Fantasy Ballad of Renegades

[Corn Orc Vandal]

Khadija Aslan​

Group 1 ( BlueXBlood , Zazz , Xen6n , Aegis )​

"Seems more likely I'd be carrying you," Bal said.

Khadija laughed, light and melodious. A joke? From the gladiator? The thin air must be getting to us both.

"I'm not so proud as you, Bal. My feet would be glad for it," she replied as the group trudged along. the widening mountain path. the warrior grew furtive, secretive.

"You seem to know a lot about these secret folk." Khadija considered this. Her Imperial instructors had known very little about the Order, and any attempt she made at deepening her knowledge failed; there were simply few records concerning the Order in the Academy archives, as if someone tried to wipe them from history altogether. Just myths and rumors remained. What did she truly know of the Order beyond this? Evidently, her companion held some distrust towards them. Following Bal's lead, she lowered her tone, and as an extra precaution, spoke in Orcish.

"In truth, I know very little; no one in Axasterke does. They left the continent many centuries ago," she replied. The half-orc spoke her native tongue with refinement, softening the guttural tongue and smoothing harsh vowels. "They were once saviors of this world, though, and I doubt that has changed. I believe we can trust them."

Head bent in exhaustion, Bal pushed onwards as Khadija lagged behind. She was sick of the mountains. Ready to be anywhere but here. With each step, she felt a growing desire to turn around, an unexplainable urge to leave this place. Just go back to the valley. It was nice there. Before long, the bard had forgotten why she was even on this desolate rock in the first place. She looked around, befuddled, and saw a wagon. Best follow them. Maybe they know the way out. Khadija trailed along, her mind jumbled. Then, there was no more confusion. She remembered. Before her stood a large stone door.

Khadija shot a sly, knowing look at Aris. "More Seeker trickery, eh? I'm growing wise to your Order's ways." She knew little of magic wards, only that they existed, and the bard suspected she'd just barely made it through one. They pressed through the entrance, and Khadija braced herself for every manner of hidden wonder.

Turns out, she needn't have bothered.

The Sanctuary was a decrepit and crumbling place, ruined by time and neglect. Her stomach dropped, and she felt herself questioning the wisdom of coming to this isolated place with total strangers. Can't turn back now.

No fire burned here, no feast laid. The Order was gone, spirited away. Perhaps they travelled with the only two remaining from this sect. Just shades here, shadows haunting the hollow halls. Even the ruins were disappointing to Khadija, a city dweller accustomed to the grandiose monuments and manors of Safir Şehri. Her very presence in this place felt wrong. The ideas she held about the Order perhaps as empty as their home. Still, it was a place to rest. Hopefully. Khadija looked doubtfully to Bal before addressing their hosts.

"Well, I certainly don't think anyone will come looking for us here," she said, doing little to hide her disappointment.

 

[Zazz]

GROUP 2: Corn Orc Vandal BlueXBlood Xen6n Aegis

"-I... very little; no... Axasterke... They left the... many..." Bal'kafaz squinted at the ground, trying to translate what little she could of Khadija's words. "They were... and I... that has... I... we... trust them." The bard spoke differently than orc slaves in Prigalla, more... smoothly.

She was still mulling over the few orcish words she had picked up on when she and Aris opened the door to... not a whole lot. At least, not at first glance. The place was neglected, to put it politely. One look at the other half-orc and Bal'kafaz could see this was not what the bard had been expecting. Aris, on the other hand, was quietly glowing. The gladiator raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and shrugged at Khadija.

Bal'kafaz brushed aside a large, dusty spiderweb and stepped further into the ruin, moving loose rocks out of her path with her booted feet. She made no effort to be quiet about it; no one had been here for some time. Quite some time. The greenery crept through a gaping hole in the rock ceiling.

"What exactly are we here for?" Bal'kafaz coughed, peering over the time-weathered railing at the moldy tapestries.

 

[Corn Orc Vandal]

Khadija Aslan​

Group 1 ( BlueXBlood , Zazz , Xen6n , Aegis )​

The group stepped deeper into the Sanctuary's ruins, and the interior was no better. Khadija wondered if this dilapidation was another Seeker trick, a way to ward off would-be intruders. Perhaps the glamer spell would wear off, and they would see the true, opulent Sanctuary. Khadija pressed against a crumbling railing to test her theory. The decaying wood snapped in two. No spells here. Just rot. Great. There were glimpses of grandeur and opulence here and there. A gilded column. Stained-glass windows. But this Sanctuary's best days were long behind it. Khadija wondered if this explained why so little of the Order was known anymore. Had they simply faded away, not just in Axasterke, but all of Kirlia? No. Maybe this place was abandoned, but surely there are others. Khadija wondered if the two were even Seekers at all, and not just squatters masquerading as such.

She glanced over at Aris, who, on the contrary, seemed silently pleased to arrive a this crumbling manor. Well, at least one of us is happy.

"What exactly are we here for?" Bal asked. Khadija laughed in disbelief.

"Did the Prigallans rob you of your wits as well as your freedom?" Khadija replied, temper rising. She slipped into Orcish, not intentionally, but out of sheer irritation. "Every Prigallan with a blade is on our trail right now. I know you're ready to embrace death with open arms, but I'm not so keen on crossing paths with him yet. This is the one place they might not find us."

As quickly as her anger came, so too did it leave. She sighed, practically deflating, and pinched the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut, as if to stop the annoyance from boiling over. It was all too much for her. Khadija thought it'd been a huge stroke of luck, coming across the Seekers and convincing them to let her access their Sanctuary. The Cradle? Here? What a joke. I doubt they even have a rag to bind Bal's wounds. Three more days here I'll have naught but my sleeves left.

"It's fine. It's all fine," Khadija muttered before composing herself. "Well! I'm certainly looking forward to seeing the rest of the grounds, Aris. I believe a tour is in order, no?" She tried to appear jovial, but her effort was half-hearted. Perhaps she could find something of use here. If not information on the Cradle, then at least a chance to rest and reoutfit herself.

 

[BlueXBlood]

Group 2 - Aris, R'hllor, Khadija, and Bal'Kafaz
The Southwestern Sanctuary of the Order ​

Aris took a moment to quietly bask in the atmosphere of the ruined sanctuary. Though beside her, the two half-orcs portrayed their disappointment openly, the Seeker was quite content with the state of things. Where the others saw desolation and abandonment, she saw something to nurture and rebuild, and that was enough to let her look past all that suffocated the remains of the stronghold.

"Well! I'm certainly looking forward to seeing the rest of the grounds, Aris. I believe a tour is in order, no?"

Khadija's words interrupted Aris' moment of engrossment and admiration, earning a quirked eyebrow from the half-elf. She certainly didn't plan on being some hospitable host to the two, so she was forced to ponder whether or not she was really in the mood for such a thing. Reaching into her satchel and retrieving the journal and reed pen, she began to write, displaying the journal to the bard shortly after.

"I'll give you a tour later. I'm going to find my things." She paused... and then wrote just a little more. "You can come with me if you want."

Though it was easy for the words to come off as dry and toneless on paper, the absence of any deliberately cold expressions from the half-elf was almost equivalent to a gentle, inviting gesture, as Aris looked at the bard expectantly. With a motion of her gaze, she gestured toward the gladiator, extending that invitation towards them as well. As she waited for their response, she almost felt embarrassed for attempting to be at least a little amiable, but of course, she refused to let anyone notice. It was the least she could do if she intended to keep to herself after that, anyway...

[ Aegis , Xen6n , Corn Orc Vandal , Zazz ]​

 

[Zazz]

GROUP 2: Corn Orc Vandal BlueXBlood Xen6n Aegis

When Khadija erupted into more Orcish, Bal'kafaz sighed quietly and simply waited for her to finish her tirade, not bothering to try to pick out words. She spoke too fast, and, frankly, she was exhausted. Finally, when the bard finished, Bal' said simply, "I have no idea what you just said."

And walked down the crumbling stairs.

The other two women were communicating through their book again, and Bal'kafaz did not particularly wish to participate in a conversation she could not understand.

The Sanctuary, as she'd heard it called, was a dusty, crumbling mess. But perhaps there were still supplies left from long ago. The gladiator found a broom leaning in a corner, its bristles spotted with mold and layered with dust, and used it to break apart cobwebs in decaying doorways.

 

[Goonfire]

SHERAGA THE LEPER
GROUP 1:
Corn Orc Vandal Daylight Fantasy Tool Aegis

---

"Ah, Kellid. I come from Jarnakkia, neighbor." The pilgrim otherwise remained silent, acting as a barrier for the scholar while they tried to strafe away from the few desperate souls who still dared to stay on the beach. Those plans were made impossible as several others made their way onto the sand, fanning out to surround them and the Kellid woman. Their fancy words did little to veil the banditry taking place.

Obscured by his helmet, his eyes flickered from target to target. Arbalestiers... the crossbows that gave this type of soldier their name were known to pierce wooden doors with their iron bolts. Plate armor was no problem. However, it was nigh impossible to penetrate said armor if there was another body in the way. The drawback weight was at least one thousand pounds, the mechanism of each requiring almost a minute to wind under optimal conditions. At a glance, at least half of these bullies on the ground would make excellent meat shields versus the first volley.

Then, a voice pierced the tense air. A young man dared reason with the ringleader. He carried an air of authority while lacking the pompous undertone of a nobleman—perhaps a military officer. He warned this Mikaela that no more ships may come if she spilled blood on these sands in this moment. This was the pilgrim's moment to chime in...

"It may be worse than that," he declared with great volume and a tone similar to that of the officer, yet gruffer. "You know these markings upon my armor. Pick your battles." As he spoke, he produced a scroll and unfurled it with a flick of the wrist. The faded script upon the water-damaged parchment was ornate, nigh incomprehensible unless one really squinted. "I come bearing holy orders. Move; I wish for salvation to find its way to this godsforsaken place." Whether or not he was bluffing, he hoped it was enough to dissuade the scumbags.

 

[Tool]

GROUP 1
Goonfire Corn Orc Vandal Aegis Daylight Fantasy



Annik watched a willowy.... man? She was pretty sure he was a man..... follow the Sick Man in Yellow Metal. This one had long dark hair, dark as fire-stone. He looked delicate, somehow, and smelled to Annik's nose like mineralish, wet rock and something sharp as cinders. Though he wore what seemed like an absurd number of layers, raven-hair at least did not appear as skittish as his fellows. Was he a companion of the Sick Man in Yellow Metal? He was certainly pretty enough to be someone's companion.

Her Prophesied spoke, then, of being neighbors, seeming neither surprised nor intrigued to find that she was here by prophecy, nor seeming especially interested in what part he supposedly played in it. It was refreshing. Then again, the Sick Man in Yellow Metal was very big - it was entirely possible he'd brushed against prophecy before.

"I have heard of this place, Jarn'kkia, but I have not yet journeyed towards the rising sun long enough to see it."

Even more people spilled onto the beach from somewhere, this stupid island would never run out of people, though these seemed dedicated to surrounding the Sick Man in Yellow Metal, Annik herself, and the raven-hair. Their armor and weapons were worn and bore the blood of metal in places. In Annik's brief experience, warriors were constantly putting oils or fats onto their metal, so their metal would not begin to bleed. As far as she could tell, metal bled all on its own if left alone for too long, and when metal bled its powdery, orangish, brownish blood, it became as weak as a wounded animal. The more the metal bled, the weaker metal became.

Metal bled, which meant metal could be killed.

It was good.

A woman wreathed in wounded metal came and spoke in rapid, arrogant tones, her movements those of one who had not known genuine weakness, had never been brought truly low, despite the mark going from lip all the way up to her temple. Scar-face fancied herself a predator, and perhaps in these, brown, lifeless lands, she was one. Annik tried to follow along with the woman's words, putting them together with only a beat between them.

Annik's parsing gave another man in metal time to come up and try to dissuade the two-hands worth of would-be predators, talking about...... not doing this in front of the ship? Why..... would ships care? Perhaps the ships themselves had spirits, judging those they carried and those upon the shores? The phrase stand down was also spoken by the newest man in metal, though Annik had no idea how one could stand downwards.

For that matter, she had no idea what dying vests had to do with anything. She wasn't even wearing one. None of them were.

The Kellid's clever gaze caught sight of more people on the tops of the buildings, wielding what she recognized as spear throwers.

It was the Sick Man in Yellow Metal's turn to proclaim that he had holy orders.

On..... paper?

His Gods wrote on paper?

Annik's limited interaction with paper had so far left her unimpressed.

It seemed a very fragile way to commune with one's worshipers.

Perhaps the Gods of the Sick Man in Yellow Metal infused the paper with..... strength? Power?

Annik waited a moment to see whether or not the paper would do anything, but it looked...... very paper-like, which was to say flat, filled with marks, and disinclined to do anything on its own but lay there.

Her pale, bright, nearly clear eyes rested for a moment upon scar-face, and then Annik moved quick as a wink, unencumbered by metal (bleeding, shiny, yellow, or otherwise) to point the sharp edge of her spear at scar-face's throat, a sigh's distance from releasing a wash of crimson from behind thin and eager skin.

"You will suffer me." Annik said, quietly, her words for scar-face alone.

The jump of a fluttering pulse in the woman's neck was easy to see, and the fear it implied pleased Annik, even if scar-face was trying to put a brave face on things. A fight between predators was, on some level, always a matter of figuring out who was the better killer. Contempt showed clear on her face. It didn't matter whether or not Annik died on these sands and fed her friendly crows; she was the better killer.

"Your people starve. I have killed wrong men, freed slaves, and fed many."

Annik's eyes narrowed and she stepped forward, even though the edge of her spear didn't budge. This was a weapon with which she had practice.

"I earned a place beside my ancestors, long ago. Have you earned a place beside yours? We will find out together, yes?"

 

[Corn Orc Vandal]

Agonos Isles
Group 1 ( Goonfire , Aegis , Tool , Daylight Fantasy )​

Mikaela's head whipped around to catch Arnou approaching. The young man was not pleased at their antics. He never was, so this came as no surprise to her. The privateer tried to recruit him to their band of brigands when he arrived on the island, with his dazzling armor and strong sword-arm. He refused then, and refused every other offer she made. Too good for them, she figured, some high born brought low. Not low enough, perhaps. Always doing something for those who couldn't do it for themselves. However, coming to the aid of these souls caught her off-guard, and she looked at him with disbelief.

"Newcomers? Have you not seen the corpses littering our streets, flesh rended from bone by human teeth? Maybe you haven't, cloistered away in your high tower, but we've seen them. Known them. And she," Mikaela pointed her broadsword to Annik, "is the one responsible. Perhaps her new friends, too. Sending them away would be a kindness compared to what they truly deserve."

The immense thing in armor spoke. This man gave these brigands the most pause. They understood strength, and knew this giant surely possessed it. Their grime-collared eyes studied him warily, and the sharpshooters trained their sights on his plated chest. No small target.

Mikaela laughed bitterly at his attempt to assert whatever authority his station might lend. "Oh, we know your order well here, Nurite. Did you think you were the first of your kind to arrive? There's even a temple to your god in our beautiful city, tended to by your brothers and sisters. I'm sure they would be very eager to meet you," the bandit spat. The outside world held little influence on the Agonos Isles, though it never stopped the world from trying. Mikaela knew her arbalestiers would make short work of the big man and paid him little heed. Their bolts would punch through both parchment and steel.

Emboldened, she turned again to Arnou, hoping to sway the fighter to their cause, but felt a rush of air and something alien pressing against her neck. Not cold, stinging metal, a sensation she knew all too well. This was jagged, warm with fresh blood. Mikaela's head did not move lest she cut her own throat, but her eyes shifted to meet those of the person who held her life in their hands.

"I earned a place beside my ancestors, long ago. Have you earned a place beside yours? We will find out together, yes?"

The men and women around her raised their weapons, and the crossbows became fixed on Annik. "You won't find the way to your precious ancestors here, savage. This land is cursed. You will rot under an alien sun, far from home, until your bleached bones fall beneath the waves. There you will remain for the rest of time, bound to your remains until the sea grinds you into dust." Mikaela slowly raised her right hand, a small gesture darkened with a certain ambiguity.

The brigands sheathed their weapons.

"Your crows will go hungry. For today." Mikaela took a step back, feeling the pressure on her throat fade away. "Such things are not right, Arnou. They are not right. I thought I knew you, but I've been mistaken before." She shook her head. "Enjoy your feral woman while you can. This southern climate will do her ill." With a whistle, the outlaws disbanded, dissolving back into the city.

A familiar and haunting sound reverberated through the ancient city's ruined streets. The bell rang four times. Tonight, the Agonos Conclave would open their gates.

 

[Nebulous Stars]

Group 4 | Rael, Eibor, and Quart
The Forests Southwest of Iyesgarth ​

Quart had a lot of adjustments to make, first as the bird’s voice rang out she bumped the creature’s categories in her head from animal to person. Next was simply physical, rising to her feet with more ease than she had any right to have, albeit shoulders over hips over feet, betrayed something odd to the way she moved. She took a moment to adjust the fit of her cloak and knock a bit of dirt off from the inside, before fully turning her attention to her surprise visitees.

First to draw the eye was the bird, Eibor, who she now realized rang a bell. The species rather than the individual, but while the academy had been disinterested in most natural philosophy, all manners of magic were paramount. She had never learned the advanced information, but basic spotting and assessment had been covered. Granted, the distinctive tail helped. Their words had inevitably sparked a cold turn in her stomach though.

Already discovered, she had little chance to actually escape ill intent without bloodshed, and neither had really any fault beyond hitting an unknowable sore point. Unable to escape the obvious conclusion, she could only be glad that her body did not grow tired with her mind, as she set her mind to friendly overtures. It had never been her strongest suit.

Still Eibor was at least charming, seeming to have briefly taken the lead from the man that they had spoken to before, Half-elf, quiet, dangerous, armed with a bow which bodes poorly should things sour. She felt a kinship to the scars across his face, each marked unmistakably by history, no matter how different their pasts. Some quiet instinct told her that they might enjoy silence together, but Eiborr had put in the effort, and so she would repay that friendliness.

To begin, she took down her hood, letting the dim light of her hair show in the dark, without a thought paid to the utterly gaunt face thusly revealed, the scar over her eye and the burn on her cheek just visible in the glow. Looking up to the bird in three above she spoke, her voice rough but clear, “I am Quarter Clay, of no place nor people. Better to find friendly company out here than the alternative. Right now the only thing I am in need of is a place to rest for a time, but it is yet to be terribly urgent. Companionship may be welcome, but I am as healthy as can be.”

As if to demonstrate she took a step forward and raised her arms to each side, entirely unconscious of the way her shirt fell empty over a concave stomach, and the skeletal nature of her draped arms. Yet she still held a visible energy and vigor, a strange contradiction, as she lowered her arms and let her cloak settle back over her shoulders, not a shiver to be seen in the cool night air. Risking a joke, she spoke again, “Do you two have an actual camp out here, or is this just some friendly ominous lurking?”

[ @LumeNym , @Rusty of Shackleford , BlueXBlood ]​