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Active [Western Ryke Near the Fae See - The Silk Road, Part 1]


The highwayman had broken rank finally, the three remaining fleeing like rats, into the bushes wherein Cass dwelled, perfect for a repeat performance.

For a moments contemplation he hesitated. The fight was over. They'll be long gone before these bandits went for revenge if they even could or wanted to. It was over. It was one thing to shoot back, another to shoot someone in the back. He'd been on the other side before, ra-regrouped just like these- 'No, I was nothing like them. ' Cass chided to himself, age must've made him an fool. Their crimes were more obscene, lowly and cowardly unless of course in the unlikely scenario they were the first to come across and their wordless were gutless, another crime in self. They were without 'grace' one could say, the differences between a scoundrel and a crook another may say in more flowery terms. One was told tales about, the other feared. It was simple. Justifiable enough to fire on.

Cass drew his gun up without a second thought, held it out and aimed. Sights supplanted on the three visible targets ahead of him before tracing the placement of the angle, movement between the positions, the soft deviations of the in-between's. A process he'd thought better than him repeated now for a few moments until he was confident. Before finally drawing onto the first target with steady hands. Stood up straight, aim straight.

Then fired thrice.

Two shot to kill, one to maim the Highly rude leader as non-lethally as a shot to the leg would do, though Cass doubted their life expectancy under whatever justice Faan would undertake, either way it would be poetic enough for him.

His smoking gun put before his mouth and blowing the smoke dramatically, a slight whistling noise coming out as well. Then he dropped back to its holster, Cass chuckling all the while. "God damn I'm good." said to himself, the companion near Cass half-forgotten for a while as Cass actually watched whether his shots hit before turning to the only one witness to the full motion.

"If anyone asks. I did that in one fell motion- no aiming, no hesitation, no nothing. " Cass shrugged casually. "It's a matter of pride y'see."

If all went well he'd head to the hopefully downed leader to drag them before the Faan and let them do whatever they thought was just, they were after all the one most slighted out the bunch; however Cass would be lying if the Irony of the act didn't at all compel him.

Actions:
1-Aim at the 3 remaining Highwayman
2-Split-shot at the remaining Highwayman & leader
-Attempt to incapacitate the Highwayman leader
3- Walk to Highwayman leader to retreive em
  • Split-shot E [1 post cool-down] - Magic Range F [30ft], Magic Targets F [up to 5 targets simultaneously], Magic E - A instinctual quick-draw and release of five shots into five targets. Bullets of magic. Guided like clockwork.
 

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Joannes iron would clash onto iron as she mixed footwork with parrying stances to counter the strikes against her. It would require just about everything she had to maintain the stalemate, shoving into one of the highway men with her iron shoulder to temporarily stunt him while she dealt with another flurry of attacks.

Off the corner of her eye she would see a barrier appear, yet much to the knights disappointment the highwayman bandit leader would break through the magic wall before trampling the floating coat and making a run for it. The knights gaze would look out towards the bandit leader, "Confound it!" She muttered an echo underneath her helm. Joanne was stuck fighting for a few moments before Connor unleashed some sort of kinetic force upon one of the bandits. The fighting would suddenly come to a halt, Joanne panting softly as the brigands observed their ally collapse dead and bleeding, "Flee like the coward dogs you are!" The crusader knight called out as the remaining two fled for their lives.

Putting her sword down Joanne gritted her teeth and looked out at the bandit leader fleeing. "Perhaps, this too is Dalas will." She muttered softly as she put her sword back in its scabbard on her back. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she bowed her head slightly for a moment before moving onto pressing concerns. Immediately she thought of lady Faan, but it seemed her employer had found her first. "I'm quite well miss Faan. I.." she bowed her head in defeat. "..i'm gravely sorry for not following after you. I had wanted to capture the leader and take him hostage in exchange for your safe return. Alas.. I failed." Another sigh, before looking up at the elven woman, "Should we run into trouble again, please keep close if you can." A quick nod. "With that said, I'm relieved you are safe."

Once Faan called out to the others safety, Joanne would approach the construct known as RU-1. She would raise her hand in greeting, albeit a bit awkwardly - would it's eyes be the red lights above the painting or the painting was anyone's guess. "Greetings, I believe a degree of thanks is in order. Pray tell, where are you from, and why have you come to our aid?" Beyond being the officially paid employee Joanne felt the need to evaluate this constructs intentions. "My name is Joanne Valenhart of the church of Dala. We are a small group headed towards Calenmar, well.." she turned and tilted her head at the fallen logs in the way. "..we we're on our way."

Joanne didn't possess the superhuman strength required to physically move the massive weight of the logs obstructing the road.

Joanne walked back towards the elven woman, "Lady Faan, if we're all accounted for perhaps now could be the time to address the fallen tree blocking our path."
 
Lucianus

Location: On the Road
Mentions: Irihi Irihi Maxxob Maxxob CrackCauldron CrackCauldron RavenSong RavenSong Renny Renny

The battle was won with a landslide. Well, almost. With the highwaymen making their retreat, the only worry left in their wake was whether or not they would return with a vengeance. Though, if they were just regular bandits, then there shouldn't be a reason to obsess over one target, is there? Not unless Faan's cargo was truly that precious and they already knew what was in it.

With a shrug, Lucianus decided that there was not much use in thinking about it. If he wanted to know more about the cargo, he could easily ask Faan about it, not that this would be a good time. While the battle might have been a near perfect victory with no lives lost on their side- Well, perhaps there was a life lost, though Lucianus would wonder if a construct of such simplicity could be considered a "life". With that one loss, their merry journey might very well end here. Then again, perhaps that could be remedied. That's right, an adventure is best when everybody gets to their destination safely. Everyone.

"Miss Faan," Lucianus approached the elfmaid with a serene expression. "One of my friends here has some knowledge in runecraft (Artisan [Artificer(runes)] F), perhaps their service would be of use to you if you need help patching up your fabric friend there."

After offer up the service of his companion who will certainly no complaints about being volunteered without their knowledge, Lucianus looked around to see if anyone else needed patching up. To his surprise, everyone here appeared to be unharmed. The bandits had certainly picked a terrible group to rob. He almost felt sorry for them, almost.

***

On Cass's side of things, the companion Lucianus sent warned Cass of the incoming highwaymen before watching the gunman- gunconstruct let loose a volley of shots at the escaping bandits. The string of movements were so smooth and swift, the companion did not even have the time to cover their ears by the time those shots ripped across the woods.

When asked to keep what they'd just witness a secret, the companion was wide-eyed. Was that just now not impressive enough already? Wordlessly, the companion nodded to the agreement.
 

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The last of the remaining enemy combatant fell, putting a stop to the fighting that had erupted just as quickly as it had began. Not letting his guard down immediately, Connor looked over at the caravan. Faan, Lucianus and his companions, Joanne, Cass,and even the wagon driver. Good, they all looked safe. They did unfortunately take a casualty, Robespierre, which was currently torn to shreds by the fallen tree blocking the road. Connor doesn’t think healing magic can help here…

The automaton continued to talk, distracting him from his thoughts. Although it seemed like it was talking to someone else entirely, making Connor raise an eyebrow.

“For your question, the answer would be yes and no… Well, I’m living as an adventurer. All sorts of jobs you could take that way.”

Sheathing his katana once more, Connor took a moment to calm himself from the adrenaline as he took the trunk that the marauders had been hauling off from Faan’s belongings. It was a shame that things had to end up this way, but for right now, he had to focus and prioritize. He cleared his throat as he motioned to the reconnaissance unit, as it called itself, to follow as he trudged back towards the group and the wagon carrying the trunk. He echoed Joanne’s sentiments. Connor looked at the man being displayed at what he understood to be a screen.

"My name is Connor Erland, and once again, thank you for the help... uh, sir. Can we ask for your name?"


He approached Faan in the meanwhile, moving to give to the elfmaid the trunk that was taken away from the wagon earlier.

“Here you go Miss Faan, your stuff should still be here safe and sound.”
 
Marauders One man lay dead on the path. Another was nearby, unconscious with moderate injuries. The beastman was lightly wounded but able to flee into the woods and escape. The marauder who fled first escaped with no injury.

Highwaymen The two remaining fleeing bandits who had manned the roadblock were cut down by Conner’s gunfire. If they did not die immediately, they were not long for this world and their bodies would soon provide fodder for the forest scavengers.

The bandit leader was shot in the leg.
Cass does not have [nonlethal] so any damage dealt that drives his HP below 0 is lethal. Because the attack is unopposed, it is a mortal wound and the leader is out of action and dying. I think Cass’s E abilities are on cool-down. However, his F-level ability is not. Therefore the Attack is: Weap E (2) + Ability F (1) + Precision F (1) = 4 v 2HP = -1 HP
Cass would find the man alive, but rapidly losing blood and clearly not long for this world. “Yew kilt me yew… savage…” was about all the intelligible words the bandit leader got out before his voice became too weak to make out. By the time he was dropped at Faan’s feet, the man moments from death.


Wu’Faan Liewuun
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Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf
Mentions: Renny Renny revior revior CrackCauldron CrackCauldron Maxxob Maxxob RavenSong RavenSong

Faan drew back from the metal golem, but quickly controlled her fear. This creature with the man in the box was clearly an ally. “Um… thank you for your help. Might I inquire as to your name, sir?” she asked. “I don’t… why would I change jobs?” she replied, confused.

Faan lowered her head as her guardian chastised her gently. “I shall, Dame Joanne. That was foolish of me. My wares are not so important…” I mean, they’re the whole point of this trip, but I can always make more--as long as I’m not dead or captive. She winced and reassured Joanne that she was very pleased with the knight’s performance. “Not at all; you fought four of the blaggards to a standstill, all by yourself.” Faan smiled at Joanne. “I think my trust in you is well-placed, if I can just do a better job of keeping my wits about me.”

Lucianus volunteered the help of one of his companions as Faan collected her battered guardian and its fallen sword. She folded Robespierre with care and placed it and its sword on the wagon. “Thank you, Lucianus. I’d like that. Perhaps we can compare notes.” Faan smiled a small smile at the tall man. “If there is time, tonight I might come and find you… both, w-when we make camp I mean.” The elfmaid stammered. Well, best make a good impression on his companion, then, because now he certainly thinks you a fool. She silently cursed herself.

When Conner approached with her trunk in tow, Faan hasten to help him. She had no great strength to lend, but she felt embarrassed that she had turned the swordsman down as an employee, yet here he was--playing a vital role in the defense of herself and her cargo. “Conner, thank you! You are an amazing swordsman!” Faan seemed a little distressed, despite her words. She was not used to witnessing so much violence and death. As far as she could tell, two men’s lives had been spent here, trying to rob the caravan of her wares. While her garments could fetch a high price, what price could one put on a man’s life?

Well, her mother had warned her that she would witness great and terrible things on the road away from their forest home. She supposed she was just going to have to toughen up and set these feelings aside.

So much for that idea. She thought to herself, when Cass returned, dragging with him a dying bandit. Faan could not help but recoil from the macabre sight. She had some small abilities as a healer; she could tend an injury from farmwork or husband a sick or hurt animal. The elf could tell immediately that the mortal wound of the bandit was far beyond her skill. “What…? Why did you…?” She looked at Cass with a stricken expression. Was the construct a barn cat, bringing her his kill to proudly display?

Faan swallowed. No, don’t be stupid. He means for you to interrogate the man. The bandit did not seem to be able to speak, but the empath did not need his words to know what was on his dying mind. She closed her eyes and steeled herself. I don’t want to do this.

But she must. Her companions had all escaped injury by good fortune, this time. They had all risked their lives to protect her and support each other. How could she do any less? So Faan bent down beside the dying man and touched his hand.

His life was flashing behind his closed eyelids as his mind processed the approach of death--looking in vain for some way to stave off the inevitable; to analyze where he had gone wrong in a last desperate attempt to correct his mistakes. Faan could not help but witness it all, even as she delved deeper, searching for answers that would keep her and her companions safe.

It did not take her long to find what she sought, but she tarried a moment in the dying mind. This was dangerous; she could not stay when his consciousness fled, or she might find herself dragged through the dark gates as well. It was hard to look away, though. It was hard to leave the man to die alone. She felt the urge to keep hold of his hand, to stand with him--this person who had once been a mother’s child, and a protector to a sister starved to death so many years ago, and on and on in a darkening life turned to crime and evil.

I’m sorry, I have to go.

Faan gasped as the connection between herself and the dying bandit was broken. “These were all of them. There are no more brigands. They won’t attack us again.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself and drawing in her shoulders.

“Can someone…” She couldn’t ask this. It was wrong to so burden her companions, but she had to. She couldn’t stand to not; because she knew his name now--his life; his dreams and his regrets. “Can someone hold his hand …please? It… won’t be long, now.” She turned away from the dying man and gritted her teeth against the sob that wanted to escape.

The elven woman did not know how the tree might be moved, or whether it would be better to back the wagon and find a way around. Whatever came now, Faan would be unusually quiet; preoccupied and withdrawn for some time afterward.

The Caravan Rolls On
“Well, yew sure put paid ta them bandit!” The wagon driver observed. He’d go along with whatever plan the rest made for the roadblock. He could unhitch his oxen and drag the log aside--though that would take a good chunk of the day. Likewise, he could backtrack and bushwack a new trail around the obstacle.

Once they cleared the site of the ambush, the wagon would roll on through the forest for the rest of the cool winter’s day. The weather remained fair and clear, though the forest rapidly dimmed as sunset neared.

Eventually, the wagon driver would call a halt. “Et’s gettin late and it’ll be a chill evening. Lets make camp and stoke up a fire to keep away the chill.” He suggested.

As the others stopped, dropping or unloading their gear and preparing a bivouac, the wagon driver unhitched his team and set their feed bags. He chocked the wagon’s wheels and then looked up at the darkening sky. “I rekon it ain’t gonna rain tonight.” He guessed. If anyone wanted to make conversation, he’d be happy to engage with them, talking about the mundane odds and ends of forest life.

One bit of interesting information that he would share would be about the road ahead. “The burning bog be ahead, and I’ll not make camp there. Tomorrow we’ll want to start early, and press on as fast as we can, to get through that accursed place.”[/COLOR][/COLOR]
 
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Reconnaissance Unit I

Unit-01.png

Titles: [Construct], [Offworlder], [Businessman]
Languages: "Common", "%Analog%" - #2a60e8
RP Goal - Acquire Asset Mine Ryke F
Point Booster - Attentive Student F

Irihi Irihi Renny Renny revior revior CrackCauldron CrackCauldron RavenSong RavenSong


The towering mechanoid listened as some of the caravaneers introduced themselves to him, the woman in heavy armor being called Joanne Valenhart, while the katana wielder, and adventurer, was named Connor Erland. The woman with the silver-hair and pointy ears had not introduced herself directly, but the name Faan while addressing her had certainly been heard. Their voices easily caught by the in-built microphones of the construct.

The man being shown in the display, or magical painting, took a long drag of the cigar between his lips, making the tip of the object turn into a deep, rich color. However, thanks to the blue-tint that permeated the screen, the strong brazing redness of it would never be seen. And, waiting a moment longer for the smoke to dissipate, he would finally begin answering their question.

“I’m James Rockwell, founder, owner and CEO of the Rockwell Industries.” The screen shimmered slightly as he spoke, static passing through it for a moment, the voice taking on lower decibels momentarily. “I’m an investor, always looking for the right assets to invest in. And, on that note, waylaying marauders, vagabonds extorting passing merchants for coin, are pretty bad for business. Second only to government-ran toll booths.” A smile played on the lips of the man, free-hand reaching for something.

A whiskey tumbler was produced, which James brought to his lips. A small, conservative sip was taken, before returning to its place. “This machine you see in front of you is the Reconnaissance Unit I, RU-I for short. While it was untested in this type of environment, I suppose the first run can be considered acceptable.” Moving the cigar to a nearby ashtray, the man tapped, letting the ash fall into it.

“While I have no doubt of what an adventurer does…” He appeared to eye Connor directly, before shifting to Joanne. “... you mentioned some sort of religious affiliation, yes? Church of Dala.” His lips curled. “Taking your heavily armored outfit, and armaments, is Dala a religion of militants? Are you, perhaps, a crusader or an inquisitor?” Bringing the cigar once more to his lips, taking another generous drag, he continued. “Pardon if I seem a little prodding. God is dead in here, and we killed him… or at least, that was what Nietzsche said.”

The torso of the machine would turn slightly, metal groaning as it faced Faan. “There is no need to change occupations, but taking on new trades is always useful. You never know when the need may arise.” Seeing thus simply, he ended hearing the name of another caravaneer: Lucianus.

And then, there was one of them who dragged back the bandit leader, dying, back to the group.

“Well done. Hopefully, you let one of the feeling ones escape with their life. Tales of their leader’s failure will likely make them think twice before trying to attack unsuspecting wagons. After all, no-one knows who might be travelling in them.” The words who left the speaker contained not even a single hint of emotion. Pragmatic and straight to the effect that it could cause if done properly.

A raised eyebrow painted the confusion on James’ face as he saw Faan holding the hand of the dying bandit, saying things with a certainty that wouldn’t be normally possible. Opting not to voice his thoughts, the machine was controlled to move a bit closer to the criminal on the brink of death.

“What a poor investor…” The man in the display said dismissively, turned to the group as a whole. “Calenmar… would it be possible for me to join this joint venture towards it?”
 
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Joannes dutiful expression softened as Faan reassessed her previous actions. The knight was reminded of her long days and nights in the monastery. Namely how she was trained and disciplined everyday, forged like a sword. Her old self was but a memory now, the fear and anxiety when combat felt new. Faan became a living reminder of that old self.

The knight would entwine her hands, "Please, don't be so hard on yourself lady Faan, even the best of our order struggle for clarity in the heat of battle."

As for the assurance of her performance, Joanne smiled softly. "I'm glad to be of service M'lady." She bowed her head, her blonde braid shifting a bit as the chainmail on her figure did the same.

It was then the knight would suddenly gasp at the sound of a loosened shot and reach for her sword but only for a few monents before Cass could be seen retrieving something, or someone. "By the heavens.. you.. got him?" The knight was actually quite impressed, until it became obvious he wouldn't be able to talk or cooperate in anyway for that matter. It was then that she saw Faan touch the man. The knight could only recall her own interaction with the elf's mental abilities, surely, something of value could be gathered in such a way.

The knight would get close enough to examine the bandit leaders wounds, and it was rather obvious it was fatal. She briefly clutched her amulet, but only when she realized her modest healing abilities wouldn't suffice did she withdraw and step away. "He's fading quickly." Joanne replied at the sight as she stepped back.

A few moments passed before lady Faan withdrew herself all the same. Joanne then couldn't help but notice her employer changed and mildly troubled, perhaps disturbed. Her discomfort was such that she requested someone hold the bandit leaders hand. Joanne, would step forward without hesitation, taking her leather gloves off and holding the bandits cold hand with both of hers. The knight was no stranger to the dead or dying, neither was she to aiding those that once meant her harm. Regardless of the actions done in the bandits life, it was a universal fact that all living things would come to an end. And all she could do in that moment was say her prayers softly.

When the bandit finally passed, Joanne sighed, and closed the deceased eyes, "It is now Dala that guides your path."

--

Once back with the others, Joanne would interact with RU-1 who now introduced himself as James Rockwell. When questioned, Joanne would respond. "Many of your words are foreign to me, James. So please forgive my lack of understanding. But yes, I am a crusader knight assigned to a very important task of which I cannot speak of here. As for if we are militant, I can assure you we are not. We are comprised of a clergy and a high council." Joanne figured it would be best to be a bit transparent with these matters, this James Rockwell, although otherworldly could be of much use, considering his abilities in the fray. "I do not find offense in telling you of myself James, as for this 'Nietzche' you speak of.. he must command a powerful army to have defeated your god."

--

Once they made their way back on the right path, Joanne couldn't help but notice her employer a bit distant. Walking besides her she'd express a few words of consolation. "There wasn't anything you could do, M'lady.." she began. "..whatever you do, I pray you do not carry the dead in your heart." Joanne would place her hand on the elf's shoulder softly before leaving her to her thoughts.

---

After setting up her small tent, [Survival F] Joanne loosened the leather straps on the armor fastened to her torso and placed it aside as she unmade the shoulders and did the same. The knight groaned a bit at the relief of burden upon her body and started a fire with the help of the wagon master. "Pray tell, where is your home? Do you have a family?" She asked in curious small talk before the man mentioned this 'burning bog'. "Burning bog?" She repeated, "What do you know of this place?"
 
Lucianus

Location: Camp
Mentions: Irihi Irihi

Though usually, he'd be found fooling around and making merry with his companion, that night, Lucianus was uncharacteristically quiet. It wasn't an usually thing to witness a life lost while on the road, be it friend or foe. Yet, there was a part of him that could never get used to the sight of death. Back then, when Cass had dragged the highwayman leader before them, when Faan was reading his mind, and when Joanne held his hands in his final moments, Lucianus kept wondering if he should heal those wounds. Perhaps he won't restore him to full health, but at least he could have kept him from death.

"Was that the right thing to do?" he uttered beneath his breath.

No one at the time seemed interested in healing him. Perhaps that was the right call. At the end of the day he was a highwayman. Even if they were to show him mercy, there was no telling if he would return to banditry. Perhaps next time, it would be he that shall be taking someone else's life. When that happens, it would be blood on Lucianus's own hands as well.

"I suppose it was," he said to himself, answering his own question. "At least, it was the best we could do, I think."

Lucianus let loose a sigh. He was somewhat disappointed in himself. He wasn't quite sure what he would have done if the other weren't around. He might have just healed the highwayman on a whim. He could feel in it his guts that he might do it. He would be thinking about doing good without thinking of the consequences of his actions. In which case, would that make him a good person or an egoist?

Lucianus suck in a deep breath before releasing a lengthy exhale. He then turned to the rest of his companions watching silently in concern.

"Now then," he said with a smile plastered onto his face, "let's go see if Miss Faan needs help putting her friend back together."

Though Faan had said that she's seek him out, Lucianus figured that there would be no problem if he sought her out himself.
 

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“No need to thank me, I’m just glad that everybody is safe.”

Connor smiles as Faan hastily tried to thank him and took hold of the trunk that was a part of her cargo for the journey. The highwaymen were quickly taken care of, everyone did their part well, and the newcomer was helpful too. It was a minor bump in the journey really, and he still feels some excitement thinking about arriving in Calenmar and taking in new sights.

Cass returns soon afterwards, dragging along the barely alive leader of the group of highway robbers that the caravan was locked in a fight in mere moments ago. The reasoning became clear as Faan moves to touch the dying mans hand. This of course brings to mind the same thing that the elfmaid had done to Connor and the others prior to the formation of the caravan.
He waits in silence as Faan “interrogates” the man. The elfmaid manages to confirm the absence of any more immediate dangers, though the process has indeed left her shaken up. Connors smile from the praise from before stiffened. It reminds him of one of the reasons why he even wanted to become an adventurer back then. Right, this was still something that people shouldn’t have to go through.

That being said, they need to get going now. Connor moves to help the wagon driver get the tree out of the way.



A few hours later, Connor has already set up a tent and sitting near the fire illuminating their camp.

“I have to say, you’re pretty good with those weapons.”

Connor directed a question at the caravan’s gunslinger, though he was preoccupied with inspecting his violin. As the people he travels with always learns, he wasted no time taking opportunities to make music. Satisfied with its condition, he stands up.

“Do you have anything you’d like to hear in particular? If anything, I’m pretty good with this, I’d like to believe.”

Connor said so, ever so slightly raising his voice as well for others to hear. Perhaps the others might appreciate something to listen to while resting the exhaustion away.
 

"Right 'er you go, One-" His quip ended early.

Usually how someone treated a dying criminal spoke of their character, how they questioned for information whether merciful or hard as they went. Still though Cass had expected some indignity, rage even a spot of uncaring when he'd lugged that thick bastard down before Faan but that was some genuine feeling across their face. No apathy, no cruelty towards the man that slighted them just actual merciful emotion. He'd have almost prefer the former to those stricken words that slipped from her lips. Like Cass wasn't lugging some low-life well-connected bandit in a dramatic irony wrap, just a dying man he'd killed. Not that he shied away from answering the Crusader and Banker bots words.

"C-course I did. Course I didn't, I shot them all perfectly as can do, right between the eyes in one clean movement- well except this one here." He said first to Joanne and the rest to that robot 'James' while casually reloading his armament, leaving the wispy casings to disparate, greeting the ungreeted James(a name he'd overheard from their introduction) so far next: "Oh and since we ain't met yet I'd better introduce myself: I'm Cass Garret, latest and greatest of my name. " Laced with a layer of distrust. Coincidence for some reason seemed out of sorts for the investor. Though the dying man just made those words seem smaller still.

This 'James' fella piqued something of distaste in Cass, maybe it was the fact he'd seemingly tackled the situation with a detached view of a banker balancing his numbers, the impersonality of the personal acts of violence one could inflict or maybe he just didn't like how calculating they looked like they would sell them for a penny and a dollar. Whatever a 'CEO' Cass didn't like the lick of it.

He looked down at the struggling Faan. He'd thought with that Voodoo she did yesterday that there would be some amount of apathy, disconnect or ease but when she'd returned to the living she'd looked like she saw the reaper themselves, practically shivering out the bandit's final information and a request that Joanne took to heart. The kind-hearted lass even offering the bandit final services in the name of her god before comforting the lass next, somehow still benevolent to enemy and friend.

The Bandit's final words rang once more in Cass's head. 'savage' he called him(or them), Cass would've dismissed this if didn't mean that he would be agreeing with the investor construct who seemed the very picture of the greedy and lavish that he so spat upon(he already disliked the surface level similarities). His impressive act of shooting only enforced the dying, in effect a simple savage act surely the more civil action would've been to do nothing at all, let them escape, or maybe his past experiences with slavering brigands had dyed his actions, even then the past shouldn't affect interactions with others in the civil world- 'Hmmm...I need to get to the city already, get fixed, get my body back quick.' When he was back in his body this would all fix itself. He'd stabilise what must be whatever voodoo cursed him to this homunculus like being. His memories certainly didn't have this grey to them...

Either way Cass walked forward with a gait, careful to not meet the dead's eyes as he moved on, whatever was to be done with them was no business of his. The work to remove the roadblock would surely be exhaustive enough to kill those thoughts.

"Ai James, lets get this bloody tree outta the way!" He hollered first at the other viable construct, Cass imagined its bulky frame weren't all for show and if James/Ru/Recon/whatever it was named wanted to join he'd probably help the laborious task of moving it( also Cass just wanted to get that investor moving), joining Connor and the wagon driver. The process of moving it was probably gonna be a bugger anyway, of fulcrums and other equally busy busywork to do, all to shimmy it onto its side and out of the way into the gulley or whichever direction was easiest. At least it made him hate those bandits more.



Eventually they'd gotten on their way for the rest of the uneventful hours afforded to them. Good progress despite the eventful day. Cass had found himself a nice patch of grass and a tree to sleep against near the outer rim of the made camp(hopeful that the wagon drivers prediction was right), already laying and binding his vest across it for some smoothness, the night would be cool so morning may be freezing- aw well not like he brought an tent. He'd always liked to watch the sunset go down anyway with the exhaustion weighing him to sleep, shame the latter didn't occur nowadays. Once he was done he meandered round the crowded fire. Hearing the lesser armoured Joanne speak with the Wagon driver of the 'burning bog', hopefully just a metaphor.

Cass himself answering to Connor's compliments first. "Damn straight I am! Ain't no weapon more trustworthy then the one on your hip. And you're pretty good with your...Sword and lute-?" Cass confidently boasted to Connor before taking a sit down at the fire, the flames feeling the same dull as everything did, cold or hot. His compliments coming from the few glances of impressive swordplay he'd seen of Connor and watching the music man observe their tool of trade, some instrument finer than any he'd seen before. When he'd offer to play it, Cass just responded with a rare glimpse of cheery modesty:

"Whatever you got in that brain of yours is certainly miles better than what I'd know. I can barely play Mary's Lamb on a harmonica for Christs sake." As he spoke he got out his own trade tool, errantly wiping his gun's rims with his shirt sleeve while he lingered. Hopefully he'd wake up early in the morning for some target shooting on the morrow. He didn't want to repeat a failure.
 
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Wu’Faan Liewuun
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Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf

Mentions: Renny Renny revior revior CrackCauldron CrackCauldron Maxxob Maxxob RavenSong RavenSong



Any other time Faan might have had more interest in RU-1 and the man’s image transmitted to its display. However, his detached dismissiveness troubled her, and she decided she did not want anything to do with the robot probe for the moment. She left RU-1 and Mister Rockwell to the others.


Faan offered a wan smile to Joanne as the knight replied. For an instant Faan’s expression froze as Joanne spoke about carrying the dead in her heart. The elfmaid’s sudden disquiet might be ascribed to the knight’s words, or perhaps the hand on her shoulder. As quickly as it had come, her trouble expression fled. “I shall endeavor to follow your advice, Dame Joanne.” Faan said quietly.


As it seemed that no one had any bright ideas on how to quickly clear the roadblock, but Cass and a few of the others proved able hands at rigging up an apparatus to utilize the team of oxen to haul the tree aside. Faan waited while the wagon driver unhitched his team, roped them to the log, and then towed the barricade off the path. She did not stand idle the entire time, but instead foraged along the sides of the path for wild greens and herbs. The elfmaid was familiar with these climes and--while winter was not the best time for living off the land--there were still some plants that grew in the cooler months. Faan found a few Oyster mushrooms, a stand of mallow, and even dug up some Jerusalem Artichoke root which she washed in the stream before they set off again.


The balance of the day, she walked mostly in silence until they made camp. The elfmaid was feeling better; she had tried to follow Joanne’s advice and not mourn for a man who most likely would have killed her and her friends without a second thought. It was more difficult than she expected, because the mind--and the way it was read--became so sharp and clear near death. Hopefully the rest of this journey will not be so violent, she thought to herself. If it were, she resolved to try not to read any more dying minds.


To end her aloof quietude, the elfmaid clapped her hands for attention, as the party went about their various ways of making camp. ”I, ah…” Cloistered away from people most of her days, Faan was not a confident public speaker. “Um… to celebrate our first night together, I’ll be making a stew to share,” she announced. Faan carried with her some extra victuals for this purpose, and she wanted to cook the wet-cured meat she had brought, before it spoiled. “So… uh, if you want, feel free to save your own supplies tonight.”


After her announcement, Faan started washing and chopping vegetables after she set her largest pot to boil soup stock over the fire. She looked up with a smile as Lucianus and one of his troupe approached. “Hello, Lucianus and….?” After being introduced, Faan would engage the pair in conversation as she worked. The mundane labor of wilderness cooking was something at which she was quite deft, and the elfmaid was feeling almost wholly herself. Having the interesting and handsome traveller near to teasingly boss around with the occasional “could you hand me those shallots?” or “Lucianus, do you mind moving the pot off the fire before it boils over?” helped. She talked a little shop--about the cutting and sewing of enchanted fabrics without spoiling the magic in the weave--with Lucianus’s companion.


Eventually, the stew was complete and simmering, leaving some time for them to make a start on repairing Robespierre. If he hung about--despite not specializing in couture--Faan would appreciate him at least pretending to be interested in her craft. Eventually, the stew would be fully cooked. Lucianus’s fashion-gifted friend begged off, saying they would complete the repairs on the redingote while Faan and Lucianus served the stew.


Faan found that she was very much enjoying herself. Opportunities for camaraderie were few and far between for her, and she was quite enjoying the company. The elfmaid made a point of pretending to struggling with lifting the stew from the fire, and if Lucianus were to come to her aid, she would shift so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder as they moved the stewpot together. She would look up at the tall bespectacled man with a smile and a soft word of thanks. When they set the pot down, Faan’s hand brushed Lucianus’s. Impulsively, she subtly broadcast [telepathy F] just a hint of the image of herself she’d shared with him on the previous evening. Faan did not say anything, nor did she give any sign that any thoughts which might come to the man’s mind were anything but his own. However, when she turned and took a few steps toward the center of camp, she might have put a little extra swing into her hips as she sashayed away.


Faan called the others to partake in the shared meal, sharing out her own utensils if there were any who were lacking.


Faan had very much enjoyed her evening with Lucianus and his companion, but she wondered if her actions crossed a line. While she might casually trade thoughts or tease another empath, was it unfair of her to do so with Lucianus? Was her flirtatiousness more torment than tease? I… I should pull it back a bit. She decided, and took a seat next to her guardian. She would be happy if Lucianus followed and sat with the pair of them, but Faan thought she ought to spend some time engaging with her other fellow travellers as well.


The elfmaid passed the supper making small talk with her companions. She shared a few insights of forest lore and a story or two stemming from her (comparatively) long life at her forest homestead. She would listen with rapt attention to any tales the others cared to share--even those of the man in the picturebox attached to RU-1. Being an empath, Faan was accepting of the callous nature of some people. They simply were who they were.


When Conner began to play, using his deadly sword as a bow for his fiddle, Faan found the music delightful and said as much. “Does anyone have any songs to share? she would ask, after a few tunes, and once she had collected any emptied bowls the others might have borrowed.


Faan had encouraged all who partook to eat heartily. Her stew would not keep long on the trail. If there were leftovers she could perhaps reheat them for one or two more days, thanks to the cool weather, but she would rather see it all eaten sooner rather than later.


After a few tunes Faan asked if Conner knew an old song that was common to the region and popular with the denizens of Hunt’s End. She had heard the music several times on her rare visits to town, and she often hummed or sang the song during her labors around her home. If Conner acquiesced and played the tune, Faan would sing a Sylvan variation of the song.


The elfmaid was no great songstress, but the tune was simple and in an easy range. Her smooth alto tones accompanied the sparks and embers of the fire as her voice drifted upward into the overhanging branches and on toward the twinkling stars above as the night deepened.


The Wagon Driver
“Well, that wuz just delightful, Miss Wuffen--both yer voice and yer victuals,” the wagon driver thanked Faan, cheerfully slaughtering the pronunciation of her name as he leaned back on the fallen log and patted his stomach. ”Now, sum uv yew’ve asked, and now I’d best tell ya what lies ahead, tomorrow.” He said.


”We’s headed into the burnin’ bog--a cursed place what bubbles and smokes alla time. The path be the only safe way across fer--wet as it is--there’s a fire under summa the ground wot never goes out.” He warned. ”Offa the path, the ground kin give way and send ya down into pits uv quicksand or burnin’ ash, and ya don’ wanna fall inta either, lemme tell ya.” He looked around seriously as he continued. ”Like a regular swamp, since we be close to the See, there’s will-o-tae-wisp and the usual bog hazards. Don’ go chasin’ any fairy lights,” he cautioned. ”Finally; I ain’t never seen et, but there’s tell of a huge serpent wot haunts the bog. I’s seen the beast’s huge trail now and again, and I surely don’t desire to meet ‘em!” He grimaced. “However, ‘ee seems ta be less active in tae winter months, so I think we’ll be fine.”


The driver went on to say that he wanted to get across the bog in a day. “So I suggest we get an early start tomorrow; settin’ out at first light. So, with that, I’ll bid yew all a good night.” He said, before turning in for the night, setting out a bedroll atop the lumber on the wagon--rather than underneath it--since the night was fair and clear.


The rest of the night would pass peacefully with the light of a crescent moon not really able to penetrate the forest canopy. Beyond the circle of light cast by the banked fire, the forest was dark and quiet, with only the occasional rustle or cry of a night creature to break the silence.


Faan, herself, would retrieve a blanket of her own from her things and find a space to rest close to Joanne. Like many of her articles made of cloth, the blanket had a small domestic enchantment upon it. No matter how cold, hard, wet, or buggy the ground, anyone wrapped within would feel as though they were laying in a warm feather bed. Seeing the lonely Cass reclining his homunculus body in an uncomfortable-looking position against a tree, Faan felt a little guilty for not sharing her own comforts. Not that guilty, however, for she was weary from the day’s travels and trials, and quickly fell into the trance that passed for sleep for her people. As her mind rested and processed the events of the day, she thought that, perhaps tomorrow, she might spend a little time getting to know the lonely-seeming construct better.


There might be another person she also wanted to know better. Faan tried to ban thoughts of him from her mind.


Unsuccessfully.
 
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It was a rather chilly night for Joanne as her pale open hands warmed upon the crackling fire. She couldn't help but look up at the stars, wondering about her mission, life and faith. The sight was invigorating, perhaps it was because in that moment the knight felt so small.

Crossing her arms with a slight shiver, Joanne would then set out to search and bring firewood back to the camp. Although most of it was damp, pitch wood would create enough warmth to burn through most of the night. [Survival F]

When Joanne returned, she'd heat some water in a metal container, but as she filled her tea ball with dried herbs she addressed Connors offer, "Perhaps your most recently written song or your favorite of another artist?" Putting the ball in the mug she followed up, "I have no recollection of contemporary songs other than melodies of the local bards and poets of Ruaan." A sheepish shrug as she shook her head with a chuckle. "Someday maybe, I'll even learn to dance."

Her attention then shifted to Faan's announcement. "Hmm." she hummed in thought of what the knight could contribute. Then withdrew from the camp and back to her tent. When Joanne returned she had something wrapped in cheesecloth in her hands. "Please forgive me taking the liberty of ordering half of a walnut banana cake on your tab, miss Faan." The knights face embarrassed as she placed the wrapped dessert on a small log she brought closer with her leather boot. "I seem to have a weakness to sweets."

Sitting down by the fire again, the crusader would take a sip of her tea. She took in the peaceful and lively environment as she held the hot mug in her hands. From Cass's boastful remarks to Connors audible talents it all appeared like a proper night camping. However, when Lucianus arrived with his companion, the dynamic changed a bit. Faan was more tactiful in her movements, where she stood. Joanne, although raised in a monastery knew full well of the subtleties of courting. The knights wouldn't linger her eyes on the matter however, just a brief sliver of a smirk as she brought a hand to her lips to cover the amusement in her face.

The evening went on and Joanne finished her helping of the made supper, "Exquisite meal, miss Faan." She said as the knight placed her bowl and utensil away. "Not particularly common to eat forest food." Joanne then shared a snippet of monastery living, particularly when it came to cooking and how strictly things were done, made and put away. Then a bit of an amusing story of when her best friend roasted a pepper and added it to their superiors stew in revenge for scolding her over a pan she forgot to wash.

As the night grew old, the caravan guide would express his concerns over the tales of the Burning Bog. Joanne would listen intently, for she too grew concerned. She wouldn't press the man for any further details but the bit about a giant serpent was fairly unsettling. The knights concerns we're not greater than her faith, however she speculated if such a serpent was capable of speech as the dragon that attacked Ruaan seemed to be as well according to the accounts of those present during the attack.

"I bid you all a restful night." With a slight bow of the head before heading to her small tent. She kept her heavy iron plated armor at her feet while her sword at her chest. Looking up at the canvas she muttered her prayers as she felt the scar on both sides of her palm. So far away from Ruaan, yet the goddess Dala closer than ever.
 
Lucianus

Location: Camp
Mentions: Irihi Irihi

Inadvertently, Lucianus found himself helping out with food preparations. Had he known this would happen, he would have brought along the friend that had some domestic skills. Still, being the one making the food for once, albeit he was merely helping, certainly didn't feel bad. He had always thought such things to be a chore when he had to do it for himself, but when doing it for others there was a certain sense of joy to these mundane tasks. After being helped by everyone along the way, he certainly would like to give something back.

(Perhaps Miss Faan felt the same way...)

Maybe it was because Faan was on his mind at this moment, or so Lucianus assumed, but when Lucianus moved to help her with the pot and their hands accidentally touched, that image flashed through Lucianus's head again, the image of Faan in the mirror, wearing an expression that made him want to pry, perhaps deeper than it would be considered polite to do. Unconsciously, he avoided looking in her direction, lest this strange excitement in his heart runs wild.

When they finally served the food, Lucianus called out to the others. "Everybody, the food is ready! Come get it while it's hot!" he yelled, perhaps louder than he meant to as he tried to let loose the mysterious something that was building up inside of him.

When they sat down for the meal, Lucianus decided to sit a little ways from Faan, fearing that he might lose control and do something stupid if he were near her the way he was at the moment.
 

Titles: [Construct], [Offworlder], [Businessman]
Languages: "Common", "%Analog%" - #2a60e8
RP Goal - Acquire Asset Mine Ryke F
Point Booster - Attentive Student F

Irihi Irihi Renny Renny revior revior CrackCauldron CrackCauldron RavenSong RavenSong


"I see, here in secretive religious business. I won't probe further: whatever it might be, it is just another variable in the market."
James said briefly to Joanne as she told him a bit of herself. "'Strong' would be an understatement." He chose to leave it at that.

Next, the machine would turn slightly, so it could face the one who had brought the dying man over. "Cass Garret, the one who shot all the fleeing bandits in a single swoop." James repeated, taking a long drag of the cigar between his index and middle finger. "I suppose most of them not returning to their 'hideout' or whatever hole they used for their meetings and planning will be enough to send a clear message." A slight disappointment could be noticed in the man's tone.

"Mmmm? Well, it will be a good opportunity to test the machine's torque." With those words, RU-I began moving, positioning itself in front of the fallen tree. Both arms would extend towards it, its metallic grippers would sink deeply into the wood, helping adjust it on top of the apparatus which allowed the team of oxen to move it out of the way.

In the camp, as preparations for a dinner on Faan made her own announcement that dinner would be on her tab, the man in the shifting painting, sensing that this would be a bonding moment, brought one arm in front of his face. After looking at a curious, circular object strapped to his wrist, he would say.
"Pardon me, but I have to a meeting to attend. I will leave RU-I in its automatic state. See you all in a few hours."

With that, the display of the mechanoid would simply shut off. Its limbs became slumped, torso slightly leaning over forward.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the gears inside the machine began whirring, its back erect once more. And, as the display became alive once more, there was a curious smiley face on it in the place of where James had been.

"Hello everyone! I'm Reconnaissance Unit I or RU-I for short! While Mr. Rockwell is tending to his business, I will keep company to all of you!" The metallic voice which left the mechanoid's speaker had an almost overbearing friendly tone, too forced, too happy. "While I'm sure that stew will be delicioso, I'm afraid I won't be able to try it out." It pointed out the obvious.

The machine would roll over to Connor, as he asked a suggestion of song to play. "Oh, I know, I know! How about you play #ERROR# or #ERROR#? I could even join you in the... #MISSING FILES#..." RU-I would stop suddenly, the smiley face turning into an hourglass for a split second, before returning. "Awww, shucks! Looks like I won't be of any help!" It said with a bit of disappointment. "Well, seeing how most of you probably need rest because of your biological functions, how about I stand guard during the night? Looks like the perfect deal if you ask me!" It would let out a lifeless chuckle. "At what time should I wake all of you?"
 
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