Fantasy Anteheroes

[AsherMastrImmortalis]

Lucian ordered what Gwen picked out and gave it to her after receiving his loaf of bread. "I appreciate your generosity, Lucian. Thank you." She said, taking it from him and breaking a piece of it.


"You're welcome, Gwen." Lucian nodded and smiled at her. He noticed that the piece of bread is being offered to him, so he stopped himself from taking a bite out of his food and took the girl's piece with his free hand. "Thanks." He smiled and munched the piece of bread right from his hand, in contrast to the cleaner method that Gwen chose to eat hers.


He watched as Gwen noticed the growing crowd of people outside of the bakery centering around Jonathan. "... Someone's popular." Lucian mumbled to himself as he followed a few steps behind Gwen. He watched as Gwen began to formally introduce herself to one of the newcomers as if she was a noble. Said newcomer apparently was an ex-noble, if her introduction was true, and her name was Blayre. 'You don't see a noble or two everyday...' Lucian thought to himself. The temptation was there, to steal from them, but he supposed that Jonathan would not appreciate his robbery of the new acquaintances.


Speaking of which, Lucian silently glanced at Jonathan in the middle of it. His friend had been staring out in the opening as ominous clouds formed above the group. "Of course we're being taken there." He said as he stared quietly at the road ahead. Jonathan then turned to Lucian and made that stare that had what Lucian almost never wanted to see in his eyes. The stare of someone anxious and worried.


Lucian stared back, narrowing his eyes as if to mentally communicate with his friend. 'Where?' He pondered about his friend's mumblings. 'Where exactly does he think we're going? And who is taking us wherever it is....?'


@Kuroakuma


@Thinslayer


@korigon

 

[Thinslayer]

Blayre took the greeting in stride. "Greetings, Lady Gwenivere of House Valentine. May the moon illuminate your path, and the stars guide your midnight travels. I am Lady Blayre, formerly of house Stormbow." She hesitated. "It too is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Gwenivere," she finished, turning away.


Gwen dipped her head and took the hint, and now turned her attentions to the other newcomer, the mage with the beard, who was just now voicing to everyone just what he thought of their little party. "We?" he exclaimed, in response to Jonathan's prior comment. "Who is we, and why are they being taken anywhere?"


"That would include you, I expect," Gwen piped up behind him. She walked around to face him and offered her hand to shake. "And since you were just now telling Jonathan how delighted you'd be to join us, an introduction is in order. I'm Gwenivere. What's your name, good sir?"


Addressed:


@LeviathanL


Spoke with:


@korigon

 

[LeviathanL]

Arcanus


The wizard just stared at the woman for a while.


"...what?" he asked.


"I merely asked him how the roads were, I don't recall offering to join this ragtag bunch of misfits.


But where are my manners?" and he took the Gwen's hand. "Nice too meet you, Gwenivere, my name is Arcanus, wizard extraordinaire, and I'm currently not looking to join a party."


The whole situation was very surreal for Arcanus, a bunch of strangers just met each other and they were already assuming they'd form a party. What kind of game was being played here?


@Thinslayer

 

[Kuroakuma]

Jonathan Black

​

Jonathan watched as Gwen took the lead, raising his eyebrows at her. He couldn't blame the mage for acting the way he had in regards to her suddenly pouncing upon him. In fact, she practically interrupted their own conversation, and Jonathan sighed audibly.


Jonathan turned to the group in general and rolled his shoulders back, relieving some of the built-up tension with a groan. He coughed loudly in a bid to get the attention of the others. He hoped it worked. "I'm not sure if I'm just a lunatic, but for the past few days there's been some sort of force dragging me towards this village. I came here, that same feeling making me disregard my own safety to get here at a certain time." He paused and looked at the other people gathered around. "It brought me here to this town at the precise moment all of us... 'rather different' people appeared. When do groups of people like us all arrive in the same location at around the same time? Especially in a hole of a backwater town like this?" He turned to Ein and smiled down at the girl, chuckling. "I hope you'll accept my apology for my reply before, I just had to poke a little bit of fun at you to see how you felt being put on the spot like that. You caught me off-guard, miss, and I won't deny that- but I understand what you mean. A queer feeling in your chest that directed you towards myself, I'm assuming? Just like the one that caused me to come to this town and go to that bakery where you," he pointed at Ein, slowly turning to point at Blayre, "and you both just coincidentally happened to be. Attracted to one another just like you said, Blayre."


Jonathan pulled out a dagger and idly flipped it in his hand, staring into the eyes of those around him whose attention he'd gained. "I have absolutely no idea why we're all suddenly standing here, but look at where the feeling is pointing now. I've no idea if it's still pointing to me for some of you, but for me it's pointing over there." Without even hesitating, Jonathan tossed his dagger up high and pointed right towards the ominous mountains in the distance. "We all know what's over there, don't we?" He caught the dagger as it dropped and slid it into its sheathe in one slick motion, a small sign that Jonathan had been in the adventuring game for a long, long time.


"Now that we're all in one big cluster in the middle of the road, let's get our introductions out of the way somewhere where we're a bit less likely to be run over by idiot carriage drivers." He looked over to Blayre and smiled ever so slightly. "I'm curious if that discreet location you'd thought of before was still valid, Blayre. If it is, maybe we should head there?" Jonathan turned to Gwen and gave her a surprisingly friendly smile, but said nothing. He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling lightly under his breath. "What a day, though, am I right?"


I sincerely hope I'm not a damn lunatic. I really do.




@BoyPlantsGraves


@AsherMastrImmortalis


@LeviathanL


(Long post is loooooong)

 

[LeviathanL]

Arcanis


"Just a second there, young man," Arcanis said. "I have studied magic all my life, and I never even heard of this phenomenon you are describing. Are you sure you are not looking too much into it? Sometimes a random bunch of people is just a random bunch of people. And you 'queesy' feeling could just as wel be something you ate. How many prophecies of the past didn't turn out to be just a sandwich past its expiration date. I know I don't feel any strange pull, and you'd think a wizard would be a little more attuned to such things then some adventurer, no offense. So I wish you good luck in your endeavior, but I'll think I'll head out on my own."


Arcanus started to walk away, for about two metres. Then he realised the direction he was walking in was the exact same Jonathan pointed to earlier.


"On second thought, I was going there anyway. For my own, well-rationalised reasons. Though a scholar such as myself has no business with this 'mysterious force' mumbo-jumbo, I might as well tag along. It just means I have to carry less equipment then I would by myself.


@Kuroakuma

 

[KatsaNovari]

"WOAH! What the hell is wrong with you?! Slow down!"


For about the fifth time since entering the carriage, Fern leaned his head out the window to shout over the rushing air that now assaulted his hair, pony tail whipping this way and that behind him as the carriage only seemed to pick up even more speed. Whether the driver had heard him or not, either Fern didn't catch his response or he was simply ignored, which made the young man draw his lips back in a slight sneer and make an annoyed sound between his teeth. Finally, though, he pulled himself back in within the safety of the moving cart, his precious satchel still hanging by his side and sealed tightly to keep the wind from deviously tugging and pulling at them as if to whisk them away with it, forever lost and badly damaged. The thought made him subconsciously pull his satchel closer to himself. As he did so, his dull-colored eyes wandered over to his companion seated near him. Honestly, though, 'companion' was a wrong term for her... They had traveled to this town together, of course, but if Fern had lacked the necessary coin, she wouldn't be here. Even with the promise of gold, he could tell that he still meant very little to her, which made him feel far from reassured.


Not that he needed her to like him, but considering his life could be in her hands at any given moment, he would like to see at least an ounce of care. The scribe sighed inwardly. If he hadn't thought it necessary, he wouldn't have bothered hiring a mercenary, truth be told. But it was a long trip between this town and the last one he was at, where anything could happen. Fern was fairly confident in his skill with the sword, but why take unnecessary risks? Unfortunately for him, he happened to come across the only mercenary that was practically a child, with such a haughty disposition he might as well have been dirt. He didn't care, though. Help was help, so long as she did what she was paid for, what did it matter of her age or attitude? And if she turned out not to be capable and, say, died, then he didn't have to worry about paying. Well, if he died along with her, then there won't be a need to worry about much of anything, now will there?


"Damn driver... I'm starting to think we were better off walking the rest of the way," he gave a somewhat humorless smirk in her direction, his attempt at a polite conversation. About the last stretch to reach this town, Fern had considered Lucia and himself lucky to have a carriage driver come up and offer them a ride, but witnessing this fellow's driving now, it was starting to make sense why the driver seemed rather desperate for customers. As if to emphasize the point, there was another lurch and Ferdinand was suspended at least a foot from his seat, arms hugging his satchel close. He landed with a thud and a sharp turn, the side of his head banging against the wall. Seething in both annoyance and pain, he again rose to peer out the window and make a sixth attempt to tell the rider to slow down.


Just as he looked out, he noticed a robed figure with what looked like a walking stick in the blur jump to the side, nearly inches from his own face, and glancing back he saw the older gentlemen hop to a rather large group of people. Fern blinked in surprise; it wasn't like he had never see a group gathered before, but upon first sight he could clearly see that they were entirely out of place here. They stood out like a pigeon among crows. What was more, his "writer's intuition" was acting up... He had to find out what this group was up to.


"HEY! Pull over!" He waved his arm wildly to get the driver's attention, but once again he seemed oblivious to his passenger. Fuming, Fern opened his mouth, sucked in air, and called as loudly as he dared, "HEY! PULL. OV-ER!"


At last, the carriage came to a jeering halt at the side of the road. With wide eyes, Fern managed to slip back inside before he lost his own head, but couldn't save himself from falling to the opposite seat from where he originally sat. Gathering himself, he shook it off quickly and was again on his feet, swinging open the door and stepping outside. "Come on, Lucia, if you want the other half of your pay, follow me!"


After paying their driver briefly, Fern's feet were once again on the safety of the ground. It sent a silent sight of relief through him, and they felt a bit wobbly after the wild ride, but he didn't pause, far too eager to catch up to the group they had passed and find out what they were up to. He had the decency to wave for Lucia, at least, making sure she was keeping up and they didn't lose each other in the crowd. He was genuinely being polite about it, but he also didn't want to have an angry mercenary on his heels and a knife in his back because it appeared he wasn't going to pay.

 

[LeviathanL]

Meanwhile, back in the camp of the Blackened Banner


"Not far from here," Nefarox began, "There is a quaint little town. It has an inn, a bookstore, even a little bakery. One of the few peaceful places left in these parts."


Cale's face gave Obisidian an innocent smile: "I want you to burn it to the ground and kill everyone in your path."


Obsidian pondered this request for a moment.


"By my reckoning," he said, "You demons have been destroying towns left and right without any troubles in the past few years. Why do you need a human army for something you are perfectly capable of doing by yourselves?"


"A very astute question," Nefarox answered, "Maybe our usual horde is busy elsewhere, maybe our budget doesn't cover another attack right now, maybe we just like the thought of letting the humans kill each other while we sit back and enjoy the show."


"I don't believe it is any of those reasons, you have a bigger goal then wanton chaos." Obsidian said.


Nefarox chuckled: "Oh, there is much to be had in chaos, but you are right, I do have more specific objective in mind in exchange for the information you seek. You see, in that quant little town, a small group of people has, aha, found each other. I have a particular interest in one member of that group. Sadly, I don't know what that person looks like, only that he or she is or will soon be affiliated with this band of peculiar individuals.


So after you raze the little town, leaving no evidence of it being anything other then just another demon assault, I want you to find this group, capture them, and give them to me. Do this, and I'll tell you were to find your prize. That doesn't sound so difficult, no?"


Obsidian thought it over. It was obvious there was more to this then the demon let on. But that much was a given in dealing with demons. And did Obsidian really care as long as he got what he wanted?


"You haven't told me why you are interested in this unknown individual."


"That's right, I haven't." Neforax said, and then just smiled.


"...fine, we have a deal."


"Excellent, I shall eagerly await your exploits. I expect much from you, Obsidian." Nefarox said, and Cale's dead body dropped to the ground with a hollow thump.


Obsidian called for his guards. The two of them entered, one with a sickened look on his face, the other doing his best to avoid looking at either the altar or Cale's body, and failing at both as he periodically glanced in their direction.


Obsidian couldn't care less, as long as they obeyed him. "You," he pointed at the squeeshy one, "Go tell the lieutenants we are moving out immediately. And you," he pointed at the peeking one, then at Cale's body, "Clean this up, bring him to Xathrid, he does love playing with a young one."


@Thinslayer

 

[BoysPlantGraves]

Ein Thorquinn


The suns threatening rays revealed no pity towards those below, a thin layer of sweat beginning to devour Eins bright hairline while she attempted to shield her fair skin from the golden light with the use of her large hat, the seemingly most distinct feature of the young women.


She stood among the group quietly, fingers grasping the once cool plates surface as she inhaled the thick humid air awaiting some form of acknowledgment though as well finding joy in the simple task of hearing the conversations which had formed.


They were unmistakably worth her attention not that nothing really wasn't, while she glanced up from the cake to find the spiked haired man with the wooden staff swipe the elder man who dodged the carriage over towards the side, a small distance from the group, speaking incoherent words which though her complimented hearing Ein couldn't pick up a single word of.


Ein rose a frail hand and dragged a stray section of her hair behind her pink edged ear, having gradually grown annoyed of its interception in her vision. Then glanced upwards, a small innocent smile littering her expression as she enjoyed the socializing of those around her, though she wasn't apart of any conversation as of yet. The fiery haired girls ears then drew in the names of two of the girls, one being the admirable women which she so adored obliviously. Her words held an unmistakeable grace as though she spoke only through lines cited from poems, Blayre had she called herself?


Then the other individual who stated her name was Gwenivere, if Ein had heard the two correctly. Such beautiful names, she hoped to remember them in the case that they may encounter each other once more, the redheaded women had thought amiably.


Ein herself had been named after her grandfathers pet greyhound, they had said at some point the animal when just a pup had saved their chickens from being killed by the communities foxes and raccoons. Though such a reason for her name didn't hold even an ounce of the same extravagance.


Lost within the daze of her thoughts Ein reached upwards and readjusted the lip of her comical hat before scratching the edge of her speckled cheek, just as the spiked haired individual reproached the group bearing what seemed like an explanation.


"I'm not sure if I'm just a lunatic, but for the past few days there's been some sort of force dragging me towards this village. I came here, that same feeling making me disregard my own safety to get here at a certain time. It brought me here to this town at the precise moment all of us... 'rather different' people appeared. When do groups of people like us all arrive in the same location at around the same time? Especially in a hole of a backwater town like this?"


Ein thought carefully of his words, finding great reason in them as she stood broadly, a hazel gaze eyeing those surrounding her. Their appearance all which was enough to prove the males statement of how they were 'rather different', such a varied group truly one you wouldn't imagine spotting in a restaurant rejoicing or holding a friendly conversation with one another. Ein prepared to hear him continue was then set off guard as he turned to her, regarding her specifically, her eyes widening slightly from abrupt shock.


"I hope you'll accept my apology for my reply before, I just had to poke a little bit of fun at you to see how you felt being put on the spot like that. You caught me off-guard, miss, and I won't deny that- but I understand what you mean. A queer feeling in your chest that directed you towards myself, I'm assuming? Just like the one that caused me to come to this town and go to that bakery where you, and you both just coincidentally happened to be. Attracted to one another just like you said, Blayre."


Apology? Ein repeated to herself mentally, confused by the sudden realization that this man before her perhaps held a heart within his chest and wasn't entirely a true embodiment of Narcissus. The young women looked away, lips puckering almost like a childs as she bit the interior of her cheek as she would when somewhat uncomfortable.


"I wasn't entirely looking for an apology but I'll take it as long as you take this slice of cake out of my hands. It's chocolate and I'm no fan of that," Ein exhaled through her nose in a quick manner that came with a slight hiss while she awaited for the man to finish his small leaderly speech, then turning to the direction thoughtfully she waited for the male to come up beside her or near her so she may pass the sweet over to him, the toes of her shoes digging into the dirt road boredly as she awaited such an event when a sudden new voice appeared and she looked up quizzically in the direction opposite of where the rag tag group was planning to head towards.


@LeviathanL


@KatsaNovari


@Thinslayer


@Kuroakuma


@korigon

 

[korigon]

He really was mad.


Blayre stood there, her eyes flitting from each member of their 'party' to another. It seemed the man's tirade was dying down. At least she wouldn't have to listen to him spewing words any longer. Still, as he sent a smile, ever so small, her way, she couldn't resist adjusting her cloak a short amount. Appearance was everything.


With a very obvious roll of her eyes, Blayre took two steps toward the man, warrior, whatever he was. It was customary in her land to speak insults to ones face. Gossiping and insults were considered dishonorable unless the target of the comments was there. Standing right in front of him, she studied his eyes. Somewhat confident, and somehow his rant had inspired the young girl near her. This sort of foolishness needed to be put down.


"Though I must say, I have heard 'the call', or longing, or attraction, call it what you will, do you expect us to follow you for it?" She took a breath and began to spit out words, her anger getting the better of her.


"You expect us to go die for some MORON'S quest'? You have the audacity to go into those lands? I have seen the survivors, just before they were laid down in a coffin. You are a fool! The very fact that you would believe that a mere attraction would cause us to commit SUICIDE is proof of your IDIOCY! You expect us to introduce ourselves and become great friends, then go and defeat a demonic overlord? This isn't a bedtime story, man. A coincidence, what an incredible reason for us to go get ourselves killed!" Blayre paused in order to inhale, then finished with, "You are a very stupid man!"


Well, that was a bit much. "You ask too much." She added, quieter this time. "But I will go."


Blinked twice, Blayre opened her mouth, but no words came out. Without another statement, she fainted.

 

[BoysPlantGraves]

Ein Thorquinn


Ein inhaled a fruitful breath, her pale nose crinkling as it gradually grew into a soft yawn. Such a thing as this the product of her past nights terrible slumber which had been caused by her bed which resembled the comfort level of a rock with a moss pillow. Her pale chapped lips parted silently as she awaited the shuffling sound of feet in motion, though it all was absurd the man before her held a trusting aura, a feeling of genuine thoughts permeating off of his figure though their human eyes were mainly blind to such a thing.


It was a crazy plan without doubt though Ein didn't mind, only fearing that at some point she may be told to part ways with them at some moment due to her lack of skill and helpfulness in some categories.


Eins hair tumbled down her thin frame and swung around her hips as she turned around at the sudden sound of an irritating voice, the females voice drenched in a venomous tone that caused the Scottish girls nerves to peak and her shoulder to tense as her eyes fell upon the seemingly thought to be cool and lavishing female who was then suddenly bursting with abrupt and overt anger.


"Lady Blayre..." Ein muttered though in a quiet voice as the other would be incapable of hearing her as she wished for the women to calm down. The womens breath seemed to grow more strained, perhaps the stress of forceful emotion affecting her even physically. Such a, at first small observation causing anxiety to flutter through Eins chest while she removed a hand from the plate and held it out silently just as Blayre had begun to calm down it seemed, her breath coming out more intensely then if she were to be in a casual scenario.


The young Scottland women was prepared to voice that the women sit when abundantly without warning after the white haired women had agreed to the idea ofaccompanying them she then crumbled to the ground, small bundles of dirt clouds flaring out from beneath her lulled body.


"Oh my," Ein proclaimed by instinct, stepping towards the women with scuttling feet and frantic motions before crouching quietly beside the collapsed women, removing her hat to reveal the rest of her waving mess of hair, placing it atop the ground beside her before placing the still untouched plate of cake atop it so she may keep it in well condition before placing the backs of her pale scarred fingers over the skin of Blayres forehead, slight alarm filling her already nervous demeanor at the sensation which met her skin before she turned around and questioned to those around.


"We're all travelers here, I imagine someone has some water they could spare?"


@korigon

 

[simj26]

Lucia Hughes

A soldier doesn't judge, he just renders the judgement. The same applied to mercenaries. It wasn't in their job description to think or to decide what should be done. They were entitled to their own opinions, yes, but they were hired for their arm, and not for their wit or tongue, no matter how sharp or glib either was. So when Lucia Hughes was hired to lend her sword-arm in defence of an ink-smeared scribe, she had mentioned nothing but "Alright" in acceptance of the contract. It was not a job worth writing about, but it was a job nonetheless. She just had to act as an escort, a 'just-in-case' in the event the poor man was to be beset by bandits or the like. As much as she dreamed about it, the rumors about demons could possibly be nothing more but rumors, and she wouldn't have the opportunity to see just how far her morgenstern would go into their skulls. She entertained these thoughts for several moments until she and her client boarded a carriage. It would seem that this ink-splattered man was of deeper pockets than she had initially made him out to be. Perhaps she could negotiate the pay with him further after the job was done.


Ferdinand was right, in that she didn't think much of him. Well, she shouldn't be, anyway. It wasn't in the best of interests for either party, especially the employee, to develop any emotions for the other. It made things difficult when one was paid to remove a previous client from their privileges of life. Pacta sunt servanda, as they said, and she wasn't going to disobey that law. While she was not particularly concerned that a scribe would be marked for death, it was better that she kept things on the safe side. Nonetheless, Hughes found her eyes wandering to the scribe's face one too many times, accompanied with rather intrusive thoughts pervading her mind. As the carriage juddered and shook around her, she could only attempt to brush aside thoughts that often floated up to existence in a young lass' hormonally charged state of mind. Such was her embarrassment at even entertaining such thoughts, that when the scribe turned her way to make a jab at the driver's woeful lack of skill, she had to avert her eyes to cast a seemingly aloof stare out the window. The poor fool's sentiment was accentuated, rather comically, yet again by the driver's ineptitude. She had half a mind to commandeer the carriage herself. She allowed herself one condescending smirk as the scribe was lifted into the air, suspended in motion for a second, and was dropped back down to his seat when gravity turned his way.


"Semper in excretia," she remarked jokingly as the scribe looked out once more out of the window, no doubt to chide the driver on his skills. Her surprise was apparent when the scribe yelled for the driver to halt. The man could shout, certainly, which only served to widen her smirk even further. She gripped the handle of her morgenstern and readied her shield. What had caused the scribe to so desire that they pause in their journey? When the carriage skidded to a halt, the scribe threw the door open as if the carriage was in flames itself.


"Perge sequar. You are the boss." She said, shrugging dismissively, hopping out of the carriage. The scribe was in such an excited flurry that he had barely counted the money he shoved into the hands of the carriage driver, and he had sprinted off to the distance towards a small gathering. Lucia, hoping to the gods that she would not have to deal with such behaviour during the rest of her travels with this man, tailed after him. That half of the pay better be worth it if he was going to keep tossing himself down the road of danger.

 

[Thinslayer]

Jonathan turned to face the group and cleared his throat. "I'm not sure if I'm just a lunatic," he began, "but for the past few days there's been some sort of force dragging me towards this village. I came here, that same feeling making me disregard my own safety to get here at a certain time." He paused and looked at the other people gathered around. "It brought me here to this town at the precise moment all of us... 'rather different' people appeared. When do groups of people like us all arrive in the same location at around the same time? Especially in a hole of a backwater town like this?" He smiled at Ein and chuckled. "I hope you'll accept my apology for my reply before, I just had to poke a little bit of fun at you to see how you felt being put on the spot like that. You caught me off-guard, miss, and I won't deny that- but I understand what you mean. A queer feeling in your chest that directed you towards myself, I'm assuming? Just like the one that caused me to come to this town and go to that bakery where you," he pointed at Ein, slowly turning to point at Blayre, "and you both just coincidentally happened to be. Attracted to one another just like you said, Blayre."


Gwen nodded. She'd felt that feeling too.


She winced when he flipped out his knife, though. "I have absolutely no idea why we're all suddenly standing here," he continued, "but look at where the feeling is pointing now. I've no idea if it's still pointing to me for some of you, but for me it's pointing over there." He tossed his dagger into the air and pointed at the mountain. "We all know what's over there, don't we?" Then he caught the dagger as it dropped and slid it into its sheathe in one slick motion.


Impressive.


"Now that we're all in one big cluster in the middle of the road, let's get our introductions out of the way somewhere where we're a bit less likely to be run over by idiot carriage drivers." He looked over to Blayre and smiled slightly. "I'm curious if that discreet location you'd thought of before was still valid, Blayre. If it is, maybe we should head there?" Jonathan turned to Gwen and gave her a friendly smile, but said nothing. He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling lightly under his breath. "What a day, though, am I right?"


At this point, Blayre adjusted her cloak and stepped up to Jonathan to begin her rant.


"Though I must say, I have heard 'the call', or longing, or attraction, call it what you will, do you expect us to follow you for it?


You expect us to go die for some MORON'S quest'?


You have the audacity to go into those lands?


I have seen the survivors, just before they were laid down in a coffin.


You are a fool!


The very fact that you would believe that a mere attraction would cause us to commit SUICIDE is proof of your IDIOCY!


You expect us to introduce ourselves and become great friends, then go and defeat a demonic overlord?


This isn't a bedtime story, man.


A coincidence, what an incredible reason for us to go get ourselves killed!"


Blayre paused and inhaled. "You ask too much. But I will go."


Then she fainted.


How convenient that she should faint after her tirade. Despite her newly-low opinion of Blayre, Gwen decided then and there that she would take care of the woman. She brushed Ein aside and looked over her patient. Typical high-maintenance noblewoman. She hasn't the constitution for adventure. Perhaps some kind of energy concoction would be good for her. Gwen glanced up at Jonathan and said, "I'll stay here with Blayre and nurse her back to health. Go on without me; I'll catch up with you."


A moment later, she realized they were hesitating. "Go! You don't have time to linger! The storm is already upon us," she snapped. She stared at Jonathan with a new, commanding fire in her gaze. There would be no countermanding her order while she was still looking him in the eye.


@korigon


@Kuroakuma

 

[Kuroakuma]

Jonathan Black

​

Jonathan blew air through his nose as the woman before him dropped. He stared down at her, eyes becoming cold like ice and pitiless for a few seconds before he shook his head and looked away. "I don't ever recall asking anyone to go anywhere for any 'moron's errands', Lady Blayre." He watched as Ein stooped down beside the collapsed woman and was about to turn away before Gwen nudged the girl out of the way and looked Blayre over. Jonathan rolled his eyes and he muttered under his breath; "First you say how stupid the idea is and how much of a moron I am, then you agree to go? What a weird woman." He spoke to himself as he turned back at the convenient time Gwen looked up at him.


"I'll stay here with Blayre and nurse her back to health. Go on without me; I'll catch up with you."


Jonathan nodded, turning to the others before noticing their inaction. He shrugged and turned back to Gwen to say something, his mouth barely opening before-


"Go! You don't have time to linger! The storm is already upon us," she snapped.


Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he heard Gwen's tone. Did she really just try that with me? He rubbed his face and then opened his eyes again. Gwen stared up into Jonathan's eyes, a new fire in them that he hadn't seen in them until just now. He stared right back into them, glaring almost dangerously at the woman who tried to command him. His eyes were an ice-cold counter to her eyes own fire. No smile slid across his features as he put his hand on his hip and stared down at Gwen. "And why should I obey you, grass face?" Jonathan's cold demeanor returned in full as he stared into Gwen's eyes, her commanding tone making his inclination to follow her advice drop to zero.


Jonathan Black did not take kindly to people he'd only just met ordering him around like they were his boss. Not one bit.




@BoyPlantsGraves

 

[KatsaNovari]

What did it take to be a scribe? Most would answer that all it took was paper, pen, and a quiet room. Not Ferdinand. There was more to being a scribe or any type of writer, which was why only few survived alone on such a vocation. It took imagination to weave the stories together, even when truth was involved, it took willpower to write away at the pages with your own words, not what everyone else wanted you to write, and, most of all, it took confidence. Confidence in yourself as a writer, your skills, and the belief that you can take your writings anywhere.


It was this confidence now that drove him. Ferdinand wasn't a scribe who wrote his stories in the safety of a room, no. He put himself in his stories. He experiences them first hand, yet at the same time he's never the character. To make your writings seem as real as possible and pull your readers in, you had to experience it yourself. That's what made Ferdinand's work increasingly well known. Most would still consider him an amateur at this stage, and he was barely scraping by, but it was obvious his talents were nothing to laugh at and it wouldn't be long until his name was known in every town or city. He just needed a story that was big enough.


This was his hope as he hurried to find the group, the cart stopping a little too far away for comfort. He moved as if the group of people he saw from the window could walk away at any moment, becoming lost over the horizon forever, never to be seen by him again. Which, ironically, wasn't far off the mark. As the seconds flew passed with the group still away from sight, the anxiety was growing inside of him. He shouldn't be this obsessed with finding them... For all he knew, they were just an ordinary band of people. Maybe even street performers! Could they be? The cart had been moving so fast, it was hard to make out anything clearly about the group. Great, Fern scowled, I could be wasting my time and gave up a perfectly good ride- err, manageable ride, for nothing more then laze-about performers who can't tell the difference between a coat and a rug. Pfah.


Just as he was beginning to lose hope, however, something stood out clearly just up ahead that quickly registered in his mind. While he hadn't quite known what it was while in the carriage, he recognized the almost obnoxious size and color of what he could now tell was a hat. The scowl shifted to a relieved smile. The hat practically screamed attention, and right now Fern was very thankful for that, though he couldn't help noting that if the hat had failed, the hair certainly wouldn't have. The bright red was like a beacon on a distant shore for a lost ship at sea, this girl must of had a very tough time playing hide-and-seek as a kid.


At last, Fern began to slow into an easy walk. After all, first impressions were important, and he didn't need to waste his by bustling among the group like an idiot. For a moment it looked like the red-headed female had noticed him, but her attention was soon drawn back to her companions (at least, he assumed they were all companions), the scribe observing the scene with a keen focus that could only be matched by a fighter reading a kill. While he slowed down, it was the perfect opportunity for Lucia to fall into step with him, which were his intentions. "An odd group, don't you think?" He mused aloud to her, but without turning her way. "I wonder what they're doing? I thought they must of known each other at first, but now I'm beginning to wonder if my earlier assumption was incorrect..."


Indeed, for as he watched, the tension seemed to be rising among the six individuals. When Fern first started observing, the tall, almost menacing looking man had been talking while "playing" with a knife. Dull green eyes had followed the steel's movements with vague curiousness, wondering if this was a habit or if the guy was just showing off. The more important thing, however, were the words the man was saying, yet he had only caught the ending. Something about "feelings" and "being pulled"... The man was pointing toward the horizon, an action that immediately rekindled Fern's interest. At this point, he had stopped walking entirely, and while still some ways from the group, he was close enough to witness and hear what was going on.


A thoughtful look had settled over his features. Resting a hand on his chin and propping it up by the elbow with his other arm, Fern said nothing for awhile as he saw what happened next. It turned out he was correct with his previous comment about this group not being friends; a woman with a similar disposition as the tall fellow decided to take it upon herself to contradict his reasoning of whatever it was he had been reasoning about, before... Wait a minute. What?!


"Did that woman just faint?" Fern blinked. The comment had been to Lucia of course, and he felt they were far enough not to draw too much attention to themselves. He hoped, anyway. He made a face, watching to see if either his eyes were lying to him or if this was some kind of bad joke. Maybe they really were street performers... After a moment, he reluctantly turned to the mercenary. "I won't pretend to be an expert on women, but I don't suppose you go into random tirades and then faint afterwards, do you..? If so, we may have a problem with our current arrangement."


He was joking, of course. While he was waiting for a response, he heard someone ask for water. Turning back, it was the red-head, a look of concern upon her visage. Fern began to reach for his own canteen that was slung over his shoulder, and had to tug on it a few times to get it to loosen. He made sure it was deathly secure, after all. There was only a little bit left, and it was the only thing of water he owned, but it gave him a brilliant excuse to walk over and introduce himself, which was exactly his plan until the red-head was pushed away from the first's woman's fallen body. Fern didn't even have the chance to step forward, yet like a physical barrier keeping him in place, he didn't bother to. This one... There was something really off about her. He couldn't quite place his finger on what, though. It wasn't precisely that she was intimidating, at least not in the sense that the tall man and fainted woman could be. Almost like having a blade of a sword wrapped in silk; soft and gentle if you were careful, but one wrong move, and you ended up bleeding. He couldn't help but notice that her skin seemed rather deathly pale as well, with perhaps a hint of grey... The wound upon her didn't seem normal, either. Was she sick? She looked physically well other then appearance, and didn't appear bothered by any symptoms.


Shaking himself from these thoughts, he was noticing that she had been saying something to the tall man. Telling him and the rest to go. The whole woman's demeanor had changed, and along with it, so had the tall man's. Fern had a strong impression of watching two dogs standing off to each other, ready to assert their dominance. Yep, they definitely weren't companions.


"What 'storm' is she talking about..." This time, Fern spoke as if to himself. The mysterious woman had mentioned a storm, like she knew something the rest didn't. The scribe's eyes went back to the horizon the tall man had pointed out, then returned to look at the group. The logical part of his brain was beginning to tell him that this was nothing more than a play, and he should move on. His writer side, on the other hand? He was hooked in place, as if frozen in time, eyes seeming to become distant as he lost himself to his own thoughts and observations. He either stumbled upon what could be a gold mine, or a cheesy children's book.




@BoyPlantsGraves


@korigon

 

[BoysPlantGraves]

Ein Thorquinn


Thin clear speckles of sweat accessorised Eins fiery hairline while her thin fingers grasped the fabric edge of her almond scarf, the old slice of cloth frayed by its ends, stray strings astray with age and patches of bright dry dust. With the extension of her hand she drew the scarf from around her neck, the whipping breeze brushing comfortingly past Eins warmed neck.


Through a few fluent motions the scarf had been folded delicately by practiced hands before she pinched it between her fingers and had begun dabbing the passionate women's brow hoping to clear any substance from the surface so the cool air may reach her skin with less complications.


Ein inhaled the humid atmosphere prepared to turn around once more and ask if any had water when suddenly without warning by the women who had been called Gwenivere she had been swept aside as though she was doing something wrong, the kind, generous teachings of her grandmother perhaps incorrect in their eyes.


Gradually with her now slightly damp scarf Ein pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her neck in the brown old fabric once more, pressing it's ends behind her while she bent down and retrieved her hat silently before placing it atop her head and returning the cake back to her grasp as Gwen had begun to spout nonsense as though they were in a battle and that she was performing some sort've strong sacrifice, prepared to propose an idea of her own and speak of the girls odd words when it seemed their current leaderly figure instead say his own words fitting, seemingly finding the girls commands as preposterous.


"And why should I obey you, grass face?"


The first word which she'd describe such a statement as would be astounding, how such a figure could without an ounce of hesitation bite into another with a bluntness Ein could never muster. Then such a nickname as grass face confused the young Scottish women though she strayed from questioning it's meaning as another challenger approached their tense group.


A man of crisp black hair which he had tied back into a small thin ponytail standing umong their crowd, a dusty brown cloak drawn over his shoulders to hide his upper figure, Eins head cocked to the side as with a timid steps she strolled towards the figure quietly as though a deer walking upto something they hadn't seen before.


The strangers face was decorated in a familiar black substance, the bridge of his nose and the edge of his forehead most attacked by ink as though on many occasions the sections were itchy. With frantic fingers she drew a small cloth from her patchily designed bag and held it out to him.


"Your covered in ink, are you a reporter? The women should be alright, I don't think it's worth much of a story." Ein inferred that the man was searching for a story though she didn't know whether she was correct or not. The thickness of her Scottish accent lacin into her words.


@Kuroakuma @Thinslayer @Kori Zanos @KatsaNovari

 

[Thinslayer]

"Jonathan..." Gwen began slowly, "...you have exactly forty-three seconds to get moving in time to escape being seen by the demon hordes when they arrive. Run. I'll worry about Blayre."


She turned her attentions to Blayre and paid no more notice of Jonathan.

 

[simj26]

The scribe was courteous enough to keep slowing down for her to catch up, although she did feel like reminding him that she needn’t such attention paid to her. If anything, it should be her job to keep up with him, and not his to make sure she does. She had thought of reminding him as she bounded and leapt to keep up with his excited striding, but thought better of it. It was not in her place to bring wisdom to a man of words. She stuck to her job, he stuck to his, and she hadn’t heard him tell her how to swing her morning star yet. Where the scribe was concerned with whether his new interests were run-of-the-mill entertainers, Lucia’s were of whether they were run-of-the-mill highwaymen. It didn’t pay to have both of them looking and acting like children new to vaudeville attractions, and it certainly wasn’t very healthy either. Keeping one hand tightly gripped on her morgenstern, and another on her shield, she progressed towards the group alongside the scribe, her entire self just ready to leap out and shove him out of the way should it come to that. The group didn’t seem very friendly, even amongst themselves, and they seemed to be making quite a bit of a ruckus with their raised voices. Even if they weren’t bandits or the like, their ilk seemed far too volatile for what she was usually comfortable with. She bit her lower lip, and wondered to herself if this job was anywhere worth it. She really, really hoped that she could negotiate her pay with the scribe. Her current pay wasn’t anywhere worth having to deal with loonies at the side of the road.


When one of them, a woman, collapsed to the ground, Lucia groaned audibly. She swore, if that this was one of those shticks that was supposed to work on little old ladies and gullible ‘gentlemen’, she would personally brain the living daylights out of the scribe. He had sacrificed a comfortable ride (as far as a few potholes on the road were concerned) for some shmuck bait laid out according to the script these no-good scumbags had been practicing since last decade, and she ought to educate him on the dangers prior to him being educated on them with a knife to his back. She nudged his arm with her elbow, muttering under her breath, “Abundans cautela non nocet,” and shifted herself slightly to position her physical self just ahead of him. His attempt at humor was lost on her as she eyed the group, just waiting for one of them to spring towards them. The scribe even bothered to listen to their pleas for some water, and she spotted him drawing his canteen, ready to step forth and be the hero of the day. Write as much as he did, no mercenary worth their salt put themselves as chivalrous knights. That was for naive pups who thought that being good and nice was the best thing ever. Their backs were home to many knives, surely. She would have raised her hand to stop him, if it weren’t for the fact that the one who requested for water was promptly shoved aside.


There was some altercation between the group, and the woman with the fiery mane decided to break away from them, leaving the rest to their own devices. Lucia’s morgenstern raised slightly, and her shield edging towards her chest. The woman turned her attention to her quarry, and her eyes never brushed past her own straw-coloured hair, mostly because Lucia herself was no taller than three quarters of the lady. It was, however, proper to keep in common knowledge that anything with spikes attached tended to hurt, and if the lady was prepping them up for a fall, Lucia would gladly remind this lady of that fact. From the background, she heard the voice of yet another of the group. The distance between the mercenary and the speaker made it difficult to pick up on what was said, but fragments of it still reached the ears of the youngest being in the crowd. “...forty-three seconds….demon horde…”


Great. Demons. Lucia was having a pretty lucky day, all things considering. She shot the scribe a look, and said, quietly, to both the scribe and the lady with the fiery mane, be she friend or foe, “Tempus volat hora fugit.” Whether this was some elaborate play, put on by these charlatans, or an actual group with an actual threat behind them, it was in no way a smart move to be standing around here. To the scribe, she nudged him once more in the side, and said to him, “Your move now, boss. Like I said, perge sequar.”

 

[LeviathanL]

Arcanus


This was not the wizard's day, he cursed the carriage driver who forced him to approach these people. Superstitious hicks and hysterical weaklings, the lot of them. Maybe he should just walk away, he started to suspect traveling together with these people was going to be more trouble then it was worth.


"...you have exactly forty-three seconds to get moving in time to escape being seen by the demon hordes when they arrive. Run. I'll worry about Blayre."


"What a sudden and inexplicable prediction," Arcanus said mockingly. "And so specific too, care to elaborate how you came by this information?"


@Thinslayer

 

[AsherMastrImmortalis]

Lucian watched as his friend explained his reason for the gathering, that some invisible force is pulling this now-formed group towards some specific location, which he pointed exactly where it was from the group's position. Lucian bit his lip, partly because Jonathan just showed him up when it comes to playing with daggers, but mostly because of the reactions of the others. Some began to doubt his word, some would go with him despite the impossibility of this specific event happening. However, things began to hit the fan as one of them, Blayre, fainted, causing Gwen to go to her aid. Gwen then made the fatal mistake, commanding Jonathan. Lucian was sure that Jonathan was about to put the dagger he just casually tossed into the air into the girl's neck if she opened her mouth to make what might've been her next and last mistake, judging from the new tone of voice and look in his eyes had another newcomer or two not shown up.


Lucian paid no mind to someone who might be a scribe, except that he only distracted the woman other than Gwen and Blayre. Gwen went back to caring for Blayre with another newcomer, though not before telling the group an ominous warning of coming demons. Lucian bit his lip, stepped towards his friend and placed his hand on Jonathan's shoulder, worried that Gwen's action of going back to Blayre might tick him off. "Jonathan, can you please calm down?" Lucian muttered. "Whether or not your analysis of this event is true, we can't have in-fighting in this group... And if we may as well be encountering demons very soon, we should probably head for cover..."


As if to make him more concerned, the wizard, the one who fully doubted Jonathan's word, began to walk away. Despite the fact that he did not pay attention to where he was going, the wizard realized that he was going in the direction where Jonathan had pointed to before. Lucian bit his lip, suspicions that this series of coincidences may as well be the start of a dark adventure rising. The thief sighed, his mind drawing the worst of possibilities. While any normal person, like the wizard, might still doubt that what has been said has been true, years of 'coincidental' events had made Lucian believe that the group may be encountering demons very soon, and that it might have to travel to wherever his friend pointed.


Lucian's free hand fell to his side, where one of his daggers were sheathed. Sadly, the thief was equipped only to scare and fight off normal citizens in his encounters during a theft. Swords were too heavy and too large to carry as he moved stealthily, so daggers were his only options. The thief is currently regretting the decision not to start carrying a sword around during his travels with Jonathan.


@BoyPlantsGraves


@LeviathanL


@simj22

 

[Thinslayer]

"What a sudden and inexplicable prediction," Arcanus said. "And so specific too; care to elaborate how you came by this information?"


"No."


Gwen uncorked a vial of mysterious fluid and dropped a handful of crushed herbs into it. She sat Blayre up and poured the concoction into her mouth.


She glanced at Arcanus. "Later, maybe."


The party still wasn't going anywhere. They were certain to get caught by the enemy now, and they had Jonathan to thank for that. An alternate plan was needed. Gwen touched Ein on the shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Keep an eye on Blayre for me, will you? I need to speak with Jon. Interrupt me if Blayre awakens."


She marched over to Jonathan, that fire in her eyes still burning bright. Keeping her voice low so as not to embarrass him in front of the others, she said, "Jonathan, I understand that you're the de-facto leader of our group here, but if you're going to continue to lead us, you need to be able to make decisive decisions. What you did back there was stupid. If you were going to call me out for insubordination, you should have put it off until the others were clear of the town, or at least countermanded me with an order of your own. And I'd be fine with that. Waffling and leaving us without orders is inappropriate when you receive time-sensitive information. Am I clear, Jonathan?"


@BoyPlantsGraves


@AsherMastrImmortalis


P.S. I tagged you Asher because Gwen is standing right next to him, so he's the only one who heard what was said.

 

[Kuroakuma]

Jonathan Black

​

JoJo stared Gwen in the eyes once more, glaring hard. "Time sensitive information that we have no idea could even be real, yes? I want to know, just like Arcanus does, how you know this. Why would I act on information that has no basis? For all I know, you could be getting us out of the village to be attacked by bandits or somesuch. You want me to be truthful? I don't trust you, and I don't have a reason to trust you either; nor do I trust your sudden ability to sense danger when there's zero evidence that there even is one." His quiet voice was venomous, his eyes cold steel like the knife at his belt that he was absentmindedly tapping. "Before you order me around, as the leader of this group, I want an explanation. If you expect me to follow advice from a woman I've only just met, then I expect said woman to give me a reason to follow her advice instead of glaring at me and ordering me around without reason."


JoJo looked at Lucian, narrowing his eyes. "Honestly, two women going off at me for no reason in less than an hour. What a day, right?"




@Thinslayer


@AsherMastrImmortalis

 

[AsherMastrImmortalis]

"......" Lucian watched as Jonathan and Gwen began to bicker about Jonathan's action and Gwen's abilities to tell the future. His eye twitched as she spoke, but he began to calm down as Jonathan spoke to him. "I think every man has his days when he has trouble with women..." Lucian shrugged.


"Even though..." He continued and stared at her. "The old man and Jonathan is right. How do you know precisely how far the position of the demon army is from us in seconds?" Lucian stared at the girl.


@Kuroakuma


@Thinslayer

 

[Thinslayer]

Jonathan blew up at her. "Time sensitive information that we have no idea could even be real, yes? I want to know, just like Arcanus does, how you know this. Why would I act on information that has no basis? For all I know, you could be getting us out of the village to be attacked by bandits or somesuch. You want me to be truthful? I don't trust you, and I don't have a reason to trust you either; nor do I trust your sudden ability to sense danger when there's zero evidence that there even is one. Before you order me around, as the leader of this group, I want an explanation. If you expect me to follow advice from a woman I've only just met, then I expect said woman to give me a reason to follow her advice instead of glaring at me and ordering me around without reason."


Gwen paused to consider his words. "I understand. It was an imposition to expect you to believe something that most people would not have been able to know. Without knowing me better, there'd be no way you'd know whether I'm not directing you into a trap. And it may not even be intentional; for all you know, I may not be experienced enough to offer sound advice. Inexperienced advice can be just as destructive as malicious advice."


She picked up his hand and folded it into hers. "I know your fear. But have you considred whether I can trust you, Jonathan? You're a good man and honorable at heart; I'm sure of it. We need you. I need you. Will you be the strong, trustworthy leader I need you to be? When times get tough and your allies grow thin, can I trust you to lead me on the right path? Trust must be earned, and it must be earned through trial, sacrifice, and an ounce of faith. You'll never know I can be trusted unless you try me. Our lives count on your ability to lead, and an able leader knows both who and when to trust. Will you lead us, Jonathan?"

 

[KatsaNovari]

As distant as he appeared with his thoughts, Ferdinand didn't miss the nudge to his arm followed soon after by another of the mercinary's little phrases, only his eyes turning slightly to her as he was drawn from his thoughts. He almost smiled in amusement as she positioned herself jut a bit ahead of him, as if she expected the strange group to suddenly turn and jump on them, yet at the same time he was also appreciative. Where he lacked in caution, this young woman made up for greatly, and it could be entirely possile these folks were just bandits in disguise. He didn't really think so, but it never hurt to keep the notion in mind.


He thought about saying something in response, another joke perhaps even though his first one fell on uncaring ears, when he noticed one of the members before them diverge away from the others. It was the red-head with the insanely large hat, which she had placed back on top of her head. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his "companion" tense a little, and glancing her way, he made a small gesture with the tips of his fingers that had rested on his chin, a gesture that said "be at ease". The girl looked harmless enough, her rather comical attire not aided by the fact that she was holding onto a plate with a slice of cake on top of it. Of course, Fern wasn't a fool to allow his guard to slip entirely, but he was hardly anywhere near as suspicious as Lucia. Besides, he didn't want to scare off the young woman. He didn't need to worry about taking the first step himself, it appeared that fate was on his side and brought one of the group members to him instead! Perhaps now he could get some answers.


The red-head approached as if the two of them could lunge forward at any given moment, which was partially true in Lucia's case. Fern, on the other hand, appeared entirely at ease. He observed the female until she started rummaging in her bag, and, to his surprise, held out a cloth for him to take. At first he just blinked at it, appearing lost, then realization began to sink in as he drew his hand to his face and wiped subconsciously at one of the ink stains decorated there, yet only succeeded at making it worse. "Oh, do I? Heh, I'm afraid that happens quite a lot for me. Thank you."


Fern accepted the cloth, and taking his canteen of water, dabbed just a tiny amount of water onto it. It appeared it was no longer required (from the edges of his vision- the scribe still paying rapt attention to the others- he noticed that the woman now tending to the fainted one had given her a mixture of some sort), but he wanted there to be plenty left over in case that should change. Now finished with it, he returned it to it's place beneath the folds of his cloak, and began cleansing his face of the black muck. As he did so, his lips spread into an amused grin at the red-head's question; "Not quite, madame. I am a scribe! And my writer intuition is telling me that something important is going on here, and I'm curious to know what that is."


He was going to say more, but upon removing the rag from his face and handing it back to the red-head, his opened mouth closed when Lucia gave him a look and once again nudged his arm. He was a bit peeved to have his conversation interrupted; this was very short lived, however, when he heard Lucia's warning as well as registered the mysterious woman's odd predictament of an approaching horde. Ferdinand's jaw set ever-so-slightly, a bead of sweat falling to his brow. His eyes went back to the red-head and then to the others behind her, for a moment his eyes calculating. He already established with himself he wanted to know more about this group, if for nothing more than to satisfy his curiousity, but a number of them appeared to be well versed in the art of combat. The tall man in particular had scars Fern could make out even at this distance, and the mysterious woman was certainly confident of herself, particularly with how she spoke to the other. Even the woman who had fainted didn't look like she was an amatuer. If a demon horde really was coming, well, Fern personally wanted to be by the people who knew what they were doing in a fight, and while he didn't doubt that Lucia could handle herself, there were strength in numbers. After a moment he returned his gaze to the red-head and spoke.


"Well, at the moment, it doesn't look like anyone has a need for my pen. However, if its swordarms you're looking for, I know how to weild a blade and my partner here is certainly capable as well. Isn't that right, Lucia?" The scribe sent the mercinary a broad grin, fully aware he was volunteering her without her consent. He didn't know if she would protest against this or not, however he could feel a hole burning in his pockets at the thought of how much she might demand from him if she ended up being forced to fight against a horde. Oh well, best to worry about that bridge when we come to it.


He looked back at the red head, his grin lessoning but still holding a smile. "It appears your group is under going some... difficulties," Fern's eyes drifted to the mysterious woman as she took the tall, intimidating man to speak with him, their conversation completely out of ear shot, "so I hope our presence here hasn't become inconvenient for you. If your leader- if he is your leader- is too distracted to speak with us at the moment and accept our aid, well, we don't mind hanging in the background. Worse comes to worse, Lucia and I will just 'happen' to be going the same way." He winked. "The name's Ferdinand, by the way. Some call me Fern."

 

[BoysPlantGraves]

Ein Thorquinn


The light fabric of Eins brown cloak laid atop her collarbones delicately, gentle gusts of air trailing through the small piece and causing its freshly sown edges to waver through the wind and brush along side her body on occasion while the clothing wriggled in such a way which resembled the slithering currents of a curling snake. Fragile fingers pinched the small decorative towel tightly, its trimming a green like that of a healthy pine tree while the white cloth held a sloppily sown in flower occupying the center. Ein quietly pleaded that he wouldnt question such a design as she waited patiently, scattered scabs covering the young womens pale knuckles from a variety of incidents.


The man seemed somewhat confused, as though her action was that of a peculiar one, a sudden thought then striked Ein; that perhaps the stranger was from such an area that being offered something could be considered a negative thing! The young women attempted to not express her new found anxiety, though when the soft sensation of the fabric leaving her fingers was felt she outwardly portrayed her fresh relief only after the man had touched one of the blotches of ink and worsened it's condition, causing a timid smile to tug at Eins lips childishly.


Then as she was prepared to retreat back towards the group a bundle of feet away in the case that she may be necessary when the pleasant stranger began speaking to her of his Proffessional and his reason for approaching.


"A scribe..." Eins hazel eyes grew wide after the repition of such a word, talents such as writing and reading weren't entirely popular tasks in her town of origin, Ine.


Knowledge wasn't something of a top priority, those such as her family never considering such activities as ones which would count in a incident which may measure life or death. With slight excitement to hear more of the scribes story she looked on for a continuation, though the quiet shuffle of fabric against fabric drew Eins attention as well as the returning of her towel towards the women beside the kind man who had just nudged him almost as if in a language which held no use for words.


The familiar sensation of unintentional intimidation was inflicted upon the red head upon the slight glance she spared towards the seemingly strong female.


As an attempt to stray from eyeing the women once more Ein traded her attention towards her group, whose tension and stress permeated off of thickly while it seemed two of which we're bickering to one another or having a casual argument between different decisions.


The Scottish women drew in a large breath of air, her chest puffing outwards as she did so before gradually releasing it into the dry air. Just as when it seemed the man wished to continue their conversation though with a different topic rather then that of writing, Ein listened gratefully, the edges her lips tilting upwards as the man spoke, presenting the idea of them helping though they were but strangers.


Ein breathed inwards and tucked her lips between the white edges of her teeth, biting them lightly as she glanced down at her feet quickly then towards the women quietly, though in a moment her eyes darted away sheepishly, so that was the womens name Ein contemplated mentally.


Prepared to thank them for their kindness she was then cut off once more as the stranger spoke up again, touching the subject of her 'group', if she were capable of calling them such a thing despite their short time of even being in the others presence.


"Inconvenient?" Ein repeated the word with slight flabbergast in her tone, "oh no not at all. I really doubt that you both coming up have anything to do with our sudden turn of events," she beamed once more then as she spoke.


"I really don't think anyone would have a problem with some extra help, and if anyone says anything I never saw that you guys were casually following us." Her accent trailed through her words while her fingertips pushed her newly stained cloth into the side pocket of her satchel, not wishing to litter, before reaching outwards towards the man while with the quick flick of a single eyelid she returned his playful wink.


"Like the tree? They must've expected you to be tall," the young women paused then continued in a more exasperated tone, "your parents I mean They must've thought that you'd be..." slowly her words fell quiet as she experienced her inner defeat, "not that you are short for your age either. I," Ein sighed into her chest before looking up again with light embarrassed laughter scattered throu her speech.


"I was trying to make a joke, not really good at 'em as you can see. The names Ein Thorquinn, it's nice to meet you Fern."





@KatsaNovari