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Fantasy Warriors Of Khartouma: The Seven Dreaded (IC)

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Lore
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For the most part, Vriska has been keeping herself, not interfering with the constant shuffling and conflict that have broken out. There is someone walking towards her way, but fortunately he made no hostile motion to act towards her. Did he detect her presence despite her veil? Before the masked herbalist could response to him, the attention was suddenly shifted to the calmer specale up front where the oracle is speaking. The more Vriska listens, the more all of this sound as if this is coming from a fairy tale story of a sort. She places a hand on her temple trying to make sense out of this.

This distract end up allowing a sudden to shine upon her. She tries to back away from it but, like the others, she found that her limbs are not responding. It was an awkward situation for the herbalist as she generally always have full faculty of her actions at all times. A side glance around her reveals that 6 others were also "chosen", some of which were part of the early conflicts. Already she didn't have a good feeling about the future in which she is thrusted into.

As her body is gently lowered in front of the monolith, she feels the motion of her body returning, yet made no motion of taking any immediate actions going as so far as almost looking like a statue. But amist her seeming idleness, she listens: to the prophetess's word, to the others' word and their skepticism, or manic raving in the hungry one's case. It was only them that she speaks.

"If she wanted us ill, she wouldn't be leading us into a trap. She would just drop us onto top of it. However, I believe it is far that some additional information would be in order." Vriska's words came out, tone and inflection very subtle. She pauses for a moment to adjust her wooden mask so that is more snug before continuing methodically. "If you are going to task us with something, we could use something to verify your words and to allow us with a means to succeed." She has a feeling this is well beyond the realm of her expertise and raises doubt of why she was chosen in the first place but it is the hand she is dealt with.

Darrian_Gabriel Darrian_Gabriel
 
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As the tendril reached out for Raina she spotted Aron reach for his weapon before being stopped by the male elder. She flinched a bit as it reached her, enveloping her in an orb of light. Unable to move, she became a bit nervous but knew she was helpless against the gods. She'd much rather have maintained her pride and walked over on her own accord.
"Raina n-" She could hear Aron speaking up before the distinct sound of a slap echoed through the camp, cutting him off.
"Do our clan proud, for the gods have chosen you to be their sword. I'm proud of you," The Elder woman spoke up, her voice clearly a bit choked up to see Raina being taken. Whether it was truly from happiness and pride for her prodigy or if she was sad to see her go was unclear as the woman's face remained stoic.
As Raina was lowered back to the ground she let out a relieved sigh as control was returned to her. Being placed in front of the god she kneeled down, bowing her head in respect before looking around at the other's that had been brought forward. She recognized most from watching the alteration, and then there was the man who attempted to sneak up on her with his infernal monkey. She shot him a deadly glare before turning her attention to the two confronting the god. After clearing her throat she stood back up.
"Not to interrupt but I suppose doing this task for you will reap great rewards, yes?" She inquired.
 
Finally free of the sand in his eye (though still sore) Alder had once again been shocked as his name was called which turned to horror when he heard afterwards. What did this mean, a...Defied One? That couldn't have been...there was no way. He'd heard a few stories about the empire. The way it'd changed though he often chalked that up to the ramblings of drunks, that was because it was often the drunks telling them. Still though, the tales were gruesome and vile, even by his standards. He felt fear now, for the first time in some time he felt actual fear. He swallowed then tried to run to the camp outskirts. He'd regroup with his crew, find Chili, then get to his ship. He wanted no part in whatever was about to come. He took a few steps back then turned away to run but never got the chance to. He didn't see the light flow from the orb to him only suddenly feel the restriction around him. He saw the desert below him move in such a way that meant he had to be flying closer to the Monolith, he swallowed once more. He could see that his crew had reunited with each other, though unbeknownst to him they each had a look of shock on their face that outdid his own expressions.

When he had landed he to stock of the others and if he should try and be careful as he'd tried to be earlier. Alder took note of the woman he met earlier being there, this must've been some type of cosmic irony. He didn't need to look at her to know she was shooting daggers at him, appropriate since she did still likely want to kill him. Already some of them started to argue with the deity. He sighed then moved closer to the edge the encampment then took out his spyglass. As odd as this was he hoped that from this height he'd see Chili.

Unbeknownst to him the monkey had been watching Vriska earlier with odd interest. Why'd she been walking so slow and so strangely made him stare. When he saw the light take her, Chili decided to chase. He kept up with her though only barely enough. He had mostly hopped from tent to tent as fast as he could. Chili had caught up with her when she landed then made his way over unaware that Alder was nearby, when he stopped he tapped her leg a few times to let her know where he was. He moved his hands to show that he wanted one of the plants she picked to eat, since he was still weak from all he did.

Dodging Rain Dodging Rain
 
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Nastor's head was angled upwards towards the vaulted ceiling of the throne room, his pointed fangs glistening with the copious amount of saliva dripping from his mouth. His breathing was labored and his eyes were glowing crimson red. Just below, Valens' hand was deep inside a gaping wound in the emperor's abdomen, blood gushing onto the floor. The Prince chanted in an eerie monotone voice as a soft glow emanated from the egregious gash in Nastor's chest. Slowly, Valens began to pull his hand out, the glow getting brighter as he continued chanting.

"Hurry up fool!" said Nastor as he spit out his words.

"Nearly there sire." said Valens as he pulled his hand further out. As the glowing got brighter, a ceremonious talisman began to materialize in the Prince's hand, formed out of the emperor's blood.

A few moments later, Valens yanked his hand all the way out as the strange looking amulet formed fully in a burst of blinding light. Valens ceases chanting and holds the gore covered amulet up in triumph. Nastor gasps for air as he falls to his knees in exhaustion, clutching his mid section. A second later he lets out a guttural roar that echoes throughout the throne room. Nastor than rises to his full height, the gash in his abdomen now gone, completely healed. Valens walks non discreetly over to his uncle.

"Success, Your Highness!"

"Indeed..." says Nastor as he lunges out, grabbing Valens by the throat as he lifts him off the ground with one arm "However, I think you enjoyed that a little too much."

"I assure you my emperor, that was the only way to concoct the amulet needed to make such a vast journey." says Valens in between panicked breaths.

"I'm fully aware of that, but I think it behooves me to reinforce a simple truth. No matter how powerful you might become my nephew, never forget, that if not for me, you would have never gained such power in the first place. I am The One Deified, always remember that!"


"Of course Your Majesty! I would never even think of betraying you! Have I not proven my loyalty over these many years?"

Nastor scowls as he drops The Prince to the floor "Sometimes an uncle must enact a little discipline into his nephews. Now go...and do not fail me!"

Valens bows his head in respect, turns and makes a hasty exit out of the throne room.
 
Jericho looked on in slight amusement as the savage he had knocked out earlier stood in between him and the Prophetess.

"Now who is this One Deified, and can I eat him?

Jericho sneered slightly as he walked up beside Balik "What sand stone did you crawl out from under? Everyone knows of the One Deified. Tis Nastor, the emperor of the Argosian Empire. Rumor even has it that he is a demigod of half demon lineage. Tell me savage, how do you think your palate would take to charred flesh with a dash of brimstone seasoning, aye?" said Jericho with a hint of obnoxious sarcasm.

Balik seemed to ignore the Blightsman and simply continued to question Dendhera "...and why would you about us doing this... You seem like you could take care of this no problem. So why have us do your dirty work?"

Suddenly another wanderer who had seemingly been snatched up by the Oracle and carried with the rest spoke up "The answer is obvious, my cannibalistic friend. The Gods are lazy, they'd rather have someone else fetch a mug of water than get it themselves. At least that is my father's answer. The Gods hunt for the blind and unwary, stay out of their web is what I'd say but I don't think we have much choice in this, do we? So speak, what divine machinations must we carry out for the Gods."

Jericho smirked at hearing this "Oh please...so you honestly would go charging in blindly without even a hint of question? Tell me rust bucket, if the gods commanded you to jump into a flaming volcano, would you just as happily oblige?" Jeri than turns to once again face Dendhera "I agree with the savage...what could we accomplish that a deity such as yourself could not? If you expect any of us to fall for this charade, you at least better give us a damn good reason!"

One of the women who had levitated up also spoke "If she wanted us ill, she wouldn't be leading us into a trap. She would just drop us onto top of it. However, I believe it is far that some additional information would be in order. If you are going to task us with something, we could use something to verify your words and to allow us with a means to succeed."

At that another of the women chimed in "Not to interrupt but I suppose doing this task for you will reap great rewards, yes?"

"Oh for Khaderash's sake! At the risk of being struck down by The Nameless Superior itself, is that all you people can muster? Questions about rewards and snippets of compensation? I want to know what this witch is really up to?" the hot tempered young warrior again draws his blade "Alright you haggard old beggar, you had better start talking. Perhaps the rest of these dregs would gladly let you lead them by the nose to Khaderash knows where without even a hint of second thought, but I won't! Now I want answers! Who are you and what do you really want?!"


While the seven went around and bickered, The Prophetess sensed Dendehra's powerful magic around her and smiles. This was a night she's awaited for many years. The night when the lost children of Argosian would come together yet again, to fulfill the prophecy made so long ago. Overcome with emotion, a tear breaks through from underneath her blindfold..."I cannot tell you all how much I have long awaited this night. All of you have been called here as it was decreed by destiny itself. To restore what was stolen from you and by extension all of Khartouma by Nastor. By divine order, you have been appointed to unseat The One Deified and finally bring new balance to this land."

Jericho slightly lowers his blade in response and narrows his eyes "...and what in all of the Forbidden Dunes makes you think I would give the slightest hint of a damn? So long as that abomination doesn't trouble The Blight...Nastor is no concern of mine. I hold no interest in your weepy eyed prophecies or your grandiose delusions of liberation. If you have issues with the emperor, that's your problem... fight your own goddamned battles." says Jericho as he re-sheathes his sword and turns to walk back to the crowd.

"...and what of the fate of all Khartouma and it's people? Can you truly turn your back on destiny, Jericho? The gods themselves have chosen you this night for a reason, to make a difference." booms the voice of Dendhera.

Jericho slowly turns around to face the Oracle with defiance in his voice "It's a cruel world fortune teller, I suggest you learn to live in it. I know I have..." he says as he again turns to leave.

"You are wrong young warrior! This is indeed your fight! Behold, the shadows of your past, come to light..." says Dendehra as she waves her hand.

Suddenly the minds of the seven are bombarded with a rapid succession of images and memories. Terrible memories of the night The Argosian Empire fell...Jericho sees himself as a nine year old boy in the grand palace of Argos, playing with his parents and his younger siblings. Suddenly a swarm of demonic soldiers pour into the throne room and begin to mercilessly slaughter the palace guards. His father, the king, orders that his family be taken away from the carnage...and quickly the seven children are whisked away by servants and hand maidens to be spirited to safety. Screams of agony fill the air and the walls are covered in the blood and gore of the fallen.

As he is being led away by a hand maiden, young Jericho looks back and is horrified to catch a glimpse of his uncle Nastor impale his father with a broad sword...his mother screaming in sorrow and panic. The experience traumatizing the boy, leaving him in a state of shock as he is than carried away by the hand maiden into the night...never again to return to his ancestral home.

Jericho snaps out of the vision and he drops to his knees, breathing hard. He looks around and sees the other seven have just had the same experience, their past has just been revealed to all of them in a series of vivid flashbacks brought about by the Oracle. He looks up at Dendhera, his eyes wide in a mixture of awe, uncertainty and even fear "What the hell just happened?" asks Jericho, his voice cracking as a lump forms in his throat.

"In your own words my impetuous young warrior...that was your damned good reason." snaps The Prophetess.
 
Belladona

Bell's mind was assaulted by memories that wasn't her own. Demonic armies attacked, everyone slaughtered. Among the chaos a maid with bleeding head carried a one year old baby. Arrows stuck her back as she forced her way to the city street, demons soldiers hot on her trail.
In a desperate attempt she hid the baby under a pile of garbage in a dirty alley before running towards other direction to distract the demons. Later that day a drunk Gunther puked next to the garbage pile and then fell unconscious on it, unaware of the baby until her cry woke him up later.

Bell snapped back to reality. Her head felt like it can explode anytime. She dropped to her knees and then vomitted on the ground.

"Damn, he really... found me in a garbage pile." Bell muttered to herself. While she was repulsed by the image of the slaughter, this little rudiculous tidbit was the one that hit her the most. Her whole life she had been thinking that she was actually Gunther's illegitimate daughter that he refused to acknowledge, a reasonable assumption looking at his record with women. Turns out thats not the case.

"I accept." Standing back on her feet, she looked up at Dendhera and the prophetess with determined eyes.

"I will take this duty, but I'm under no obligation to treat anyone as sibling." She said coldly while eyeing the people around her.
 
Alder was shocked by the images he suddenly saw. His spyglass hit the sand as did his knees. He shook at what he saw. His mother…his birth mother as she held him, smiled at him and whispered to him calling him Lyam. What is this he thought, even though he already knew. He saw his “mother” hand her off to his wetnurse. How she hid him away from the incoming destruction, packed what she could, then made her way to the docks. How she made her way to one of the port towns and hid them from those who hunted them. The wetnurse cared for him like she was his own but then saw her fall, her blood turned her clothes red, how she got farther away as he was carried away.



The Captain held him up. At first with a look of mild curiosity, then over time, love. The other memories then flowed into ones he had. When the visions stopped, he was on his hands and knees. Tears had run down his face a little. Why am I crying now, he thought to himself. The Captain had made it clear that he “adopted” Alder just not how or what the story was.
 
Seymour, The Blind One
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At Jericho's words, Seymour was taken aback. He turned to the others present and lifted his hand to his waist as if to say "Did this guy even listened to a word I said?" Before Seymour could utter words. His entire being was assaulted by images of the past, things that should've remained dead. Seymour was back at the throne room, he was smaller, younger, vulnerable. He looked around, his siblings, who appeared very much like the people who were with him just a moment ago. A part of him wished to remain here but... another knew what was about to arrive. The demonic soldiers of Nastor burst through the door. Seymour felt... Scared, incredibly scared. The seven-year-old wished he could do something, he cried out for his mother as any child would but it was fruitless.

His gauntleted hands clasped his head if it weren't for him being human, Seymour would've crushed his own skull from the amount of pressure that he was exerting on his helmet. Eventually, the intense migraine-like headache subsided. His armored knees scraped the sand as he lifted himself off the ground. He remained frozen as if time had halted his animation. In truth, Seymour had a difficult time with this monumental secret. Thank the Gods, this wasn't revealed so painfully or so vividly in the heat of battle, for if it did then Seymour would've been cut down by the enemy's blade.

Belladonna's voice snapped Seymour out of his hypnotized state."I agree with that sentiment, Belladonna. Of Blood, we may be but our bonds... Those were lifetimes ago." He spoke with a tinge of sadness. His breathing had slowed down to a crawl but Seymour's dedication remained unshaken."Don't suppose, you fine chaps won't point us in the right direction now? Or are we on our own from this point onwards?" He directed the question at Dendhera and the prophetess albeit with a hint of venom.

Ace Cream Ace Cream Darrian_Gabriel Darrian_Gabriel
 
Vriska was about to rummage through her bag for any plants that she can feed the monkey when she felt the flood of images and memories that was unfamiliar but also familiar, and all too painful. Amidst the screaming of horror, pain, and despair, she was carried away by her favorite servant, Bannon, to get her away from the fray. She was too frightened to cry, or scream, it was all too much for the little girl. They have fled for a while before the pursuers was starting to catch up. Bannon hide her within the area at the lake with a flora overhanging almost submerged and told her not to come out until it is absolutely safe and he will be back for her. She had believed him. Hiding within the water that was shallow enough for the little girl, she could hear dashing steps away from her, following by heavy footstep chasing the former. Then there were sounds of blades slicing into flesh followed by a grunt before a body hit the ground.

It was only feared that prevented her from crying and reveal her location. Fear that drove her to continue to hide for a while before the heavy footsteps went away for a long time. Finally she crawled out of the waters and towards the lain body, cut down on the ground. What she saw stilled her heart, he was was not stirring and was cold. No matter what she did to try to do to shake him awake, to hope that he was still just wounded. No...nononononono! She has lost everything! She did what she could do in such a turmoil state, she ran and ran. She had nowhere to go and ran endlessly till she collapse from pure exhaustion....

Bannon, the person she loved to play and seek with, the one that has always picked her up when she was down, is dead! Mother...Father whom means the world to her...dead!

She found herself on the floor on all 4. Miraculously her mask hadn't came off but there were distinct wetness that dripped from the bottom of her mask. Vriska has always been fairly taciturn for a very long time, leaving her unprepared for the flood of emotions that overwhelmed her. Even as the others had started to recover from the mental ordeal to varying state of success, Vriska was still on the ground, emotionally distraught. Bannon...Mother...Father.

She would be the last to finally stand up amist the seven. However she herself stayed silent as if still not having to come to terms with the memories and emotions, evident by her more wobbly ascension to her feet.
 
The Prophetess in took a breath of relieved and validated satisfaction as the wayward seven were snapping out of their violently forced recollections and realizing that they, in fact, were siblings.

"I accept...I will take this duty, but I'm under no obligation to treat anyone as sibling." said Belladonna.

"I agree with that sentiment, Belladonna. Of blood, we may be but our bonds... Those were lifetimes ago." said Seymour as he came forward "Don't suppose, you fine chaps won't point us in the right direction now? Or are we on our own from this point on wards?"

The Prophetess smiled in response "That's to be expected. Your sibling bonds will be reaffirmed over time, for you no doubt will be tested to the extreme in the quest that lies ahead of you. Not only as warriors, but as brothers and sisters." she says as begins to walk towards Jericho, who was still in semi shock on his knees. Seeing his obvious vulnerability, she gently kneels by his side "...and what of you Jericho of The Blight? Will you accept your destiny?"

Jericho's gaze slowly shifts as he looks directly at the blind folded wise woman, his eyes full of pain and confusion "I...remember. My father was killed as I watched on. I wanted to cry out, but I couldn't...I blocked out the memory of that night completely. I didn't know who, or what I was."

Tears start to flow from the bottom of the woman's blindfold as she touches his face "You were in total shock when I spirited you away from the palace that night. You didn't speak a word for weeks afterward, your mind completely blanked out."

"You mean you were the one..."

"Yes, I was the hand maiden that saved you that night over twenty years ago. I was ordered by your father to take you away. Your brothers and sisters were all taken by someone different and scattered throughout Khartouma, so your uncle could not find you all." she says.

"What happened than?" asks Jericho.

"That's when she brought you to The Blight son..." says Tavvin as he walks up behind.

The Prophetess stands to her feet and grabs the older warrior's hand "Tavvin and I were lovers back than. I knew you would be safe with him and his tribe."

Tavvin lifts the woman's hand and gently kisses the back of it "Good to see you again, Lavinia, my love. By the way, just when did you go blind?" says Tavvin, half jokingly.

Lavinia smiles wide as she removes her blindfold, revealing a pair of beautiful emerald green eyes "I didn't... but in the service to The Jaded Oracles, one learns that physical sight can be a hindrance to our inner eyes...my dear Tavvin." she says warmly as she places her fingers to the chieftain's lips.

Jericho raises to his feet as well "Why didn't you stay?"

"I thought that by staying, I would've put you at risk...so I left. Tavvin vowed to look after you and raise you as his own son. A promise I am forever grateful that he kept." says Lavinia.

"So myself, all the seven of us...are the stolen children of a slain king?" asks Jericho.

"You are all the sons and daughters of a stolen dynasty Jeri." says Tavvin.

Lavinia again addresses the entire seven "Don't you see, it was truly more than fate that brought all of you here tonight. You seven are the lost princes and princesses of the Argosian Empire. Nastor is more than just a demigod tyrant, he is your uncle who savagely murdered your father in a bid to take power..." she turns back to Jericho "After I left you with The Blight, I wandered the deserts until I came upon the ruins of Dantavish and The Monolith. It was than that I devoted my life to the servitude of the Oracles and the pursuit of knowledge...all the while living to see this night! King Darris was more than just a monarch, he was your father!"

Tavvin walks up to his son, puts his hand on his shoulder and shouts "All hail to the Seven Dreaded and to the liberation of Khartouma!"

The crowds shout in unison "HAIL THE SEVEN DREADED!!!

As the masses loudly hailed the seven, a whirl of emotions swarm into the young warrior. A deep seeded rage starts to build up, seemingly eminating from his very soul. As his anger boils over, one thing was clear in his mind, there was only one thing he wanted now, and it certainly wasn't liberation. He once again draws his sword, the metal scraping across it's scabbard, echoing across the night "Enough!!!!" he yells with all of the breath in his lungs, which does indeed silence the crowds. "Stow your pathetic cries of liberation! I am no man's hero! Nor will I fight for anyone's cause but my own!" he walks up to Tavvin and looks him dead in the eye "I want one thing and one thing alone now...and that is vengeance! I swear by all the gods of the Compendium, I will rip Nastor's beating heart from his bosom and squeeze every bit of black tinted blood from it's chambers, so help me." he turns away from his father and looks towards the rest of his siblings "I don't give a damn what the rest of you do, but nothing short of the legions of The Abyss will stand in my way from killing that worthless maggot of a dreg!"
 
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The enormous encampment sprawled with the din of thousands of soldiers milling about amongst the glow of hundreds of campfires that illuminated the surrounding night. A tall man in jet black armor and sporting a shaved head, along with his elite guard, made their way around the camp on their routine inspection rounds of the troops. This was simply one battalion of the thousands that made up the core of the Shadow Legions...the elite ground army of The Argosian Empire.

"Lieutenant, after we make this last sweep, all fires are to be down. Make sure the troops receive supper rations and every man is bedded down for the night, we've got early training in the morning." said Commander Falcyion.

"Yes sir..." says the Lieutenant.

The men suddenly stop as a low and eerie voice cries out from the surrounding night "I don't think the men are ready to be bedded down yet, Commander."

Annoyed, Falcyion turns around and draws his sword "Who dares to countermand my orders?"

Valens materializes out from the shadows, accompanied by three of his Dark Slain warriors
"Perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to hasty action, aye Commander?"

Falcyion and his guard immediately drop to one knee "Prince Valens, forgive my impulsiveness sire. I didn't know it was you."

"Obviously...now to your feet Commander." he says as the Commander and his men steadily rise "My circling of this encampment has reveled that this battalion of your Legionnaires may not be at their peak fighting efficiency!"

"You have my word Your Highness, my Legionnaires are ready at any time for any task given to them! Our loyalty is to you and the One Defied."

Valens narrows his eyes beneath his mask "Prove it."

Falcyion swallows hard and begins to shout out "Legionnaires, Fourth Shadow Battalion...fall in! Assemble arms at the ready!"

All at once thousands of soldiers scramble out of their tents and away from their campfires, merging into marching formation. Within less than sixty seconds, over two thousand armored soldiers are in a tight and disciplined formation, their weapons drawn in salute.

Falcyion again kneels in respect "Awaiting orders my Prince."

Valens cackles in a low and sinister growl as he addresses the troops
"Hear me my Shadow Legionnaires. The mission I will require of you comes not from me, but from the One Defied himself! You shall be the first line of defense against a malevolent force that threatens to topple this empire! I know all of you shall serve us well. The great Mayax demands this of you." says Valens as he walks over to Falcyion "Have the troops form a ceremonial half hectre circle around the entire camp. Be absolutely precise with alignment of the three moons. Every man must be perfect in his positioning if the spell is to work. Do you understand Commander Falcyion..."

"Of course Your Majesty, but if I may...what spell are we conducting?"


Valens holds up the Transcendence Amulet and shows it to Falcyion after which he it dangles it a bit
"We're going to be doing a bit of traveling Commander. Now get your men moving."

"Alright, I want three flanks over the south end of the camp...now!" shouts Falcyion as he scrambles out of sight frantically trying to get his troops in line with Prince's orders...
 
Belladona

Bell scoffed at the prophetess' comment to her answer. Nope, no way she would play siblings with the lot. Especially not the pervert man-eater, she would rather shoot her own face than acknowledging him. Her duty and personal life was separate, at least that's what she thought.

She watched with increasing interest as some sort family reunion unfolded in front of her, but she didn't want to looks interested in it so she kept herself distracted by counting the number of campfires around the monolith. Oh, she spotted Lot on the front row. Diligently taking notes of whatever said during the meeting. Bell winced when the crowd applauded them. She appreciate the enthusiasm but being cheered this much before they even do anything made her uncomfortable. She felts it's not something they deserve yet, prophecy or not.
 
Alder moved his head to the sky. A last tear falling from his eyes. He dusted the sand from his legs then took a deep breath. He was trying to figure out what to do next. Part of him wanted to run to the seas. This life that he and his siblings...this destiny didn't seem to concern him. In fact if not for the visions he'd been shown, a memory that he never knew of, he'd likely have left, yet part of him felt this intense fiery sensation. Then the chanting started, "HAIL THE SECEN DREADED" they all claimed. As the chanting grew, so did his hatred, though he couldn't say as to why. He was ready to explode at them as his fists clenched, he could feel his nails even through the leather. He opened his mouth to shout at them, Jericho had beaten him to that. With the crowd silenced, Alder could think with a calm head. He saw a set of hands waving at him, his crew. They'd come with him all this way in hopes of some reward...they'd likely be pissed that this hunt yielded none. Alder faced his "siblings" and the prophetess. "Thanks for that, the crowd was so loud...could barely hear myself think there." He took note of Chili standing next to Vriska, he made a mental note to retrieve him, first he say his peace with the prophetess.

"Look I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not really interested in the mutiny that you're trying to start. Now I won't lie, the current ruler of this place is a real bastard. Hell, the stories I've heard alone have made some of my crew leave because of us docking here. But the memories you showed me. The ones of my...our 'mother'" he said that word as if it were from another language, "they were few and far between. The woman who spirited me away, I spent more time with her...have more memories of her than I do of that woman. That life...the one I could've had" his voice started to tremble, "I'll never know. None of us will know what we'd have been like!" The anger in his voice was raw, never had he been this angry in life. "When you're pirate, one of the things you learn is that when someone steals from you, ya steal it back...and if ya can't ya either move on or you make the one who did pay." Alder's voice had calmed down some. "But like I said, this...demon...he's a real bastard. If just one of the tales I heard be true we may as well just take our own lives. Save ourselves the time and pain." He stopped in front of Jericho and the others. "I've had my share of vengeance, always have. Even now as the rage stirs within me, ready to cut off his head and make a boat with his corpse for stealing from me. The fact is though, your putting you're hopes on us. Seven strangers who never asked for this." He turned on his heels then started toward the end of the encampment. He stopped after a few steps. "Vengeance is enough for me. But I'll not risk my crew on a fight such as this. Especially since I see no boon for us. The rats will leave but the loyal dogs will follow me, even if I tell them to stay." He continued to walk away.

Alder whistled, Chili, who had been comforting Vriska, patting her head and such, followed. He was climbing down when he returned to her shoulder and gave a small but powerful hug to the woman. That lasted for a few seconds then he returned to the sands, catching up with Alder relatively fast.
 
Seymour, The Blind One
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Seymour was less than satisfied with the answer presented by the Prophetess, he could tell she had a smile on that face of hers which almost made him roll his vacant eyes into his head. The whole situation was less than pleasing for him but one should expect the unexpected in times like these. Still, the death of Nastor... Uncle Nastor would be a mountainous challenge. Seymour raised his gauntleted hand over the mouthguard of the helmet as if he gripped his chin to contemplate. Did this little ragtag band of siblings possess even the slightest amount of strength needed for this, is it even possible? The experienced knight allowed himself no taste of that bitter illusion, hope, as it is called among the peoples.

Suddenly the man's concentration broke, his attention roused to the discussion between Jericho, the partially older brother, and the one who saved him. Apparently, she and Tavvin (the one who Seymour presumes to be the head chief of the Blight) were romantically engaged, matters not to him but when Tavvin commented on her blindness and she confirmed it, had made Seymour jovial all of the sudden. It made Seymour cackle maliciously. It was short-lived as he coughed away the awkwardness. His head turned sideways as if to look over his shoulder. "I apologize, that was unbecoming of me." He apologized to the pair, in truth, he did not know what caused that outburst. Mayhaps, it was about his own sightlessness and the connection that is made.

They continued their discourse between themselves then the blasted people roared themselves into a chant. "Hail The Seven Dreaded!" They repeated maddeningly as if lulled into a trance by a sorcerer. The combined sound of their individual voices was like a symphony of timpani all going off at once into his ears. Thankfully, Jericho silenced their insolence.

Jericho then boasted proudly at what he was going to do with Nastor's heart. Seymour sighed at this, save your boasts for after the deed is done, that was the way he was taught. The other brother, Adler spoke. His words were very mature and deep down, Seymour felt a tinge of pride in his sibling's growth. As for his own reasons, Seymour never backed down from a task, no matter the magnitude of it so he wasn't about to start now although that doesn't mean that he wouldn't continue to question these things.

"I'm ready whenever the rest of you are ready." Seymour spoke however his ears and mind drifted to another person amongst their midst. Vriska, she still seemed dazed from the grand revelation of their parentage. He hopes the girl is alright.

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Hearing the one man's continued shouting and anger was become annoying. She rolled her eyes just before the memories hit them. She was only 2 at the time, playing in palace. A place she could no longer recognize, but she could feel that that was home. She saw her siblings, some vaguely resembled those around her. She saw her mother, she played with a red wooden ball with her. Her father, he sat on the throne. She could feel that this was her family.
As the vision continued she dropped to her knees, her head pounding and her chest ached, like a heart longing for something lost. She placed her hands on her chest, ragged breaths escaping her.
It jumped forward to the attack there was blood everywhere. She was wailing and calling out for her father. She was clutching onto the red ball to a servant ran over and scooped her up. The ball falling from her hands. "No," She screamed again and again as the servant whisked her away trying his hardest to silence her. He carried her through the town, she eventually tired herself out from screaming and crying and lay in his arms half asleep, half still silently crying. He stopped at a house pounding on the door. A young couple came to the door and he begged them to take her in; after much uncertainty they had.
From there the vision ended, the other had seemed to have a similar experience around her. Her head was still pounding but she forced herself to her feet. Trying her best to stay composed she listened to those around her. It seemed every one was going but with varying degrees of compliance. "I- I'll do it...," She responded weakly as the chanting began. She looked around at her siblings she never knew. She couldn't help but wonder what their life might have looked like if Nastor never betrayed the kingdom, their family. Her heart seemed to mourn life, the one she was meant to live, but if they had would she still be her. Certainly not, despite her lack of any real parental figure from then on, she still had the elder woman who made her become strong. It was that woman who really shaped her into the woman she is now.
She was snapped back to reality as the chanting was cutoff. She found Jericho to be even more annoying as he boasted. "This is going to be a long mission," she mumbled to herself in annoyance.
 
Her thoughts is interrupted by the huge chorus of chanting of the Seven Dreaded, makin git hard to even concentrate of the revelations of the memories she was injected with. Thankfully that was shut down by Jericho's demand of silence, albeit by somehow being louder than the crowd itself.

It was then that she was now aware of a pair of arms circling her in comfort. It wasn't one of her newly discovered siblings but...a monkey? Her nearly hidden gaze moved to the creature curiously as it moves over back to Alder. His trainer? Companion? Either way, the monkey has shown more compassion for her than most of the people have so far. She will have to remember them. Another 'glance' she had noticed was from Seymour, though she wasn't sure if he was looking at her or something else as his sight wasn't focused on her.

Slowly, she was mentally back into wondering about the future and what path is needed to go forward to this destiny that they were drafted into. While some of the other spoke vengeance against Nastor, a few other just want the job done with. What was she here for, even if it is decided for? Mentally she shook her head. It was something she may have to think on and search for as the events fold. Perhaps none was needed. However one thing did bother her a bit, if only on a practical perspective.

"Why does this ceremony has to so loud and bombastic?" She voiced her concern softly enough towards Lavinia. It was the first time she have spoken since she has arrived. "We draw unneeded attention to ourselves and giving away the element of surprise." It is how she personally operates, quiet and efficiently. She decided not to say anything to the crowd either.

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Tavvin looks after his adopted son as he starts to make his way back towards their camp, presumably to mount his horse "Hold your ground Blightsman!" he yells to which Jericho looks back, a gaze of pure malice in his eyes. The older chieftain walks closer "So just what is your plan here Jeri? You expect to simply waltz into Nastor's throne room and...what, demand a duel?"

"I don't care what I have to do! If I have to cut down every soldier in the Shadow Legions myself, so be it! I will have Nastor's head, no matter what the cost!"

"Look I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not really interested in the mutiny that you're trying to start. Now I won't lie, the current ruler of this place is a real bastard. Hell, the stories I've heard alone have made some of my crew leave because of us docking here. But the memories you showed me. The ones of my...our 'mother'. "They were few and far between. The woman who spirited me away, I spent more time with her...have more memories of her than I do of that woman. That life...the one I could've had. "I'll never know. None of us will know what we'd have been like!" said Alder.

Jericho looked over
"Sounds a lot like cowardice to me!"

"When you're pirate, one of the things you learn is that when someone steals from you, ya steal it back...and if ya can't ya either move on or you make the one who did pay. But like I said, this...demon...he's a real bastard. If just one of the tales I heard be true we may as well just take our own lives. Save ourselves the time and pain."

"No one's going to accomplish anything, lest all of you have some sort of plan!" retorts Tavvin.

Cadessian steps forth from the crowd "I'm afraid they'll need much more than that my friend. They're going to need an army the likes of which Khartouma has never seen if they wish to have a hope in hell of defeating Nastor."


"I've had my share of vengeance, always have. Even now as the rage stirs within me, ready to cut off his head and make a boat with his corpse for stealing from me. The fact is though, your putting you're hopes on us. Seven strangers who never asked for this. Vengeance is enough for me. But I'll not risk my crew on a fight such as this. Especially since I see no boon for us. The rats will leave but the loyal dogs will follow me, even if I tell them to stay." said Alder as he walked towards Vriska.

"So you would willingly choose to turn your back on your own heritage, because the law of the high seas demands it!? Do you know nothing of honor pirate?" shouted Jericho.

"Leave it be son, tis his choice."

Jericho looked back in anger "I'll not surround myself with the likes of cowards!" he looks around at the rest of his siblings "Anyone else wish to bow out of avenging the murder of your true father?"

"I'm ready whenever the rest of you are ready." said Seymour.

Jericho walks up beside Seymour "Well at least we've got on true warrior in the lot."

"I- I'll do it...," mumbled Raina.

Jericho breathed a heavy sigh of approval
"That's two. Is there really no one else who wishes to taste vengeance, while at the same time proving their own mettle?" said the Blight warrior, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

"Why does this ceremony has to so loud and bombastic? We draw unneeded attention to ourselves and giving away the element of surprise."
spoke Vriska.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, not knowing how to respond to the odd nature of the question, when Tavvin finally responded "In case you haven't noticed yet young woman, we are in one of the most remote and inhospitable parts of the Forbidden Dunes, at least several days journey from any outpost civilization. I doubt even the sorcery of Nastor could spy on you out here."


"Enough of this nonsense, if this is it, than the three of us shall ride upon the gates of The Argosian Empire. The rest of you can rot in your spinless whimpering out here in the dry sands for all I care."


"Confronting Nastor in your rage will not grant you the vengeance you seek Jericho. Tavvin is right, you need a stratagem." said Lavinia.

This prompts the young warrior to march back up to the wise woman, stopping mere inches from her face, causing her to stammer back slightly in fear "...and what do you suggest Prophetess!? That we saunter up to the gates of the empire with a bunch of half trained desert nomads that would give our position away at least a hundred miles out! We'd be spotted before anyone could even draw an arrow!"

"There are forces at work here, which are far beyond your comprehension Jericho. Heed my words my impetuous young warrior, your path shall be set before you come the morning rays of dawn. You will have the answers you seek as the the sun rises over the sand dunes." says Dendhera as her ethereal form slowly fades from the night sky, until she completely vanishes.


"Meaningless tripe, I refuse to waste one more second in this god forsaken sand pit!" he turns to address Raina and Seymour "As soon as I water my steed, I shall begin my ride on Argosian. Follow me or don't, but I promise you, Nastor's blood will stain my blade very soon." he says as he again begins to make his way back towards his camp.

"In the name of Kharderash Jeri, will you listen to reason! Be responsible for once in your life!" yells Tavvin.


"You dare speak to me about responsibility old man, when you've lied to me my entire life!" snaps Jericho.

"This isn't about me boy. I kept these secrets from you because I swore an oath and you were all the better for it!"


"Well good news is, you've fulfilled your duty. I owe you no further subterfuge. My life, my choice father." says Jericho solemnly.

"Than it will not hurt you to do your father one last courtesy Jericho." says Cadessian.

"You've only a few more hours until dawn breaks young warrior. What do you have to lose to heed the Oracle's words?" asks Lavinia
.

Jericho swallows hard and the internal conflict between his impulsive anger and his reason begins in earnest. He looks back at Tavvin, his adoptive father's eyes conveying a mixture of concern, apprehension and admiration. After what seemed like an eternity, a small wave of calm washes over him, his reason seeming to prevail "The second the sun peeks over those dunes, I ride...do you understand me?" he says as he points directly at Tavvin, after which he angrily fumbles into his tent.

Tavvin breathes in relief as he mumbles to himself "What a night..."

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Belladona

Bell just watched silently as the people there bickering with each other. This Jericho person seems to be very eager to go while the others express various degree of willingness. Bell? She didn't say a thing. She just stood there amused by the event unfolded. She did have some sort of plan though, she would just let the suicidal Jericho and his team draws Nastor out of his lair, then shoot him in the head. Sounds like a plan for her so when the people there decided to abide by the prophetess words and wait until sunrise she followed suit and whistled to call for her donkey. Carrion came into view with Lot behind. The boy seems esthatic about something and it didn't take long before he blurted out about it.

"Bell, I never know you're actually a royal! That's so cool! Why you never tell us?! I can't wait to help you stormi-" Lot's babbling was stopped when Bell put a finger on his lips.

"Stop there. As the leader of the task, I terminate your duty here. Don't follow me, come back to Edesa and spread the words."

"Wait, what?! Whhyy????" Lot of course was shocked by the sudden order but Bell didn't bother to explain as she climbed onto her donkey's back and rode away to the perimeter of the camps.
 
Balik had been paying attention the whole time. The normally loud cannibal, was quiet for once. He could careless about avenging his father, but the battlefield called his name. For people of his tribe it was a very big disgrace to run away from battle. He looked at the faces of his siblings. "I might be a psychopath, and a cannibal, but the halls of Valkreig sing for any and all warriors of my tribe. I shall fight, but when this is done and Nestor is defeated. I get to eat him." He said with a very serious look in his eyes. He thought about how this Nestor was going to taste. Was he going to be tasty? Was he going to be spicy?

When they were finally able to leave each other. Balik had walked to the edge of the camp. The scrawny wolf had followed him. He had nabbed some food from the so called leaders tribe. Balik feared nothing in life. Fear was something that Balik had never been accustomed to. He spent most of his time seeking tasty food to eat. Even if the food was difficult to acquire. Balik never feared having to fighting for something. Hell he remembers torturing the servants in the castle.

Balik had laid down in the sand after having some food. He looked up into the stars. He tried to remember anything good about when he lived in the castle. There wasn't much. He was forced to hide from his family, and even when they did let him see them it wasn't for long, and it was under armed guard. He remembered his mothers sweet voice calling to him. That was a couple things that seem to calm him. The other was the playing's of the minstrel that would sing to Balik every night. Nights were one of the hardest for Balik it seemed like it was hard for the young boy to fall asleep. As he grew up he had learned how to fall asleep without it, but some nights are easier then the rest.
 
Seymour, The Blind One
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The armored Seymour simply sighed at Jericho's words. He hopes that soon, the Blighted warrior realizes the folly of his emotional state. To live in the crevices of emotion, to be mastered by it, only leads to one's premature death. Even metaphorically spitting in the face of his adoptive father, raised a question within Seymour, would he too react like this to his adoptive father? Perhaps not as his adoptive father taught him the value of hardened heart and whetted wit. It still is a valid question to ponder, even if your shell is leathery, toughened to the outside forces, there are still things that can break even the strongest hides.

Belladonna had disappeared from Seymour's sense radar, perhaps off to her compatriots who were with her when she arrived. While Balik and his canine companion had slinked off somewhere, to lick their wounds and to chew on their troubles. Before Seymour, himself had taken off in whatever direction he desired, he took note of Vriska's condition. She was up and on her feet, although her question was peculiar in nature, it was not without its' partial merits.

Seymour took a quick stroll towards Jericho's tent, it wasn't to confront him or anything, more to see his adoptive parent. As the knight walked, his crimson, cape, ruined from previous battles, gently waved by the desert's nightly wind. His heavy hands reached under the faceless helmet and undid the straps that fastened it to his head. He removed it, revealing the scarred eyes blinded from bygone damage, his hair brown yet obviously darker than when he was young.

He was just close enough for his keen ears to pick up on Tavvin's mumbling. "An eventful night for all of us, Sir." Seymour chimed as he approached Tavvin, helm by his waist. "If I may be so bold as to say, I worry about Jericho's anger. I fear that he might cost his own life or perhaps someone else's and I am not sure which fate is the more dire one. My... adoptive father taught me that there is no shame in seeking wisdom from the seasoned and experienced so I ask you, how can I help him? Seymour spoke, in a hushed tone as he gestured with his right hand towards the tent.

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The hooded figure of Prince Valens, flanked by his Dark Slain guard, methodically made their way to the center of the intricate ceremonial configuration, created by Falcyion's Legionnaires. At the center of the gargantuan hectre circle, three large torches were erected, which cast an ominous glow into the darkness of the surrounding sands. Falcyion walks up and kneels.

"We have followed your orders to the letter my lord. The men are ready."

Valens grins beneath his hood "Indeed you have Commander." he says as the Prince produces the blood spawned amulet he had acquired from Nastor "Now all of you step back, for I must commune with the great Mayax."

For the next several moments, Valens breaks out in odious and eerie chanting. As his utterances become increasingly louder, the flames on the three torches grow ever larger, until each torch is an awe inspiring edifice of fire, that lights up night for miles. Falcyion shields his eyes from the intense heat and light. Valens breathes hard "The gateway is almost open, but as always, we need a sacrifice!"

Valens than turns to look in the direction of the soldiers lined up just a few yards away and zeroes in on one "You...tis you who is Mayax's chosen tribute!" the dark sorcerer prince gestures with his out stretched hand and a bolt of crimson energy shoots out, enveloping the hapless soldier in it's grip. The legionnaire is yanked forward and dragged across the sand until he is brought before Valens.

Falcyion's eyes go wide as he realizes the man is one of his best lieutenants, Cadvin "Surely you can choose another Your Majesty, Cadvin is one of my most trusted strategists."

Valens shoots Falcyion a menacing gaze "I have chosen no one Commander. Do you wish to question the Abyssal Lord of the Ninth Realm himself?"


Falcyion clenches his fist as he looks at his terrified lieutenant. Reluctantly his bows his head in submission "No Your Highness. Mayax's will must be done."

"Good...now than, Lieutenant Cadvin, you do realize the most esteemed honor that has been placed on you this night."

"Yes my Prince..." says Cadvin in a low whisper, said with the resolve of a man who knows he's about to die.

"There is no need to fear or stifle death my son. To be chosen by the great Mayax, belies any worldly honor we could ever achieve in this mortal realm. Trust me when I say, you are envied this night." Valens says as he brutally and swiftly plunges a dagger into Cadvin's stomach, killing the soldier almost immediately. The three torches now burn with a blood red flame as Valens holds up the amulet "Hear me great Mayax. Through this amulet we seek passage through the Blood Gates to emerge within The Land of the Black Sand!"

Falcyion draws his sword and shouts in the direction of his soldiers "To the Land Of The Black Sand!" which is met with thunderous cheep from the legionaries.

"Next stop...Dantavish!" says Valens as he grips the blood soaked amulet.
 
Tavvin stared out into the emptiness of the night. The crowd around the Monolith slowly started to dissipate, as the different tribal emissaries retreated back to their tents, as Jericho had done. The Blight chieftain, went into a semi spaced out state, as his mind contemplated all that had just occurred. After a few moments, his zoned out thought was broken by a soft voice from behind.

"Penny for you thoughts warrior." said Lavinia as she put a hand on Tavvin's shoulder.

"I swore to protect him Lavinia. Even though he is not of my blood, that boy will always be my son."

The Prophetess smiles warmly "Your loyalty and devotion to Jericho is noble Tavvin. But all fathers must learn to let go some time. You've trained Jericho to be a fierce warrior and he is more than capable of looking after himself. You must let destiny take it's course my love."

Tavvin sighs in reluctance "I suppose, and yes I realize that he's grown into one of the best fighters in all of Khartouma. But part of me will always see him as that small, frail nine year old boy that you brought to my camp all those years ago. The pain and the shock in that child's eyes...that memory has never left me."

"...and it probably never will. Despite your reputation of savagery, Tavvin the Feared is a brave and honorable man, which is why I fell in love with you. In your heart, Jericho will always be your son, and despite the revelations this night, I've no doubt that he will always see you as his father."

The older man grins beneath his thick beard as he turns to Lavinia "I'll never forget the moment I first saw you. One of the most beautiful of all desert flowers that I had ever beheld, acting as a simple hand maiden to the queen. Who could've ever guessed you'd become the most revered and wise of all sages. I am indeed a lucky savage."

Lavinia stifles to contain a giggle "Well, when you've spent more than twenty years in the presence and countenance of literal gods of wisdom...you tend to pick up a few things."

"Indeed, I don't suppose I could convince you to forego one night with the Oracles for a tryst in my tents? We could...catch up." said Tavvin, a boyish sheen in his eyes.

"How interesting, I seem to recall you using a very similar line on me the night we first met." she says, a sardonic grin crossing her lips.

"...and I seem to recall it working back than as well." says Tavvin.

The Prophetess laughs slightly "As tempting as the offer is, and while you will always own my heart...The Jaded Oracles own everything else. You understand." she says as she leans in and gives him a lingering kiss.

Suddenly another voice breaks the intimate moment as Seymour walks up to Tavvin "An eventful night for all of us, Sir."

After a moment, Tavvin looks back and finds that Lavinia has vanished. He sighs and just shakes his head. "Same old Lavinia, always cutting and running."

"If I may be so bold as to say, I worry about Jericho's anger. I fear that he might cost his own life or perhaps someone else's and I am not sure which fate is the more dire one. My... adoptive father taught me that there is no shame in seeking wisdom from the seasoned and experienced so I ask you, how can I help him?"

Tavvin smirks slightly "If you really want to help him, I suggest staying out of his way. I've seen Jericho cut down the likes of thirty men as if it were nothing more than weeding an overgrown lawn." he pauses and looks at the blind knight and senses his true willingness to help "But there is truth to your words. Ever since he was boy, Jeri has had a deep seeded rage, that almost nothing could break. I tried to teach him to channel that anger with limited success. I suppose growing up surrounded by a tribe of cut throats and barbarians didn't help matters, but we must work with what we're given aye? Look all I can tell you is, your more than welcome to try your hand, but don't say I didn't warn you."

At that the old chieftain returns to his encampment and tends to his dwindling fire.

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Alder had managed to get some steps away when he heard Jericho's words. "So you would willingly choose to turn your back on your own heritage, because the law of the high seas demands it!? Do you know nothing of honor pirate?" He wanted to shout back at his brother, a thought that still felt foreign to him. To tell him that with pirates honor came secondary to living or even lower on the list, maybe after riches and winning, he certainly didn't consider it a priority. As he walked by he noted some stares from those he passed by, some filled with a resentment, likely over choosing to live rather than fight, if Jericho's words were anything to go by. Others had more of a look of wonder on their face, as if he'd done something odd. Chili had managed to climb onto his back then his head resting on top of his hat. The monkey chittered, random noises that, if Alder could understand, probably be him just asking about what was happening and how he felt, he'd soon get those anyways however, as he approached he crew on the outskirts of the camp.

Rook was the first to see and wave at the captain, the food he was carrying nearly falling from his arms. Hale and Forge had been setting up the camp and tending to the horses respectfully. While Rook smiled at him, Forge and Hale had a concerned expression they both shared. As if they were seeing a strange creature for the first time, not the captain who led them into battle before. Who drank and sang and sailed with them so many a time. Even how far away they were they either heard the announcement or heard a rumor about what happened to him. He went to one of the open tents and laid on his side, a few more tears falling, though this time they were silent.

Alder felt that some time had passed though he was unsure if he'd fallen asleep or if he had let his mind drift away, but he was soon called for dinner. His crew, Chili included, was around a campfire, eating in silence. He joined them but turned down food when offered. Hale was the first to speak up. "So Captain...how long you been one of them royal types" he spoke with slight hatred in his voice, Forge just shot a glare at him. "What?! We should know how long our 'Captain' has been some noble brat. So what? Is this your way of just havin' a laugh at us? You play pirate while the rest of us starve and you go back to your castle?"

"Hale! How can you ask that after everything we've done, the places we've been. For the love of Tetraterra how many times has he saved our lives" Forge shouted at him.

"So? We supposed to not ask about the whale in the ship? You said 'The captain's been hidin' secrets for some time now. You even thought 'bout leavin' til the Captain...oh sorry...the prince asked you to come wif' us, said yous wasn't sure you could trust 'm. Now that one of his secrets is out your defendin' him!" Hale yelled back. Forge shot Alder a look of concern and shame, as if what she had said was blasphemy. Rook merely watched, unsure if he should speak at all, Hale made his way to Alder then lifted him up by the collar. "Have you got anythin' to say you bastard or is you not talkin' mean I'm correct? Well? What's-" Hale was cut off as Alder flung him to the sand by his wrist. The larger man was on his stomach, his wrist clutched by Alder in such a way that it looked like it would snap easily. Alder pushed his fingers into his throat, so tightly that if he wanted to he could rip his throat out if he chose to.

"Listen very carefully you miserable excuse for sailor. You can talk shit 'bout me all you want, hell, I even expect it. I don't care if you want to leave or if you don't trust me, that's how pirates operate." Everyone saw the rage in his eyes, as if a demon had taken him over. "What you don't seem to comprehend is that I've never been one of them royal types. This is the only life I've known and you making threats against me, when I am CLEARLY NOT IN THE MOOD, does not bode well for you." He pressed his fingers deeper into his crew member's throat, his face starting to turn colors. "So you're going to be silent til we leave tomorrow or I'm gonna show you why no one has ever made a threat against me more than once. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!" Hale nodded his head. Alder nodded back...then broke Hale's wrist. The large man tried to scream but no sound left his mouth. When Alder sat down Hale was rasping and screaming at the same time. Forge had gone over and walked with his to a horse, likely to treat him.

The remaining crew sat in silence for some time. Rook and Chili had, for some reason, moved closer to the captain. Alder however was so distracted by his emotions he didn't hear someone approach their camp.
 
Vriska simply nods to Tavvin, though she is not entire sold that the ceremony would at least cause someone to be slightly curios. She hopes that she was wrong and he was right in this instance. After a while at watching the chieftain, she proceeds towards an empty spot that is not occupied by anyone. As she passes by, she watches as everyone started to wind down for the time to their own devices, mostly through conversing with the tribes that they have originated from. She herself didn't had anyone to go to herself; it was just her. She isn't able to follow through all of her siblings, but the ones she had notices briefly is Seymour conversing with the chieftain before, Belladonna saying something to another individual, an-

"Listen very carefully you miserable excuse for sailor. You can talk shit 'bout me all you want, hell, I even expect it. I don't care if you want to leave or if you don't trust me, that's how pirates operate."

...and Alder having one of his subordinate in a bad position. She silently watches the entire confrontation. Apparently the newly discovered heritage is creating some dissension within his crew. After the tension broken, along with that rebellious crew's wrist, she proceed towards their way, but slowly to not provoke Alder's wrath due to his current agitation. She reaches into her satchel to separate some dried berries into some paper before offering the bundled paper of berries to Alder. "Berries?" She offers. She did keep an eye out to the monkey another crew member that seems more loyal who sat near, for they might want some.

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Belladona

Bell's camp was placed a good distance away from the others so there's no one with her except her donkey. Not even Lot was there. She didn't show it on her face but she was thinking that her words might be too harsh to him.

"It's okay. He will be safe, it's okay." She muttered to herself. Carrion sensed something was off with her master so the donkey move closer and rubbed her head against Bell's shoulder to cheer her up. Bell responded with a smile and scratched Carrion's head in return.

"Thank you, Carrion. Good girl."
 

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