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Fantasy Terryal: The First Age of Man

Aesri turned to look at Yurt as he spoke for the longest stretch she had heard of his voice since their preparation for the Hunt. At first, she had dismissed fire as an option. The abomination they sought controlled fire with far more skill than she could ever hope to master. Yet perhaps it would help with defense. Yurt knew the North better than she ever would.


“I would not have asked if I did not value your opinion,” she said with a teacher’s patient emphasis. “You know the North. I will deal with magic.” With a smile, she turned back to look at the shelves. Magma might be the best option, although this far south it tended to be expensive. Absently, she wondered if the destruction in Zephyr would flood the market with items that could be used as fire foci.


Meanwhile, the shopkeeper, having completed his business with the older woman, approached the counter. “Ah. I see you have a specific need - and a good eye!” He motioned to the items behind the counter as he looked her over, clearly sizing up her ability to afford his product. He glanced at Yurt, taking in the man’s missing limb with an expertly concealed grimace before turning back to the blonde who was the more likely customer.


Aesriel suddenly felt every speck of dust and grime on her from their trip from Zephyr, but she stood taller and met his eye. “Yes. I’m interested in your options for fire foci. I see you have a larger piece of obsidian,” she gestured toward a large black rock on the bottom shelf. “Do you have a more manageable piece?”


“Of course, Miss, although my selection has been depleted.” The shopkeeper’s gaze flitted tot he door as a newcomer arrived. He nodded to acknowledge them before addressing Aesriel again. “One moment, please.” He stepped to the side, calling through a doorway behind him that presumably led to storage or a back room. “Customers!” Clearing his throat and making a failed attempt to tame his wild hair, he stepped back to Aesriel and put on a smile then reached beneath the counter to retrieve a pendant. It was a round pebble of obsidian, held in a claw fashioned from silver. “This here was mined from Agartha, and is inscribed with the alchemal symbol for fire,” he said proudly.


Aesriel glanced at the pendant with an arched eyebrow and shook her head. Alchemal symbols provided no benefit to anyone but the person selling them. “Do I look like I need alchemy?” she said, insulted.


He broke into a broader, semi-nervous smile, chuckling. “No, Miss. But as I said, my selection is depleted. Since that incident with the fire in Zephyr, my stock is running low. Everyone wants a little extra help, if you know what I mean. This is the last piece I have, aside from the larger one.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to the hunk of rock behind him.


“And I suppose you couldn’t possibly let it go for less than a silver mark,” Aesriel said cynically.


The shopkeeper nodded. “Actually, two. I hope you understand.” His apology was half-hearted. Business was business.


Meanwhile, a woman had stepped into the main shop from the back room. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, with long black hair and a round face. She was cleverly stuffed into a corseted blue gown to make the most of her ample figure. After a cursory glance at the shopkeeper, she performed a double take as she spotted Aesriel. “Miss Fletcher?!”


Aesri turned to look at the girl. Her eyes went wide and some of the color drained from her face, but she recovered with a half-hearted smile. “Jeslyn?”


The younger, dark-haired woman stepped forward quickly with narrowed eyes. Aesriel turned to face her, her fingers tightening on her staff. Jeslyn’s mouth tightened as she glared at Aesriel, then she took a deep breath in through her nose and spat in Aesriel’s face.


Aesriel didn’t even attempt to dodge aside from turning her face to the side, but she did flinch as it hit her cheek. Keeping her eye on the other woman, she slowly wiped her face off with her sleeve. Swallowing her anger, she pivoted to face the entrance, speaking to Yurt even as she kept an eye on the other woman. “Let’s go.” Flushing red with embarrassment, she started to exit the shop.
 
Wandering the streets of the city, Pauvel eyes kept making a constant back-and-forth from the shiny wares displayed in the outside stalls, to the gorgeous ladies walking around. Aristocracy, no doubt. Many of them were stuck in tight dresses that literally shoved their bossom forward, so that the more "interested" male shopkeepers would be less tight with their merchandise.


Looking around the streets, Pav scouted out for a sign of an apothecary. He did not need many materials, and he had coin to spend. Afterall, when he and his friends were headed to Zephyr, they had just come back from a job that paid pretty well, but did not have the time to share the spoils. Therefore, his coinpurse was unusually heavy, that being the reason he kept it safe under hi short cloak, which also masked the black hawk sign engraved on his left shoulderpad. He still wasn't ready to reveal his identity just yet.


Finally, after walking for a while, although enjoying the stroll and stretching of his legs, he finally found the little mortar and pestle on a wooden board, hanging from a little metal bar that marked the store he was looking for. "What an original name for a shop, Twillery's." he spoke, softly. The door opened and another female customer exited. As she went by him, Pauvel took a short bow, coupling it with his ever charming smile, which made the woman blush, before entering himself.


As he set foot in the store, he was practically assaulted with the myriad of smells and scents. The odor could be sensed from outside, yet not as strongly as it was here. It didn't take long for him to enter, as he was greeted by the owner, apparently, which was already dealing with a couple of customers, whom he recognised as being the fair Sage that reminded him of his younger years, accompanied by the one handed man called Yurt, if he recalled correctly. Shaking the memories that were threatening to bog his mind, he stepped forward, only to overhear them bargainning, before the surprising scene occured before his eyes.


Sidestepping to the right to allow the two to leave, Whisper did not make any attempt to stop them and greet them, as he was sure that Aesriel did not want to be kept there any longer. With only a nod directed at the two, which he wasn't really sure was seen, he went on to the ingredient shelves, taking out from his chest pocket, a small, crumbled piece of paper, with writing on it. "Hmm, let's see now." he mumbled. "I need this...some of...this. A pinch of this powder, and some herbs...ah, there they are!". Taking all the wares he needed, he headed towards the counter.


"Ah, I see you have very good taste, my friend. Might I ask what exactly do you wish to prepare?" the keeper tried to nose around with a big grin. "No, you may not." came the short and sour reply from Pauvel's lips, as he kept smiling back at him. The reply was a whole lot different from Pauvel's charming smirk. The keeper, losing his smile, frowned slightly at the emerald eyes that were glancing at him, and then spoke again. "That would be one silver mark and twenty-five coopers.". Pauvel was pleased, the price was good, considering the amount of items he had purchased, but one thing caught his eye.


The rather large obsydian chunk was over there, staring at him from the shelf behind the counter. As he entered, he did catch a fragment of the conversation between Aesri and the keeper, arguing over the price. As he would think, Aesri didn't have enough coin for the stone, which seemed to be worth a lot to her. Pauvel did not know what she would have need of it for, but seeing as the woman was the one most kind to him since his arrival, and recalling how...uncourteous he was when they first met, he decided the stone would make both a good gift, and a sincere apology.


"If I recall correctly, that black stone over there was two marks, correct?". The owner seemed like it was his birthday. His lips widened again in joy, as he responded. "No no, my dear sir. You see, the woman before also asked me this, and offered to pay me just one mark, but this stone is much more valuable. Though I doubt a person of your presence is a mage, I cannot let it go for less than five silver marks!" he said, holding up all his fingers from his right hand, to point out the price he stated. "What a little weasel! Ha, I'll show him. I haven't had any fun in a while. This should be good!".


Taking a most insulted face, glaring at the merchant, Pav started speaking in a more angered voice, using a louder tone. "How dare you take me for a fool, you lousy scoundrel?! And exactly who asked you for your opinion?! For your knowledge, I would have you know that I am, indeed, a Mancer, came to gather materials to further my experiments! Since it seems so unbelievable to you, perhaps I will turn that assistant of yours into a llama, since she likes spitting so much, as proof! Now, would you give me that obsydian chunk yet, or shall I take my coin elsewhere?". To increase the drama, he performed a numer of hand gestures, ending with pointing at the girl called Jeslyn.


Once the keeper heard the thundering voice, coupled with all the frantic gestures and the threat to both turn his assistant into an animal and shop elsewhere, he felt a chill go down his spine. "Nono! That won't be necessary, oh great Mancer! Pardon my ignorance, I just thought a great being like yourself wouldn't come searching for materials in my humble shop. And of course, you can have the stone, free of charge! The money for your regeants will more than suffice!". With a cocky expression, Pauvel watched as the man hastily brought him the black stone, laying it near the other wares. Taking some coins from his pouch, making sure they were all silver, he placed them on the table. "You are excused, but make sure it never happens again! Thank you for your services!" he said. "And try to teach that one some proper manners. No young lady should act so preposterous.". That being said, Whisper took all the goods he bought and exited the store.


Once outside, he let out a loud laugh, that attracted the attention of nearby passers, who gave him the fisheye, probably thinking him mad in the head. "I can't believe that he bought that act. Hah, like my old man used to say, the world is filled with fools that'll believe anything!". After calming down from the burst of laughter, he marched over towards the fletcher's shop, which fortunately was nearby, and also purchased some shafts and feathers for fletching. After finishing his marketing, he finally headed towards the camp, slightly tired from all the talking and walking. He did make a mental note not to forget to hand Aesri the rock when he'd see her.
 
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Yurt felt a little pride well up in himself, it was minuscule but it was there. Someone valued his opinion, which seemed to always have been overlooked or disregarded entirely which part of what made up his persona as the silent trader. He wouldn't really engage in small talk and he was usually business minded but the current turn of events have flipped his life around again.


Ezri wrapped up what she was doing so they could mark this off her list of things to do today. Yurt, as usual, simply acted as her shadow.


A customer arrived who seemed to have elicited quite the sour reaction from Ezri. It appears that both women knew each other in the past but Ezri's reaction meant that they had quite the troubled past. Where Ezri greeted the woman with words, the woman responded by spitting at her. That was disrespectful and Yurt felt like he needed to do something, to retaliate where Ezri simply accepted it.


Ezri pulled them out before he could get a word out, which meant that his reflexes had rusted significantly. He wanted to retaliate for his companion's sake but instead followed her out. It would do neither of them any good if he simply acted rashly, still another lesson from the late Syracuse. Ezri just seemed intent on walking on aimlessly when they left the establishment. Yurt placed a hand on her shoulder in some vain effort to stop or slow her down.


This may be rude, it could be tactless and he definitely had no right to do so. But he did pry either way.


"Who was that woman? Why did you allow her to disrespect you so? She should be in reverent awe in your presence, that of a huntress."


IdunevenknowwhatI'mdoing.
 
Aesriel’s cheeks burned hot as she turned toward the door and spotted the new arrival and realized belatedly that it was Whisper. The archer had finally shown his face before they left camp earlier, but she had not spoken with him at length during the brief journey, so she had not committed his face to memory. When he nodded to her, though, it cemented her suspicion into certainty. She nodded in return, fighting the impulse to frown even as she held her head high on the way to the door.


Although she had wiped it off, she could still feel the spit on her face. It was bad enough that Yurt had witnessed the event (and she thanked the gods that Yurt had not taken action against Jeslyn). Yurt, at least, would not spread rumors. He barely spoke as it was. Would Whisper, though? Was that the origin of his name? She dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed her mind as unfair. It certainly was not his fault that he happened to witness her embarrassing moment.


Sensing Yurt beside her, she stepped outside. Her mind spun through memories of Jeslyn from years ago, a pretty young girl smiling with pride at her younger brother, Penn. Momentarily lost in thought about the young man who had been a promising student, she failed to realize that she had been leading Yurt aimlessly through the streets until she felt his hand on her shoulder.


Stopping in the street, she turned to face him, her eyebrows lifting at his direct questions. Those she might have expected, but his declaration that she was a huntress caught her by surprise. Despite her initial defensiveness, she found herself flushing again with embarrassment, and not just because of the event in the shop. “She...” Aesri paused, looking up at the sky as she tried to determine how to explain. Or whether to explain at all. When she met Yurt’s eyes again, she frowned and spoke in soft and sullen tones. “Her brother was my student, years ago, when I taught in what is now Infernauingham. The school where I taught was ...” destroyed. “Discredited.


“Her brother died, through no fault of mine.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the apothecary shop. “She does not see it that way.” With a shrug and a shake of her head, she continued after blinking a few times to keep any tears from the memories of what she had lost from falling. She refused to cry. “I could attempt to correct her, but it would serve no purpose. I have no good explanation for what happened, and even if I did, I cannot bring her brother back from the dead.”


It probably did not need to be said, but she added anyway. “I would appreciate it if you did not share this with the others. A Sage from a discredited school is ... ” she flashed an ironic smile, “barely worth spitting on.”
 
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"You have my word and I will not pry on the matter any further. Shed no tears, it is unbecoming of a huntress."


Yurt felt that he had to give some sort of comfort for the person who he has fought side by side before. His words, however, were glaringly lacking, that is so.


Clearly this topic goes above and beyond his comprehension as it was. However, it all boiled down to a very costly accident which had claimed lives, no doubt many. From the name of the school itself inferningham, such a presitgious name, he could already tell that all this flew above his head like a stray arrow from a half-blind, untrained archer. It would do no good to make assumptions and the like of matters he knew nothing about, in fact it may even just insult Ezri if he so much as tried. He could not be sure about anything in the world. However he was sure that Ezri was not the cause of the calamity and she may not have been center of it either. That was all he needed to know, besides, it did not look as though Ezri would be the kind do such things.


He let go of her shoulder and allowed himself to be lead along to wherever else Ezri needed to go.


shortpostisshort.
 
Aesriel breathed a brief sigh of relief as Yurt gave her his word. He had never struck her as the sort to gossip (he would have to talk to do that), but it still gave her comfort. His concise declaration that the unshed tears in her eyes did not live up to his perception of her as a warrior in the Hunt made her smile despite herself. She reached up to squeeze his wrist in thanks before he released her shoulder.


It was enough to help her refocus on the present. She had lost her mentor and her standing as a Sage when the White Hand had gone up in magical flames, but that was nearly five years ago. She had made a life for herself, even if it was a mercenary one. Her dream of utilizing Zephyr’s yearly Hunt to achieve notoriety separate from the White Hand had failed, and now her father was dead. It made her desire to reclaim her reputation seem petty and vain. What meaning did her reputation hold now? As long as Airrow allowed her to continue on the quest, it was of no consequence.


Nodding to Yurt, she sensed that he had said all he had to say on the matter. “You have my thanks,” she said, leaving it up to interpretation whether she was grateful for his promise, for dropping the subject, or for chiding her into subduing her tears.


He seemed to be waiting for her to take the lead again, so she complied with his wishes. Noting the sun’s position in the sky, she started walking again, speaking as she did so. “I believe we still have a few minutes. If you do not mind, I would like to make a brief visit to the bathhouse.” She looked at Yurt, considering whether she should clarify that she was not asking him to accompany her into the baths themselves, but decided against it. Not only did he not seem the sort to assume innuendo, he might take offense to the implication. “Would you mind accompanying me?”


Admittedly that might have come out wrong, but she refused to make things worse by clarifying. Instead, she continued to lead them toward the public bathhouses.
 
“There must be some way to get one of those cats.” Kalhalar couldn’t help but ponder the situation that had so suddenly slipped both into and out of his grasp. His eyes scanned the camp, as if hoping that somehow a solution to his curious quandary could be found within this makeshift camp. Those same eyes of his eventually found their way to the leader of this campaign, and his close personal friend, Airrow. And it appeared that Airrow was already speaking to him, as his leader motioned for Kalhalar to take a seat. If only he knew what it was he was about to walk into.


Even before he managed to do something as simple as take a seat next to his friend, Airrow was already off, talking about what, Kal couldn’t tell. “Well… I… I’ve…” Kalhalar attempted to interject, but his companion seemed content to go from one topic to another as easily as a bee flits to different flowers. Briefly, Kal wondered if this was how Airrow felt when they had first met. He could almost understand now why Airrow oftentimes would choose to simply ignore him. Still, there were a few phrases Kal had managed to catch. Even though he couldn’t fully respond to anything that Airrow was saying, leaving Kal’s mind to keep up with Airrow’s words at a pace that his mouth couldn’t match. Indeed, Airrow’s words were definitely enough to keep Kal’s mind racing.


He paid for women? Paid them for what? Kal honestly didn’t understand what Airrow had meant by that. Ah, yes, that time. I had hoped he didn’t remember it. Hopefully Gyro and Payge don’t remember, though. I don’t plan on going under the surface anytime soon, though. I do not move slow!


It was quite a few moments before Kalhalar realized that Airrow had stopped talking and was patiently awaiting an answer from him. At least, Kalhalar assumed that he wanted an answer to some question that he had probably asked. The situation seemed quite similar to one that had happened to him soon after he had first met Airrow; although, this time he couldn’t simply say that he wanted to meet Airrow’s sister. Of course, now that he thought about it, saying it again wouldn’t get a reaction that was as bad as the first time. Still, he needed to say something.


“We need cats.”
 
Faelynn gave a wicked grin as she led Aurora towards the Tavern. Her intentions were to grab some day old bread for cheap, some cheeses and a drink. When the two women walked in,the first thing Fae noticed was how busy it seemed to be for early afternoon. As the door swung closed behind them, eyes turned and conversation stopped to eye the not-so-modestly-dressed Faelynn and the very obvious priestess, Aurora.


Faelynn blinked a few times and leaned in closer to Aurora. "So a Whore and a Priestess walk into a bar..." She started but before she could keep running with the spur of the moment joke, the bartender called over to them just as the conversation began to pick back up around them.


"Good Afternoon, what can I get ya'?" The burley man behind the counter leaned forward over the bar and asked, eyeing the two females. His expression told them he knew they were not from around here.


"Yes, I'd like to purchase all your bread from yesterday and one wheel of cheese and if you please, a drink." She said and leaned over the bar, inches from his face with a small smile.


The man nodded at her request and returned her smile and invasion of his personal space with a flirtatious look and "yes ma'am" before turning away and fixing her a quick drink of something a little strong, then getting the rest of her request.


"Care for a drink, Aurora? I know there is plenty of wine at camp but if you ask me, it tastes like- well, I can't say what it tastes like, it's not good." She sighed and downed the small drink. She tapped the counter in growing impatience but as far as the rest of her body language and facial expression went, she seemed cool as a cucumber. She took a deep sigh and looked at Aurora.


"Say... what do you think is gonna happen at the end of this who endeavor? What are your plans for after, saying we even survive this thing?" She said, looking over her cup at the Priestess. She wasn't sure what was going to happen whenever they reached their destination and so far it wasn't what anyone had even talked about yet. They all just knew they were to follow Airrow and help him do something that suddenly seemed very impossible, and yet feeling it's improbability she knew she would stay with him in this variety pack of travelers until the end.
 
At the very least, he had cut out some of Ezri's tension. She gave him a smile and a squeeze on the wrist, possibly as a sign to show gratitude or perhaps to tell him indirectly to let go because he may or may not be crushing her shoulder with that one arm. Yurt was sure he was not applying that much strength but Southerners did have a tendency to be soft. He eased his grip and finally let go of her, a small show of gratitude followed, a simple thank you.


It was good to see a companion no longer in distress. It felt even more rewarding if he had a hand of lifting such distress.


He began following her footsteps as her mouth began to wind up to start another round of one-sided banter. Ezri seemed to have the rest of the day planned out, a quick visit to the local bath house to remove the dirt and grime of travel no doubt. Yurt, however, didn't feel as dirty, he could last a few more days of not washing himself, though it would be wise to grab the next opportunity that arises. What he didn't expect was Ezri asking him to accompany her to the bathhouse. To, not in, which meant that was to wait outside. If she had said in, Yurt didn't want to think about the implications.


"If you insist, I shall accompany you to the bathhouse. Where shall I wait for you though?"


It stood to reason that he would have to be waiting somewhere while Ezri was in the bathhouse.
 
Aurora didn't quite know where Faelynn was going to take her, but she implicitly trusted the woman for better or worse. They were only on briefly on the streets as Faelynn knew precisely where she wanted to go- a tavern? The priestess did not even attempt to conceal her surprise at both the choice of the location and the foreign nature of it. Certainly growing up in Hinxworth she knew what one was- in fact, her parents had frequented it nearly as often as her siblings did now. Never had she set foot into one as an adult, however. As the patrons looked at her in scrutiny and mild amazement (likely at the company she kept as well) she only blinked back at them in a mirrored expression. It seemed today was one for new experiences all around. Faelynn leaned close and made a joke that died on her lips as the bartender approached!


A bartender! Aurora watched him curiously as she listened to the order given. The church would have her believe that there was not much redeeming in a prostitute (especially if you listened to a certain elderly priest of Zephyr whose face was as leathery as a tome), but yet here she was using her own coin to buy the entire party supplies. A large smile spread across her features and her heart brightened and lifted. Yes, Sultra had led her here for a reason! Perhaps Faelynn was not a paragon of virtue like some of the faith believed themselves to be, but she was considerate and kind. This was a world in which many people were consumed by selfishness. Sultra had sent her to save this woman for a woman- because she was much, much more than her profession alone.


"Oh, I... I've never really partaken in alcohol." Truth be told her father cared for the drink a little too much. While he was not abusive, he would often lose himself a touch after several drinks and it took quite a bit of patience to endure his endless rambling and jests made in poor taste. One of her brothers had a 'steel gut' and was renowned for winning just about any sobriety contest. Perhaps she had inherited the same? It was unlikely given their difference in stature. "They don't really serve it at the church and I don't often make it out. I have always spent most of my time studying or tending to the ill so there hasn't been much opportunity... until I left Zephyr a short while ago." Her statement was ambiguous but implied that she had departed the city before it was burned to the ground. Aurora stared at the empty glass, contemplating the effects of liquor. Was this another fraction of life? Would indulging a taste help her appreciate the world around her and all its gifts, or would it start a path towards unknown vices?


On the surface she looked naive, especially considering she was in her late twenties. Aurora had a tendency to glance about with wondrous awe and amazement at the world. Many experiences were new and foreign to her as she had limited her world to what was expected and encouraged by the church. Yet, despite her lack of common knowledge and every day life of the populace, she was not so oblivious. It was blind faith and trust in Sultra, solidified through extraordinary 'luck', and a fresh appreciation for the world that kept her wide-eyed. There were endless things to learn, see, and hear beyond the boundaries that had been set forth. Each man that sat in this building was an individual, completely different of each other than she had met, and deserving of her notice.


Aurora flushed, and tried to compose herself for Faelynn's next query. "Plans? I suppose I will go wherever Sultra leads me next, just as she has led me here. Sometimes I worry I rely on her guidance too much... but... I have never truly had a strong desire to go anywhere or be anything other than I am now. Lately I've considered that she led me away from Zephyr to see that the world that she created is not as small as the church," she exhaled through her mouth, knowing she was bordering blasphemy with some ponderings. "That maybe she wants to be more than just a priestess in a town. Not that it isn't noble to be such, but there is much we are not taught and that we can't see..." her words drifted and her eyes glazed over slightly. Another blush seized hold of her cheeks and Faelynn did not have to wait long to see its reason. "What about you? Will you continue to stay by Sir Airrow's side when your quest is complete?"
 
"If you insist, I shall accompany you to the bathhouse. Where shall I wait for you though?"


Aesriel looked at Yurt curiously. He was a Northerner, and therefore had a different perception of the world. Was she truly "insisting" from his point of view? If so, she would have to be more judicious in making future requests of him.


Or maybe he simply disliked baths. From her years living on the border of the Northern Deadlands, she knew the people there approached life differently. Many people from the Mainland assumed they were dirty and wild, but she knew their grooming was not entirely different than other areas. Of course, there were always exeptions.


She walked a few paces while debating her answer until she finally replied carefully. "Well... you could wait outside, of course. I will not be long. I also believe I saw a smithy nearby, if you were interested in examining his armor or weapons." She hestiated only briefly before adding more slowly, as if each word might cause offense by its lonesome, "Or you could partake of their services. The events in Zephyr took their toll upon us all, the least of which is a fine coating of soot. And it will be some time before we are likely to visit the next city. If cost is an issue, I have some remaining coin."


There. That was far more polite than "you are starting to smell and scare the horses".
 
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Watching everyone return was boring. His arms were crossed and he had been sitting there for a long while. Even now Airrow had come back and was now indulging the man known as Kal with conversation. Why could he not have conversation? Especially after the previous night of doing nothing. He had not helped, and he also had not done much in regards to Fox and that mans criminal actions. But that was gone and done. There were new people in the group and maybe he needed to just take a jump and meet one.


Seriously though. His head tilted as his eyes shifted to a girl over on her own. She had been the one to face plant the ground before, and then giggled it away like common place for such actions. It truly caught his interest. Upon further inspection, he could easy come to that her hair, white as snow, yet it still had upon it that realistic touch, with shades and shadows of off color and greys.Her eyes, as deep and colored like a sunset resting upon the mountains edge and somehow an innocent smile, as if the world cease, but she would still be.


Observing her for a few more seconds, she seemed to be really goofy and kind of dim witted. It made him smile slightly before he caught himself. Raz couldn’t tell if it was a facade, or an honest to god personality. Either way she seemed the rather cute and timid person. It reminded him much of his love. The smile that could melt ice, and beauty that could pull every eye in her direction. Even that thought made his heart bound at the memories and before he realized it he ad already gotten up and found his way over to her, introducing himself like some sort of statue.


Towering over her petite frame, the sun caught itself within his pristine fur, reflecting hues of red, orange and black. His leather armor, detailed and intricate but snugly against his masculine physique, but more than anything his soft teal eyes gazing down at her. His heart raced a little. Even at this range, a blind old man could see his necklace, a hand carved crystal that possessed a similar color to his own two eyes, and the jewelry embedded into either of his ears; the like of which flicked forward to better hear anything she may say.


His left hand came up in a fist as he coughed and cleared this throat for a second, not sure if the attention was necessary, or if she had already noticed him coming over.


“Hello. Uhm,” He paused, “Mah names Amras. Din’t mean ta inerrupt ya. Juss thought, ah, I aughta innerduce mahself.” Putting his right hand out to shake, he looked down to see if she would meet it or not. For some reason, he felt extremely nervous. Closing his mouth, the breathing through his nostrils was kind of loud. Taking in one last breath, he exhaled slowly and followed it up with, “I dun think I caught ya name last evenin’.”
 
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It hadn't taken long for Ezri to list a few things he could do outside the baths while he waited for her. It hadn't taken long for them either to reach the baths with his companion disappearing inside. Ezri had recommended the smithy and Yurt was never one to turn down another blade. The old sword he carried was losing its edge and rightly so. It had not been sharpened for quite some time. With that, he already had an idea on what he would do while he waited for Ezri.


Despite saying that she would not take long. Yurt knew better than to believe that. Women in bathhouses always took long, there was no way around it. At the very least, he could visit that smithy she pointed out and have the old sword sharpened and possibly still have time to loiter in the general vicinity of the bathhouse until Ezri would finish.


It felt good to walk with a purpose now. For the past days, he had only been following the footsteps of others that inched their way to his homeland. He would follow them back home. Despite joining of his own volition, Yurt still felt as though he was a man breathing at the command and order of others. Now, however short, he had his own purpose and that was to go to a blacksmith and sharpen an heirloom. A muscular, rotund man was in charge of the black smith. However, it seemed that this man lacked any real work to do and piped up when he saw Yurt heading his way.


"What can I do for you o' great one arm the fearless?"


He didn't even bother hide the mocking tone neither did Yurt get mad. This honesty was a refreshing change of pace. Yurt pulled out the sword from its sheathe and handed it over to the black smith.


"How much will it cost to sharpen this sword?"


"5 silver, an antique like this should be handled with care. 5 silver! No less."


The Blacksmith spoke as though Yurt had the capability to haggle the price. If so, he was given too much credit. Yurt fished into the pouch that contained the stipend Arrow had given them all at the start of the journey. It bolstered whatever he was able to pick from a few dead bodies in Zephyr. He pulled out 5 silver coins and handed them to the blacksmith. After much trials of verification, the blacksmith was happy with the payment and worked the sword on a large whetstone. When all was said and done, Yurt left with a sharper and shinier sword, the blacksmith was generous enough to apply a sheen of cheap polish for free to make the sword look more regal than it is, definitely cleaner than it was.


Yurt made his way through the crowds and back to the bathhouse. True enough he had seen no sign of Ezri which meant one of two things: She had already left ahead for the camp or she was not yet done and his gut instinct was right on the mark again. He chose to believe the latter and decided to loiter around for some time, waiting for his companion, before heading back to the camp. It may be a waste of time but Yurt had time to waste. He had nowhere to go and a number of the party was still in the town, neither did any of them look like they would go back so soon.
 
Faelynn snorted a laugh as she heard Aurora talk about how the church didn't serve alcohol. She couldn't help but picture a bunch of priestesses and priests trying to party. She smiled at her friend and nodded at the bartender as she took the bag of bread and cheese and paid for them before turning from the bar.


"You spent all your time studying? Well, you sound like a lot of fun." There was an obvious hint of playful jest in her tone as she started to walk away from the bar and out of the Tavern. When they reached the sunshine outside from the sun that was starting to descend, she shielded her eyes and looked back at Aurora through squinted slits as the priestess answered her question about what to do and where to go after this was over.


She nodded as Aurora spilled about what she planned to do, almost embarrassed from some of the things she felt and said. Faelynn gave a smile and started to lead them back towards camp. "Maybe you're right, maybe Sultra wants you to see more than just the church walls and stuffy church room-thing." She said, unsure of the correct word for where people congregated within the church. "Of course, what do I know?" She added with a little laugh and a care free shrug. She was about to pick at her some more as she noticed another blush crossing Aurora's face but stopped short and almost choked on the words again when Aurora mentioned Airrow's side and Faelynn being by it.


"I-uh..." She didn't know how to answer that. She had no idea what she would do if they lived long enough to see the end. At the moment Faelynn was still working through if she even belonged with them. She hadn't come by choice and she was no good in a fight, in the end all she would probably do is slow him down and hold him back, especially if he worried about her as much as Aurora said he did. What if she was to get injured again and Airrow gets hurt from worrying about her or something stupid like that. That's the last thing she wanted. Faelynn cleared her throat and gave a small nervous giggle.


"Well... I don't know to be honest. Maybe, maybe I'll go with you and become a priestess...?" She lifted her blue eyes and locked them with Aurora's for a few seconds, giving her the most serious and genuine look of innocence she could muster before all at once, bursting into laughter. Picture Faelynn as a priestess, it was nearly impossible, but she needed the joke, the conversation was starting to delve too deep into feelings she was mixed up in and unsure of. Not that she didn't enjoy talking with Aurora, she was surprisingly very easy to converse with and already Faelynn counted the priestess as a new close friend.


She sighed and gave a few breathed laughs as she composed herself from the last joke, the had reached camp and already she could see Rammie, the newest girl, was there and Raz was approaching her with conversation. Faelynn made a mental note to thank him later for looking for her when she was missing. She remembered when she was brought back to the camp, seeing the large Beastia covered in water, that meant he'd gone into the freezing river to look for her.


Faelynn looked around the camp and noticed a few others still there, Airrow among them, talking to Kal. Upon seeing his face, pleasantly having conversation with the mysterious young man who made wonderful soup, her stomach tightened and she knew if she was going to continue her thanking of everyone she'd burdened, under Aurora, Airrow was next. She just wished the conversation about him earlier hadn't made her so nervous to approach him now.


The prostitute took a moment to clear her throat and pop her neck before she walked over to the two men with the bag of bread and the wheel of cheese and set it down in front of them. She gave a small smile and sighed. "Well, it's not much but I figured it would be a nice change from the copious amounts of wine we have for the trip, yeah?" She said and took a seat on the other side of Airrow. "Not that I don't love my wine but, I figured we shouldn't be drunk the entire trip if we're going to defeat a God." She said with a small giggle, already kicking herself for a terrible conversation intro. "Uh, anyway, I just wanted to say thank you, I would have died if not for you." She said and looked down at her hands, noticing how tight she was holding onto a little ripple in her tight new pants. She released the fabric and crossed her fingers together as she forced her eyes to leave her lap and look Airrow in the face. She was about to go on with her thanking and what-not when the memory of Airrow meeting Fox and her flashed to the front of her mind and suddenly she whipped out with one hand and smacked the man on the shoulder.


"But seriously?! You thought I was to be wed?! The fear in my eyes was translated to happy engagement to you! I'm a prostitute since I was young and you thought I was suddenly being wed to the stranger, I mean I know you were gone for two bloody years but come on I thought you knew me better than that!" She suddenly scolded and frustratingly crossed her arms, wondering how such a remarkable man could be daft sometimes when it came to her, as if he barely knew her, before he disappeared from Zephyr for two whole years.
 
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Ah yes, the most curious of friends, Kalhalar. Understanding what would go through his mind would take several scholars.


"Cats, yeah, cats. Something to cool the mood on the road? I don't know any reasons to keep any cats around really. They're home animals, friend. Used to keep rats and other rodents at bay. I guess they'd serve as lovable companions, perhaps something nice to look at." Airrow peeked and eye towards Rammie, Fae, and Aurora, all returning at around the same time. "Not like we don't already have nice things to look at." Airrow literally smacked his own cheek for thinking so subjectively. Not that Kalhalar would get what any of it meant, Airrow was almost willing to guess the man a eunuch. "We'll see about it, hm. Later though, the cold mountains are no place for kitte-" He coughed as Fae approached.


She brought some cheese and bread and quickly gave it to him. He wasn't really sure why people felt the need to donate their pay to the group, but he wouldn't oppose them. He slipped them into one of the barrels upon the newly bought wagon.


Faelynn then went on to joke and give thanks to him. But it was short lived as she began to scold his gullible taking of Fox's ruse. Was it really all that unbelievable? She was quite he courtesan, and most definitely still marriage material. And her expression of fear could have very easily comeon from the burning of Zephyr that had ended just hours before they had finally met up with one another.


In the end, Airrow shrugged it off before patting her head. "I hope you're feeling a little better. Really, you should thank Ruger. He had dived right into the water as soon as the news had reached him. I could only sulk in my failure as Ruger swam about in search of you. And yet still I followed Fox's trickery, while I went off to retrieve you, he attempted to escape, and what has happened to him since then, I do not know. I am the last you should thank, if any, it is not I. The party would have all scattered to find you if I had disallowed it. If anything, I prolonged your danger, worsened your current condition, and put you at greater risk. I deserve this scolding, for I failed you, in all honesty, and I can only do my best to earn a right to be under your praise and thanks. And also, for now, you should consider resting more. You only got back to your feet yesterday and you went out and about town, I would worry for your health. Though, it seems our new ally, good priestess Aurora is wondrous at her workings. I do hope she gets along with everyone, and you and she both especially."


He pointed to Amras and Rammya, "The one with Raz, she's new, we picked her up, well Azrathoth and Aesriel picked her up in the forest. Along with another man, an archer of some sort. He called himself Whisper. Likely some kind of codename. Each of them seem descent people, and for the most part, have decided on staying with the group. I've no idea how long, but momentarily, they travel with us. Perhaps only to make it to the next town. We shall see, I guess. And those two children, they have gone missing, along with one of the horses. I would assume they took it take them somewhere safer. Or, as I heard that the boy wanted to become some type of hero, he is off to Sorolk, for war breeds heroes of its make. I suspect he will have troubles there, two young ones may travel faster than our party, but they would not get any recognition. Likely they would becomes mistaken for children who'd lost their parents. Also, along with Fox's disappearance, Nadia's death had come by Fox's doing. We are missing one other, the swordsman, but he had decided on staying in Zephyr, as he is searching for someone."


Airrow shook his head before putting an arm over Faelynn and shaking her a little, eyes wandering. "Sorry if I bore you with logistics, you know me, I may go on about uninteresting things from time to time. Consider speaking with the others, in fact. This here is a good friend I had made during my travels, Kalhalar. Hard to pronounce, and memorize I know. I just call him Kal. He's a good man, and a curious one. "
 
Aurora laughed lightly at the way that Faelynn spoke of the church. It was less disrespectful as it was poking fun at her own ignorance- and the stifling atmosphere most found followers of the faith to have. She had been drawn to Sultra and her teachings since childhood at which time it was a glittering, mysterious ideal. The priests, priestesses, and architecture of religion were less important to her than her feelings towards the goddess. The church was but a method to become closer to Sultra, she believed, and the pursuit of studying healing was a way to praise her and help others. As most of her interactions with other clergy was positive she had not questioned their behavior or interpretations of Sultra's will. There was simply so much to do and learn that criticism had not entered the situation.


Slowly but surely she started to wonder if she was not a suitable conduit. True she did not have all the years the seniors in the hierarchy could proudly tout, but her accomplishments could not be ignored. Though she did study, it was not necessarily more than the rest in the priesthood. It was arrogant of her to assume that Sultra looked on her especially fondly- yet she could not shake the feeling of a personal connection. That had paved the way to suspicions that her fellows were not as inviting, warm, and accepting as they ought to be. Had hiding in hallowed walls, with their faces buried in books, ostracized them from a community they should be immersed in?


"She guided me away from Zephyr to see the world," Aurora admitted cryptically and quietly as she followed along. "I am doing the best I can but I fear I'm a novice in many things," she added with a bashful smile, stopping short of asking for help. There was not enough time in the day to list all the things she needed guidance in and was curious about- things that most would find mundane and boring she suspected.


"I suspect you'd have some suggestions to alter the uniform of the priestess." It appeared Faelynn was jesting but Aurora could not be absolutely certain. Converts were made every day from every walk of life- even ones that were scorned by the church and the majority of the populace alike. It would not surprise her if there was a former courtesan in their ranks... but Faelynn seemed happy enough. It was not a joy that she understood or many would approve of, but she was comfortable with herself, in good spirits, and in excellent company.


As they returned to camp and Fae approached Airrow to speak with him and donate her purchased goods, Aurora quietly watched for a moment. Despite the fact they were not yet a couple she still felt like a proverbial third wheel. Well, a fourth wheel considering the silent statute that was Kal. Trying not to eavesdrop she checked on her steed to make sure he was well-rested and comfortable. What words drifted o her were of Airrow stating how he had failed Faelynn and did not earn her gratitude. It was a delicate matter to be sure and she would not intrude on the conversation. To the side was another gentleman of the party, a warrior with a large shield at his feet and an apparent friendly disposition. Aurora remembered that he had greeted her when she first joined them and had made a passing compliment.


"Did you get everything you needed from town?" she inquired with a pleasant tone, uncertain the best way to approach the varied persons of this collective. There was very little she knew about battle that one injuries might come of it and how best to treat those wounds. "I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself. My name's Aurora," she offered brightly as she extended a hand to shake. In that brief moment before he responded or acted she felt a flush of insecurity. He was not a man that had come to her for healing services or with inquires about her religious order- he just simply a man. And in this very singular moment she was just a woman. So many came to her wanting answers or solutions to to their questions and troubles she had almost forgotten the awkward nature of just talking.
 
Either Aesriel had overestimated Yurt’s ability to detect and correctly interpret her hint or she had grossly underestimated Yurt’s aversion to bathing, for he had ignored her suggestion and left her at the bathhouse alone. Cognizant that he was accompanying her out of obligation and now waiting on her, she did not linger in the baths. With limited time, she could not wash her clothes, so she settled on airing them out while she washed the dirt and ashes away.


The grime proved quite formidable, but she won out in the end; and in fairly short order, or so she believed. She emerged from the baths with wet hair, glad that the days here were still warm. Only around twenty minutes had passed, but the transformation was noticeable. She felt like a new woman with the dirt (not to mention the spit) removed, and it showed in her bearing. After spending a short time unsuccessfully searching the market for Yurt, she returned to the bathhouse to find him waiting out front.


Approaching him with a smile, Aesri asked if he was ready to return to camp. They could wander the city, but clearly he saw no further benefit in it and she did not want to risk running into Jeslyn again. Thus they left for camp with Aesriel once again leading the conversation, although with less vigor than on the way to town. The altercation at Twillery’s lingered in her mind and affected her usually more loquacious nature. Eventually, however, the silence began to weigh on her and she felt the need to make conversation. The most obvious topic to discuss would be his activities while she was at the bathhouse, so she nodded toward his sword in the scabbard, noting it was the same one he had on him earlier. "Did you find nothing of worth at the weapons smith?"


"It wasn't that there was nothing of value. I just did not see the need to replace my own blade just yet. I had the blacksmith sharpen it, nothing more. Why do you ask?"


Obviously this was not a topic he wanted to explore. Shrugging lightly, she shook her head. "I am glad to hear it was at least not a waste of time." She paused and fell into silence for a brief moment before trying again."Will you tell me more about where you are from? I have been to the borderlands, but not to the ... further north.” She had caught herself before she referred to the area as the “Northern Deadlands” to avoid any possible offense. Many of the people there did not like the phrase that implied a barren wasteland. “To hear others say it, all men there are barbarians, giants, or believe they are gods." She bit her lower lip to keep from mentioning the mixed rumors of human sacrifice and heavenly secluded locations.


To her surprise, he answered with a matter-of-fact confirmation of the rumors, even going a step further. "The gods walk among us there. They would show themselves and bless the faithful. My home was a hard one, we kept moving from place to place further north. Some warlord always wanted some of our men to fight his wars for him. You could say we were a nomadic tribe of mercenaries. Sure we had a city we frequented by nature would always be our true home. Giants and many things prowl my home Ezri. I would advise you now to keep your eyes and ears open there. We have a much more hostile land than any of you think.


"Just remember that in a truly desolate wasteland strength is the only real virtue. Intelligence, empathy, pity and others like it are the traits of the dead or enslaved."


She watched him curiously as he spoke, surprise evident on her features at his words. When he finished, she glanced downward and chuckled under her breath. “That explains quite a bit, actually. You must think me... think us... soft.” It seemed vain to care about that, but she did find herself mildly annoyed at the concept of intelligence being undervalued. “I had students from the North, who never believe the lesson I tried to teach: that being gentle in a hard world is not a weakness. It requires greater strength.”


"Say what you will about our philosophy, Ezri. You may be right but do not be surprised if you end up sold to a slaver, dead in the field or locked in a dungeon of a very base man. Of course, that's why I'm here. I will keep you...safe...and the others too. Despite my lack of an arm."


One eyebrow rose as he detailed the harsh realities and dangers of the north, and the corners of her mouth turned slightly downward at his dismissal of his abilities. Thus, when he spoke of protecting her and the others, a patient smile blossomed on her face anew. "I am glad to have you as a companion, Yurt. As I am certain Airrow is as well, of course. But please do not mistake me: kindness is a compliment to strength, not a replacement for it. You are right: only a fool fights a sword with a flower. You know I can wield power, although at some cost, and any... base man, as you put it," Her cheeks flushed somewhat as she said it, "...would have a fight on his hands before he caged me." Her steps quickened as she said the last, although her gaze locked defiantly with his.


"I know you can fight. I full well that you can take care of yourself but people need to be warned every now and then. Too much confidence blinds people and so does pride. But i will try to be your eyes and ears if they are clouded. It the least I can do for someone who I have the honor to fight and bleed alongside." A small smile crept on his lips.


She glanced downward, once, when he mentioned pride. Was it her pride that had made her want to hit Jeslyn? Or was it prideful to turn away, to consider herself above it? She looked up in time to see that minute smile on Yurt’s lips. "I am beginning to think you would like me to pick a fight, just so you have a chance to use that strong arm of yours."


"Perhaps, I do want to give this arm some exercise every now and then. It has long since bit into the flesh of something human."


Aesriel found herself smiling at his succinctly pragmatic view of the world and those who inhabited it. Maybe she would have an easier time if she adopted his perspective, but she could not imagine doing so. “I am certain the opportunity will arise soon.” She fell silent as an image of Fox and Nadia lying in their own blood came back to her suddenly. Attempting to banish it, she thought on the events of the day, but her mind kept returning to the altercation in town. Whisper had witnessed it. Would he speak to Airrow about it? More importantly, would the issue arise again? She had not expected to encounter anyone who might recognize her this far south, but it did not matter: they were headed north, right through the area where The White Hand was still a painful memory. At some point, she would encounter another Jeslyn Morrow.


By the time they reached the camp, Aesriel had concluded she needed to speak to Airrow about it. The rest of the group need not know, but as their leader, he should be aware of the potential for trouble. The tiger bestia was talking to Rammie, and others lingered about the camp. As seemed to be their habit, a small group had formed around Airrow. To her surprise, Faelynn and the new priestess, Aurora, had already returned, apparently with new clothing. The priestess was talking with Ruger, and Airrow was speaking with Fae and Kalhalar. She turned to Yurt, “I would speak with Airrow about... what happened. Thank you for accompanying me.”


Aesriel approached the small group around Airrow slowly, keeping a respectful distance while awaiting his attention.


[[ Dialogue was a collaborative effort with @Sol ]]
 
Every word that Airrow had to say on the subject matter of cats was eagerly absorbed by the longhaired mage. Needless to say, Kal was quite disappointed to find that Airrow was not as positive about the idea as he himself was. Of course, Airrow also didn’t know about the specific abilities of the cats that Kal had in mind. Before he could mention them, however, a lady—Faelynn, Kalhalar remembered—approached them, bread and cheese in her hands. Kalhalar watched as Airrow proceeded to put the provisions away, his eyes lingering on the wheel of cheese longer than most people would deem necessary; it had been a long time since Kal had enjoyed the taste of any kind of cheese.


Kalhalar enjoyed listening to the rest of the conversation. It interested him to see Faelynn go from thanking Airrow to scolding him for his obliviousness in the span of only a few moments. From their interactions, even Kal could tell that they cared for each other immensely, though it disappointed Kalhalar to hear Airrow once again take the blame for things that honestly weren’t his fault.


As he was introduced, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at hearing Airrow’s opinion of both himself and his name. He aimed that smile towards Faelynn as he spoke. “Kal, Kalhalar, Kalahari; a name is a word is a name. Although, I wouldn’t mind something a bit more… grand.” At this, Kal looked towards the sky, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps something along the lines of ‘The Fledgling Phoenix’ or ‘The Sleeping Dragon.’ Still, I suppose it might take up a bit too much time to say them; not that it matters. Time is only what you make of it, after all. And Airrow did spend quite a bit of time searching for you when you went missing that night. You shouldn’t be so hard on him, friend; and he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, either.” Kal couldn’t help but wonder briefly how he had managed to get onto this topic, considering he had only wanted to introduce himself. “After… something like that happens, you don’t really want to think that there are still selfish people around willing to take advantage of others. We like to think that people are better than they actually are. And sometimes they are.”


Kalhalar paused for breath as he looked around the camp. Even with Fox’s betrayal, all these people were still here, united under one goal. Without even realizing, he muttered, “It seems that through all the destruction, people will unite and grow stronger. Things are never completely lost.” In a louder volume, he continued, “Besides, I don’t think Airrow needs help in finding things to blame himself for. I’m sure that he would take blame for the crusades against the diuris if he could.” He laughed to himself, finding that last sentence to be quite amusing.
 
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When Airrow took her words and called himself a failure she felt herself deflate quite a bit. It made her blurted fuss about his obliviousness seem even more foolish than it felt when they left her lips. She bit down on her bottom lip and was about to try and make up for the shit she said by praising him further, but Airrow handed her off to Kal, and apologised for boring her with the things he talked about. As if, his stories and opinions ever bored her. Instead of protesting though, she just gave a small smile and sighed, before looking over to Kal who went on about his name.


Faelynn took a moment to look to her side and see that Aurora was no longer there, but was speaking with Ruger instead. Her eyes flicked back to Kal and she smiled. "Well, I'll call you whatever you like. Wouldn't it be fun if with every city we go to we introduce you with a new title? You'd be known as many great things across the land you wouldn't be able to keep up with them all." She gave a small laugh as she pictured it, already falling comfortably into conversation with the man. It was one of her good qualities, she could mostly easily talk with most people, one of the things you had to be able to do in her line of work. She listened to Kal go on about how she shouldn't be so hard on him and for a moment her smile fell and she felt her stomach knot with a twinge of embarrassment. Her eyes lowered to her hands and she nodded. He was right though, she couldn't blame Airrow for not automatically assuming Fox was a terrible human.


She lifted her eyes when he ended his spiel about people growing stronger together and Airrow's knack for blaming himself for things he'd involved in, weather he was really to blame or not and for nodded, remembering the stories he'd tell her when he'd visit her at the cloud nine. If she closed her eyes she could go back there, the comfortable, low lit room that belonged to her, and the two of them laid across plush cushions and wrapped in sheets as he told her of his adventures. Sometime it was about the breathtaking beauties he saw and other times it was more solemn stories about how something went wrong and it was his fault in some form or another.


Faelynn nodded and opened her eyes, she hadn't even realised she closed them and looked at Kal with a smile. "Why haven't I spoken to you sooner? You're a quiet man but when you speak it's very wise. We are friends now." She stated and reached down to the bag of bread and cheese and broke them both a piece of each off. She smiled wider and took a bite, enjoying the sharp and savory taste of the cheese. "Tell me more of yourself, and the adventures you've had." She said.
 
It had fallen on Ruger to stay at camp now that everyone had left to enjoy themselves at the town. For an inexplicable reason, Ruger had a nagging feeling nibbling at the corner of his mind, as if he had forgotten something supposedly important after his drunken-induced rage, and the general excitement last night. Unsure of what ailed him, he unsheathed his sword, and swung it at the air, experimenting with its weight along with the new shield in his hand. To be caught in a skirmish without first knowing one’s capability with new equipment was a common oversight. The shield was not heavy, but neither was it light. Ruger clasped his sword in one hand, and thrusted forwards with it, before slashing once then twice, before raising the shield. He frowned, then sheathed his sword by his side. He felt slow, sluggish. His swings felt like the batting of a butterfly’s wings. Weak, ineffectual, useless. It wouldn’t even cleave a blade of grass if he tried. He stroked his chin in thought, evaluating his sword swings up until now, before laying the shield on the ground, and drew his sword once more. He now held the sword’s hilt with both hands.


Before he even swung the sword, he already felt the surge of bloodthirst rise in him, the strength coming to his muscles. That was it. He had usually held the sword with both of his hands. The imbalance coming from using it one handed was crippling him from taking a shield up for himself. He laid his sword down on the grass along with his shield and sat down, pondering. He couldn’t possibly ask for a refund now that he bought it. It was dishonourable, especially towards the merchant. Maybe, if he took some leather straps and some clasps, he could—


"Did you get everything you needed from town? I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself. My name's Aurora.”


Oh, how Ruger’s heart shattered. Here, a wondrous beauty of the Church approached him with a warm smile and a warm voice, but to interrupt his solution to his dilemma. He felt torn in half as she spoke. Such a pretty flower with such beautiful healing hands that mended the poor Faelynn that fateful night. Of course, Ruger was not one to leave a lady hanging: it was simply rude to do so. He shot to his feet, with what he hoped was an award-winning smile, and lightly took hold of her hand and bowed. "It is pleasant to making your acquaintance, Aurora. Ruger, Ruger Volfaraday Untergard." He straightened up, and pushed his hair bavk from his forehead, his facial expression bright as the day's sun. "Yes, yes, Ruger have bought everything Ruger is to be needing. This is very good shield. Now Ruger's only weakness is warm, sweet honey like voice of yours." Truth be told, Ruger greatly appreciated someone talked to him. He was starting to think he was a bit of a load of sorts in the team. His bright cheeriness just didn't seem to sit with the rest of the party's seriousness, and it made him unsure that he belonged. He was used to singing songs about the end of their lives with comrades, not lurching forwards, weighed down by doubts and seriousness. "Face your fate with a smile, You won't be going home for a while," they used to sing. He missed people like that. Now it was all shadows and distrust and hidden agendas. Ruger wondered how people kept so many secrets inside them and not burst at the seams. Nevertheless, a lady speaks to him! A most joyous occasion!
 
After getting lost among the many, mind boggling streets of the city, Pauvel finally managed to get out of the city's bustling interior. Dusk was upon him, as the sky was slowly turning into a reddish orange, looming on the horizon, right above the line of trees that dotted the outskirts. He took a deep breath, exhaling the chilly air that was slowly being pushed away by the breeze of the evening. Slowly, he made more and more steps towards where the camp of his misfit group was staying. Despite having wandered around the town for a quite a while, Pav did not feel tired at all. Actually, he convinced himself he would start crafting some arrows the moment he got back to the makeshift location.


Also, he needed to remember to gift the fair lady Aesriel her sought-out obsydian rock, and, of course, give Stormrider his carrots. "I swear on my bow and arrows, that horse will turn into a rabbit one of these days, considering the amount of carrots he's eating. It's like he's discovered the secret to Utopia!" he would mumble for himself occasionally when street vendors asked him what did he need so many carrots for.


Just then he remembered he walked all day without his hood on. That was a strange thing for him to do, since he shouldn't expose his identity so easily. Back at the camp, no one seemed to recognise him, so he shouldn't bother to put it on again, since it would make him suspicious. Afterall, although travelling with him for some days now, this day was the first day they actually saw him not wearing something to cover his face. Pauvel did not mean to be so secretive, but right now, was alone, 'cept for his faithful horse friend. His right hand lifted up from its former position and gently petted the visible black hawk emblem, engraved on his left shoulderpad. "There are good days, and there are bad days!".


Finally, he reached the campsite. The wounded woman whom he had seen the first night he joined the group was standing near the apparent leader, with his white hair, talking to the other mage of the group. The one with a funny name. Khalar, Kalasar? Pauvel shook his head slightly, as he couldn't remember exactly. The healer, Aurora, was talking to the man who had threatened him with his sword. Apparently, the ill-speached man was making a pass at her. Smirking and minding his own path, Pauvel couldn't refrain from remember his younger days, when he wouldn't let one brothel unchecked in his way, or start a fight in the local tavern, before getting thrown out and heading to another.


When his emerald eyes finally found Aesriel, she was headed towards the group that was formed out of the mage with the stange name, Airrow, the leader, and the formerly wounded woman. Now, Pauvel was confronted with an inner conflict. Should he just go and hand the stone to her? Would that be rude? After a second, he remembered the scene that occured in the apothecary, and thought that the maiden would probably prefer if her friends would be spared the way she was mistreated. Nodding on that thought, he decided he would wait for a more private setting before gifting her the rock, so that no questions would be raised as why he would give a stranger something of value.


Making his way to his bedroll, forever in an elegant manner, he let the sack of goods fall on the ground next to him as he would pace towards Stormrider and put on his feedbag, now filled with carrots, letting out a chuckle as he saw the steed dig in. "There you go, you glutton! You'd better eat it up, I've paid quite a sum for the best ones I could find!". After finishing being a butler, he returned to his roll and started pulling out the slim, wooden shafts and feathers, and started trimming them to fit his preferences. It was a hard work, but he was used to it, and then again, what would an archer be without arrows? Buying them was out of the question. A bundle of them were both costly, and some did not correspond to his needs and requirements. The most common error was that any common arrow was made to be shot from any bow, which meant that they sacrificed balance and accuracy for versatility. Practicing archery over so many years has taught Pauvel everything he should know about the trade, and therefore, he became quite picky with his weaponry and choice of ammunition. But most importantly, archery reminded him of his days as a kid, lollygaggin' all day, with not a care in the world, besides helping his dad at his stables in Hinxworth.


And as much as he would hate it, remembering his young years would also bring back the baneful memory of his first true love, and the tragedy that befell his heart when that fat bastard threw him out of his home, claimming he wasn't good enough for his daughter. And then, there was the wedding, that had the role of completely breaking what was left of his soul. Walking down Memory Lane had the effect of distracting Pauvel, who was brought back quickly to reality by a sting in his hand and the warmth of flowing blood. Naturally, not focusing on the task at hand, he had cut himself with the dagger that he was using to trim the feathers for fletching the arrows. Remaining silent, but letting out a soft sigh, he reached out into his bag in search of some cloth. The cut wasn't too deep, but enough to require bandaging. "That's what you get for reviving ghosts, Pauvel, you old fool." he chuckled, muttering to himself.
 
The journey back to the camp seemed shorter than their trek to the city. Yurt briefly wondered if the camp was relocated to be closer to the city. He did not see the logic behind such a decision thought, not that he fancied himself wise or intelligent. He just knew what he knew and those were his convictions and beliefs. Convictions and beliefs that were challenge by Ezri on their way to the camp. He must have been very condescending if she responded the way she did, still she was strong woman and a merciful one at that. Perhaps it was because of their dialogue that he couldn't feel the distance between the camp and the city.


He still couldn't believe that she just allowed some other person to just wrongly blame her of something she didn't do, what's more was that Ezri just allowed it. She should have fought back or tried to explain the situation, Ezri was always good at explaining things to others or so he'd observed. She intelligent, surely she could have convinced a person half driven by grief and anger.


Yurt pushed those thoughts away as thinking about past matters was beyond useless. He'd just have to fight for her honor if she was slighted, all there was to it. Being one armed wouldn't deter him in the slightest but it could just get him overpowered or worse, it seemed like it was worth it regardless. Ezri needs to fight for her honor, as do all living things.


"Of course, Ezri, do as you wish. I will just await the order for us to move again...Today was well it was a good day all things considered."


With that Yurt left Ezri's side and tried to go through the camp's supplies. It had occurred to him that he hadn't eaten much today and that may compound his ability if a fight were to occur, not that he could really be helpful but still. For that matter, had Ezri eaten properly too they were almost together for the entire trip to the town, perhaps she needed food too. She would have more value in a fight than he would, she knew magic after all.
 
Azrathoth woke up from his sleep, too long of one, and immediately rolled over and dry-heaved. He was sweating cold and, surprisingly, more pale than usual as he stood and gathered his clothing and weapons. Redressing, he exited his room and, leaning against the wall, stumbled toward where there was either food or at the very least some conversation to distract him.


He hadn't expected this, but knew exactly what it was - soul sickness. The equivalent of a terrible soul-hangover, it was usually the result of being careless and ingesting too many souls. However, after all the fighting the day before AND the strong souls he acquired, he found it had returned and with greater force that he ever remembered.


Scowling, he drew up his hood and mask, trying to block out as much of the world as he could as he found an open place to sit and began nursing gingerly from his waterskin. His sharp grey eyes were dull and void of their usual vibrant sheen. They were rimmed in red violently and, as if on cue, he rubbed them with a grunt. "What is wrong with me?" he made a point of saying aloud, hopelessly, hoping that he'd been heard by another of the party members. Even when sick, he would make a point to keep up his facade of innocence... until the time was right to claim them all one by one.
 
Ruger was handsome- most of the men of this company happened to be or perhaps Aurora was overly appreciative of them. As he gave his full name her own, which was much simpler, paled in comparison. Her parents had been so overwhelmed by having so many children they had failed to give a middle name to any of their progeny. Ruger straightened and flashed an award-winning smile as she was still contemplating the length and complexity of his name. The gesture alone was enough to make the blush that had spread across her features deepen into a dark pink that spread to her ears; the subsequent compliment made it evolve into a subdued crimson as she fought for composure.


As she had advised Faelynn, she knew she was not exceptional in terms of overt attractiveness. Aurora knew she was not ugly but she was well aware that there were many other women with more appealing features such as high cheekbones, lustrous hair, or the like. Had he selected a physical trait to compliment it would have been easy to brush off as untrue and voiced in kindness. Never had her voice been the subject of a compliment, though, and for that it seemed all the more sincere. It was not a completely typical form of flattery, was spoken with sincerity, and pinpointed one of the less obvious traits that Aurora found actually worthy of any recognition. While it was far from winning her any awards, she often sang, hummed, spoke, or otherwise exercised the chords in such a way it inadvertently made them more pleasant.


She had encountered men who were on a quest to conquer the innocent priestesses of the cloth. She had encountered men who were charming and thoughtful, yet their words contained only slivers of truth that were exaggerated to sound more pleasant. She had encountered men who had been drawn to her after she healed their affliction- one had begged for the chance to court her and wrote her a poem after she had mended his arm. Ruger, however, held the dubious title as being the first to convince her he was quite genuine. There was nothing even remotely deceptive about Ruger and it struck her as she stood there how disarming he was despite the sword and shield nearby. His candor, the rhythm of his speech, and the uncomplicated manner of it made him instantly likeable. He immediately felt like someone you could trust.


"Oh, thank you," Aurora heard herself say, the words spilling out unbidden. The silence after his flattery was noticeable and Aurora struggled to find something to say that would not embarrass herself. She cast a glance over to Faelynn but found that her new friend was ingratiating herself to someone else and was otherwise occupied. Refocusing her gaze on Ruger caused the colour of her cheek to rapidly fluctuate as she fought for grounding in something more neutral. "Is that your new shield?" she inquired with a gesture to the item. Well, that was rather daft of her. Whose else might it be when it was right next to him? "Can I see it? I've never held a shield before- or a sword for that matter, but I'm afraid I'd hurt someone if I tried to hold a blade."


Aurora was fairly certain her pre-pubescent nieces would have had a smoother recovery from unexpected flirtatious commentary.
 
Ramya smelled the tiger's sweat soaked fur before he emerged into her sight. His large, orange blob-like state slowly gained detail the closer he came and she pretended to be interested with some loose threads on her cloak. She waited a moment longer before snapping her attention to him suddenly as if she just noticed him, a wide grin spreading across her lips in an overly-friendly fashion. He was a beastia, and she had to consciously fight to keep her features kind instead of scrunching her nose and eyes in disgust over his overwhelming scent.


She met the tall beast's eyes, tilting her head politely when he coughed. Her grin seemed to stretch a bit more and she gasped when he held out his hand. Her eyes widened as she spoke. "I never saw a beastia afore! Yer hands er huge!" she said as she clasped his hand in both of her gloved ones. "You could swipe a man down with just one paw! Ya know that?"


She turned his paw over in her hands for another moment, poking Amras's pads and lightly resting a finger on one of his claws. "I swear! If Ma saw a beastia like you, well, she'd hire ya right off for protections sake," she nodded before letting his paw go.


"I mean, sure we had Pa to protect us, but Pa is gettin' a ripe ole age of late, and yah can't expect an old man to protect ya forever, ya know? Least, dats what Ma was sayin' afore she sent me off to look for ingredients."


Ramya placed her hands over her hips, taking the moment to step a pace or two back from the beastia and his scent. She let her gaze travel over the camp before finally returning to Amras. "OH!" she gasped and clapped her hands together. "Mah name is Rammie," she said, remembering that the man did not come over there to be examined by her. "I'm a herbalist of the best sorts," she giggled and the corner of her eyes crinkled. "I didn't get here til last night, actually. I was about lookin' for some nightly flowers of sorts, and I happened upon," she paused, and her smile faltered for a moment.


"Well, I saw the lady and fella-" she stopped and shook her head. "What's yer job 'ere?" She changed the subject and kept a kind glint to her eyes. She wasn't a fan of getting close to other people, especially the males. They tended to smell more and it made it hard for her to keep full control over her facial features. She appeared to ruffle her cloak about as she disguised dipping her fingers into a pouch of one of her more potent-smelling herbs. She sniffled and rubbed her nose as Armas spoke, cloaking his smell for a time with another more pleasant one.
 
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