, especially from a fellow Cyndaran.
As the party proceeded, she mulled her decision over in her head; maybe it would be a better idea for her to wait somewhere nearby in the forest. She stuck close by Oralia as they entered in to the settlement proper, overhearing Crispin's comments and questions. Despite his reassuring tone, Meera doubted the elf's words; this doubt manifested itself in occasional glances in his direction, as well as several somewhat worried looks to Ora and Pyrrhus.
Flutterby SilverFlight

The shapeshifter's worry soon ebbed slightly as she took in the people. They were a little odd looking, and their accents different, but everything wasn't entirely abnormal to home. She couldn't eyeball any obvious traders among them (she had seen some caravans enter but had lost track them after that), but she was somewhat curious to ask if there were any around here, and if so whether they'd be willing to trade with her. Such questions would have to wait, however; Meera didn't quite have the confidence to try and sneak away from the group when they had been ordered to head somewhere by one of the inspectors. She did not want to cause the inspectors to have a bad impression of the Cyndaran's.

She ventured some questions, somewhat meekly, as they neared the monastery, "What sort of customs should I be observing here? Do I need to bow to anyone? Or pay some form of tax? I don't want to hand over my potions and herbs again."
Flutterby SilverFlight Goonfire Zazz Phayne Ms. Sparrow LazyDaze mothspit

 

[mothspit]

Both Nova and Trileon spoke very little throughout the duration of the trip, the coy mercenary following the blue-skinned beauty side by side. Every so often Nova would lean over to whisper something to Trileon, and curiously she would listen, her face soon turning purple as it flushed with embarrassment. Nova would chuckle dismissively, reaching into her saddlebag to occasionally sip from a glittering silver flask. Soon though, trouble arrived-- Weapons pointed at their noble orc friend. Trileon stiffened, but didn't move, and Nova instinctively reached for her morningstar. Thankfully, though, the issue was settled as quickly as it arrived, and soon they were back on track. Nova's eyes soon fell on the cat that had mysteriously arrived with them, and in her usual flamboyant style, she held up her trusty dagger, "Perfect, I'm starving." She snarled, baring her drow fangs. Of course, she didn't actually mean that, and promptly sheathed her weapon with an amused, buzzed laugh. Some food would be nice, though.

Trileon fell back a bit to meet Azaria's side, greeting her with a small smile. Whatever Nova had said to her had left some effect on her, as it became abundantly clear no one had ever spoken to her like that. She didn't know how to react, and instead, simply kept quiet, choosing to ride along side her assassin friend for the time being. When Nova turned back, Trileon had left her there, with the smallest of sighs, Nova trudged forward, flask in hand. Unable to contain herself, she met every disgusted glare with an equally-discontent look, throwing up a number of fingers that meant.. well, something not appropriate, that's for sure..

"Up yours, righteous pricks.." She muttered to herself, "Don't worry, I know drunken boxing. We'll be fine."

 

[Goonfire]

The guards, who clearly resented the sass they had received, were soon out of sight as the diverse group was led through the winding streets of Eskaro. There didn’t seem to be much joy here; most people kept a straight face as they went about their daily business.

Overhearing Meera’s rapid-fire questions about Eskaroi customs, Crow slowed to match Meera’s pace. “Things seem foreign, but don’t worry; Eskaro isn’t that different,” he started to explain. “The main difference is that they don’t smile as much; smiling too much is read as a sign of mental problems, immaturity, or devious thoughts.”

The inquisitor sighed, knowing what—or, more specifically, who—was waiting for him beyond the main gates and front door. The portcullis was already open in anticipation of the guests’ arrival. Several knights of House Cautura stood at attention, their blades sheathed. Attendants, messengers, and maids scurried about, busy with the tasks at hand. One human dressed in red and white cleric garb stood before the incoming crew. “Welcome to Eskaro! If you’ll please dismount, we will take your mounts to our spacious private stables,” he announced merrily, raising his arms. His jolly grin wavered as his nervous eyes passed over the elves and the one orc, though he restrained any verbal criticism.

Following the formal greeting, a line of unarmed servants approached, ready to lead the horses. Two guards leaned towards the towering double doors and pulled them open, revealing the immaculate, glass-domed, gray marble rotunda. The floor was decorated with a gorgeous, gold-inlaid mosaic of the sun. The sound of running water could be heard on both sides; two sections of quartzite on opposing sides broke the patterns of chiseled blocks and relief sculptures, creating archways that revealed artificial waterfalls. Light poured out from behind them, projecting fluctuating, luminous shapes across the surfaces of the architecture and the many highly-polished brass statues standing proudly in their evenly-spaced alcoves.

Toward the back of the rotunda was a pair of wide, winding staircases leading up to a balcony, and there on the balcony stood the mighty bishop, dressed in his flowing, gold-trimmed, red and white regalia, the official garb of a person of such high authority. Crow was noticeably awestruck to see the man was not maintaining his perpetual stone face; rather, his lips curled upward into a welcoming grin. To all who knew Stenmann, this was a drastic improvement from his usual gruff mood. “All who protect this place are sworn to secrecy. Snakes may fear a fate worse than death,” he declared, skipping a greeting. His gravelly voice echoed throughout the room as he continued the monologue. “However, all mortal beings are born with the flaw of corruptibility, so you should come to my office at the heart of this monastery if you wish to discuss your smashing successes, both past and future. Make use of our facilities, and... take a Sumennan with you—preferably one who isn’t an elf—if you plan to venture beyond the walls of Saint Solveig.”

SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Flutterby Ms. Sparrow Phayne Baconhands

 

[Ms. Sparrow]

​

Feyre Yinnelis

Feyre reluctantly handed over the reins of her black stallion to the servants, glancing at the human, cleric looking male that greeted them, noticing the suspicious, wary glint in his eyes as she did so. Feyre paused as a servants hands grasped the reins she extended towards them, refusing to let go of the reins as the servant looked from the reins to her face in alarm and confusion. Feyre pulled the reins a little closer to her body, “If anything should happen to my horse,” she sang in a sickly sweet sing-song voice, “your face will be the one I remember,” she said, a cool, thin smirk placating it’s way on her lips at the servants expression before she released the reins and increased her pace of walking to catch up with the others. Her thoughts turned to Pyrrhus’s words as she neared the grandiose doors, his accurate observation unnerving to her. Normally, if anyone were to say she was ever hurt, she might’ve grown angry, more so that it was a mention of her last. But the observation had been so sudden it had taken her off guard. It was common knowledge that people got burned by love...she was just unlucky.

She rubbed the back of her neck, her leather gloved hand tracing the slight bump to the end of a scar. Very unlucky indeed. Feyre pushed the thoughts of her past away. She wouldn’t dwell on it anymore. She promised she wouldn’t.

Feyre marveled at the sight she beheld as she entered the monastery, her lips parting slightly in small admiration at the waterfalls and archeways. She had to admit, the Bishop had an unexpected fine taste in his pallet. Feyre’s eyes robes over each piece of meticously placed pieces of architecture and design, moving over the staircases all the way up to the balcony—where the Bishop greeted them with a big, widespread smile. Her brows furrowed slightly at the sight, feeling more tense than she had before she walked in as she grew slightly suspicious. This was not the man her agents had informed her of, not had Gideon ever spoken of the man as, well, this. The Bishop extended no manner of greeting to them however, launching into a passive-aggressive monologue, feeling the need to include they be escorted by a Sumennan. Would the prejudice here ever end? She wished they hadn’t stopped at all. She felt more captive than guest. The Bishops words struck an angry cord in her.

“Oh, marvelous!” Feyre exclaimed at the Bishop, her tone positively dripping with sarcasm, “we get to bring a Sumennan with us if we want to go out? Do we also get free leashes as well? I love being walked around like a good doggy,” Feyre said with false enthusiasm, a less than friendly, fanged smile radiating from the sharp-tongued, sarcastic half-drow.



SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Flutterby Phayne Baconhands Goonfire

 

[SilverFlight]

Desrick glanced back, surprise written on his face. The lines of his thick frame straightened at the half-drow's sudden outburst.
"Feyre." He began with enough volume to reach Stenmann's ears. "You do Gideon a great disservice by speaking so."
He turned and said in a quieter voice. "You must know that Gideon asked for Stenmann's help, that he sent Crow to us for that very reason. You must know that Cyndarans are not even supposed to be in Sumenna and he is taking a very great risk even allowing us within these walls. You must know all this, and still you indulged your anger."
Pyrrhus had the look of absolute mortification on his handsome face, but it fell quickly into disappointment and he shook his head.
Desrick drew in a deep breath, his voice low but firm. "If you care about the success of this mission, you will not say a word more while we are in this room."
Ms. Sparrow
Goonfire Flutterby Zazz Phayne Ms. Sparrow LazyDaze Baconhands mothspit

 

[Ms. Sparrow]

​

Feyre Yinnelis

Feyre felt the edges of logic trying to slowly scrap its way back into her mind, but the quick flame that started within her quickly stomped out any hopes of it as Desrick turned on her. Her anger turned into a burning rage as she stepped closer to Desrick, dropping her voice so it was an exchange only to be heard by the group members closest, “don’t think I don’t know my place here,” she snapped in a quiet hiss, “I just don’t see the point in putting our trust into a man who clearly hates us so,” she argued in a angry, hushed whisper. Her eyes flicking behind the orc just in time to see Pyrrhus’s expression drop to disappointment and for some reason she felt unexplainably hurt, perhaps even guilty. She knew she should’ve kept her distance. Now more than anything she wanted to walk away, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of people in her.

Desrick told her to keep her mouth shut, for better lack of words. Feyre slowly slid her eyes back to the orc, a sea of simmering rage in her eyes, and for a moment she looked as if she might argue or smack him out of rage before her hardened expression suddenly dropped back into distant coldness as a mask slipped its way over her rage, and her lips curved its way into a thin, harsh and icy smile at the orc as she beckoned towards the Bishop with her hand, gesturing for him to begin his little negotiations. For Gideon, she would do this. But the anger that had been twisted into quiet coldness quietly spoke that she was far from in a forgiving mood, her cold, icy mask disregarding and ignoring all else in the room as she allowed herself to distract her gaze with the architecture and pieces of the room once more, decidedly remains silent for the rest of the talks with the Bishop. She wouldn’t apologize, she’d say it again to if it meant putting such an all-mighty ass in his place. She wouldn’t bend the knee to anyone again. Anyone. They came to make an alliance, yes, some small part of her quietly told her this. But her mouth had moved to fast before logical thought, again. Despite being ordered on how to act, which had only fanned her flames, Feyre found herself more angry with herself and quietly wondered if it’d cost them the mission.



SilverFlight mothspit Zazz LazyDaze Flutterby Phayne Baconhands Goonfire

 

[mothspit]

Nova couldn't contain the look of surprise that washed over her face-- This was who they were here to meet? This pompous jerkwad? She recognized his face from the castle; This was the noble with Lady Lambent. The one she almost had to beat down, lest he ruin the plan they had formulated to fool Lassard. Though, Nova's expression turned cheeky, and she eagerly dismounted, her usual mischievous demeanor peaking through a calm facade. She passed the reins of her horse off to one of the servants, making sure to look him in the eye as she did so. It was clear they weren't used to seeing anyone unlike them, and Nova would be lying to herself if she said she didn't secretly enjoy the attention. She had faced many authorities in her travels as a mercenary, and true to form, she couldn't stand a single one of them. Her mouthy nature has been known to get her into trouble, but if there ever was a guy that deserved the ridicule, it was this Stenmann person. Luckily, Nova was more than happy to oblige. The muscled brute of a woman stepped forward, her feathered cape dragging across the floor behind her.

"Good to see you again," She said with an exaggerated, comical bow, "We really have to stop meeting like this, you know."
In similar fashion, Feyre said something equally as snarky, and Nova let out a hearty laugh. That was a good one.

"Maybe if we're good, they'll give us a treat!" She quipped, promptly straightening her back to address Stenmann a second time, "Don't let my dashing good looks fool you; I'm a descendent of Sumennan blood, and the last thing I need is a babysitter."


Trileon, however, reacted the exact opposite, carefully dismounting her horse and thanking the servant that came to collect it. She respectfully lowered her hood, and gave a much more modest bow. "Thank you for allowing us to travel through this place," She said meekly. But when Nova opened her mouth to say something else, Trileon stopped her by grabbing Nova's shoulder, "Desrick is right. Gideon has been kind enough to trust us this far. Don't ruin that now."

That seemed to momentarily shut her up, as the mercenary grumbled something under her breath and crossed her arms. After a moment of silence, she spoke again, "..My horse is picky, she'll only eat carrots and green apples. Oats make her nauseous."