Fantasy The Lost Child

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Off the Beaten Path

Mentions: Lekiel LoneSniper87 Lefic Hell0NHighWater Longhead

Mood: Singing

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Eleveil nodded and began to search the bodies of the dead, making sure that they were actually dead. It was a long and tedious search though, there were many bodies and many of them still had a thin layer of ice he had to break through. To improve the spirits of his allies, he began to softly sing, just loud enough that the others could hear him but not so loud that they wouldn't be able to hear the sound of anyone else approaching.

It was a song that they'd sing while training. A reminder about why they fought even if they didn't want to. To bring back those who couldn't fight for themselves.

It also helped distract him from the morbid task he had of checking the bodies. Maybe to also get rid of some of the cold on his body...and to probably find his chest wear. He stopped by a tree and climbed it quickly before dropping down, holding his chest piece in one hand and a small Mori Morwen in his other. Little creature thought she could survive hiding in his armor that he'd stored in the tree before training. With a flick of his thumb he broke the creature's neck and tossed it aside before donning his armor.

Just as he was about to walk back to the others, he stopped, catching the glint of something out of the corner of his eye. Walking forwards, he ended his song as he knelt down and pushed a Goblin's body to the side and picking up a small object "Odd, this is too pretty to belong to a goblin, not crude enough" he mumbled. Elvish in design that was sure. He wiped off the blood and examined the object a little better "A pendant, definitely not Wretched design or ownership. Who did they kill before getting to us?"

It definitely looked familiar and possibly even high class but he couldn't place the origin. To be fair, his head was kind of foggy from almost dying. He shook his head lightly and stood up before his eye caught another thing "Niphredil" he said softly as he stepped up to the small white flower. The Edan called it the 'Winter Flower' because it only bloomed in the winter "The sudden snow must've startled you into blooming" he chuckled as he plucked the flower. He had a small pouch he could keep it in. It would stay for a bit longer and it was a good omen, a white flower blooming out of season. It meant change and he was hoping that it meant for the better.

Finally done searching, he turned back towards the Princess...er...Em and began walking "Prin...Em" he corrected himself again as he got closer to her "I found something worth noting" he said as he showed her the pendant "It looks familiar to me but I was never good with the various jewelry of our kind...aside from removing it" he grinned "I figured you'd know it better than I"

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[Longhead]

Once the full visualization of the storm took place in Fenris’ mind, it didn’t take long for it to affect the area he was in. He could only hope that those outside of his own protective dome of ice would fare relatively well, and the opposite to the Wretched. He knew the effects of the cold - one tended to sleep easier when they became numb from the cold. He could only pray that no one slept forever, for magic snow is still snow. Even over the storm, for a few moments, Fenris could still faintly hear the sounds of battle over the roar of icy wind. He only pulled his hood over his head, and rested it on the cool wall behind him.

°•. ✿ .•°​

To pass the time, he began to count down from two thousand by nines. It was a dull task for many, but he enjoyed it. He found a little bit of practice is splitting his focus by counting how long it took for him to get to zero while counting down from randomly set integer. He had been so focused on his counting that even as his dome had melted and reduced itself to nothing but a half sphere, dripping with water, he did not notice it. He had reached one thousand, seven hundred and three before he could hear chatter. He was hoping he would have gotten to zero before anyone recovered. He reminded himself that he needed to see the result of his spell. On the thought of his spell, his hand quickly shot up to the amulet around his neck, like it might’ve been stolen while he was counting. It was still cold to the touch, yet not as much as it was before he casted Poldor-Losa. He took it off and stored it back in its rightful place in his robes. He pushed himself off of the wall onto his knees and crawled forward until he could place his hands in the slushy snow that coated that ground.

He immediately pulled his hand back when he realized that water that melted off of the snow would create mud below him. He was no less eager to walk on it than he was to place his hand in it. He frowned and got to his feet. He took a few steps out, all of them hesitant and shaky before he composed himself and began walking around. It was when he saw the fellow who was inches from being mauled that he realized that he wouldn’t have counted to zero evenly if he counted down by 9. He’d have to start over and count from a different number at another time. Fortunately he didn't finish counting. He approached a tree and peeled at the bark. The piece he had taken off was easily broken, for it was brittle to no surprise. Absently rubbing his hands on his robes, he moved to another tree. He grabbed a low hanging branch and broke it off and began to break off little pieces, only to toss them into the melting snow behind him in a bored fashion.

He couldn’t be more bored. Despite the pain in his shoulder and ribs, and the stiffness in his neck, he couldn’t think of a better time to resume his countdown. Except this time, by sixteens.


”One thousand nine-hundred eighty four.”
“One thousand nine-hundred sixty eight.”
“One thousand nine hundred fifty two.”

 

[Lefic]

Sanine's shivers were now no longer due to the cold. At the princess's request, she nodded resolutely and immediately got up to set off in the direction Amaranth indicated, casting off her waterlogged cloak as she did so. She would need nothing slowing her down.

The mission hung in her mind as heavy as a Mark as she darted between trees like an arrow. Her body still ached from the previous battle but that did nothing to slow the frantic strides of the human's legs. What happens if I'm late? she thought. Or what if the herb isn't there? What, he dies? The thought sent panic rushing through her like a wave and filled her throat with a choking sensation. The assassin was all too familiar with death but the one thing she could not take was the deaths of those close to her. Not again. Not when they could be prevented—somehow. But if she failed... If she failed, it would be her fault. It was odd; this time, if she succeeded in a mission, somebody might live instead of die. That thought alone was enough to spur her on faster despite the screaming of her muscles.

And then she was there at the brook. It was almost like a dream. The Edan had expected the worst but... the princess had been right. Sanine chuckled. Of course, she thought as she knelt down to gently pluck the unbloomed buds of the blue flower with red speckles and safely store them away in one of her many pockets.

"Mission accomplished," she grinned, grabbing the air triumphantly.

Her glee was short-lived, though, when she turned around and was faced by a swarm of goblins. A scowl darkened the girl's face. I do not have time for this, she thought as she reached for the waistband of her trousers, grabbed a throwing knife and hurled it into a goblin's skull, already dodging thrown rocks and moving to a location where she would get a temporary advantage. "Alright, the swarm isn't too big so I think I can deal with them. But I haven't even recovered from the last fight... Run? No, I can't leave a bunch of Wretched here for passersby... Well, fighting it is," she muttered, weaving in and out between the swarm, trying to scatter the goblins and separate them from each other before quickly dispatching them. There was one goblin that stood out from the rest, though—one that she could never manage to reach. Whatever. When the swarm thins out, it won't be able to hide, anyway.

But then the rogue realised just why that goblin stood out, why that goblin didn't fight like the rest. A fireball whooshed past her, singing her hairs, cast by the Gorlock standing before her.

Sanine Drahril willed her legs to move but they stayed rooted to the ground.

Her breaths barely left her mouth when they were sucked back in again frantic in heaving pants. The edges of her vision clouded as her eyes focused only on that flickering flame in the Gorlock's hand. Sweat dewed her skin and glistened like light running down a blade. The pounding of her heart was all that she could feel or hear. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump. It was so rapid, yet it felt like it could stop at any moment.

And then they swarmed her.

Sanine had already done a good job of eliminating the majority of the swarm but there were still half a dozen left. And before she knew it, she was being battered with sticks and clubs, being jabbed at with sharp stones that broke skin as she curled into a ball. Her whole world shrunk. All that existed were her and these monsters—and pain. But she was used to it all.

She could have stayed there, could have died, and in the moment it would not have mattered to her. Until the Edan felt a source of searing heat move closer and closer to her skin. She felt the skin of her forearm peel as the fire licked it, and a scream was raked out of her throat. The rogue thrashed so wildly on the ground that several goblins were knocked down, toppling others as they fell. Not allowing a moment of this opportunity to pass, the assassin ripped her axe from its sheath on her back and hacked and slashed at everything in sight, completely slaughtering all the Wretched. Even when all the goblins were surely dead, the Edan still approached the Gorlock's carcass, trembling much like she was after the blizzard, and slammed the head of her axe into it over and over again, butchering the corpse until it was unrecognisable.

The rogue turned before vomiting violently onto the ground, now muddy from the amount of blood that had seeped into it.

When the thief rejoined the others, she was cut and bruised, with sleeves of red blood that stretched up to her elbows. She wiped her hands down her trousers before reaching into her pocket and pulling out the buds that Amaranth wanted. She held them out with the arm that hadn't been burned, keeping the other hugged close to her body. "I-I got it. It's here." Her voice faltered a bit before turning steely. She could feel her lip was split. It made speaking hurt.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

The world is aquiver.
Shaking. Blurring at the edges.
He can’t tell up from down.
He's not sure if he's breathing.
A claustrophobic, blinding light ensnares the universe.
He chokes as he is pulled apart, slowly exploding from the inside out…
The pain is unbearable, building, building, building --!
A scream is torn from his chest.
Quickly, shadow falls, washing away the blinding sharpness of the sky.
A moment of silence. Then everything shatters.

A sweet, smooth, mellifluous music flows gently through the glass.
The mirrored edge of the world has broken into a million pieces, too thick to ever see through, but still the music comes.
Relief floods his existence.
The dulcet golden melody washes over everything, leaving a sort of glow in its wake. Honeyed, sweetly mellow, liquid, rich, smooth, euphonious. Slowly, slowly-slowly, then she emerges.
This feeling, the one he felt when he looked at her, he couldn't capture it with words.

Standing, solitary, in the sweet golden glory, he remembered the last time he saw her.
Bathing in the light of Eweca.
Tendrils of auburn hair spread out like some sort of halo.
It was then that he realized what he had never accepted as a teen.
There was only one person in this world that he could never kill.
Never.
Israfael would always protect her, even from himself.
Always.

Now alone in the vanishing mist of harmony, he began to cry.

"Castien'amin, kuile Castien."
His brows furrowed, a weak groan slipping past his lips. That wasn't part of the dream...he had stopped referring to himself as Castien a long time ago. His head was pounding and there was a burning in his shoulder that was unlike any he had felt before. Heavy eyelids parted like a lethargic drawbridge, revealing two pools of steel blue. It took a second for his vision to clear and his head lulled to the side, threads of moonlight pale hair falling across his face.

"Amaranth..." His voice was nothing more than a ragged whisper and he hated how parched his throat felt. Not to mention how much of a struggle it was to keep his eyes opened. He hated feeling weak almost as much as he hated the ocean. Waves of heat coursed through his blood, a cold sweat glistened in his gaunt features. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin sallow, everything ached, everything felt far too cold. Rafe wasn't certain as to what was happening or where this fever came from. Injuries like his should just be cut and dry, heal it a little, bandage it, and send him on his way. So why was this so different? Had he overlooked something?

He found himself staring up at the anarhin princess, his fingers moving to lightly brush against her cheek before he pulled them away as if suddenly remembering who it was he had touched.

"Lle naa vanima...vhenan..."

Did he just say that? The words had slipped before he could stop him and he prayed this fever took him before she had the good sense to laugh. She began to blur again and then just like that sunlight she glowed golden in his memory (or perhaps it was her hands that were glowing?) before he slipped back into that terrifying silence.

⊰~Translation~⊱​

Vhenan --Old elvish for 'my heart', it's used as a term of endearment

Lle naa vanima --You are beautiful

 

[LoneSniper87]

Silvyr glances up, looking at him as he comes up. She instantly noted the pendant in his hand, and very slowly tried to rise. "If you don't mind me answering for her... I believe that pendant is a symbol of the High King... Erlathan Velahr's royal guard, I believe..." She paused, looking it over. "My father had one just like it." She noted, actually managing to, for now, stand. "Where did you find it? Had to have been off a body, right?"

 

[Lekiel]

"Silvyr's right. This is the emblem of Erlathan's Royal Guard..." The princess of the Tel'Quessir noted, visibly shaken at the sight of the gold and ivory pin. It clutched at a traumatic nerve, evoking memories of a past she had thought long buried and laid to rest. But now, it flashed before her mind's eye once again, a haunting spectre come back to life. She remembered being called in the night before. Sparks of embers dancing into the night sky as she looked at him in confusion. She had told her about the ivory barks of the harghaast trees. Why he'd chosen it as his Mark. But he hadn't actually been interested in telling her stories, she knew now of course. Perhaps they were even lies..- Amaranth shook her head vehemently, that was in the past. She'd do better to focus on the now.

After all these years, was it simply a matter of them finally killing one of the murderers that took the beloved high king of the elves? But that had been so far north... at the city they were even now headed to. Who were these Wretched, and why were they here? So many questions... Fenris! The errant tempest they had stumbled across in battle. He would probably shed new light on the situation. But she couldn't leave Israfael's side, and from her vantage point, she couldn't locate the mage.

"Where's the mage? Find him and find out where these unfortunate souls were headed and what really happened." Her ember eyes glittered in the misty morning as she looked to the ranger and warrior. "Gather the horses. Once... I have ensured that he is alright, we need to find the nearest outpost and get the word out." She indicated the rogue laid out before her. He was her current most pressing concern. "This is so much worse than expected."

A slight moan below her caught Amaranth's attention. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized Israfael was stirring. She soothed him as best she could, running her hand across his fevered forehead. He whispered something, but she missed it at first. Then eyes of palest blue shot open and arrested her own. She offered him a quiet smile as his hand moved to caress her cheek. His touch was like fire, scalding her delicate skin. She reached to hold his hand, but he quickly pulled away as if he hadn't realized what he was doing before. Then came the tender words of affection. They were spoken so quietly she barely heard them, but she did. And though she did not understand a word, she recognized the look of adoration that softened his usually grim expression. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she cheek flushed with colour.

"Don't speak... rest." The enchanter soothed, as if she hadn't heard him say anything.

"I-I got it. It's here." A familiar voice spoke out from the side, causing the princess to look up. The sight of the bloodied and battered Sanine took her by surprise as the anarhin's ember orbs widened. She did not question what happened, the fact that she had run into trouble was obvious. She took the proferred buds, but her hand clutched at the edan's bidding her sit down. A pestle and mortar would have been ideal, but she instead popped the Nirronut buds into her mouth, chewed them and when she tasted the bitter sap, quickly placed them over the bloodied cuts on Rafe's shoulder. Amaranth then bound it tightly with the scrap of cloth Sanine had cut earlier. She was right, the wounds had not stopped bleeding, even with her healing magic. But with the poultice applied, the enchanter could finally breathe easy. The danger was passed. Rafe may even find himself fully conscious within a few minutes, such was the potency of Felariel's gift.

"By the Goddess..." Amaranth turned to Sanine as soon as she could. He hands searched the girl for any major injuries, palms glowing with the same healing magic as before, though not as potent. The amount of blood that covered the young girl's body was frightening, and Amaranth worried that it was all hers. But she had been still standing, albeit shakily. "Are you hurt badly? What happened? What attacked you?" She fussed over her like an overly concerned parent. From her brief observation, the girl appeared fine, but she had to be sure.

 

[Lefic]

Sanine sat next to the Princess with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms hugged close to her body. The pose was the exact picture of how she had sat in front of Amaranth all those years ago—after the Fire, when she'd been taken to the Princess to heal her wounds. The look in her eyes betrayed the trauma swirling inside her.

The scenes were flashing, merging before her eyes. The Gorlock's flames—the housefire—because of Wretched. Burning. Her burning. It was searing into her, forcing screams out of her. Crying—but her tears could not extinguish those flames. So much tears yet not enough—never enough. She couldn't do anything. Could never save them. Never save anyone. And—and earlier, with that Gorlock. That familiar scent wafting into her nostrils. Her parents—

Amaranth's voice snapped the thief back into the present. Sanine didn't even realise that she was shaking. "Ah. Just goblins—a-and a Gorlock," she replied distantly. "Nothing but bruises and cuts—maybe a minor break or two; their weapons were mostly blunt." Her body hurt like hell, but nothing was fatal. The burn scar on her arms was hidden from sight by the sleeves of blood that stretched up her arm, the only hint of it being the patch of raised skin.

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Off the Beaten Path

Mentions: Lekiel LoneSniper87 Lefic Hell0NHighWater Longhead

Mood: Annoyed

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"It was on the body of a Goblin, most likely using it as a trophy of some sort, they enjoy shiny objects" he said in reply to Silvyr "Wouldn't expect them to know the meaning of it" he stretched his shoulders feeling his bruised body ache at the movement "I'll find the mage, I just have to find the center of the spell" he moved forwards, back out into the bodies and melting snow. It shouldn't be too hard to find the epicenter of the spell, the blizzard had to have spread out from some point.

It was eerily quiet as well. His singing from before had filled in the sound but now that he was actively looking for someone he had to keep his mouth shut in case there was a call for help. Every once in a while, he'd stop and flip over a large body in case the mage was underneath one but fortunately he wasn't.

Eventually he did find something. A muddy circle, perfect in diameter. He scratched his head as he observed it "Some kind of protective bubble created by the spell? How nice for him" he mumbled before he spotted the slight imprint of foot prints heading away from the circle. Following those he eventually came to a tree that'd looked like a piece of its bark had been picked off and further along another tree with one of its branches snapped off. He found a trail of bark and the broken branch a little more forwards "The hell is this guy doing? Wandering about? Is he not aware that some of these Wretched survived?" he shook his head as he continued to track the man down.

Eleveil soon begun to hear counting, of all things, and quickly found the mage walking in a random direction "Hey!" he called out.

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[Hell0NHighWater]

The ache was dull now, as if some lazy torturer was standing right behind him, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance. It sat there, just to the side of the right shoulder blade, toward the spine. He could imagine it would be like lying on a large glass marble; perhaps at first it would be pleasant yet soon it would be just like this pestering pain. His mind was already clamoring for relief. An icy tingle spread across his limbs, offsetting the burning sensation that had been driving him towards madness.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves above, flowing through the gaps like water. Where it struck the forest floor, passing through his closed eyelids to bathe the world in a fleshy pink glow. His face twitched in annoyance before he was squinting past the light. Half of a figure loomed in the space above him casting a shadow that he turned his head into. As his glacier orbs adjusted to the light he began to make out the details of the person in front of him: wide hips that supported a superbly shaped behind. He was fixated by the view, perhaps a little longer than he should have before his gaze made the attempt to look up. He knew it was Amaranth before he even took in her chestnut hair, somewhere in the recesses of his mind he recognized that she had always been there. A sort of angel that loomed at his side.

He let out a soft groan, forcing himself to sit up was a struggle in of itself. His body still felt heavy and cumbersome, but at least he was alive and that was something. Israfael ran a hand over his face, "How long was I out?" The question came out garbled as if still barely clinging to consciousness.

He needed a drink. Something strong preferably, that would knock him on his ass and pull him out of this lethargic like state. His gaze moved just past Amaranth, only now taking note of the other woman looking a little worse for wear. Dark brows furrowed, trying to move himself to sit up more in order to get a better look at who he knew to be his student sitting there like that.

"Sanine?"

His voice came out a bit clearer this time, expression morphing into one of concern before he was able to guard it.

 

[Longhead]

Fenris was largely uninterested in anything else around him and even his counting. Fenris thought it appropriate to think about what exactly had happened before he was attacked. He was on a simple patrol, as far as he knew. He’d thought himself to be prepared for anything that could happen, even mage killers until he himself was floored by one. It was fortunate how he had not perished then, and even more so that he didn’t die fighting more Wretched in his dazed state - not to say he hadn’t had to before. The only unique thing about this encounter was that he couldn’t seem to recall anything that happened before, even after the short wait during the storm.

He placed his index and middle finger on the temple on the left side of his head and rubbed the area, making small circular motions and began to hastily pace, like it would aid with any kind of recollection. He tired of the movement only seconds after starting, resuming his overt observation of what was around him. ”One thousand four hundred and seventy two.”

Fenris used his foot to turn a body onto its side. No particular goal in mind. Finding nothing under the body, he walked away to another tree, taking off another few pieces of bark and breaking them into smaller pieces with just his thumb. ”One thousand four hundred and fifty six..One thousand for hund-” He cut his sentence short when he heard the crunching of snow behind him, and flinched, and remained tense when he was called out to. He spun around on his heel to face the noise.

”Vedui!” He took a step towards him, but hesitated on the second, halting his approach entirely as it occurred to him that perhaps he would be met with hostility stemming from distrust. He slowly dragged the foot in front of him back to be parallel with his other one. “I’m sorry about..” He looked around and spread his arms to indicate he was talking about the area. A blizzard was very survivable, but few came out unscathed. “Are you well?”

Vedui ~ Greetings

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Off the Beaten Path

Mentions: Lekiel LoneSniper87 Lefic Hell0NHighWater Longhead

Mood: Relieved and Curious

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Eleveil shook his head when the man finally turned to face him, though he seemed to be a bit high strung. He then shrugged and shook his head as the man began to speak, indicating the destruction around them "No problems, it actually seemed to help and no one died...as far as I know anyway" he thought of Israfael "As for myself, I am quite well, relatively speaking, a few scrapes and beatings but that is life" he laughed softly "I was sent to find you actually, perhaps you can shed some light on the reason for the Wretched's appearance here." he took a moment to observe the Mage while he was speaking. He'd never been that interested in the magical pursuits. A quick step and a stab could be just as effective as a spell. This Blizzard was not an exemption. It did a lot of damage, but it took some time to set up.

Even while wearing the robe, Eleveil was able to properly assess Fenris' body, noting that he seemed to at least be in good shape, something he hadn't expected from an intellectual focused on magic.

Prejudices aside, magic had its own uses, even he had to accept that. There were some things that only those with great power could do.

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[LoneSniper87]

Silver glanced away from her trinket to Sanine, seeing how battered she was. "Nothing I could not handle... Em. I'll see to her, you worry about... him." She told him, shakily rising and limping her way. Shock was obvious, even to someone with little experience like her. She set a hand gently on her. "Losing battle?" She asked quietly, slinging her bag over and looking through it. "Care to say what happened?" She asked without looking up.

 

[Lekiel]

"The horses Silvyr..." Amaranth reiterated sounding tired, though it was more from the physical and magical exertions. She chuckled at her guard captain attempting to fuss over the human girl, a fond smile on her face. "Rafe will be fine. I still have a little bit left in me for the girl." She turned back to the young rogue.

"A minor break or two huh?" Amaranth let out a short laugh. It was just like her, to brush off her hurt like it was nothing. Even when she had been a wee little thing, Sanine would not speak a word no matter how badly she was hurt. Keeping it all inside, bearing it on herself. Trying to be strong... No, she is strong. The princess felt a sense of pride well up within her breast. She remembered of her life a few decades before. The court intrigues, the battles fought both from within and on the field, trying her best to see that her people did not crumble against the tides of darkness, but yet feeling betrayed as her very own people which she sought to protect turned against her. Many times she had wanted to throw it all. She didn't ask for this responsibility. A burden that stabbed her on the back everytime she tried to carry it. In as much as she had been a refuge for the battered human girl, caring for Sanine was a salvation in turn to her conflicted heart. Everytime she caught those pure green orbs, it filled her with a purpose. If no one would bear the burden, all the more she would. If only so that there would be no more Sanines. No child without a parent, and with no one to turn to.

She caught a tender look in the rogue's eyes. A grin softened her smooth features as she playfully tousled the fringe of her hair. "Come here and let me have a good look! It may be small, but if we don't treat your wounds right, it would prove a bigger problem later!" She was exhausted, but what little divine favour she could command, she released. Binding wounds up with poultices and salves from her pack.

"How long was I out?" A voice croaked out from behind. Without turning, she knew who had finally awoken from his beauty sleep. Smiling as she applied the last of the bandages to the girl.

"Long enough for you to take the full watch tonight! Welcome back my-.. welcome back Rafe." She turned to look at Sanine, half assuming she'd be one to carry strong drink around. "I think he needs something to drink. Preferably something that would burn his insides so he can get off his bum. I don't fancy carrying his whole weight on my own!"

⊰~❇~⊱​

Salvaging whatever they could, they saddled up their horses. The Daughter of Felariel considered giving her fallen brethren a proper burial or a funeral pyre, but there were just too many and they couldn't risk an untended fire, not out here in the Huntress' Domain. Better to leave the bodies to the land, such was the cycle of life. In return, they retrieved whatever personal paraphernalia they could glean from the fallen soldiers and buried them under a pile of rocks, a tribute to their sacrifice. She whispered a prayer for their souls to pass on into the afterlife. The Drunken Nymphs tarried not a moment too long after that. Quickly setting off, they rode towards the north. There was a little village, turned outpost for the Tel`Quessir. Springfel. Amaranth had hoped to avoid as many settlements as possible, but the appearance of the Wretched made it necessary for her to at least warn her generals of the breach in their lines. Something was definitely afoot, all the more reason to see the end of her quest.

The princess rode with the erstwhile assassin placed securely on her front saddle. Israfael was fully conscious, though he may have been still too weak to ride on his own, without Amaranth's hands encapsulating him. He may even have protested for the overt care, but the princess was adamant. They paced their horses at a steady canter, as the dense undergrowth and thick trees began to thin out. The terrain was decorated with large solitary trees, their expansive boughs casting shadows over the gently rolling hills, the ground having risen as they moved northwards.

"What do you think about the Wretched being so far south?" She asked casually of the moongarde, eyes shifting briefly to the mageborn. The tempest was well within earshot, but she thought she'd ask Eleveil's opinion first, seeing as he had been tasked to question Fenris. Though they were related by blood, Amaranth still had the tendency to turn to those she knew better first. It was a habit born out of necessity. Blood ties no longer meant much to her, Lucien had seen to that.

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Travelling

Mentions: Lekiel

Mood: Amused

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Eleveil grinned at Israfael as they rode, it amused him that the tough and silent man was riding like a little girl on her first ride. Then Em asked him a question and his eyes turned to her "Honestly, it is a bit strange, the biggest advantage the Wretched had when we fought them on the front lines was their numbers, those that could act tactically were very few and in between..the ones we fought.." he shook his head "It was like they'd been waiting for us...or less us specifically and more just anyone coming through that area. They used the forest to hide their presence and I can't tell if they had just been traveling like we were or had been specifically placed there to prevent communication to the various outposts we have"

"If they were stationed there, then that means that they can be in other places without our knowledge, waiting in ambush" he frowned slightly before nodding towards a bird as it flew past "However, we didn't notice them because we weren't expecting them, the animals are different. Have you noticed that there are more creatures around now that we've left that area? The Wretched are a blight on this land, the animals can't stand them, we should keep a closer eye on the wildlife as we travel"

"Still no knowledge on how they got there though, possibly through similar actions as they traveled?" he shook his head "I can't really say without getting the knowledge from one of the more intelligent Wretched, even then they are difficult to figure out"

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[Lefic]

Dull aches and pains rippled through the thief's body with each movement of the horse she was atop. The mare was a dark bay, and just as stubborn as its rider. At first, the mare would stop randomly of her own accord to graze, ignoring Sanine's curses and kicks, and, a few times, the horse would even try to meander off into a completely different direction to the others. In the rare cases that the animal did walk in the correct direction, it would always linger at the back of the pack, not bothering to put more than the minimum effort required in keeping up. Even when resting, Sanine had to take care to tie her horse away from the other mounts, lest her ornery steed try to bite another. Even still, the thief grew to like her stolen horse. Over time, her horse—who she'd renamed Chel—stopped resting so frequently, deviated from the path less, and, overall, started to actually listen to the Edan. Surprisingly enough, Sanine managed to not be at the very back, barely trailing behind the others. She was following behind Amaranth, the flirt from earlier, and the Isilhin mage who had saved the Princess, in earshot of their conversation yet not bothering to contribute anything.

The rogue had her eyes fixed on Amaranth in front of her, and allowed her mind to melt into a stream of consciousness, letting her mare guide her forward as the thief sat absently on her back. The Princess had gotten the others to call her Em in order to protect her identity. It was a pretty name, for sure, but every time the name was used by another member of the party to address the Anarhin ranger, Sanine's face would twist into an expression of disquietude, and her eyes would seem to unfocus as though she were looking at something that no one else could see. Sanine hadn't uttered the name herself, preferring to refer to the Princess in a more indirect manner. She was sure the name was just randomly chosen but, still, out of all names... for it to be that one. A funny coincidence, she thought, that her alias should be the name of my mother. Her lips did not resemble a smile in the slightest. She just hoped that Amaranth—the woman she'd come to view as her second mother—did not meet the same fate as Emilia Drahril.

The hoofbeats of her horse sounded like a drum, and Sanine found herself humming some tune plucked from the bowels of her mind. As the honeyed thunder of her crooning spread into the air around her, her mare's ears perked up lazily. The sound rumbled pleasantly in her throat, and the assassin found herself drumming her fingers against the horn of her saddle. Perhaps the relaxing song was a lullaby—it certainly calmed the rogue down to the point of drowsiness—or part of some mellow medley from a bard. Whatever it was, Sanine Drahril did not care. It cleared her mind and lightened her feelings, and that was more than enough.

 

[LoneSniper87]

Horses were not her favorite animal... But they got the job done. She rode on her horse with the dignity and grace a Captain ought to, her helmet off now, hair up in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She now had a long blue cloak on, a lighter shade than the tattoos over her eyes, that covered her armor rather well. She kept pace with Em, glancing at the group every so often to make sure nobody wals left behind. The fact that Wretched were so close to home was unsettling, but it only made their task more urgent. Besides, it was better than being cooped up in the castle.

The Anarhin woman looked at the Moongarde and quirked her head to the side. "I would not doubt that after all these years the creatures evolved... Such is the way of life. Creatures adapt. But for them to be clever enough to set up an ambush? I find it unlikely. Unless something guides them..." She then went into her own thoughts, thinking of how a Wretched could be given orders.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

"Long enough for you to take the full watch tonight! Welcome back my-.. welcome back Rafe."

He cast her an indignant look, lips drawn into a flat line as arctic eyes narrowed. Her jest, much to his chagrin, hinted at the very real possibility of him being up all night with only the horses to keep him company. Not that he minded the silence, but Israfael had had enough moons to sit and think to satisfy him for many centuries.

"I think he needs something to drink. Preferably something that would burn his insides so he can get off his bum. I don't fancy carrying his whole weight on my own!"

He snorted, a soft huff of air that revealed only a little of the annoyance he felt for her making jokes at his expense. At the same time though it caused a slight smile to curl the corner of his mouth. That teasing glimmer reminded him of happier days-- a time where he hadn't made his living dealing in blood.

"I think I can stand without you poisoning me, ai'mithe." He croaked, moving to rise only to slump back into his half sitting position. Rafe glared at his legs, feeling a numbness in his limbs that he assumed was from whatever potion he had been given. He was still fighting against the lethargic feeling, but to his almost fully aware mind it was nothing less than an annoyance.

⊰~❇~⊱​

He had been powerless to stop them from hoisting him up into a saddle like some kind of rag doll. Rafe knew he was weak, but he could have ridden his own horse! Or...at least that's what he liked to tell himself. His fine motor functions were still very much unresponsive and he found his head lolling to the side more than once during the ride.

"What do you think about the Wretched being so far south?"

Israfael ignored Amaranth's question, his gaze fell like an act of violence upon that shit eating grin the other Isilhin wore across his features. If his arms didn't feel like limp noodles he would enjoy snapping--
"Honestly, it is a bit strange, the biggest advantage the Wretched had when we fought them on the front lines was their numbers, those that could act tactically were very few and in between..the ones we fought.."
He blocked out the rest of his monologue, knowing the moongarde loved the sound of his own voice. Rafe made a mental note to ask Salazzar to put a dead rat in Eleveil's bags.

"I would not doubt that after all these years the creatures evolved... Such is the way of life. Creatures adapt. But for them to be clever enough to set up an ambush? I find it unlikely. Unless something guides them..."
His head rolled to the other side, scrutinizing the guardswoman as she spoke. He was more than aware that his hood had been pulled down, his expressions open to the world for their own leisurely viewing. It antagonized the assassin to know that he did not have the protection of that material to guard his features. His silver-white hair moved with the breeze and even that was an odd sensation.

"That is an unpleasant thought."

He added, albeit softly, his back leaning slightly into the woman behind him. The act was subtle, but he wasn't about to make it known he enjoyed the comfort even though he did not deserve it.
Rafe looked towards his student, scanning her as much as his poor view would allow. She seemed to be off in her own little world and a part of him --the more parental one-- desired to ask if she was okay. He didn't know how though...to express his concern or his feelings. So many years without them had made it...difficult to connect in the types of ways that mattered.
He was under no illusions that he could have been a better teacher, a better friend.
He could have guided her to a different path, but she had wanted to learn and he had seen in her something that he used to see in himself.

He just hoped that she wouldn't end up like him...so consumed with regret that without the purpose of protecting Amaranth his life might as well be forfeit.

 

[Lekiel]

Amaranth nodded almost imperceptibly as the moongarde and her personal guard made their thoughts known. He shared most of her thoughts and hearing another speaking them out loud only served to confirm her dreaded suspicions. Having the Wretched so far into Tel`Quessir lands was cause for alarm enough. The ones they had just fought were clearly more intelligent than most. The presence of the lesser horrors proved that. Demon overlords seldom sent their chaotic kin to test the strength of the enemy, preferring to make full use of the lesser Wretched - orcs, goblins and the ilk - to crash against the battlelines of the Tel`Quessir. And only when victory was for the fel kin was within grasp, did they send their twisted underlings to savage their hapless foes. Was that what was happening? Had the enemy found a weakness in the stalwart defenses of the Tel`Quessir that had stood the tides of darkness over centuries? Had they discovered a weakened link, vulnerable enough to come upon them in one fell swoop? The blackened blood that even now stained her cloak only seemed to prove that. An evidence that even the princess herself in all her cautious premonitions refused to believe was an indication of their end; there had to be more time. There must be...

She looked to her errant companions. Their weathered and grim faces, only a day out and they had begun to see the land for what it really was. Damn the high walls of An`Falithe and those who sought to cower behind them. Even Eleveil with his teasing seemed to sober up as they spoke about the coming darkness.

"We must make haste. Springfel lies to the north, mayhap we can find a courier there. General Ethrimbor must be warned before he reaches An`Falithe. Brother would not let him leave once that happens." The high general commanded one of the last legions of the Tel`Quessir that had yet to return to the capital. She shuddered to think what would become of the other smaller battalions and troops once Ethrimbor was relieved of the Tel`Quessir offensive. Amaranth retrieved a scrap of dark cloth from her saddlebags and tied its ends to shroud her features behind a veil, leaving naught but her amber eyes bare. Pulling on her hood, she nodded to her companions and kicked her mount into a gallop.

⊰~❇~⊱

They crested a particularly high hill and was greeted to the sight of an expansive hilly plains. It was but a couple of hours before dusk and Anara was already past her midway mark. Everything for scores of miles to the north could be seen, from copses of sparse pine forests, to the giant boulders rising several score feet into the sky like the giant eggs of ancient gargantuan wyrms dotted the landscape. Somewhere amongst them, was the town of Springfel, and towards the north, shrouded in mist and cloud was the fabled city of Cal`Ancalen. They had only trodden the hilly plains for a quarter of an hour before Amaranth's ranger senses became acutely aware that their company was being watched, though she could not deduce the source of the disturbance. A hawk drifting far up in the clouds seemed to be the only indication of wildlife.

The princess looked out of the corners of her eyes at her companions, noting that at least some of them felt the same way. Nothing was spoken between them, less they give away knowledge to their unseen hunters that they were aware. Her grip on her reigns tightened, and she keened her senses outwards preparing for an ambush. Then as their path took them downhill, narrowing between two large boulders, several large forms darted before them, the pounding hooves of their silver armored mounts seemingly bursting out of nowhere. Cloaks of midnight adorned their backs, shrouding the glint of their silver breastplates. Keen eyes peaked out from beneath elaborate helms as they lowered pointed lances to bar the way forward. With a sharp command, Amaranth reigned in her mount and the horse whinnied in protest, turning in full circle she quickly realized that they were surrounded. Every way out barred by silver clad riders, and she thought she heard the sound of bowstrings drawn taut. She stopped her horse's prancing and simply waited, watching the stoic faces of their ambushers. The riders made no other move seemingly content to a stare down. She thought to speak, but didn't want to draw attention to her presence. She couldn't risk revealing themselves.

Then a terse voice called out from the front, and for a moment, Amaranth thought that one of the riders had spoken. But they parted ranks to allow another rider through, one with no weapons drawn though the insignia on his coat bore the markings of a captain. "The only things roaming these lands are the Wretched, foolish travelers, or uncouth bandits seeking ill-gotten gains." His voice rang out in the clearing, haughty and lined with the finest steel of a threat. Sharp silver eyes roamed over each of them in turn, narrowing as he caught sight of Fenris' clearly defined robes and finally resting on Sanine.

"Clearly not of the Wretched, neither do you lot look like travelers... foolish bandits perhaps?" He waited for a moment, before his thin lips twisted into a sneer. "Tell me... why I should not have you lot executed where you stand? I have worse matters to deal with as it is."

Ooc: We have been surrounded by a company of General Ethrimbor's troops, commanded by one of his Captains to scout out the land. They have come from Springfel which had recently been under attack by the Wretched. If any of you are so inclined, feel free to GM the Captain's actions :> We will play off whatever you decide (obviously nothing preposterous haha) Lefic Hell0NHighWater Seraph Darkfire LoneSniper87 Longhead

 

[Dawn Star]

Jaelynn sat on top of her mountain horse, an odd breed with a sturdy build made for long journeys, with rippling muscle of a worker horse and the almost shaggy, bay coloured coat of a southern mountain pony. The mare’s eyes glinted with bred intelligence, a perfect horse for a ranger. Jaelynn had been lucky enough that her mentor had helped her scrounge up the cash for the ill-tempered beast, trained to de-saddle any rider unable to handle her. Jaelynn had called her Jadedfire for the personality the horse bore, as if she saw the world jaded yet with a fierce attitude. Jade shifted her weight underneath her and Jaelynn leaned more weight in to the front of her feet, and thus, on to her stirrups, settling her horse and stilling her in order to see a perfect line down her drawn arrow.

Jaelynn adjusted her grip on her engraved long bow, her arrow tip glinting as she stared out of the confines of her hood, staring at the group. Elves, an Eden, a Mage, a Captain… They were quite obviously not bandits, but she knew her own Captain was trying to coax an indignant answer from one of the prideful. She waited to see the change in body language, to sense which of them was expected to answer. Her gaze bore fiercely out of the shadows of her hood, the dark brown invisibly swimming with intense determination. If any of them drew a weapon, she would release her arrow, along with half the other rangers in their party and have another drawn in seconds. Rangers held the lives of twenty-four men in their quivers. They trained night and day, with every chance they had- particularly one as determined as Jaelynn who was training to be recognised and to become the first human Sungarde. It currently was not allowed, but she didn’t see any other reason other than racial discrimination.

Although her eyes and features were hidden by her hood’s shadows, her gaze was just as piercing as ever. Jadefire whinnied and shook her mane out, getting jittery as she stood, able to feel her rider becoming tense. Jae forced herself to relax, breathing in and breathing out, her back muscles straining as she held her heavy long bow string taut.

 

[LoneSniper87]

Silvyr snapped out of her thoughts looking at the man who had called them all out. She looked at them. How could you mistake people like them for bandits? Was her first thought, then she glanced back and understood it. After a few more moments of silence she began. "Sir..." She said at first, getting everyone's attention.

"Sir, I can assure you we mean no bear intent. My name is Silyr Irian, perhaps it rings a bell, Captain?" She says, looking them all over. "We came to speak with General Ethrimbor, about the Wretched. It is rather imperative we see him, it could mean the fate of the Tel'Quessir, and all sentient life, as we know it. Sir, I ask that you allow us to speak to him." She said, hoping he would allow them to continue unmolested. But judging from his hostility before hand, he wouldn't that easy.