Ascending Legends

[Dragongal]

"I can't tell you yet. I'd love to, but I don't want to jinx it and mess up and end up with a charred stick, with my luck." Atria couldn't help but be excited when she did mage work. The art and science behind it was too intriguing to her. Though, honestly, making anything was intriguing to her, even when it didn't work. It had been a while since she'd been so lively around someone else - she generally tried to stay under the radar, as forgettable as possible. But she was comfortable enough around Dayn to let her true colors show more. She had carved the stick down to a small disk about the size of a quarter. She gently turned the disk, making shallow crosshatches across the rim. In the face she made a simple design of a tipped hourglass - a cross with a line from the top to left and from the bottom to right. She sorted through her pack, pulling out a small box, a small silver bowl and a few slim vials.


She got up, looking around the base of the fire until she sat next to Dayn, seeing what she needed. With the tip of her dagger she carefully dragged a small pile of ash from under the fire, sifting through it to make sure it was smooth and fine. She put a pinch in the bowl, then opened one of the vials and carefully tipped quartz dust into the design on the face of the disk. She opened up the box vial, this time powdered pottery - a common binding or nullifying agent - and poured a small amount into the bowl, then carefully set the disk into the bowl on top of the mixture and put the bowl on the very edge of the fire. She waited about a minute and then pulled the bowl back with the tip of her dagger. She hesitated then carefully picked up the warm bowl and moved back over to her pack, putting her regents away while the disk cooled. She then pulled the disk out and rinsed it off with water from her canteen, revealing the glossy black surface with the impressions a dark matte red


That done, Atria pulled out a bit of leather cord from her pack and strung the disk on it. She moved back over next to Dayn, sitting down next to him and holding it out for him. "I remember you said that you were working with on Ignis but weren't very good yet, and I just happened to have the regents. It'll increase your control. Not the strength of the flames, but igniting and extinguishing, directional stuff, it'll help a bit. It's not that strong, I only have wood for the base regent, but it's something that I thought you'd find useful."

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn took the talisman and looked at it carefully. He had heard of these kind of items but had never had the chance to see one. He slid the cord over his head, letting the amulet lay against his bare chest. He felt something surge from the amulet now that he was wearing it, the magic now becoming apparent to him. He looked at the amulet again, turning it over in his hand. "Thanks Atria. I, don't really know what to say." Dayn looked over at Atria and smiled. He felt comfortable around her, despite only knowing her for such a short time. Perhaps it was because they were kindred spirits. They shared many of the shame views in life, preferring the simple things over the opulent. "You know," He started as he turned back to the stew, "I find it kind of funny that we are in this together. We seem to have a lot in common, and if it wasn't for this quest we may never have been able to have met. I wonder about that though.


"I've been in many places, fought many battles, and seen things that have made me wonder about purpose and life. I've come to question the truth behind coincidence, and I've found it lacking. I can't help but wonder, though, if there is more to our meeting than just coincidence?" Dayn turned back to Atria, this time letting himself wander over her facial features more thoroughly than before. He wondered about if they had met in another way, or if they would have met any other way. And despite him not knowing why he was thinking about these things, he was happy they had been thrown into the quest together.

 

[Dragongal]

Atria mentally paused when he thanked her, blushing slightly. She wasn't used to being thanked or making someone be at a loss for words; two years of trying to stay under the radar had that affect. She leaned her back against the wall of the cave. She didn’t know why she was letting herself get close to Dayn. Maybe she figured she deserved it after two years of lying low. She knew why she liked him, in a logical sense, but wasn’t sure why she trusted him so easily. Sure, she understood his love for simplicity, he appreciated nature, was kind, had a nice laugh, and a nice smile, told stories, cooked wonderfully, made jokes, hated formality, could fight, seemed to like philosophy, appreciated silence, didn’t push her for information she didn’t want to tell, and took care of her once, but Atria wasn’t a girl to get close to someone anymore. It hurt them and her, inevitably, and had the risk of hurting her family. And, in truth, she didn't know if she had the right to let someone get close, and therefore inevitable get hurt, just because she wanted it. She wasn’t sure why she’d made the charm for him, when that would make him remember her after the quest. She almost wanted to tell him that she wasn't the person he wanted to have a lot in common with, but she didn't. While she was slightly embarrassed when he looked closely at her, because she didn't want him to notice her pale silver eyes - something she was quite ashamed of - she didn't let it show, because that did not outweigh her sense of security around him - which was still odd to her.


So in the end, she wasn't sure why she replied with an almost wistful smile, "I've wondered about that too. In the end I decided that it may be luck, it may be the gods, it's probably the result of many people with free will, but in all truth, it's not really gonna change the more we ponder on it; it's best to just work with it to the best of our abilities. Personally, I don't believe in accidents. Admittedly it's odd that you and I, specifically, were asked to be a team for a mission like this. But... I am glad that it happened, despite whatever design may have made it so."

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn smiled, even laughed casually, for no other reason than he just felt like laughing. "In that we both agree." He sat back against the wall and admired his companion. Now that he had taken the time to actually observe her he had noticed that her eyes were a pale silver color. Odd, he usually found himself to notice details about people quickly. Who knows the reason why, but he found himself admiring the color. It was unique, something he had only seen her possessing. Dayn leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and listened to the rain. He would have dosed off if it hadn't been for his stomach growled, bringing his attention back to the food. Grabbing two bowls he turned back to the stew. Eh, it would suffice for a cold rainy night.


After they had eaten Dayn had gone over his gear. He started with his arming sword, checking for rust or flaws of any kind before moving to his bastard sword. He unsheathed the blade, which had been specially made for him. The blade had been pattern welded, and the rippling bands of carbon and steel danced in the flickering light of the fire. Dayn ran over the blade with an oil cloth, almost seeming to zone out during the process. It had become something of a ritual for him to do before bed. It was his way of taking time to not only care for his equipment, but it became time for reflection on many things in life. Above all, though, it was a very personal thing for him. As he continued to run the rag down the blade he looked over at Atria. "Have you ever heard the legends behind a knight's sword?"

 

[Dragongal]

She smiled slightly watching Dayn take care of his blade. Reminded her of when she'd taught some of her friends how to do that, sitting around a campfire and laughing, then having to heal their hands when they cut themselves because they wouldn't listen to her the first time. She smiled at the memory, She had to admit, it was a beautiful blade, and she had a practiced eye with metalworks. She'd only ever seen one prettier, but she was fairly certain she only recalled it as being prettier. The faint scent of the oil made her nostalgic for days long past. She could almost feel the heat from the forge on her face, the cool stone wall against her back as she sat on the window ledge oiling blades, a breeze pushing her hair aside. She paused. Why did being around Dayn seem to bring up so many fond memories? And why didn't the memories seem to hurt nearly as bad as they usually did? Maybe she was too comfortable around him for the pain to really sting. She pushed it out of her mind; she must be becoming adjusted to it, finally. That was all. But why was she less... reclusive around him too? Try as she might, she seemed to forget the act when interacting with him, at least to some extent. She'd reopened her magic book, re-reading pages about Aeromancy while Dayn worked, though she was rather tired. She looked over at him when he spoke, intrigued. "I've heard many different versions," she replied evenly. "I'd be very interested in hearing it from you."

 

[BookWyrm]

"Depending on which version you've heard, the story goes that the sword is either a symbol of at knight's pledge to uphold justice, or that it is a symbol of their nobility. Lies, all of them, and for good reason I suppose. The truth behind the sword runs much deeper than that." Dayn turned his blade over before, finally content with the sheen of oil on the blade, he pulled out his whetstone and began to work on the edge. "A knight's sword is his soul. But this isn't any old sword. I have two swords, but only one of them is my sword. Usually a knight receives his sword during his knighting ceremony. The Baron knights him with the blade and then presents it to him, so in a way the knight is bound to the Baron, whom has symbolically given the knight his soul and purpose. But for the knight-errant, who is his own master, he receives no blade from a Baron. Most don't truly have a sword of their own. This own, my sword, was forged for me by a master bladesmith. And in doing so, I guess you could say I claimed my soul as my own, and therefore tied my destiny to no man but to path itself. In doing that I have found more freedom and meaning then a hundred knights have dreamed of."





Dayn paused to feel the edge on his blade. Content, he slid the blade back into its sheath. "But that's only if you believe the legends." He added with a smile.

 

[Dragongal]

Atria smiled. It was a good legend, and a good perspective. She was honestly honoured that he'd tell her something so important to him. She reached into her pack and took out a small packet, opened it, and pulled out a handful of withered leaves. She tossed them onto the fire, watching as the flames flickered blue for a few moments. The colour of royalty to some people. She quietly said, "Kingsfoil is an herb very few use. It's said only those of noble blood can actually use it for medicine. I brought it home one day and asked my mother why we never used it, and she explained that she was no noble, so it'd make no sense to try. I convinced her, and we made a potion of it, from a very, very old book she had. I cut my hand and applied it, and it healed in seconds, no pain at all. I told her that the legends must be ridiculous nonsense. And," she chuckled a little to herself at the memory, "and she replied, 'Or maybe the gods pick nobility differently than people.' Since then I put considerably more faith in legends. More consideration and thought. Maybe more than I should." She looked back at Dayn with a slight smile. She was still sitting next to him, though she'd moved enough so he'd have space to work. Why was she telling him all of this? And why didn't she even try to stop herself? "But I think in the end, old legends are there to help us, whether it be amusing us on a cold, rainy night, or... finding our souls. Maybe finding meaning.


"I believe in the legends. I won't let them determine my fate, but I think they deserve consideration." She didn't believe all legends. Legends were part of what had made her this way. Reclusive, alone, a threat to her family. But she didn't lie in what she said to Dayn. And the blade was amazing - she felt safe saying that, having grown up playing in the forges of the dwarves - so she felt safe in believing the legend, which would indicate his soul was equally as amazing.... And thereby trustworthy.

 

[BookWyrm]

Finally content with his blade Dayn slid the sword back into it's sheath. He thought about Atria's words carefully. The thunder continued to roll as he stoked the fire again before arranging his bed roll. If the storm continued through morning they would be delayed on arriving to the tower, which put his mind in a prickly thought chain for a moment. The sooner they got the job done the sooner they would part ways. That is unless Aric had some other plan for them afterwards, the idea of what would happen once the job was done was not something he wanted to think about right now. For once in a long time Dayn found himself enjoying the presence of another person, and it would be a long time before he found someone he had enjoyed being around despite only having spent a day or so with Atria.


"Well, better get some sleep. If the storm has let up by morn we'll head out after breakfast."

 

[Dragongal]

Atria nodded and moved back across the fire, picking up her cloak on the way. It was the slightest bit damp still, but that didn't matter much to her. She sat against the wall and gathered her cloak about herself. With her cracked rib, it was hard to get comfortable, so she had to lay down on her uninjured side, facing the fire, using her book as a pillow. She pulled her hood over the top half of her face to block out the fire's light. Well, back to reclusive habits and forced mannerisms tomorrow. A night of freedom after two years was extremely nice, though. Atria didn't want to go to sleep, for many reasons, not the least of which being that she'd enjoyed being able to forget the meek and apathetic act at least for a little bit. But they did have a fight tomorrow, and she wanted to be able to protect both herself and Dayn, if it came to it, though she prayed it wouldn't. The nights before battle were always difficult for her to sleep on. She pulled her dagger off of her belt and laid it by her side, the result of a long-built habit, then pulled her cloak tighter about herself before letting herself drift off to uneasy, light dozing, her damp cloak giving her a slight chill.

 

[BookWyrm]

The night passed swiftly, yet Dayn awoke refreshed. The storm was starting to dwindle when Dayn and Atria set out, early, to gain a slight positioning advantage at the tower. They had left their shelter at the cave set up with the plan to return to it on the trip back. Though the mist was damp and cold, clinging to their bodies tight enough to feel constricting on the soul, it proved to be a gods send and allowed them to pass unnoticed through the forest to the tower's outer rim. The sunlight that broke over the horizon was enough to illuminate the area for Dayn and Atria to observe and plot their way in. Luckily there was only one sentry at the tower door, and he was slumped against a step nodding, unaware of what was coming. Dayn had armored himself back at camp. Thinking ahead of the game he had rubbed his plate armor with a mixture of damp soot and ash to keep the sun from reflecting off the steel. By no means was his armor polished or glistening, but the no one could over prepare for a fight.


Dayn looked out over the ground they would need to cover with his magnifying scope. The terrain around the tower had been cleared, no doubt to provide a view of any attacking force, but something didn't seem right about the certain spots on the ground. There were probably ten, no, twenty of these places scattered around what Dayn could only assume was the entire tower.(Only seeing one vantage of the tower, he had to guess) The ground around the area was normal grass, but something about these spots, which were circular and around five feet in width and length, something about the "ground" on these spots was different. Nature had a randomness about it, an unpredictable way of causing things to grow. Man was not so random, nor so inventive. Of course anyone would have noticed the brush and bramble on these spots, but that could be attributed to the purposeful growth of the painful blood vines that could have been planted there to discourage attackers. But what really sold the story was that the "grass" covering these spots didn't match the growth patterns of the natural grass surrounding them. The placed grass was literally going against the growth pattern of the other grass. Dayn handed the scope towards Atria. "There, those circular places on the ground. Those are deadfall traps. They've tried to make them look like the normal land, but they've grown blood vine around them and the grass on the spots is wrong. I've actually used the tactic before. Young dig a hole five feet circumference by ten feet deep and fill it with sharpened stakes, some people cover them with feces or poison to get any survivors. The good news is they are obvious, so we should be able to avoid them."

 

[Dragongal]

Atria had much experience with many types of traps, not just magical. However, she simply nodded to Dayn, and looked through the scope, saying, "If we need, I could form a shield over any traps so we can walk over them. If we really need to, I can put a simple glamour over the windows so it looks like nobody's approaching, but I'd have to lower the glamours before I could attack. I'd suggest we approach, you wait outside, and I'll go in ahead, try to find that mage and disable him, as well as any magicked traps that have been set. I can be discreet, especially since I'm willing to bet half of them have hangovers or are still sleeping off last night, a minor glamour over myself should be enough. A five minute head start should be good for me to get in and locate the mage, then you can enter. We don't want to alert them too early, after all."


She blushed slightly, realizing she'd revealed her tactics skills instead of just being a simple mage who wasn't good at planning out battles or thinking militarily. "Um... That's what I'd suggest, anyway.... I assume we're killing even if they're asleep?" She knew it wasn't the most honorable thing, but neither was setting incendiary traps; and while she knew they should prove themselves morally better than the bandits, she didn't want the hassle. Killing wasn't something Atria enjoyed, even really the idea of it, but she was also somewhat used to it at this point. If it was just herself, she probably wouldn't mind leaving them alive for the Guards to pick up, but alive, they were a risk to both herself and Dayn, and she wasn't about to put him in more risk than necessary.

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn thought over the scenario, working the ins and outs over and over to see if he could find a better alternative. "If you feel up to sneaking in and disabling the caster then by all means. Once that is completed I need a sign to move in. But, first, we need to get to the tower." Dayn was up and moving with surprising stealth through the open ground, dodging the traps, in a long semi-circle to come up on the opposite side of the napping guard. Dayn moved into the position he had scoped out. He eased up around the corner to check on the guard, who still napped contentedly. Dayn reached down and grabbed one of the stones laying around his feet and, bouncing it off the corner, pegged the guard's helmet, jarring him awake. The guard shot up to his feet in a daze and gave Dayn the opening he wanted. His knife in hand Dayn reached under the guards left arm and brought his on hand up and over the guard's mouth and nose, at the same time bringing the blade of his knife up into the guard's right armpit before slicing through the flesh and arteries. Dayn brought the blade down and into the guard's kidney about the time the guard realized he had received the first cut. A slight panic began to roll over the guard's body as he grasped at Dayn's hand the forcefully closed off his air. Dayn pulled the blade out and his arm around to the guard's chest before plunging the red steel into the guard's heart as he kicked one knee out from under him. The guard's world was fading as Dayn slit his throat, finally allowing the black to take him.


Dayn pulled the body aside and wiped his knife off on the guard's tunic before motioning for Atria to join him.

 

[Dragongal]

Atria walked over silently (the joys of practically no armor) and looked at the corpse. She very quietly commented, "Might as well have slit the throat first. Less of a mess. No worries about screaming, either." She looked at the door, and said, "You'll know to come in when you see a flash on the door handle. I'll leave a temporary connection on it when I walk in. I'll take out any sleepers I see too, if there's no risk." She took the door handle in her left hand and pulled out her dagger to hold in her right. "Lycka till," she added, wishing him good luck in Northern, before opening the door silently and stepping in, casting a minor glamour over herself as she crossed the threshold. The trick to a minor glamour wasn't invisibility, it was not being noticed: the spell would force anyone's attention away from her, so long as she kept the spell up. Someone trained in magics might be able to recognize that they were being manipulated, but it was an uncommon occurrence.


The first floor was empty, so she climbed the staircase silently. She paused before a door, listening to the conversation within. Two, she mentally counted before continuing. The corridor curved, forming a circle off which the rooms branched, as they did on each of the three floors. She continued on, glancing into each room, keeping the spell's presence in the back of her mind. Her patience was rewarded when she arrived at on of the rooms to find a man hunched over a table cluttered with bowls, papers, and vials, silently working, and another man asleep in a chair by another table. The sleeping man was obviously the mage, since he had a very large number of amulets and a small pile of tomes on the table, one cracked open where he'd left it. Awake one first, the mage can't see the blood and react that way. She snuck up behind the inventor, and put on hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming, and used her other hand to put her dagger through his throat, angling it carefully so it would not only sever the jugular and carotid, but also cut the vocal chords. He didn't even truly get a chance to thrash about before dying, though she aided his silent departure with a sedative effect, using her influential magic. She knew she shouldn't waste mana, but she didn't want to run any risks this early in the mission.


As the inventor's body went limp, she looked at the table he'd been working at. Scrolls of different designs and chemical formulas covered the table top, as well as a paper which particularly caught her eye: a list of names. She picked it up, reading it multiple times. These... are all Black Market connections. For selling his inventions, I'd bet. And I'd bet these are big Black Market players, too.... Poring over the list, she accidentally dropped her glamour. She jumped as a pain seared her ride side; a throwing knife had skimmed her, but had managed to cut through the hard, protective leather of her bodice and her shirt underneath. She whirled around, seeing the mage up. Her motions blurring before the eye, she pulled her crossbow out of its holster and fired: her aim was dead-on, the arrow having lanced through the center of the mage's forehead. He collapsed to the ground without even having realized he was defeated, and he never would.


She looked at the wound; a shallow cut over her ribs, luckily not on the side that had been broken by the earlier incident. Dammit, Dayn's going to think I'm useless, getting hurt two days in a row. I can't heal it yet, in case he gets hurt, though. She picked up the knife from where it had fallen to the ground, wiping her blood off of it on the inventor's shirt, before putting it in her medical pack. I didn't expect them to have anything enchanted to ignore armour; must have been expensive. She holstered her mini crossbow, looking back to the list that was still in her free hand. She carefully folded it and put it in a pouch on her belt. I'll take the rest of this inventor's stuff after we finish taking them out. I don't want Dayn seeing this; he might burn it or something.





She focused, sending a spark through the connection she'd made to the door handle, making it glow white. Time to call in the cavalry. Two down, six to go, two are on this level, the last four must be upstairs. Probably didn't put down any magicked traps to keep from killing his own team. I guess we'll be fine with traps as long as we stay away from windows.

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn slid quietly into the lower room of the tower and shut the door. He could hear two voices talking, something to do with stealing grain, mead, and the chastity of the local women. Dayn lowered the visor on his bascinet before grabbing his buckler and arming sword as he crossed the space to the door. Taking a deep breath he placed a solid front kick on the door next to the handle as he focused his aeromancy, causing a small down burst in air pressure, successfully busting open the door with gusto. At this point in the game he knew the two most dangerous people were likely dead or incapacitated, so how could a good scrum cause a problem? He hadn't had a good fight in weeks. The two bandits jumped to their feet as Dayn moved into the room and assumed his stance. His sword over his right should and his buckler out and slightly angled. The two bandits, taken back from the sight of a knight, grabbed their weapons. One had a nasty looking mace and the other gripped a poorly cared for axe. It didn't matter though, both were armor killers. The bandit with the mace charged him first, raising his blunt weapon high over his head with his right arm. Dayn waited until he had closed enough floor space before shooting forward, his buckler and sword moving in unison to stop the mace in mid swing. Carefully, with skill honed over years of practice and combat, Dayn pushed with his buckler while he snaked his sword hand around to the left, wrapping his index finger over the top of the sword's guard. When his buckler had moved the mace arm out of the way Dayn pulled back with his sword arm, cutting the bandit across the face, a severe penalty for not wearing a helmet.


The second bandit had begun to flank Dayn during the scrap with the first, and right after Dayn had dispatched his comrade the bandit rushed in and swung his axe with the intent of laying into Dayn's temple. Dayn had followed through with his blow, bending down some to recoil from the strike, and heard the axe blade as it rushed through the air above his head. Turning hi head Dayn thrust his left elbow into the man's sternum, taking the wind from him, before bringing his sword over to catch the bandit on the back side of his knee and slicing up, cutting the hamstring. Dayn pulled his sword back, angling the point down as the bandit's weight crashed down on his bum leg and opening up the vantage point at his throat. As Dayn thrust forward the bandit opened his mouth to scream only for the sound to be muffled as the blade of Dayn's arming sword pushed through his mouth and out the back of his head. No need to twist or wrench the blade, the man was dead.


Dayn pulled his blade out and turned back to the door. He could hear footsteps above him as the other bandits were trying to figure out what the commotion was. Dayn ran out of the room and onto the steps winding up into the tower. He stowed his buckler back on his belt, needing both hands to control the blade in such a tight confined space as the stairwell. The next bandit appeared with, low and behold, another axe. The bandit raced forward with an overhead strike, to which Dayn gripped the middle of his blade with his left hand and parried the blow to the right, letting the haft of the axe slide down his blade, before thrusting the point up under the bandit's chin. The body fell down the stairs as Dayn continued forward, meeting the next bandit at the next story. Only, there were two bandits, and these were steel caps and lamellar armor. One had an axe, the other a falchion. The man with the falchion attacked first, trading blows with Dayn, who noticed a certain amount of thought and skill that the man fought with. Dayn tried his best to keep from focusing in on the one man, but the restraint of his visor didn't help, and the fact that the man with the falchion was extremely aggressive. The two must have fought together for some time, because next thing Dayn knew he had blocked the falchion and moved in close enough to hip toss the bandit wielding it only to have the axe blade of the other bandit bite into his helmet.


The blow rocked Dayn, causing him to partially black out for a couple of seconds as the bandit recoiled from the strike and readied to strike again. Not even thinking Dayn held out his hand and felt the heat flow from his heart to his palm. Sparks flew from his gloved hand as the fire caught on the bandit's clothing, setting him ablaze as the sword wielding bandit hacked at Dayn's stomach. Side stepping, Dayn instinctively brought his sword down at an angle, slicing open the man's neck. Dayn stumbled backward into the wall and slumped down as he dropped his sword and frantically grabbed at his helmet. The left side had caved in some, blocking out the sight. Dayn tried his best to lift the visor, but the steel had bent in upon itself and wedged it in place. He checked his gloves for blood with his right eye and sighed with some relief that he didn't see any yet. His stomach rolled as the world spun, his hope being that Atria would find him before the other bandits. Sure, he had the instinct of years spent training to help him kill those two, but he wasn't sure he could do it again.

 

[Dragongal]

Atria heard the commotion, holding the glamour over herself as the men charged down the stairs. She waited patiently, taking the time to carefully reload her mini crossbow before putting it back in its holster, then keeping pressure against the cut on her side. It wasn't deep, but it stung and her blood was slick on her leather bodice, the rubbing of the armour not helping the pain any. Listening closely to the fights, she noticed something odd. There was no more noise, but Dayn wasn't coming up the steps. Concerned, she poked her head out the door, looking in the direction of the stairs, but she heard one of the last bandits running by, wielding a club, so she waited, forming a clear blue shield at the threshold of the staircase and following silently behind the man. He smacked against the shield, staggering back. Already she was waiting behind him, and as he staggered back she put her dagger through his back, cutting into the spine and heart. She released her shield and stepped over the corpse. Dayn was in sight, slumped against the wall; she rushed to his side, saying, "I swear to the Gods, if you're dead...." He obviously wasn't as he was still moving. She looked at the corpses around him; evidently, he'd used some magic. Not bad.


She knelt next to him, saying, "It's alright, it's me. I've got to get your helmet off, don't worry about the last one, I've got him whenever he's coming." She gently took his helm off of him, saying, "You don't need this anymore; the fight's basically over." She heard footsteps approaching the stairs, but ignored them, mentally keeping track of how close they got. She waited a few seconds, then drew her crossbow and shot the bandit through the throat, barely glancing away from Dayn as she did. The arrow didn't sever his spine, but did manage to cut through his vocal chords. She gave the bandit about ten seconds of flopping about before he died - at least, in her medical opinion. She raised a thin shield between them and the bandit, ensuring that in his last seconds of life he wouldn't cause any more damage.


"What happened? Can you see?" she asked gently, taking his chin in her hand, watching his eyes. She didn't want to try healing him until she knew for sure what was wrong.

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn squinted as his bascinet was removed, the morning light shining through the windows catching him right in the face. He suddenly felt Atria's hand on his chin as she tilted his head up no doubt to check to see if there is any damage. Dayn, still dazed, tried to get his wits about him. "Axe b-blow....t-t-to my head. Damn......that one hurt." He blinked the fog out of his eyes and looked up at Atria, meeting her eyes as she was looking over his head. For a moment he forgot about his aching cranium, but blinked again as he pulled off his gloves. "Don't worry too much. Hardened steel has it's uses, and so do hard heads." He smiled as he reached up and laid his hand on Atria's. It was then that he noticed her other hand gripping her side, and the blood that was staining her clothing. "Oh bugger my head," he let go of Atria's hand and reached out to her side, "how bad is this?"

 

[Dragongal]

Atria mentally paused when he put his hand over hers, then gently caught his hand before he could touch her side, saying, "It's shallow, don't worry. Just a throwing-knife graze, looks far worse than it is. I wasn't paying attention, it's really my own fault. Now, stop moving around so fast, I think you may have a minor concussion." Touching her wound would probably make it sting more than it already did, and she didn't want a distraction while working on Dayn. She didn't let go of his warm, calloused hand, lightly holding it in her left without even realizing, and used her free right hand to gently run her thumb over where the steel had hit his head, using her magic to ease the pain and prevent swelling. No matter what, he was going to ache tonight, but she could keep the bruising minor. The dizziness and nausea she couldn't help with too much, that was out of a healer's bounds, but she could at least make it last for less time, and take off the edge. "Feeling any better yet?" she asked with a slight smile. Now that all of their enemies were down,t hey had no need to rush, and he probably shouldn't try standing for a few minutes anyway.

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn sighed as he laid back against the wall. He genuine concern over Atria's wound had caused him to forget about his head and lean forward, so the sudden wall behind him caused the throbbing ache to return in full swing. He held Atria's hand tightly, but not crushing, as she mended what she could of the injury and concussion. Slowly, ever so gently, the pain began to ease as Atria ran her thumb over his head. The feeling of her touching him, their hands interlocked, the softness of her skin, and her soothing voice all allowed him to focus on something other than the nausea that threatened to make him retch. "Y-yeah, some of it is easing off." Suddenly a feeling of foolishness washed over him. He could feel the blush running over his face uncontrollably. How had he let those two get the better of him? Here he was last night, practically singing the song of his own praise and prowess, and he slipped up and let some oaf almost cave his skull in with an axe. In any other company he wouldn't have thought twice about such an injury happening. He'd had worse wounds during the campaign, but he was among his brothers-in-arms, other battle hardened men who understood what it was to slip up and let the enemy get the advantage of you. But now he was here with Atria, this beautiful young woman who happened to be his partner on the mission, and he had allowed himself to get cocky. Good show old chap. Or, rather, bad show.





Dayn opened his eyes again and suddenly realized that his hand was still interlocked with Atria's own, and he had been gently rubbing her hand with his thumb the whole time as if trying to ease her stress. This realization only embarrassed Dayn all the more, causing his face to flush again and a laugh and a smile to come over his face. Something was different with Atria. Dayn had been around courtly ladies before. Many had been snobbish, a couple had been threatening to tear his clothes off, and some were actually pretty and capable of slightly interesting conversation, but none of them were like the one who crouched before him tending to his head. He watched Atria's face as she continued to work on his head. Before he could filter the words and stop them they had already escaped his lips. "You are truly beautiful, Atria."

 

[Dragongal]

Atria had been working as a medic since before she could pronounce "Trulane" properly. No matter how many years passed, though, she was still surprised by the varying responses from her patients. Having wielded weaponry for over half of her life and gotten into countless... "scraps", she could also understand the need for a distraction during a healing. So, Dayn's holding her hand in such a way wasn't something she minded in the least, especially since it was him. However, his last statement caught her entirely off-guard. Being the warrior-mage-medic she was, she'd never actually courted anyone, or had any suitors who insinuated such possibilities. Her male friends were just her friends; that was all. Any feelings she'd had for anyone she'd ignored quite roughly, especially after leaving her village.


She blushed deeply, quietly replying with the first thing she that came to mind, "That... is something I've honestly never been told. Thank you." She let go of his hand, taking off her medical pack, before putting her hand back in his with a slight, almost shy smile. She wasn't sure if she was doing it for him or for her, but she did like holding his hand for certain.With her free hand she sorted through her pack before pulling out a small, clear crystal chunk. Holding it in her palm, she gently ran the backs of her fingers across his forehead, repeating the slow motion. "For the dizziness and nausea," she quietly explained, still blushing crimson.

 

[BookWyrm]

Whatever it was that Atria was doing was making a difference. Dayn's nausea leveled out and the world stopped wobbling, if it had been. Truly Dayn hadn't been paying attention to it. He didn't understand why he had suddenly confessed his thoughts about her appearance. Even later on in his life Dayn would look back and wonder about what made him say that. But never once did he regret it. She was different, and it was because of that reason Dayn found he truly enjoyed being around her. Something about her had struck him, and he wondered just how far down this path the two of them would go. He cracked a mischievous half smile when he saw her blush and was thankful for the fact that no one else was around to bother them. After a couple of minutes of Atria's tending Dayn felt the affects of the injury had subsided enough to attempt to stand. "I think I can stand." Dayn propped on hand behind him on the wall and held onto Atria's with his other. Pushing off with the one hand Dayn found his footing. He allowed himself a moment to stand still, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he felt his body finally level out. The throbbing in his head died away, but the residual pain would last for a while.


Dayn opened his eyes and smiled at Atria. "My dear, I owe you the deepest of gratitude." For a brief few seconds Dayn had the notion to lean in and kiss her, wondering how the feeling of her lips against his own would be. No, not right now. Dayn lifted Atria's hand and kissed it, his eyes never leaving hers during the course of the action. As he lowered her hand again he held it tightly for a few seconds before letting go to reach for his sword. "I do think we ought to make way back to our camp. Despite the rising sun, I fear that I could use some rest." After gathering his sword and gloves he walked over to his ruined helmet. He looked over the shattered steel with remorse. "You know this helmet was a gift from my father. It is the one piece of armor that lasted from my younger years, I grew out of everything else. Though, I must say, it was getting a little tight."





(You are welcome to skip to the camp if you want)

 

[Dragongal]

Crimson didn't even begin to describe Atria's blush in response to Dayn's actions. Though what mattered to her was less his kissing her hand and more his holding her hand for a few seconds afterward. But had he actually said "my dear?" She assumed that had something to do with his noble upbringing, as the hand-kissing did too... they weren't that close, not yet at least. As much as she liked hearing him call her that, she knew she couldn't allow him to say it and truly mean it. She was both sad and happy about having to leave him in two days: sad because she didn't want him to leave her, and happy because that would mean less pain for them both, if he left sooner, before he found things out about her and got hurt.


Atria picked up the helm, saying slowly, "It's not that badly damaged... I could probably get it into, um, usable shape, or you could probably sell it and get one that fits it better, or have them add metal and re-work it. If not selling it for use, then sell it for the metal. It'd fetch a fair price. If you don't want to sell it, and you're just going to discard it, I'll take it to sell." She hadn't worked metal in years, mostly due to her hatred of fire, but she was fairly certain she remembered how to heat a bit of bent sheet metal like a helm and hammer it back into place.





~Timeskip~


Atria tossed her medical pack gently on the ground; she'd taken the last of the inventor's blueprints and alchemical creations. She wasn't going to pass up a chance to find out how to make that powdered foci - which by all magical laws shouldn't work. On their way back to the cave, she'd put some gauze against her wound and wrapped it quickly over her armour; it was sufficient for the walk back, she could patch it up properly once she was sure Dayn was settled. She still was a bit concerned for him, as a healer's limit when it came to concussions was speeding healing and dealing with symptoms, which meant she had to regularly check on him to keep the symptoms at bay. She sat down on her side of the fire, somewhat tired from using magic. The most mana draining thing she'd done was holding the glamour over herself, but little things added up too. "How're you doing?"

 

[BookWyrm]

Now that they had made it back to camp and in the comfortable space of the shelter Dayn had allowed himself to relax. But in relaxation Dayn's head had begun to ache and throb. "Could be better, could be worse." He forced a smile to his face as he chewed on a medicinal root. He leaned his head back against his pack and pondered over his helmet. The damage had been severe and he had almost discarded it right there, but Atria had convinced him to at least sell it to a metal worker to smelt it down. What sentimental value it held had passed when Dayn had come to the realization that he would need to replace, and that took place a couple of years past. He had not replaced it because he hadn't had the chance to. But since they were heading back into the city he figured he'd find an armorer of good reputation. Plans, for after they had parted ways. Something about this bothered him. Deep down he knew why, but he wasn't ready to let himself believe it. He could hear his mother berating him from the last winter. "Dayn, life is too short to spend it wandering around on some quest or adventure. Now don't start in on me about tradition or family honor. You are getting to the good age to find yourself a nice manor somewhere and a good well bred girl to settle down to home life with. You need to start thinking beyond your own ambition." And start thinking about what exactly? Listening to some noble born girl blabber on about court gossip or how the tea seems to be getting milder as the seconds pass on? It's mental!


Dayn couldn't help, he had to ask her, for nothing more than to just break out of his own thoughts. "So, what are your plans? I think I might stay in town for a while, relax and take some time off from the road. Probably find a good armorer and see about his wares."

 

[Dragongal]

Atria moved to his side, gently brushing back some of his hair, running her thumb lightly over the bruising to help ease the pain. "Well, I generally go wherever there's work for me. I may have to take off some time to go over the alchemist's blueprints I stole," and the list, she thought, before continuing, "I'm not one for planning, really." And if I stay in one place too long, there's a risk I'll be recognized. "I mean, I need more supplies, but past that... I don't know what will happen when we part ways.” She didn’t like saying ‘when.’ She wanted to say ‘if.’ After all, they obviously made a good team, and they were comfortable with each other, she didn’t have another assignment, and she didn’t want him to leave her. Her stomach dropped slightly with that last acknowledgement. When had she become someone who was dependent? Though she had to admit to herself, a little dependency wasn’t that bad; who wanted to be tough all the time when that meant you couldn’t be allowed to be hurt? And she didn’t mind the idea of a little dependency if Dayn was who she was going to be dependent on….


She cleared her throat, standing up and moving over to her pack, pulling out some medical equipment. "I, uh, need to patch up my wound, um... I'll be just outside." Once outside, and out of his sight, she gingerly removed her bodice and shirt, examining the cut. Luckily she wouldn't need stitching. She applied the gauze and wrapped it properly, pulling her clothing back on. Glanced at her hand, still bandaged after having been burnt, she began to think. Well... it's been almost three years... I should be fine, right? What's the worst that could happen? Magic sometimes had odd quirks of its own, in a way similar to how reflexes might. A very bad experience might lead to some odd habits that the person doesn't even notice at first. She focused her mana on healing the burn.


Atria stiffened suddenly. Where had that scream come from? No, wait, that had been in her head. Right. Stay in the moment, don't get dragged - Suddenly it felt hot, like she was near flames. Not controlled fire like a forge, but ravenous, untamable fire bent on devouring everything and leaving ashes in its wake. Not again, please, godsdammit. Pain returned to old wounds, bruises long healed ached again, and she yelped loudly in pain, holding her hand to her chest protectively as she fell to her knees. She closed her eyes, wincing, but didn't open her eyes again, distracted by the images in her mind. The loam underneath her was replaced by hard patchy stone and the open air around her disappeared, cheap wooden walls and darkness taking its place. Was that blood running down her cheeks, or tears? Please, gods, it's not real.... She knew how the scenario in her mind was about to play out, the same as it always did, the same as it had in reality, and she could never stop it, especially once she forgot where she was - but she desperately kept herself from getting caught in the memory. She pulled out her dagger without looking, flipping it with ease of practice and catching it in her left hand by the blade, letting the edge bite into her palm. Her eyes were still closed, and it was still a fight to keep herself from drowning under the weight of the memory, but at least she had a chance now. "Gods dammit, please no..." she said to herself.

 

[BookWyrm]

Dayn, having heard what sounded like Atria cry out, pulled back the curtain to find Atria in a daze, a knife in her hand as she gripped the blade. Dayn ran over and knelled down in front of Atria. "Atria! Atria wake up!" Dayn grabbed her shoulders and shook her as he tried to break her out of whatever daze or confusion held her. He heard her repeating talking, almost begging for whatever this was to go away. Her eyes almost looked glazed over, as if she was seeing some vision or distant memory. "Atria come back! Listen, it's me Dayn! Can you hear me? I'm right here in front of you." Dayn tried to remove the knife from Atria's hand but she gripped it like a vise. "Atria please, focus on my voice. Come back to me Atria, I'm here." Finally something occurred to him, almost making him laugh at the idea. But something within him knew it was right. Reaching up and laying his hands on either side of her face Dayn leaned forward, pressing his lips against her own, hoping that this would bring her back and out of whatever held her.

 

[Dragongal]

Terribly confused, Atria opened her eyes to Dayn kissing her. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she gently pushed him back, trying to get her bearings. Not making eye contact, she looked to the dagger gripped in her hand, dropping it stiffly and looking at the gashes across her palm and fingers, dripping blood onto the grass. The memory still fresh in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but shiver, suddenly cold compared to the heat of the memory. She looked back to Dayn and hesitantly reached up, brushing back some of his hair with her bandaged hand, simply making sure he was real. In a swift motion, she wrapped her arms around him and put her head against his shoulder, holding him tightly. He was there, he was real, she was safe now, and he was a perfect distraction. "Ní le do thoil saoire dom," she pleaded quietly in Northern. She paused and said shakily, "I-I thought I could do it. It's been three years, I-I thought...." In honesty, her actions had been a response to their short conversation earlier. Had Dayn not been around, she wouldn't have felt brave enough to even attempt healing the burn; and deep down she knew it, so she had to take her chance.


(Any Northern can be translated from Irish in G-Translate. Dayn may not understand, but you could.)