Fantasy TOTTDLMTH Episode 3 (Completed)

[Celestial Speck]

Zariel | Pilgrim59 | Worthlessplebian | Funnier President | xAlter

Hassan Nox I-Sen

Anthem County, Abandoned Church


​

A gentle frown found itself growing on Hassan's lips as his question was ignored or not heard by his fellows. Before, of course, a tired sigh came out. He supposes he can't blame them, speaking so casually given last day's events was perhaps too much for everyone at this point in time. As such, his attention once more turned to the meal Sertek had given to them, eating ever so slowly and calmly as he took in the approach of the other members of their ragtag group.

His gaze, naturally, found Irelia's as she stood far and stared at the Daemon Lord. Even if their eyes didn't meet, Hassan's own were staring directly into hers as a frown found itself on his face. He knew the look on her face, the look of rage, hatred, and anger. The look that forced one to force every muscle, every spasm in their being as to not do something that was charged by emotion. After all, it was only natural. That gaze she gave Sertek was the same gaze he gives Sylvia every moment she appears into view, the gaze of hatred, the gaze of a murderer. It was almost haunting, and perhaps even humbling to see that gaze on another person. Yet, even so, he found his hand automatically gripping one of his blades, taking it out from its sheath ever so slightly...

...Before it was sheathed again, as the conflict didn't break out. A sigh escaped the Harbinger's lips. It seems that despite their discussion last night, such feelings wouldn't disappear easily.

"...Tch." At the mention of the same woman that he felt disdain to in the same manner Irelia did, Hassan only scoffed. In the streets of Jianki, they said that a poor man's problem was just a rich man's ally. He supposes like Yin and Yang, those roles switched interchangeably between the two of them. "I suppose if she doesn't appear, me and someone else could look for her."

His tone didn't imply anything, but just for a singular second, Hassan's eyes met with Caenis in a subtle manner, before focusing back on his meal. That gaze alone perhaps told the Lupus everything he needed to know- a discussion later. Not now, but later. Just the two of them, as to discuss his next footsteps. Would the Lupus be freed of his four-year-long acting trick? Would he be asked to keep on the visage, as to build trust between the Companions and Harbingers? Only the worlds of Sertek's Second Hand would answer those questions eventually.

...Yet the same face of the fearsome swordsman that he and other Harbingers knew for his skill and ability, suddenly blinked twice and took on a look of pure surprise at Kazan with her... more than bastardized version of his title acting as a nickname.

His face took an expression one not often seen. Tree... guy?

"Is... is that how you lot know me as...?" There was genuine confusion and perhaps some bafflement there as Hassan looked at Kazan, then Sertek, and the rest of the Companions. "T-Tree Guy? How do you mistranslate 'Uncuttable Oak' that much...?"

In hindsight, it was an incredibly silly title. And that's not counting Kazan's version of it.

"...Overindulgence can be dangerous as we don't know when we'll be thrust into combat, but sure I guess. Just don't call me 'Tree Guy' ever again."

 

[Larry]

Odhrán von Starkenburg
Location: Abandoned Church, Anthem County, Haven.
Mood: Becalmed.
Mentions: Funnier President | Zariel | Nessi | Celestial Speck | Pilgrim59 .
Interactions: xAlter .​

The islander was very much in his own head, eyes closed, bathing in the sun's balming rays when the sound of footsteps denoted the presence of someone approaching the pew. As he urged his grey orbs open to see the light of day once again, Odhrán found it to be none other than Caenis that made his away over to him, with the quartermaster, gazing on the dilapidated altar, making a statement about the nature of belief and of his own trouble in doling out credulity. Though the islander was one to prefer lighter topics to begin the day whence in Aran, whether it be how the various boiscín bouts had gone the night before or who was flittering about the town, every once in a while, he supposed to himself, it was good for the mind to deal with more ponderous questions. Turning to his lupine companion, having often collaborated with him during the war, given the proximity of their roles, he began: "That indeed, is some way to begin the morning," the islander laughed softly, "But knowing you, wont as you are to write your thoughts in verse, it would be appropriate for such weighty words to come from you. I pray that you've been keeping up with the poetry, reticent as you were to share it with the rest of us." Indeed, on one clear occasion could he recall, where Kazan had snuck up on an unsuspecting Caenis, innocently asking what he was up to, only for the Marethian to jut backwards in an incredible case of dexterity, a flush, like smeared jam, blotched across his features. Those memories, made only possible by the scourge of war, were cherished ones; a testament to the character of soldiers, that such levity could exist at a time of such strife and wanton carnage.

Odhrán pursed his lips, a solemn air about him now.

It made sense, given how Irelia had become cognisant of it the night previous, to ask Caenis as to why he was conversing with the Siren, Angelica, whilst the two of them were by themselves. The Dawnbringer was aware to the oddity of that occasion, espying the pair in one of the pews at the back of the church, with Odhrán himself venturing a glance in the duo's direction. It wasn't unusual for both a Harbinger and an Iris Companion to have a conversation; Hassan, now known as the Tree Guy it seems, and Irelia had quite the argument the night of their arrival at the church; Sylvia and Sertek, once Ra'el, had obvious reasons for dialogue, fraught as it may be. His own conversation with Galious, borne out of trying to prevent Kazzy from annoying him further, was both edifying in some respects, and re-affirming in others, concerning as it did the salamandrian's pride-shamed bloodthirstiness. But the feeling, or timbre, if it could be called that, of Caenis and the Siren's conversation bore out a completely different feeling compared to the others.

A feeling that the information officer would have to inveigle out of his colleague, or to falsify his concerns as they now stood.

"Say, Caenis," Odhrán began, carefully composing the question in his mind beforehand, "Forgive me the abruptness of this inquiry, but, while everybody else is busy eating, tell me why you were speaking so at ease with Mori yesterday evening. I must apologise if this appears stringently prying of me, but with Irelia having noticed it last night, it only makes sense for me to scope out your relationship with her. So, how do you know her, aside from pure intelligence-derived means?

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Sir Galious Meeples
interaction: Funnier President Celestial Speck ElenaIsCool​

Galious questions where left unanswered and honestly it wasn’t as if galious had actually expected anyone to listen to him of all people. Though Bisi had asked the same question getting similarly ignored. Eyes shifting to gaze at the roof that was where he’d spot then raven still eyeing him with clear and malicious intent. That couldn’t be good at all.. his brooding however was quickly brought to an end upon hearing the insufferable pyromancer refer to hassan as tree guy prompting a squeaky chuckling. “I see your one for random nicknames then, that’s a Hassan by the way“ Galious yelled his voice not conveying the sarcasm he’d intended.

With that improvement to his overall mood now done with Galious walked over to Bisi as she was the only one to directly share his concern of where they should go next despite the fact she’d been nothing but a thorn in his die for ages now. “Bisi… I’m glade to see at least someone is in the right mind set, as to our next move.. but I would like to ask for your input on something“ galious chirp but he sounded kinda serious behind the adorableness. “that raven up there you see it?” he‘d at point at the bird that had sat itself upon the alter of the church cawing softly. “I do not trust it to be a normal bird… it’s action have been far too malicious and targeted… why I know such birds to be able to hold a grudge… it had not seen my during our first engagement so the fact it came in here and singled me out is highly suspect… mayhaps it is a spy or, some sort of annoying divine intervention… what are your thoughts?” Galious voice was as genuine as possible as he was really looking for a second opinon on this most troubling of dilemmas.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sertek
Traveller's Camp, Anthem County

Sylvia
Conestoga Wagon, Anthem County
Interacted: Larry ElenaIsCool
Mentioned: Worthlessplebian ​

Sertek took to heart what Preston said. Perhaps it was the impending disclosure of their inevitable destiny to clash blades as they would years ago that unnerved the man. He was certain to prove Preston that such an outcome would not be necessary. This time, they will decide for themselves a future of their own making. The Daemon Lord kept to himself, letting Preston be on their way. In time, perhaps they would find better subjects to indulge themselves with rather than the usually-prevalent Harbingers and Company blood feud. The long wintry night that seemed like a purgatory for the guilty and the restless, became a sanctuary for Sertek's resolve. Where others did not find much from the deteriorated church, Sertek found an indecipherable connection that was reminiscent of a time that he did not understand. A mysterious surge of nostalgia for something that he does not remember. As they finally took off from the Church, Sertek turned back and gave it one last look.

Sylvia, having made sure the path before them was cleared, quickly mounted the Conestoga as it came her way. Despite Sertek's uplifting smiles and unperturbed zeal, Sylvia sensed an uncertain sentiment that oozed its way from his glacial gaze. She kept this to herself, reluctant to inquire about it. As the cold grips of winter began to diminish, Sylvia's cheeks turned red. For once in many lifetimes, her peers were able to catch a glimpse of a womanly creature that was far from an ice queen that many perceived her as. It mattered little to her, as her predecessors would be inclined to agree. It did not take long for Sertek to glue his eyes to Sylvia's countenance.

"What is it? Is there something on my face?" she asked.

"It is... nothing." he replied in a stuttering manner, refusing to say anything else on the matter. The flatteries that he would have commit himself to say may better off be left unsaid for the time being. His affections sheathed, for he valued his life over a statement that would otherwise expedite his death.

Sylvia on the other hand, contemplated upon what action she should take to bridge their awkwardness. Having finally spoke of the numerous tragedies she bore witness to, it seemed that she was finally able to shed the grotesque envelope that has been keeping her bitter all these times. A piece of her frangible self restored. As they neared Ansari's Sawmill, Sylvia's thoughts were quickly stowed as she dismounted the wagon with Sertek. A middle-aged couple met them, which brokered a conversation. Whether it be chance or out of benign neglect, by the generous hearts of these strangers, Sylvia and Sertek made their return with a small sack of supplies and extra fabrics. The Daemon Lord would go out of their way to split the woods for them, a particular detail that was most useful in this instance. Sylvia looked on, almost convinced that the Daemon Lord she knew was only a figment of her imagination. A ghost she had created for herself in order to justify her hatred.

Before them stretched a multitude of tents and makeshift housings. Each fashioned according to their owner's preferences and function. A strange ground for the urban folks to fully understand, but a common sight for those that seeks respite in foreign lands. The history of such establishments went deeper than what it is often depicted as. Like the legends of the wandering pilgrims, these camps retained a certain magical ambiance about it - free from the uniformity of cityscapes. Smiths, adventurers, hunters, artisans and traders could be found here. With the onset of the long-awaited Frostival, the usually elementary abodes were now adorned with vibrant decorations and seasonal trinkets. Despite the homely spectacle, the Hero and the Daemon Lord made sure to keep their distance. Parking the Conestoga beneath a frozen tree just some walking distance from the camp, Sertek quickly covered the wagon in snowy pine leaves and whatever he could find to conceal the Conestoga from prying eyes. Opening the wagon's rear entrance, Sertek eyed the multitude briefly before clearing his voice.

"We're here. Harbingers, Companions, watch each others' backs. Bisila, this might be your time to shine. See if you can procure for us some forged papers. Just try to keep it low-profiled, yes?" Sertek said.

"Iris Company. You're on foraging duty. Gather rations and supplies from the locals. We have a limited budget. Spend them wisely. I'll remain on watch from here." Sylvia chimed in, tossing a weighted pouch of hefty sums towards Odhran.

The hero chose to attend to the wagon, while the rest headed towards the camp to gather what they needed, heeding Sertek's advice regarding the Companion's discernible faces. The Daemon Lord gave Sylvia an assuring nod, before slogging his way down the snow-laden meadow, alongside those who were keen on doing the same.

Bisi's Details ( ElenaIsCool ):
Interact with a traveler and ask them about forgery services.

Odhran's Details ( Larry ):
Spend the money entrusted to Odhran by Sylvia for supplies and rations.
​

 

[ElenaIsCool]

Bisila Nzo

Traveller's Camp, Anthem County

Interactions:

Pilgrim59
Huntertabbysandshark3
xAlter
Nessi
Funnier President

Mentions:

Larry
Celestial Speck
Worthlessplebian


Bisi's question was more or less answered by Hassan, making the woman puff out her cheeks before taking the last sip of her tea

".....So that's a no on the water? What kind of church doesn't have any?"

The woman then went on to pour herself some more tea before being reminded that, yes the pot wasn't infinite and there were others that wanted the drink so she resolved to thinking about her dream. Now, she wasn't one to assume a sudden dream was a message or a warning but her curiosity was nagging of who pulled the trigger. Dreams were always things your mind took that you thought about a lot and manifested it, to put it shortly and if that was the case, was she subconsiously worrying about going back so much? It went basically against everything she lived for, being a caged bird when she was more of a free one. Free from the shackles and limits of the family, then of the law.

Angelica's voice snapped the Harbinger from the choo-choo car of thought and she gave the woman a grin and a nod. While she did leave behind the lavish life where she had too much on her wardrobe, she found nothing wrong with practical but fashionable clothes. She wasn't one to completely enjoy cloth shopping but there might be a few things that ended up catching her fancy. Then measurements were mentioned and her faee became less excited. Ugh, from experience she knew how long those lasted.

"I have been rolling in a pigsty. You know, prison. Rolling in more ways than one..Also a haircut would be great if you can manage that"

Bisila felt like complaining about her most recent chain of beds, prision floor, camping and then the wall but kept that to herself. The arrival of the Iris girl, Kazan if she remembered correctly, who had made her very amused due to her argument with Galious and the fact that she called him a frog, a nickname she too, will use made her happy. Her early comments made her grin but what made her laugh out loud at her nickname for Hassan; Tree Guy. The very confused expression on the First Harbinger's face was priceless, even Galious found it funny!

"Call him that again for as long as we're working together. I know from experience that if you're workinging with the Tree Guy, his branches won't reach you for the remaining time you'll be working with him. And when it's over, then he'll kill you for that but it's worth it"

Bisi smirked at Hassan before tossing her granola, still untouched due to the fact that the Arachnida had completely removed her apetite, to the magma mage. Something that grabbed her attention was Ohdran's suspicion of Angelica and Caenis's conversation. Bisi's eyes narrowed slightly. If she tried to say something in favour of Caenis, that would bring even more suspicion due to her being defensive. While she did joke about exposing Caenis, she wasn't actually going to. It was like losing your trump card so the White Wolf feigned surprise and curiosity

"True, I remember making fun of that. Do you guys have history with eachother or something?"

She was extending them both some help here, her playful tone thin compared to the serious look she had in her eyes, one that could be interpreted as 'You can thank me later, now spin something up!'

Galious then came up to her, making her stop giving the two spies some warning eyes, and asked about something. She tried to guess what it was

"I personally think Boop-Snoot is better than Frog. Also that you look less like a frog and more like a squishy lizard but I can see the froggy features"

But that wasn't what he was there to talk about that, he was there to share his worries about the raven that had bothered him yesterday, another thing that made her laugh a lot. He was genuinely worried if it was there to spy on him or something of the sort. Bisi looked at the bird, then at Galious. Raven, not crow, not owl. Well she could name a few criminal gangs with ravens on their name but she knew they didn't actually even train the birds or know much about it. Ravens were very smart birds but this particular one didn't seem trained. Bisila chuckled and shrugged

"Well, it's fair for your guard to be up at a time like this but I'd say that the bird just wants to take a peck out of you. Ravens like amphibians so I wouldn't put past that you-being-a-frog theory yet but they also like reptiles so it could be both. But there's your answer, just hungry bird instinct and it wants you for breakfast."


------------------------------------

Bisila couldn't help but smile at the settlement she could see from the Conestoga's window as the decorations and overall energy she got from the place made her remember it was Frostival. She wasn't one to ignore festivities, instead she'd celebrate with her lads, free drinks, lots of food and stories and an overall good time. The White Wolf perked up when they finally got there and the announcement was given, her brows shooting up when she heard her name called. It wouldn't be the first time she had to put her criminal knowledge to use but it was always a pleasant surprise. The woman had a grin and her usual playful expression on her icy blue eyes as she pat her bag, where her OWL badge was safely tucked in. Even if the place seemed homely, there were still scum, a surprisingly non-offending term in the criminal world, to be found. And she had an idea where to find such.

"They don't call me The Trickster for nothing. Why don't you all get us some presents while you're on shopping duty, hm?"

That was more of a sarcastic offer than anything and she expected it to be treated as such. With a wave, Bisi took a different path and headed straight to the closest thing the place had to a bar and made herself comfortable before whipping out the OWL badge and going over to a nearby person with a smile

"Hello, sorry to bother you but I was just wondering, have you seen any barn owls recently?"


​

 

[xAlter]

Caenis Vasilias Koimamai
Location: Traveller's Camp - Anthem County
Interactions: Larry
Mentions: Nessi Celestial Speck Pilgrim59 Zariel

Chuckling to himself, Caenis patted his pocket where his notebook and a pen laid in waiting. Indeed he did have a penchant for more thoughtful and deep thoughts, his words and ideas often having greater meaning than he intended. Staring at the altar again, Caenis once more pondered. “Given my predisposition to speak and write in such a weighty manner, I only assumed it was fair game to begin the morning with philosophy. However, even despite this, I can still say with certainty that the world would be better off without knowing what hurtles through my mind.” Of course, Caenis would never let others read his works.

The weight of his memories, if he were to write down every thought that is, would bog down his own self, both mentally and physically. Each word within the pages of the leather-bound book held a personal weight and meaning. Every letter and every word added to the weight he carried with him, a physical reminder of his past strife and past victories. To write every word down was to never let the past go, no matter how small the altercation or event may seem. Live, fail, learn, succeed, and die; these words were wisdom given to him by the one he cherished above all.

Hearing Odhran speak again, this time a question, put Caenis on edge, if only for a second.

Of course, Odhran would have noticed him speaking with Angelica, any person with an eye would be able to see that. Irelia had picked up the conversation from afar, however, the subject was left unheard. Caenis was used to lying, it came as easily to breathing at this point. Lies and half-truths made up his person, his entire history, his entire being. If anything, the being known as Caenis was a pawn, a fake who was wrapped up in a twisted game. Caught between two lives, he could not choose between the person he wanted to be or was being forced to be. So Caenis spoke. The half-truths he spoke, still lies.

“Angelica Mori,” he began, a pause, formulating his words in a way that would make sense. “Is an acquaintance of mine you could say. She’s a seamstress; I used to commission her.” The work they did was more of information trading, but Angelica's proficiency with needle and thread was unmatched. “For most of the formal events and parties we attended, I would go to her for tailoring suits, and if needed commissions. I had no idea she was a part of the Harbingers. You could say the absurdity of this situation has affected us both a little more than we would’ve liked.” Pausing again, Caenis stuffed his hands in his pocket as he noticed the others beginning to pack and move. “It seems we are moving. I’ll speak to Miss Irelia at a later date.”

---

The ride was uneventful, something Caenis much appreciated. He could once more be left to his thoughts and sort out his head. Maybe speaking to Hassan was a good idea. Privately was obviously the best choice, but he would have to wait. Hearing Sylvia and Sertek speak, his ears perked as he listened in.

The sack of coins was thrown towards Odhran, and Caenis knew the secretary's mind was keen on numbers and supplies. However, while he might be well off when it came to buying general supplies, the purchasing of arms and munitions was a little more out of his field of expertise, especially considering the Harbingers’ choices of arms and ammunition. He’d have to be careful about the purchases for his fellow Harbingers, lest he gives away too much. Caenis gave a look to Odhran, signaling he was able and willing to help with other purchases. If the journey continued as it did before, the group would need all the supplies they could get.

That conversation with Hassan would have to wait. Again.

 

[Zariel]

──────────────────────────────────────
Irelia Sonan
──────────────────────────────────────
— The Dawnbringer —
​

It all happened at an expeditious pace. The conflated group of Iris and Harbingers were in such a hurry, Irelia couldn't spare a moment to speak to the Fourth Sygis in private. Hastily, they all embarked on the Conestoga and were on their way, coursing towards Ansari's Sawmill.

As the vehicle propelled forward, Irelia gently folded her hands on her lap. She shot a fleeting glance in the direction of her inconspicuously conflicted leader. Sylvia's shoulders were always laden with some burden or another. It wasn't Irelia's desire to fan the flames of her leader's disconcertment by galling her with her own questions. She'd have to wait for a better time. Once again.

Two matters rattled at the forefront of her mind, bothering her like flies buzzing close to one's ear. The urge to rid herself of the annoyance brewed, but she could not, as though her hands were tied with rope. The first issue that was the cause of Irelia's vexation was her continued obliviousness to what engendered their predicament. Even now, though the Dawnbringer allowed for some time to pass, Sylvia had yet to provide an explanation as to why Blackwatch was hunting them. Yet, Irelia did not fault her. It must've been difficult for the Angel of Verdan. Her emotions fragmented into a thousand pieces. Everything had hit her at once, from all sides. The loss of one of her closest companions. The revelation of her lover's identity. And the exilement of the Company from her home. The devastating culmination of such calamities occurring in tandem would be enough to bring even the hardiest of souls toppling to their knees.

Then there was the second matter Irelia itched to divulge. It pertained to her encounter with Blackwatch—more specifically, the member known as Sigismund. What unfolded that day was horrific and confounding. Friends turned foes. How could Irelia forget? But that man - Sigismund - had branded his actuality into her memories. Despite the odds, he was brave, noble, and stood against the blatant injustice painted before him, even if that meant turning on his own. But more than any of that, while Irelia respected his conviction, a small part of her couldn't help but find the soldier who clashed blades with Friedhelm... terrifying.

Irelia swallowed a hard lump.


Soon enough, the Conestoga stopped by an encampment adorned in lights and hues of festive spirit. Iris and Harbingers were each assigned tasks by their respective leaders. Iris's task was to gather rations and basic supplies. Sylvia handed a pouch of coins to Odhrán.

Irelia searched her comrades until she caught sight of their garrulous Pyromancer.

"Kazan," she waved, smiling with glee. "Would you care to accompany me on this small errand? Perhaps we could use this as an opportunity to spend some time catching up."

After a short while, Irelia shifted her focus to Odhrán.

"Odhrán, may I suggest that we divide ourselves into smaller groups, in order to save time? Perhaps you could split the money into equal shares, we could all gather different items, and then meet at the campfire in the centre of the camp once we're all finished," Irelia proposed her idea, proffering a pouch of her own for Odhrán to dispense into.

 

[Celestial Speck]

Larry | xAlter | Pilgrim59 | Zariel

Hassan Nox I-Sen

Traveller's Camp - Anthem County


​

Alas, it didn't take much for the group to move forward once more. He was thankful for that, really- just a brief glance towards Bisi and Gallious with a look that could only be described as chilling after that embarrassing little encounter with the Iris Member told anyone that Hassan really wasn't used to such... comedic teasing to his person. He was a man that despite any banter while in combat, was incredibly emotionally detached in more ways than one ever since all the recent events that here took place with all of them. Indeed, to go back into their mission was a relief.

Yet, now that Hassan wasn't tired of trying to go back into proper sleeping habits, he could properly enjoy the trip and the very wagon he and the other members of this alliance resided in. Very few would notice it, but whenever he looked at one of the many perhaps 'mundane' features of it, or even just seeing the environment change through any windows as they moved, there was an inherent wonder sparkling in his eyes. Nothing childish per se, but for a man of his background, such technological wonders were always a sight to see, even if he's seen his fair share of advanced what-have-yous in the war and where they recovered Sertek's first shard. But this? This was fascinating.

Eventually, his focus was forced to be pulled away as he quietly sat down on a nearby chair, as Sertek and Sylvia both explained their respective objectives. Or, objectives to certain members of each team, at the very least. Right, it seems that even despite the impressive magical and technological this wagon was, it could not provide them with all their supplies.

Yet, the unspoken reality was still obvious to Hassan, even if neither leader spoke it out loud: it would be hard, if not downright impossible to keep high in funds. They all had their talents, but they were also fugitives, at the end of the day. The First Harbinger frowned at the thought of the entire group requiring to pass through the same things he did during his first year in Dragonsreach. Desperate times brought desperate measures, but they were right: their funds were nigh-essential.

"I'll be coming along with you then, Iris Member 'Ódhran'," Hassan spoke out, lifting himself up and standing in front of the businessman. To Ódhran, Hassan had a certain 'feeling' to him that was similar, but at the same time, almost paradoxically opposite to Irelia. It was almost uncanny, perhaps, to someone who knew the swordmaiden so well. "... to ensure good relations between the Iris and Harbingers, I'll offer any knowledge and aid you might require in buying any supplies."

Hassan paused, a short glance being given to Irelia before he spoke up with a small smirk.

"...And if I'm feeling nice, I won't say 'once this is over, I'm gutting you, sworn enemy' like everyone already has repeated over and over again."

...While he did say he isn't used to it, he can use it as a useful tool to ease's one heart and suspicions. That is, assuming Ódhran isn't overly suspicious.

 

[Larry]

Odhrán von Starkenburg
Location: Traveller's Camp, Anthem County, Haven.
Mood: Readying himself
Mentions: Pilgrim59 | Doctor Nope | Nessi | Worthlessplebian .
Interactions: xAlter | Celestial Speck | Zariel .​

Odhrán considered the Dawnbringer's offer of spliting the funds between them, and found it to be an expeditious one; the islander thusly counted out and emptied half of the amount allocated to him by Sylvia into Irelia's open-mouthed pouch. Whilst Caenis' revelations were still on his mind, with the sheer fortuity of Angelica being his seamstress AND a Harbinger bearing out a suspicious tone to him, such thoughts would have to be shunted for another time. It seems as if he wouldn't be in want for company, however, with this rations trip; none other than Hassan, the First Harbinger and de facto leader of the group, wished to accompany him, and Caenis, too, gave a nod in his direction, noting his interest in coming. If one were to be in their right mind looking at such a situation, venturing out into a throng accompanied by a sworn, wartime enemy, despite the presence of an ally, you would be right to think that person quite a risk-taker. Yet, the infancy of the alliance needed instances of solid teamwork between the two groups: and if he had the capacity to effect such an example, Odhrán would endeavour to do so. Turning to his partners-in-shopping, he begins: "Your help would be most appreciated Hassan, and Caenis, given your role as quartermaster for us during the war, it would only make sense to make use of your procurement skills for the more...martial supplies we'll need."

Turning aside for a moment, the islander took a moment to think upon what was badly needed in their current situation and indeed, what they could actually afford.

Whilst reviews were generally positive about Sertek's cookery skills, scavenging posed a number of problems: whatever meagre foodstuffs could be gained from the surrounding forest would not be enough to sustain a group of hardened warriors; knowing this, if they were to forage more extensively, there was a chance such activity might end up garnering unwanted attention from the locals. So, purchasing victuals, enough for the next two-to-three days, was imperative. Also, ammunition, for the lacks of Eryn and certain others, who were no doubt well-depleted at this point, was a must. Then, another corollary crossed his mind. Assuming we have some money left over, he imagined to himself, what would should we spend it on? An opinion would need to be sought from Hassan as to what items certain members of the Harbingers might require but Odhrán, taking Preston into his sight, and the few among them who were still recovering, felt that medical supplies, scant as they may be to buy at the stalls, was a sensible idea in his mind.

Now that his thoughts had followed their natural course, he looks across at Caenis and Hassan, a determined glint in his eyes.

"I'm ready if you are gentlemen -- we have important work to do."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Mentions: ElenaIsCool Huntertabbysandshark3 Interactions: Larry xAlter Celestial Speck
Location: Traveler's Camp, Anthem County, Haven.

The chit-chat that Preston exchanged with Sertek left him much to consider. Could he carry a grudge for that long? Is it even prudent to accept alternative outcomes? Preston does not have an answer to these questions. His wounds are still fresh, still raw. Wounds... That's an interesting word. An arachnoid patient once told Preston 'A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green.' He found it poetic, an injured Doctor. He'll put these thoughts to bed for now; there will be time to contemplate the future. The Conestoga travelled, leaving behind the derelict Church. Preston remained seated for the journey, occasionally staring into a piece of expertly folded paper. He kept thinking about it, the conversation with his illusionary mentor playing back in his mind. His fingers nudged at the edges—never having the strength necessary to unfold this simple piece of paper.

When the Conestoga finally stopped, it almost jolted the paper out of his hands. Luckily his quick reactions made it easy to reaffirm his grip. Stepping outside with the rest, Preston was dumbstruck by revelations. It was winter... Of course, it was winter. All the excitement, the medication, the highs made Preston forget the seasons. The Coldness travelled up and down his body, slipping beneath the creases and the grooves of his armour and clothing. It made him uncomfortable and prompted him to torpor. This is an annoying discovery. When no one gazed in his direction, Preston managed to slip his clawed fingers between a gap in his exoskeleton to pinch a particularly sensitive area. It sent out shockwaves of pain throughout his neck, just what was needed to strive off his instincts.

Listening to Sylvia's command, Preston went over to Odhrán who seemed to have gathered a small coterie. "Odhrán, Swordsman, Senna. Might I join your expedition to the camp? I find it best that I search around for medicinal supplies, personally."

It would help him get away from the Trickster and the Lizard.

 

[xAlter]

Caenis Vasilias Koimamai
Location: Traveler’s Camp - Anthem County
Interactions: Worthlessplebian Celestial Speck Larry
Mentions:

Caenis made no visible reaction to having Hassan join. There was no twitch of the lips, no widening of the eyes, nothing that would indicate his surprise or relief. Making his way to the now named ‘Tree Guy’, Caenis refused to let that name fade from Hassan’s list of titles, and Odhran, he stood closer to the secretary of the IRC than his leader. The cold weight of his revolver weighed heavier against the small of his back, and the leather grips of the daggers in his sleeves itched against his forearms. He ignored both.

Already compiling a mental list of the different ammunition types, munition supplies, and other armaments and accessories of war that the group needed, Caenis ignored the look of doubt that crossed Odhran’s face when he arrived. He was too engrossed in his own mental planning. “Excuse me for a moment,” Caenis spoke up. Excusing himself from the group, he made his way towards the edge of the woods. If anyone asked, he was simply using the restroom. Out of sight, Caenis pulled on his Aetherium, and a hazy clone formed. Linked together, Caenis returned to the group as the clone moved to tail them out of sight.

Turning to Preston, Caenis still couldn’t get over the appearance of the spider-man, person, spider. While most other arachnid Astrians he had encountered or met were less their animal counterparts, Preston was different. It did not make him a bad person, but even so, appearances could be deceiving. Deigning not to give an answer to the good doctor, Caenis chose to remain silent. The thought of an additional member of the IRC made the weapons on his person burn once more.

Nothing could go wrong, he assured himself. It was just a simple shopping trip to secure supplies. Caenis would get his orders from Hassan, they would purchase the supplies, continue on their way through the world as fugitives, and Caenis would continue to deceive everyone around him.

Turning back to the group, Caenis saw Hassan and Odhran both consenting to Preston joining the unlikely fellowship of shoppers. “I see no problem with you joining, Preston.” Caenis spoke up. It seemed this shopping trip was going to be more interesting than he initially thought. Yay… shopping.

 

[Funnier President]

Kazan Hi
Mood: "Ain't we missing someone?"
Interactions/Mentions: Celestial Speck , Pilgrim59 , xAlter , Zariel Larry

As Tree Guy said that yes, she could have the granola, she took it from him with a quick thanks, and gave a thumbs up to Harbringer-number-twos advice about Not-Tree-Guy. She could already see a few puns being made with the name "Hassan", but she just wolfed down her granola as the Companions and Harbringers packed up as they got ready to continue fugitive life. (They really needed a better name for the group. The Comingers? Harpions? Hopefully, a cool name was found)

*-----*

Taking a seat in the wagon, she just sat around, a bit bored. She waved hello to Canesis as he came in the wagon, but that was about it for her social interactions. However, as they started to set off, she couldn't help but feel like they were missing someone.... and then it came to her. Where the heck was Laure?

*-----*

As the wagon finally came to a stop, she glanced all of her fellow companions. Still no confusion on their faces. During the whole ride, she kept looking around, wondering would suddenly say "Hey, aren't we missing someone?". And yet, no-one did. She did not have any clue why she didn't ask "Hey, ya'll remember Laure?". She was going to ask eventually, if everyone kept acting like Laure didn't exist-

Exiting out of the wagon, she glanced around, unsure of what to do. Then Sylvia and Mr-Failing Husband himself, gave them their orders. Get supplies and the like. Well, she probably wasn't going to be much help here. She was planning on staying near the wagon and asking what the fuck happened to Laure but, Irelia suddenly asked her if she wanted to go on an errand with her.

"Well.... its not like I got anything better to do, but sure!"

That was a lie, ladies and gentlemen. Well, partially. Besides, she could maybe grill Irelia for where Laure was (Unless she was in an alternate world where Laure didn't exist, who knows?)

She followed Irelia as she went to get extra money from Órdhan, all the while thinking of casual ways to ask about Laure. This was bugging her, big-time. When someone you know just disappears like that, you don't ignore it. Waving hello at Ordhan's Shopping Squad, she wished them good luck (with a pun!)

"Well, I hope you guys Hassan safe shopping spree! P.S, see if you can get any extra snacks?"

Was the pun necessary? Probably not. Did it bring a small amount of joy to continue her unofficial spree of making shitty puns the barely made sense? Yes, it did. With a cheeky grin on her face, she asked Irelia.

"Welp, you ready to go? I probably need to put some distance between myself and tree guy-"

She probably was on Tree Guys hit list now, but no regrets, right?​

 

[Pilgrim59]

The makeshift bar stretched out before the Harbinger, a great tent pitched together to make it seem as homely as possible without the need of furnishing it. A multitude of personnel positioned themselves in within their respective groups. All of them were armed, sporting gears from practical to ornamental. Some were ardent warriors, spoiling for a fight when they could be paid for their troubles. Charter company men, armed with what the frontier could offer, looking to make for port but were delayed by the snowstorm that blew past their schedule. But like the other faces around them, they gazed on with care, minding their breakfasts and drinks for the day ahead. With the Frostival celebration that was to take place that night, it seemed that adventurers, guild members and explorers had taken the liberty to prolong their stay here. While it did not seem like much compared to the mainstream bars in the city, it was the ideal place to start looking for answers.

The person within the White Wolf's sights raised their brow as they flashed their badge, as if it was supposed to mean something. This was accompanied by their cryptic words, that was nonsensical at best, or perhaps meant to be some sort of code. Sporting hair of wool and bronze-like skin, the middle-aged man was far outside of his element here in Anthem. Judging from his complexion, he was of southern-origins, but his Karelian outfit spoke differently on the case. His hand paused, keeping the roasted peanuts in his hand briefly to recollect his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." the man replied, raising his brow with a confused expression. He looked over his shoulder, studying his surroundings briefly and then back at the White Wolf. "But, on my honor as a fellow traveler, I will see if I can help. You were lookin' for owls, was it? I'll ask around for ya. You have my word." the man offered with a smile, ordering another drink for Bisi. "The name's Arman. Just Arman. So what do you need owls for, young lady?" he introduced himself, as he offered her some peanuts.

Several eyes wandered around them, keeping track of Bisi's response to Arman. Meanwhile, a few figures would leave the tent, chatting among themselves, relieving themselves from the quiet atmosphere.

Interaction: ElenaIsCool

 

[Remembrance]

Location: Conestoga
Interaction: Pilgrim59
Eliam awoke in a cold sweat; a faint dream passing his waking mind, leaving him uncomfortably aware of the situation around him. The group of men and women with whom he shared board had begun their departure from the church. It was hasty and like the outsider he was to their structured hierarchy, he was left uninformed and lacking the key points. Eliam could only theorize that the church served as a temporary refuge, though leaving it in a storm of change was an odd decision in his mind. He knew better than to question uncertainty and he understood that the group had suffered worse than a light shower of snow. From glances, he could tell their complexity. How they related themselves to others, and how quick they were to avoid their unlikely auxiliaries.

"What purpose do I serve here?" Eliam spoke softly, glancing up at the makeshift roof and peeking sky. He had hoped to chance an answer from his patron, yet none presented themselves. It was not in the All-Maker's ways to respond with haste; an answer was always gleamed through subtle acts of the Maker, overt and ostentatious revelations were often of the Adversary's doing.

The priest moved with the party, boarding their modestly-sized wagon. As the newcomer he was, Eliam's jaw dropped as he entered to find a vehicle that broke space. It was unnatural and he could not even begin to guess the technology nor the sorcery at work.

Eliam in the past had ventured far and wide. Explored lands he could never have dreamt of looking upon. To say he has seen it all would be a gross overstatement but the wagon, from which the group calls the Conestoga would stand as a highlight for the rest of his life.

Boarding the vehicle and making himself at home in what he presumed to be the common area, their travel out and away from the church was brief. He found that, instead of moving out of the region and keeping their travels and paths unpredictable, they moved rather close to a camp Eliam was somewhat aware of. He went to this collection of tents and weary travelers if only to search for a house of a god. It hadn't occurred to him that an embodiment of change would pass by these lands and that he should've warned them of what these tides bring. Eliam considered warning them now though with the light storm in full effect, it had likely brought the travelers of the camp to hide away in their humble abodes. Not only that but it would cause Eliam to appear as more of a lunatic than the walking scaly creature. He could not, no, would not give the impression of being lower than a bipedal lizard.

As most of the group left the rear exit of the Conestoga in search of supplies and other illegal items, Eliam stood by, unsure of what he could do for a team that seemed so very experienced and unneeding of priests help. Nevertheless, he would not be idle; boredom always came quickly to him and he dreaded the idea of looking like a slacker. By the grace of the Maker, the leader Sylvia awaited within the wagon, opting to stay within. He hardly understood the decision; a leader's purpose is to accompany whoever they lead and to give them the courage and power to follow them. In any case, she could likely help keep Eliam occupied with something that needed to be done or even a simple task that would help ease his mind.

"Sylvia?" Eliam approached carefully, though lacking arms, his visage was deterring to most. "Is there anything I can do to assist?"

 

[Zariel]

──────────────────────────────────────
Irelia Sonan
──────────────────────────────────────
— The Dawnbringer —
​

After Odhrán allotted an equal share of money into Irelia's pouch, Irelia relinquished her hand. Gingerly, she tied the fabric bag with a thin line of rope, ensuring a tight seal to obviate the loss of their already limited resources. Given the group's contemporary predicament, there was an obvious need to be thrifty. Irelia could not afford to be needlessly remiss.

Stowing away the pouch, Irelia's head whipped in the direction of a particularly teasing voice. It was Hassan. The First Harbinger volunteered to accompany Irelia's islander companion on his shopping expedition, treating himself to some chaff while at, it would seem.

Irelia didn't respond. Instead, she tilted her head slightly back and exhaled tenuously through her nose.

A second supply-purchasing group became quickly established, comprising Odhrán, Hassan, Senna and Preston. Naturally, Irelia felt a twitch of uncertainty, leaving the First Harbinger to his own devices alongside her cherished allies. She, of all people, had experienced firsthand what Hassan was capable of. He was a deadly weapon unlike any other she'd witnessed. But she repressed the urge to raise her concern, choosing to place more faith in her comrades, and even Hassan - though she would never admit it. Perhaps her earlier conversation with the Harbinger offered some food for thought. Besides, the likes of Senna and Preston were not to be underestimated, both of which also joined Odhrán. Albeit, Irelia panned to the previous night when she observed Senna conversing leisurely with the vixen Harbinger, a sight which raised suspicion. The Dawnbringer had yet to catechize the Iris Quartermaster on that matter.

Irelia then shifted her attention back to Kazan.

"Tree guy?" said the Swordmaiden. "... Is that what you're calling him?"

Irelia shook her head, erasing distracting thoughts.

"Anyway, I believe we have what we need. Let's get going, Kazan." Irelia smiled back at the impish Pyromancer.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Sir Galious Meeples
interaction: ElenaIsCool ​

Galious only Made a squeaky grumble at Bisi’s remake about the nickname situation least she had the decency to know he wasn’t a frog but that wasn’t exactly his primary concern. luckily for once, Bisi had managed something helpful having given a solid explanation to the ravens persistent annoyance. “Hmm I suppose I’m just being paranoid… maybe it does just hold a grudge or something” Galious admitted with a relived that was one less thing to worry about at least. soon they’d leave and luckily leaving the raven behind too much to Galious’s joy.
————————
it had been some time since the group had started moving but eventually, they’d stop Galious having spent the time within the wagon further tinkering with the sentinel armour however there was little else he could do without proper materials for the job. Once they were let out jobs were handed out to Bisi as well as Ohdran… Galious sitting upon The wagons ledge for a moment and thinking looking down at the pure white blanket upon the ground as he considered his own options. Pulling a small pouch from his coat pocket it contained the money he’d had on him when himself Hassan and Hershey had broken Into the prison days ago and sadly it wasn’t all too much certain not enough to purchase anything of quality to continue his work. And for Once he was glad no one knew him by name or face.. despite the pain to his ego, at the moment there were certain great advantages to his diminutive stature and less than serious look. jumping down from his perch Galious sunk into the snow so want it up to his ankles at least and Galious just hope it was no deeper anywhere else. “If anyone needs me I’ll be running so errands of my own don’t worry I’m not going to cause a fuss” Galious announced to whoever was still present though his word was likely less than reassuring considering his antics of yesterday. Regardless of that Galious was already ambling his way towards the snowy lines of tents one caught his attention in particular though the tent, small construct performing menial tasked around it. the closer Galious got the more it looked like a small store from the tent a table out front with more of the small construct at three people listening to the owner's sales pitch. whom looked to be an Astarian with the features of maybe a snow leopard or something not that Galious cared much.

”and I’ll throw in a second one absolutely free” the golemancer exclaimed enthusiastically as Galious got into earshot only hearing the last part of what was likely a long pitch about how useful his merchandise was. Galious eyed the small construct on the table scoffing at them not only where they subpar by his standards but the golems were clearly athierium powered ergo entirely useless for the three solarians whom were considering purchasing them, and hardly worth his time.
”aah kid I guess you mistook my maid golems for some kind of toy no need to look so dejected“ the golemancer had seemingly noticed Galious while making a transaction.
“No… I was just disappointed in the poor quality and the fact those are atherium powered as opposed to groznium… go ahead check for a battery“ Galious spoke smugly the Solarian patron withdrew their coins turning it around and seeing the distinctive Lack of battery
“what, wow rip off... thanks kid” the solarian grinned a little and galious walking off annoyed but glad to have not wasted money on junk.
“no w- uug nevermind…” the golemancer stared dagger at Galious who wore a smug grin on his face that just looked kind of derpy.
“How did you know anything about that kid you just cost me” the golemancer barked somewhat grumpy Galious holding his tongue as they kept calling him kid.
“Firstly I happen to be a rather good golemancer and any worth their salt would spot your little scam a mile away and a doubt you want that reputation... let me guess you made too many and are trying to make some money back with your little trick?” Galious asked almost knowingly resulting in the golemancer being somewhat taken aback
“what the? Who did you guess? Your not really a kid then are you? And err guess your right bit you still cost me” they’d reply regaining their composure as Galious grinned goofly, he had the perfect idea.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll buy the whole lost for the price of three least you will make some money and stop needing to flog em off“ Galious suggested managing to reach the top of the table and place his coin purse down. The golemancer let out a long sigh knowing they wouldn’t have any luck and just wanting to get rid of what was essentially scrap to them nodded. “Ok fine deal” they’d say wearily Pilling the small construct into a sack and dropping them at Galious feet once they‘d received their payment. Galious contently dragging away his prize a workable sum of materiel… and then after dragging it through the snow for a while Galious came to one annoying realisation… he’d need some help carrying this as he’d made basically no progress.. oh joy..

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sylvia
Conestoga Wagon, Anthem County
Interacted: Remembrance
Mentioned: N/A ​

Sylvia saw the other off, before withdrawing to the Conestoga's inner sanctum. There, the lancer made sure to brief a glance at the unconscious dreamweaver before all else. Sylvia's shoulder tensed up, as her crimson eye scrutinized the comatose Astrian. This was the perfect opportunity for the hero to rid herself of a Harbinger unopposed. The source of the Company's ills and Sertek's personal pieces that wreaked havoc upon Grozny not so long ago. Her hand trembled, absent of fear and filled to the brim with bottled contempt. Coursing through her veins were dashing surges of this irritating sensation. She felt this urge to give into the darker calling that plagued her. The one sense that sharpened her instincts throughout the war was neither optimal nor pleasant to say the least. Beneath that composed façade was a broken soul, poised on wrestling control in the name of peace and order. For a person consumed by her sense of duty, Sylvia found herself unable to shed any emotions since she returned from Saarema. A battle-maiden driven solely by the cries of war.

Even now, she had inadvertently stowed her humane emotions, neglecting the basis of good wills. A sudden gasp finally escaped her dry lips, as she . Those harrowing impulses frightened her, for she found herself unable to differentiate between the machinations of her unfastidious mind and that of reality. It was only when the surge of aetherium was on the precipice of escaping the tip of her fingers that Sylvia realized the evil within her. She fell back, gulping down the guilt of her conscience, unable to justify her stance on the matter. Was she truly losing her sanity? She refused to believe this, for the hero was conditioned to maintain her strength as she did during the war. What she did not realized was that the war had channeled her frustrations upon infinite targets that would inevitably become her victims. Here, in the snowy plains of Anthem County, where they were supposed to keep themselves concealed for the sake of their common quest, Sylvia was like that of an unstable device.

She was ashamed of herself for even thinking of harming this woman. Strategic value aside, the hero had a set of codes that she must follow. A promise that she made during the war, having lost those that became entangled in her tragic path. Sylvia peeled herself back, as Eliam's emergence quickly submerged her baser instincts. Thankfully, his arrival had saved Sylvia from herself. Only then, did she truly comprehend the dangers that others saw whenever she decided to shoulder responsibilities or undertake certain tasks on her own. Selfishly consumed in her own grief, the lancer failed to rationalize her duty as a leader as she did many times before. With the entire world against them, she needed to be more careful with herself from now on. But before she could develop a method to repair herself, the hero turned towards the priest.

"Well. You could keep me company here for the time being. One's mind can be a demented prison." Sylvia remarked, leaning back against the wooden wall of the vehicle. She caught a glimpse of the reticent dreamweaver in the corner, before continuing. "What awaits you in Reisdorf, Father Eliam? Will your heart ever be satisfied with just faith?" As she said this, Sylvia's crimson eyes dissolved beneath her silver locks.

"The concept of forgiveness irritates me, for reason I cannot decipher." Sylvia's tone grew bitter, almost as if she was clenching her teeth. In that moment, she had inadvertently made Eliam the audience of her reluctant confessions. The very admittance that she could not pronounce beneath the holy roof the night before. But even Solingen must break, by the laws of nature.

"I apologize for spilling my miserable drivel unto you. But my question still stands. What drives you, Father Eliam?" her crimson eye shot across the back of the wagon, curious as to what the hitchhiking preacher had to say.

 

[Larry]

Preston Met Di Plurida | Odhrán von Starkenburg | Hassan Nox I-Sen | Caenis Vasilias Koimamai
Written with: Worthlessplebian , xAlter and Celestial Speck .
Mentions: Pilgrim59 .​

Odhrán was glad that Preston decided to offer his assistance with the shopping. The last thing the former would have wished for was to bring back unguents or salves entirely lacking in the medicinal properties needed to treat those of the group who were still injured. Caenis’ presence was also greatly appreciated by the young man, who was in no doubt as to what was whirling about in the lupus’ mind, namely, the various types of ammunition needed for the gun-toting amongst them. With the medic and the quartermaster knowing their briefs, that left himself and Hassan to go about the more menial task of purchasing foodstuffs, ideally dry and unlikely to expire after too long a length of time.

The occasion caused some memories to flutter about Odhrán's mind, and his mind’s eye plunging him back to the port at Aran, where he, alongside other teenagers and the women on the island, would have helped to make hardtack for the sailors who would be setting off from port to the neighbouring isles. Whilst it was difficult to chew, and profoundly lacking in any distinguishing taste, at the end of the day, it was sustenance for the sailors, provided as it was alongside portions of salted meat and vegetables when they could be spared. Supposing the group was fortunate enough to find a stall selling such victuals, it would make that aspect of procurement so much easier. If such a vender wasn’t present, a scouring about the place for flour, water and a pinching of salt, though potentially wasteful of not only time but anonymity, would be worth it, since the rations could be made by the group of them collectively, with little need for them to venture out into the public once more.

It was a start, and if room could be made for more mirthful purchases, the islander would try to fit it in, means considered.

“Alright, let’s be off a buachaillí,” Odhrán said, leading the way out from the impromptu cover that the Daemon Lord plopped over the Conestoga, and thence out through the tree-line.

---

That their shopping went rather swimmingly, was something that the islander didn’t really expect. Hassan, formidable warrior as he was, and with a presence most similar and yet in a sense inverse to that of Irelia, was rather quiet and observant of their meandering about the market. Unfortunately, there was no such stall that sold hardtack as a complete foodstuff, but, upon some investigation and traipsing about, the group happened upon three separate persons that sold the basic ingredients. With the money supplied to them, Odhrán purchased three, 10-kilogram sacks of flour, two water containers holding about 35-40 litres between them, and a bag of salt, melded together, as it was, from animal skin. The precipitation that would have been pouring down his face was only a far-off contingency, thankfully, due to the presence of Hassan, Preston and Senna with him. The islander took on a sack of flour and the salt-skin unto his person, Senna took the two other bags of flour and Preston & Hassan took one of the water containers each.

“Thank you for the help, you three,” he expressed, flashing a smile as the snow blotched slippily across their view, “It seems that we still have a bit of currency left over. Though I would be inclined to return it to Sylvia, should other funds be forthcoming, I did have you in mind, Preston, when I was tasked by our commander to head out here.”

“Do not mention it, Odhrán, our main task requires it anyway.” Preston chimed whilst manoeuvring the water container underneath his armpit. “I anticipated that you would, that is why I ventured with you three.”

Laying his goods on a nearby stall for a moment, throwing out an apology to the stall-holder for obscuring his shop front for the briefest stretch, Odhrán unloosened the string that held shut the mouth of the pouch and let the coins flow out in his hands, mindful that the clinking sound not attract too many onlookers, especially if they were of the more impecunious sort. Apportioning the remaining coins out, with more dedicated to Preston and Senna for obvious reasons, he stowed the now-depleted pouch back into his pocket and took the flour and salt containers into his pale hands once again.

“My thanks. With this, I should be able to refurbish our supply of analgesics if only partially.” The meticulous doctor stated whilst using his sharpened thumb to count the coins himself. Leaving the container of water there, Preston went into a speeding walk through the snow.

With that, Preston and Caenis both fanned out amongst the collection of tents and stalls.

Caenis made his way, trudging through the snow, towards the rest of his weary companions, having refurbished the group's stock of ammunition. A few cans of ammunition hung from his hands, the clink of metal and casings causing a sort of chaotic rhythm to his march. His mind wandered as he shook some loose snow from his hair; he’d want to warm by a fire later. The cold wasn’t the worst thing, but it caused his muscles to ache.

Getting the ammunition was quite the task; bartering and haggling had never been his strong suit. Most of the vendors in the market had raised the price to a near ludicrous cost, and a so-called ‘tax’ raised the price even more. It was daylight robbery at its finest, and the lupine Astrian was not afraid to call the vendors out on it. He almost considered just resorting to old habits, stealing and pickpocketing to get extra funding from generous and charitable ‘donors’. Alas, he didn’t need to draw more attention to himself than he already was. He was, after all, just a humble quartermaster.

The cold once again bothered the arachnid; it did not discomfort him, rather insidiously slowed him down via his metabolism. It took another pinch to get him through the thick blanket of snow. At this rate, he’ll have to resort to stabbing himself with a sterile needle. A part of him dearly missed his clinic with its controlled heating and cooling.

Unlike his canid companion, Preston had a leisurely task acquiring medicine, bartering was necessary but Preston’s real weapon against maddening prices was his knowledge on the subject. He didn’t know whether verbally lashing the clerk was the ideal move. The medical supplies were less than satisfactory in quality, however, Preston now has left over money instead of spending it all. The notion of subtlety entered his mind later and felt a smidge of shame for not entirely adhering to it.

Reaching his companions, Caenis placed the ammo cans down on the ground and turned to Odhrán. “Ammunition secured, Odhrán.” he spoke up, gently kicking a can. The rattle of bullets would hopefully not attract unwanted customers. Turning to the Uncuttable Oak, he snickered to himself. He’d never let his glorious leader live down the name.

Returning to his companions, almost at the same as the quartermaster, Preston placed down a leathery satchel. Untying the careful knot, he displayed the flasks and miniature cardboard cartons. “I had managed to refill our stock of analgesics and found some anxiolytics for the road.” Though he wished that medicine’s longevity wasn’t shortened to months as they’re quite old.

“Mr. Tree Guy, if you don’t mind,” he started. “Would it be alright if I requested your assistance in procuring the required munitions for your fellow Harbingers?” It was a lie of course. Caenis knew, almost by heart, what ammunition each of his fellow Harbinger’s needed. This was merely a ploy to separate Hassan from the rest of the group, to allow the two to speak. The unspoken message was sent, and Caenis peered through his clone’s eyes on the group. He searched Odhrán and Preston for any signs of suspicion, but he couldn’t see any yet.

Hassan’s eyes quietly moved to stare at Caenis, his eyes being the same as one would use to look at a stranger. And even though Caenis was a master of lying and such things, and could easily tell that Hassan was acting— even if that wasn’t his forte— it was clear the true intent of the message was clear.

“Call me that again and I’m throwing you into the river.”

...But that was fully honest. By the stars, he really took to that nickname poorly, didn’t he…? By the little twitches in his eye when that nickname was used, and the little biting of his lips barely showing off angry fangs…

Caenis nodded at Hassan’s thinly veiled threat, a smirk tugging at his lips. The temptation to let the nickname permeate throughout the rest of the Harbingers was just too good to pass up.

Ultimately, however, the First Harbinger shook his head. “But it’s fine. Mostly, Bisi is the only one that uses any manner of firearms, but Gallious might find it useful as well.” With a hand waving in the air as if that answered all questions, Hassan already took a few steps forward towards a small private clearing where he and the lupus could talk. However, a single gaze turned and lingered on Odhrán for perhaps a few moments too many. Yet, there was no hostility in his gaze, only almost a serene calm.

“And you, Odhrán,” he pointed towards the Solarian in question, as if still unsure that was his name. “I have one idea on how to spend that money. Later, though. For now, let us go and talk, Iris Companion.”

The former information officer’s eyes arched upwards in confusion at the parting remark. What could Hassan possibly have meant by it? Was he left smarting by the division of money? The First Harbinger didn’t seem the sort to be annoyed at such a thing, so it only left Odhrán more curious as to what he had in mind. Still, now that Preston had re-supplied the amount of painkillers, that left only himself to go off and spend his own quarter of the money. What should I spend it on? the islander wondered to himself. If Hassan had an idea in mind as to what they could spend his portion on, the islander felt he ought to stay where he was and hear out the Jianki swordsman’s suggestion when he returns with Caenis.

Caenis.

The suspicions that he had about his lupine colleague swelled up once again, now that the quartermaster had gone off to furnish the Harbingers with some new equipment, subject to Hassan’s advice.

Eyeing Odhrán, Caenis turned to walk away, motioning for the Tree Guy Hassan to follow. Now would be the most opportune time in the current situation to speak. Thoughts began to swirl around in his head, and as he turned to begin, Caenis found himself lacking the ability to speak.

A stone had settled in his stomach, and it became hard to breathe. It was not fear, cowardice, or anger that made it difficult to voice his thoughts. It was… uncertainty, a questionable chance that Caenis did not know how to resolve. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Caenis spoke. “Where do I begin…” he started.

“...Who are we Hassan? Who am I? What am I? Am I a Harbinger, or an Iris member? Am I a chosen of the Daemon King, or just another lucky sod who managed to join one of the most elite fighting forces in the world? Who?” Caenis could feel it coming, as it always did when he began to question things, his own sense of self. That feeling of anger, sadness, hatred, and yearning, feelings he would normally squash down and suppress rising up.

“WHO. ARE. WE?” he all but growled out, amidst the emptiness in the streets. He had managed to lead themselves away from prying eyes and suspicious ears. “I have been deceiving myself and others for so long I had forgotten what we fought for. What did we believe in, Hassan? Who did we fight for? A king who is now in bed with the one I was tasked to kill? Or a chance to see our own selfish desires? I know not anymore, and I think I care not. So long have I been away on this mission, convincing myself that I can't see the difference between my cover and my real life. All the connections I had, all the people I’ve known and cared for, they all believe me dead. It’s all too much..."

He pauses for a moment.

"...I am tired of running, of hiding, of lying to everyone around me. I set out on a task to kill the kurvadia known as the Angel of Verdan, to bring glory to Sertek’s name, yet he is no more.” Letting his arms cross in front of him, as if hugging himself, Caenis let out a calming breath. “I was prepared to see myself return home in a body bag, to reunite with my allies, my family, who were killed in that failed attack, but here I am. I am alive, breathing, whilst they lay dead under six feet of dirt, or forgotten on that bloody battlefield.”

Turning to Hassan, Caenis looked at his leader, and let his arms fall limp to his side, an acceptance having washed over his form. “I am tired of this mission Hassan, tired of the veils and curtains I must live. I have one selfish request… let me come home. End my mission, end my lies and deceit, so I may finally breathe as me once again.”

The gaze that Hassan gave the other could be only described as dull and almost lacking in shine. In his eyes, if Caenis were to look in his eyes, he’d almost see it— a spark that burned brighter with the words he spoke to him. It was something that Caenis would feel to his very core, like a shuddering feeling of something unbelievable. Indeed, Hassan Nox I-Sen, the First Harbinger and among one of the most threatening…

He understood Caenis. Perhaps too perfectly. Perhaps too personally.

The same doubts that came over his own self, the same doubts that came to his loyalty, the same doubts that came over his past and who he is now, often accompanied with a gaze towards Sertek and his ‘wife’, it was all there. It had always been, ever since they lost, ever since he met the new Sertek. Many of these feelings he had some peace with, but they didn’t disappear. At least not so easily.

“The things we believed in,” Hassan spoke with an unusual softness in his tone, almost a whisper. “Perhaps they were foolish dreams.”

Silence hung over the two. Hassan didn’t meet Caenis’ gaze, and even if his face did its best not to break, the small twitches in his muscles told the lupus more than enough. “Even though I’m still technically a Harbinger… my loyalty for Sertek, and my own whims, they shattered some of the chains that bind me. Not all, however.”

It was hard. Hard to explain, hard to rationalize. Many of the things he felt, and perhaps what Caenis felt too, made little sense. But the choice the other was giving him was undoubtedly one he could not make for him.

“...But I don’t think I can do much other than offer you a key. I’m not the answer for all the turmoil in there, am I?” A hand patted the spy on the shoulder, an uncomfortable smile being formed soon after. “Do what you want, Caenis. Live whatever way you think is right. The war is over and we have new enemies on the horizon. Whatever your answer is… well, at least know you’re dismissed.”

Odhrán overheard the truth-telling with barely restrained anger, or rather his clone did, it’s hand balling into a fist so tight, one would struggle to know where skin and bone separated in that furious pressing together. The islander, weary of the duo's furtive walking off, dispatched a clone once out of the sight of anyone keen to prying.

He couldn't believe what he was wearing.

All this time, from the moment he joined their ranks, it was all a ruse? A carefully constructed identity that would allow the Harbingers to strike at the heart of their leadership without so much as having to shed a drop of blood? It was almost too much to believe, but here were Hassan and Senna himself, or rather Caenis, discussing the depths of this treachery. If he were armed, the incentive to gun the two of them down, indeed, all the Harbingers, felt weightily appropriate.

But the islander steadied himself.

De-materialising the facsimile, once it had found an area devoid of people, he took a moment for himself. Perhaps he would have been better off not acting on his suspicion, letting Senna and the First Harbinger off to procure supplies for the latter’s comrades. Now, saddled with a secret, that, if Senna doesn’t act on it first, it could potentially tear the group apart, fledgling as it already was. For fuck’s sake, he mentally groaned.

Feeling too mithered to even think about purchasing something frivolous, he returned to his arachnid companion, still in the same spot where he had left him.

“I’m back Preston,” he muttered, thinly veiled exasperation underlying his tone, “We just have to wait on Hassan and Senna.”

 

[Remembrance]

Location: Conestoga
Mentions: Pilgrim59
Having approached Sylvia, Eliam sensed an aura of discomfort surrounding her. Reluctance, sadness, and shame filled the air. Eliam had never been one know empathy, to know the struggles of others despite his own scars; he had always been aloof and oblivious to emotions and yet this particular situation reeked of closed off feelings and thoughts. It hurt to be around.

Eliam gladly accepted her invitation to accompany her. He understood loneliness, having encountered it across his many pilgrimages. Companions were hard to come by and the length of time they accompany him were neither long nor impactful. He’s seen men and women pass him by, leaving his consciousness; damning them to a fainting memory nearly lost. “I understand, perhaps more than you can think.” Eliam positioned himself against the wall and despite his lack of arms to orientate himself, he balanced his body with no issue.

The priest listened carefully and well to the captain of the team. While patience may escape him at times, hearing to the plights of another is a task he can neither refuse nor allow unacknowledged.

“I’ll answer your concerns one at a time though possibly not consistent with the order in which they’ve been asked.” Eliam chuckled slightly before resuming. “There is but one thing that awaits me in Reisdorf, that quant little city. A friend. The man who brought me back to my faith, and it is not the All-Maker if that’s what you’re thinking.” Another chuckle reared out before his mind posited a memory to front of his conscious; a memory he wished he had forgotten.

“I only hope to find him there and hope he is well.” A deep look of melancholy filled his eyes, so pronounced and distinct, it made his vision blurry. “Faith is not a solution to everything, I can say that. It is an auxiliary idea, placed beneath and atop another. Though it may act as a foundation, it cannot support a failing structure of the mind. What I mean to say is, faith is not my drive and can never be. What brings me about are the people I’ve met, the experiences I’ve shared with them, the memories I shall never get rid of in spite of my wanting to. Though I may seem to revolve my life around the Maker, it is horribly unhealthy for the heart to focus itself incessantly on belief of a higher power. The All-Maker didn’t teach us to rely on Him, He taught us to understand that we are always the solution and that we are the masters of our destiny; He is simply there to watch and ensure it happens.”

“As for forgiveness, well…” A long pause began to stretch forth in the conversation, it was eerily silent as even the brief mention of forgiveness brought him distress and agitation. “There is but one piece of scripture that I can offer you.” Eliam took a deep breath, calming himself. “You must hate the sin and love the sinner; that is how I’ve made it this far, I must say.”

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sertek
Conestoga, Anthem County

Sylvia
Conestoga Wagon, Anthem County
Interacted: Remembrance Worthlessplebian Larry Celestial Speck Huntertabbysandshark3 Zariel Funnier President xAlter ElenaIsCool
Mentioned: N/A​

"Masters of our destinies..." She muttered softly to herself with a melancholic tone.

Sylvia lifted her face, her clenched teeth relinquishing its strength as her meager lips twitched slightly, almost forming a smile until it could not. The closest she would ever get to displaying a friendly albeit awkward expression. Having listened to what the preacher had to say, the cold air that breached the Conestoga were quickly chased away by this warmth. It was time for her to shake off these uneasy feelings and resumed her duty as the accommodating lancer that the Companions would follow into hell. Her delicate pink lips shifted slightly, letting the cold air escape her choked up breath.

The hero meditated on Eliam's last words, as she brought her thighs up to her torso. Perhaps that was the train that she failed to catch after all these years of chasing after the shadows of an enemy that cannot be seen. Having been molded by the blood and flames, Sylvia found it difficult to simply forgive her nemesis. Her second-most instinct, behind the will of endurance, was her conditioned hatred for the Daemon Lord. Such was the way Aerilia had intended when the Prophecy of the Sygis came about. Who was she to defy such a legacy? Even if she wanted to, did she really had what it takes to thoroughly expunge the wrath in her? A moment of weakness, as it was a gesture of silent strength. She swallowed her gloom and chuckled slightly at the preacher.

"You certainly have a way with words that befits your calling, Father Eliam. We'll see about getting you to Reisdorf in one piece. You have my word." Sylvia said, with an earnest but unnatural smile as she finally got up. Just as she did, she felt her an aetherium pulse that sent chills down her spine. Something was wrong, as she quickly dismounted the Conestoga with haste, leaving Eliam within. In case it was her paranoia acting up, it should not be a hassle to scurry back and apologize. But if her instincts were correct, she needed to keep her head on a swivel. This was her watch.

Her Solomon was ringing with anticipation, as it would when danger is afoot - partly a reason of her insomniac tendencies since Verdan. Upon the crest of the meadow, beyond the scattered trees that have shed their leaves to the frigid winter, Sylvia's scarlet optics painted the two figure before her. Their shiny helmets was as bright as two lit candles in daylight. While their coat covered their armor underneath, the expressionless armets were a dead giveaway as it was a familiar sight once before. But the woman that stood before these two rifleman on patrol was no longer the icon of their zeal. When they quickly recognized the infamous Sylvia of Verdan, it forced the lancer to take drastic measures despite her reservations. The first soldier tried to unsling his shouldered rifle, only to be met by Sylvia's instinctive forward leap. With her bare hands, she threw an armored fist against the first soldier's apex, while the other began slogging their way through the snow towards their company. With the first soldier knocked out cold, Sylvia gave chase to the second. Her hideous eyes were fixed upon her prey like a hungry beast. Instinctively, the pent-up impulses of a soldier overwhelmed her better senses. Resorting to her baser instincts, she leapt forward, just as the soldier began to bolt his rifle.

A reticent noise of snow and soil followed, announcing the hero's precise mark. Sylvia's eyes glowed, as her body was channeled with aetherium. The overload of energy drove her hands forward. Sylvia's hand became her talons, as she clawed her way past the metallic sheets and molding the man's flesh into nothing more than a grotesque and deformed target practice in the snow. She could feel all sense of logic and reason fading away, as her hands moved on its own, continuing to tear the helpless rifleman apart with her crimson hands. When her victim could barely be recognized from how they came upon the Conestoga to begin with, the lancer felt the grimy drips upon her hand seeping into the nearby snow - tainting it with the essence of guilt and remorse. Sylvia fell back, distraught and horrified by the aftermath, as her hands began to tremble as her heart raced for the sun. Such a deed would have nearly drove her mad, had it not been for the countless bloody battles that she had been immune in the past. Has those years turned her into such an effective monster that she could not see this day coming? Perhaps she had broken long before, and only now did she truly let her false façade down, Sylvia thought, trying to process the ordeal. Alas, the corpse before her spoke more in death than he could when they stumbled upon Sylvia. With their arms curled upwards towards their face, it was clear that they had given up.

She felt his larynx vibrating before she stopped. His voice muffled and ignored by the lancer's demented act. Before the soldier could announce his surrender, he was already dead. It broke her a little bit on the inside, knowing that she was capable of such a thing without having the parallel thoughts that should come with it.

"What is happening to me? This isn't me... I have to get out of here..." Sylvia muttered to herself, while she tried to catch up with her baited breath.

"What is this..." Sylvia halted her steps, scanning the empty horizon. Within her perception, it seemed as if she was being followed, and it only served to make her distrustful of her environment. A sharp pain bit at the back of her head, allowing an incursion of nonsensical thoughts to take control of her functions. Could it be the resulte of her severe corruption since the last battle? Even if it was the case, it should not cause her to lose her bearing. She recalled her final battle with the Daemon Lord atop Mount Hornet, where she had to resort to an exponentially fatal dose of aetherial exposure. Yet, the only thing that plagued her since were bad dreams and anxiety, nothing close to losing one's function completely and having no immediate recollection of the act, only the ends. Her heart was beating so fast now that she could almost lose herself to the frigid snow and meet her maker. Yet, she persisted to go forward. She had to be far away from everyone and everything in this moment, wanting to quarantine herself from the rest of the world. The woman pressed on, travelling further into the dense woods beyond the clearing and empty hedgerows. There, beyond the frozen forest, the hero disappeared without a trace.

Before long, a flare would illuminate the sky, a sight familiar to all Companions as the squareback's way of marking locations. Sertek eyed the light in the sky with curiosity, as he continued to tail the others on their shopping trip. When he finally realized from which direction the flare came from, the man began scan his surroundings. Tagging those of his company along the way, Sertek conditioned his shaky breath to rally everyone. "Fall back to the Conestoga, something's wrong." He caught Hassan, nonverbally gesturing his champion relay the message to the other Harbingers. Before long, various flares quickly formed a multitude of arcs across the sky, all pointing northwards - all the way back to County's Garrison. Whatever shook them, it came from the same direction as where the Conestoga was parked. Sertek's primary concern was for his wife's safety.

"I got it. Take point and make sure nothing's wrong at the Conestoga!" Sertek said to the Iris Companions within earshot, adding the cans of munitions to the pile of wooden crates in his hands of which was procured by the Companions with Odhran in charge, per Sylvia's orders. As much as he liked for them to let them cast their thoughts off their mission for a little while and keep warm with movement, Sertek needed to make sure they got back to the wagon on short order. Passing by the larger tent, Sertek caught a glimpse of Bisi within. He signaled her to pull back with urgency, as he ferried the supplies beyond the meadow, trying to catch up with the rest of the Companions and Harbingers.

By the time Sertek and the rest of the foraging party arrived at the Conestoga, nothing unnatural had happened aside from the footprints that led westwards. Sertek scanned the horizon, refusing to call out her name in fear that those flares from earlier might have alerted and raised the County's garrison. He got down on his knees, after loading the crates of supplies onto the back of the Conestoga.

"Sylvia left her post. Where could she have gone?" Sertek spoke to himself aloud, voicing his concern. He then turned towards Eliam, the preacher that shared their fire the night before. "Where did she go, preacher?" He inquired with a hasty and aggrieved voice. One could almost make out a certain unspoken insinuation in his tone. Alas, the Daemon Lord was too busy losing his mind over the purpose of their sudden withdrawal from the camp.

Much to his conceived fear, Sylvia was missing. Thankfully, Aerilia had left him a trail to follow, laden in snow. The Daemon Lord followed Sylvia's footprints beyond the clearing. Braving the cold that was a bitter brew for his lungs, he finally stumbled upon a bloody scene of a bloody mess in the snow. Ligaments and armor coupled together that resided deep in the scarlet snow - a twisted exhibition for a twisted mind. Two more sets of footprints began to appear, one from an impact in the ground and leading north while the other diverged from the lifeless corpse towards the forest to the east. When the others finally caught up to the solitary white-haired man, he consolidated his thoughts, compartmentalizing the immediate happenings before him - choosing to keep a cool head and make sure that he finds Sylvia first.

"She was here. The track leads east is the probable cause. I fear something's gone terribly wrong." Sertek said to the Companions and Harbingers. While he tried to hold in his nausea at the sight of the bloody crime scene, he only realized that it was a deliberate action to simulate such a reaction. Almost as if he was so used to the sight that even if he tried to, he could not vomit. He then realized that it was only natural for a Daemon Lord to not undergo the detrimental effects of a Solarian or Astrian. Alas, there were many things someone on the fence suffered from that they could not see. Perhaps that was the very reason why he relinquished his strength on Mount Hornet in the first place, for he was no different from Sylvia ever since her return from Saarema - void of purpose.

 

[Doctor Nope]

Eryn hadn't really been up to much of anything so far. Everyone just seemed to have things handled without him, which was fine considering what he was currently focused on. By this time he'd taken off his hat and cloak just for the off chance someone in the distance would notice such a recognisable and easy to spot getup. His candy pack was safe inside a pocket of the jacket he'd had on under his cloak, the latter of which was now wrapped to look like a somewhat oddly designed scarf.

What he was currently looking at, perhaps only possible because of his deadeye's disposition, was a large bear in the distance of the nearby forest. The creature was far enough away that it was unlikely to disturb the camp, but close enough for him to observe effectively at range.

And it was enamouring. Those round ears. So pettable.

He really wanted to pet the bear.

Do not pet the bear.

It'll tear your head off with one swipe.

Hehe, big murderous doggey. Want pet.

It is an apex predator. It is not a dog to be petted.

If bear danger, why friend shaped???​

Such thoughts argued within himself as he stared at the marvelous being, his facial expression betraying nothing of what was currently going on in his mind. It became apparant to him that his survival instincts must have been whack right now, though perhaps that was because of his only close-up encounter with a bear in the past.

During his time as a squareback, he'd once been assigned to a forested location, where the already-present artillery unit had somehow recruited a local bear, Victor, and gotten him to carry artillery shells for them. Victor was apparantly being paid in beer and fish, and was friendly to his human companions, often taking part in wrestling games with them. Eryn had found the bear to also be exceedingly comfortable to lay against during the night.

Reminiscence was interrupted when his peripheral vision caught the flare nearby. He arrived at around the same time as Sertek's party. When he saw the corpse, the nature of the wounds caused a terrifying thought to occur to him for a split second before being dismissed. The brutality of the attacks matched his own, but the method was far beyond him. Something had clawed straight through the armour. Besides, he'd been sober the whole day, so he would have remembered something like this happening unlike the shenanigans that went down at his clinic last time he was there. But who among them could manage something like this? From the harbingers, he had no idea. But there was an obvious answer when thinking of the Iris members. He found that conclusion ridiculous, though. What mattered now however, was finding the commander.

He felt some relief as he refilled his speedloaders with cartridges from the munitions cans. Finally battle ready again, but even if he were fully replenished with ammo and batteries (the latter probably wouldn't happen for a while), he knew he wouldn't be at his best until he returned to his akimbo-revolvers loadout. He looked to the corpse, considering the chances of this soldier carrying a sidearm. He quickly decided that the answer to that would be irrelevant. He would disarm and take weapons from the squarebacks that engaged him, but he would not loot their bodies.

"Assuming that we are indeed going to follow those tracks, I believe decisions regarding our formation now default to you," he noted in Sertek's direction. He wasn't fond of the idea of taking orders from anyone other than the Iris commander, but then again, that commander had also made the order that the group was to obey a joint leadership.

Pilgrim59

 

[xAlter]

Caenis Vasilias Koimamai
Location: Conestoga, Anthem County
Interactions: Pilgrim59 Celestial Speck Larry
Mentions: Doctor Nope

Caenis closed his eyes as he listened to Hassan. His resolve wavered as he spoke, the leader expressing his own personal feelings on the matter at hand. His grip tightened, and his knuckles turned white. He tried to suppress the feeling of hopelessness encroaching, and he did, to a degree. It was his curse, he guessed, to be exempt from what others considered normal. Everything in his life was wrought with challenge and was a hurdle that was overcome.

And then Hassan told Caenis he was dismissed. A ghost of happiness passed through him, as his lips turned upwards into a small, relieved smile. His hands relaxed, and Caenis felt like he could breathe easily again. “Thank you, sir…” he muttered, suddenly feeling lighter. Nodding to himself, Caenis excused himself and began to return to the shopping party. Upon leaving Hassan, however, Caenis’s clone caught something, a fleeting shadow.

Cursing, Caenis saw what his clone saw. Odhran. Of course, the secretary would be suspicious if worried at the minimum. His ‘trusted’ companion was heading off alone into the woods with the right-hand man of the Daemon King. He must’ve overheard. He’d deal with him later, whatever that may lead to.

- x - x - x - x - x -
​

A familiar light brightened the sky, and Caenis’s eyes swiveled towards the area it came from. Coming back to camp, he had handed off the ammunition to the required parties, barely talking to anyone. He had secluded himself away from the rest of both Harbinger and Companion alike. His old armor, once more worn. It felt good to wear it again. Any Companion who recognized the armor would recognize him. Senna, Caenis, two identities that existed within him. One was a fake, and the other was his true self.

Grabbing his rifle, the familiar weight of it in his hands calmed him. With nary a thought, two clones of Caenis shimmered into view, their goal already in mind. Taking off towards the outskirts of the camp, the clones would be his eyes and ears from where he couldn’t see. Instead of regrouping with the Companions, Caenis stood with his Harbinger allies. His ears twitching at every sound, his nose trying to pick up any recognizable scent.

Reaching the corpse and the tracks, Caenis couldn’t discern much from when he smelled the air. The scent of iron and blood was overpowering. Caenis agreed with Sertek, the tracks leading east were where Sylvia had most likely gone. If they went north, they’d only be running towards trouble. Such a pain, this coalition was turning out to be. His lips thinning, Caenis turned to Hassan and Sertek, echoing what Eryn had asked. “What are your orders?”

 

[Celestial Speck]

Pilgrim59 | Larry | xAlter | Doctor Nope

Hassan Nox I-Sen

Conestoga Wagon, Anthem County


​

With time passing like a wave and their duties finished, Hassan found himself mingling about the group some time, his attention soon turning towards Ódhran as a small talk and an idea was shared to the other, yet- it was a memory to be left untouched by now, as Hassan's focus suddenly shifted at the sight of bright lights in the sky and Sertek calling onto him. In an instant, his demeanor shifted: shoulders tightened, his posture became less relaxed, and as soon as the order was given, Hassan ran, voice carrying like thunder as he gathered Harbinger after Harbinger, ally after ally, all to the source of Sertek's worry. The snow carried his trail before anyone else's, sharp eyes only focused on the task ahead of him.

His worries and the like solidified into the worst as soon as he arrived alongside the rest of Iris Companions and Harbingers alike as he took sight of the crime scene before them. Two guards, likely searching for them, now destroyed and taken apart with utmost cruelty. In any other period of the past, Hassan might have scoffed at the sight, not because of the scene itself but who did it. Assuming this was indeed Sylvia's work, the so-called Angel of Verdan so brutally killing the people she swore to protect was a sight to behold when she preached against them.

Yet now, he could only glance at the scene and glance at Sertek's face, now pale as his hair. His lips pursued together into a worried pout before he took a long breath. The scene isn't particularly complex, yet there was likely something else hidden away from their sight. Something they're overlooking... Hassan couldn't quite place it where.

Caenis already acted, his alliance quietly revealed without naught a word as his clones searched ahead. He wasn't sure if he should be glad his friend was standing by their side or not, but he wished the reveal could have come at a less awkward time. One of the Doctor's of the Iris too seemed to want to act, looking over at Sertek and awaiting further instructions. Once more, Hassan expression turned into one of worry and hesitancy. He knew that Sertek was still above him, but he could see it from his face: he was not in the right state of mind.

"No," Hassan interrupted, stepping forward. "Any orders will come from me. I'm sorry, Sertek, but I don't think you are currently in the right state of mind. If you believe your word to be more important than mine's... you can go ahead. But I'll be handling things for now."

It felt strange, denying a Daemon his right to rule and order. But right now, he didn't see a Daemon as much as he saw a worried house husband worried for his wife. He would still obey Sertek, but he didn't forget his request to him: Sertek wanted him to teach him how to fight. His lack of memories made him unprepared, even if he was likely the strongest one here. He just didn't realize it.

"We should return to the Conestoga, Hershey still sleeps there. If we all focus our attention here, we could leave her alone and vulnerable, with none to take care of her." Hassan spoke, nodding. He wasn't sure if it was the best of plans, but it was something. "We could try and follow the trail by driving it, as Caenis clones follow ahead, assuming their range is great, that is. That way we can be prepared of any danger that comes upon our path. I believe we quite overstayed our welcome here, as well. It's time to leave."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Preston Saytzeff Pacer, Preston of Met Di Plurida
Mentions: Pilgrim59 Interactions: Celestial Speck Doctor Nope xAlter and whoever else was there.
Location: Following Tracks.

Having waited for his companion to return, Preston felt a tinge of joy from this little venture. It has been so long since he could do this with two comrades. Yet as he stood there with supplies in hand, waiting for Odhrán and the others, a creepy chill crept up his back. A sort of prophetic feeling that things were about to turn for the worse. His friend, Odhrán, become troubled after his brief absence alarmed him quietly. That coupled with his tone rose Preston's suspicions. The newly budded paranoia in Preston began to run rampant with thoughts. A snivelling, conniving presence took hold in his mind as he ran through the possibilities.

His grip had tightened, claws threatening to puncture the carapace. "No... I don't think I will." A restrained Preston spoke as he left Odhrán in the snow to collect his thoughts.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X​

Making his way back to the Conestoga, Preston's motion-detecting eyes instantly captured the arching flare. For a full minute, Preston stood there. Mouth agape with eyes following the light source. It petrified him. Why was this happening now? It's too soon! His thoughts began to race, still reeling from his brawl in the sewer with an oozing monster. His teeth grit as he was forced to employ a mental technique to stabilize his condition. "Damn those squarebacks." Preston muttered as he fell into a sprint with the container in hand.

Preston, along with the others, arrived to see the area around the Conestoga immaculate with but only a westward set of footprints in the snow. Naturally, he and the others followed this remnant of Sylvia to a scene most grizzly. Crimson fluids and chunks of gore stained the innocent beauty of the snow, metallic armour bent and shredded with tassels of ligaments hanging. It appeared as though this scene would be created by a beast... Or Preston if he ever underwent a berserker's rage. He did not feel ill like Sertek did, nor did he feel disgusted. He was used to these corpses.

Looking around, Preston saw that his companions and the harbingers, who Senna stood beside, turned to the Swordsman and Sertek for guidance. The Swordsman immediately sized control from Sertek's grasp, a move that Preston agreed with, but the puzzling thing was this mention of Caenis. The dots in his head connected and Preston's eyes twitched with exuberant rage. A clawed finger jutted up and pointed at Caenis. "You TRAITOROUS DOG! I would throw you to your doom if I had the chance." He bellowed. "Ohhh, I see you all for what you are now!" He says as he throws his arms to the side before balling his fists. "Swordsman, control this group as you please, I shall find Sylvia myself!" Throwing caution and his built-up reputation for reason to the wind, Preston sprinted ahead into a leap. Landing near one of Caenis' aforementioned clones and instantly dispatching it by shooting his opened hand behind the mirage's neck. Going off into the direction of the tracks.

 

[Doctor Nope]

And then the hooligan with the sword spoke. Wait, who the hell was this? Eryn admittedly hadn't been able to interact with any of the harbingers while properly awake, besides Sertek himself, so he barely remembered any of them. And for some reason it looked like they wanted to substitute leadership for Sertek, who even Eryn could admit probably wasn't going to be very good at planning in their current state. But what the hell was this command structure? Someone given command by someone given command by the missing commander for whom he was awaiting orders to try and find? Whack.

Then again, they suggested a pretty alright plan. He was inclined to agree with the swordsman until Preston's sudden outbreak towards...Caenis? Apparantly he'd noticed something Eryn hadn't, because Eryn didn't know what was up with that. And then, rather out of character from Eryn's view, Preston left.

"....Well, that's no good." Eryn of course trusted Preston's ability to handle himself, but letting an Iris companion run off alone into unknown situations didn't sound like a good idea after their experience in the sewers.

Sighing and beginning to stretch his legs, he addressed the swordsman.

"I think that plan works out nicely." He hopped shortly in place for a moment, then positioned himself to face the direction Preston had ran off in, body lowered.

"Have fun with it."

And Eryn sprinted off. Sprinting felt nice. Familiar. His top speed had reached quite impressive heights way back when, dashing between fallen comrades to administer aid while avoiding lines of fire. He missed something about it. The exhilirating feeling of wind on his face in the presence of danger.

"Wait for me, Doc!"

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