Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
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Fantasy Chivalry: A Pilgrimage
- Thread starter Killigrew
- Start date
Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
Even after it burns out, fire leaves charred reminders. Smoke is its lingering scent, a staining scent. It covers the inner nose with flakes black as coal.
Long after the pilgrims had gone out from Gallace Academy’s great city, the fire-dust still clung to them. It would not let them forget and stirred up memories of the massacre; for among the pilgrims were witnesses and survivors alike. These men were at the Academy during the attack, on a hill above the now-charred village. From the castle wall, they would have spied the dragon that parted clouds and fell like lightning down to earth, the flame spitting from its mouth, coating the land in angry, hungry red.
The flame was gluttonous. After it had consumed the homes of farmers, laborers and poor men, it burned in the hearts of those that survived, nestling down like a thorn that digs in deep and set the teeth on edge. The cry was for Vengeance -- blood for blood. Those serpents took the lives of good men. To the sword with them! Kill them! Kill them all! The priests preached vengeance in their temples, and the commoners howled for it in their streets.
And as for those that remained by the dragons’ side in this time, they were counted among the beasts -- for they were the sympathizers, the enablers, the deceived. By association, these fools were held accountable; the guilt of the serpents became a yolk their shoulders also bore.
The solution offered was considered ludicrous by most -- a stalling tactic. That the dragons would be sent on pilgrimage with the sympathizers, with Narathzul, their guardian, and Lureana, the student, was a most heinous affront. Good pilgrims seek holiness in these journeys. They traverse the land with the clothes on their back, putting their lives in the grace of the gods and the generosity of townsfolk. And these demons would take on such a high calling? What heresy is this?
With so criminal a company, who could blame the good nobles, priests, and peasants that withdrew for the year? At the announcement, the company cut from a hefty hundred to a mere handful. To be seen beside a dragon is to be seen the advocate of a murderer. Indeed, those that remain are either very foolish or very brave.
Therefore, it can be said that this group of travellers is more a party of exiles than pilgrims. Their visit to these holy sites displays a shabby pretense of repentance and piety. The untold truth is obvious; these are no pilgrims. They are criminals that the worldly powers in cowardice seen fit to prolong the judgement of. What is feared is what influence this malignant group will obtain in their journey. Should they find proof of their worth or gain the mercy of rulers, perhaps by the end of it, the necessary judgement will be overturned. As is uncommonly known, to endeavor to change the mind of a people requires that one starts at the very bottom; one must first convince the commoners, the hungry, and the weary. Gods help us if they succeed.
It has been three days since the journey’s beginning. Dusk colours the sky in the hues of passion as the pilgrims approach the gate of a small countryside town.
~Réunion~
Where Herders Abide
A wooden wall had been erected around the village, trunks of trees honed to a sharp edge, like it were a collection spears laid side by side. The arrangement was not tall or mighty by any means; astride his stallion, Sayne could almost peer over the top of it.
Stones bordered the gate, though they cracked and crumbled with the mud that bound them together. The gate itself was a messy construction of wood boards tacked one atop another. They were thick, sure, but the cover they offered was shabby at best. Sayne was certain he could easily stick a whole arm through.
No matter the craftsmanship, he was sure it served a deterrent for bandits in the area. And with the thrush here as thick as it was, many an evildoer could be crouching.
This would be the first night these pilgrims would spend in such safety.
It was unfortunate, then, that the gate was closed to them.
Eirik of Kenbury, who was stationed at the front of the group, stepped forward to knock on the door.
When no answer came immediately, he raised his voice, and in his rough pitch, cried out, “Present at your door are pilgrims seeking a warm meal and place to lay their weary heads!”
Now a shadow passed over the rifts of the gate, and an answer voiced in Leonhart tongue, muffled though it was by accent and wood.
“Hail, travelers!” Brown eyes illuminated by flickering flame stared out from a gap in the boards. “I am afraid you will have to sleep outside tonight! We make it our policy not to let wanderers into our village after nightfall.”
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
Argrave Stolkes
Another evening of flat ground in lieu of soft downy bed, another night of star-flecked, black pitch firmament over their heads, watching them as they lay. Argrave set his mind to that fact, not at all ill-pleased by this turn of fate. His life outdoors had always been one of his joys, the cool, crisp air was the breath of Aquila, refreshing to the soul and rejuvenating to his body. The night had fallen swiftly while they were on the road, and on being denied entrance to the village they had sought refuge in, Argrave had been among the first to set to the task of collecting the bracken and bramble that lay across the open ground to fuel their watchfires through until dawn broke. These past three days, he had been a valuable asset to the caravan of pilgrims, leading on the winding trails and foraging for what may be of use, edible berries and roots, sturdy branches for tent-poles and cooking structures, always eager to serve the dragons that had been sent to test the human condition against Aquila's will.
The dragons, the focal point of this journey in his mind, were an infinite draw to him, to an extent that he had barely taken notice of his fellow humans except when utterly necessary. He was loathe to pull himself from the dragons' sides, and they carried a heady scent about them that he could continue to inhale for eternity. It could only be described as the scent of Aquila herself, and his blessed senses were attuned to it, thanks to the goddess' gift to find the workings of her blessed hands. Argrave threw himself at the dragons whims, constantly performing acts of service and comfort for them to gain their favor. If he was seen as overbearing, he noticed it not, though it felt the glares of impudence from his fellow race were constantly upon him. To these heretics, the dragons were demon-spawn, evil incarnate, yet none present had so much as raised a hand or claw or word against what they must surely deem as a species of lower stature and worth. These actions only furthered Argrave's conviction that these mighty creatures were Aquila's ambassadors, sent to test the wills and hearts of men to be pure and to shun their baser emotions of hatred and distrust. Argrave subconsciously felt that he was of some value to them then, surely their chiefest deity must have made known to them that he had been chosen by Aquila herself, an honour that he accepted with willing reluctance.
As the fires were stoked and camp was made, Argrave again made his rounds to the dragons, be they in beast or manly form, and inquiring after their well-being. The one called as Minerva intrigued him greatly, as she was generally the most companionable, sometimes even gracing his presence with the utterings of a conversation. Her bearing, as with the others, appeared lofty to his eyes, as if they knew what grace and poise they were esteemed with, and carried it on their person to full effect. Argrave saved her visit for the last, as he prayed to Aquila that she would speak to him through this dragon most noble.
@Dusky
Another evening of flat ground in lieu of soft downy bed, another night of star-flecked, black pitch firmament over their heads, watching them as they lay. Argrave set his mind to that fact, not at all ill-pleased by this turn of fate. His life outdoors had always been one of his joys, the cool, crisp air was the breath of Aquila, refreshing to the soul and rejuvenating to his body. The night had fallen swiftly while they were on the road, and on being denied entrance to the village they had sought refuge in, Argrave had been among the first to set to the task of collecting the bracken and bramble that lay across the open ground to fuel their watchfires through until dawn broke. These past three days, he had been a valuable asset to the caravan of pilgrims, leading on the winding trails and foraging for what may be of use, edible berries and roots, sturdy branches for tent-poles and cooking structures, always eager to serve the dragons that had been sent to test the human condition against Aquila's will.
The dragons, the focal point of this journey in his mind, were an infinite draw to him, to an extent that he had barely taken notice of his fellow humans except when utterly necessary. He was loathe to pull himself from the dragons' sides, and they carried a heady scent about them that he could continue to inhale for eternity. It could only be described as the scent of Aquila herself, and his blessed senses were attuned to it, thanks to the goddess' gift to find the workings of her blessed hands. Argrave threw himself at the dragons whims, constantly performing acts of service and comfort for them to gain their favor. If he was seen as overbearing, he noticed it not, though it felt the glares of impudence from his fellow race were constantly upon him. To these heretics, the dragons were demon-spawn, evil incarnate, yet none present had so much as raised a hand or claw or word against what they must surely deem as a species of lower stature and worth. These actions only furthered Argrave's conviction that these mighty creatures were Aquila's ambassadors, sent to test the wills and hearts of men to be pure and to shun their baser emotions of hatred and distrust. Argrave subconsciously felt that he was of some value to them then, surely their chiefest deity must have made known to them that he had been chosen by Aquila herself, an honour that he accepted with willing reluctance.
As the fires were stoked and camp was made, Argrave again made his rounds to the dragons, be they in beast or manly form, and inquiring after their well-being. The one called as Minerva intrigued him greatly, as she was generally the most companionable, sometimes even gracing his presence with the utterings of a conversation. Her bearing, as with the others, appeared lofty to his eyes, as if they knew what grace and poise they were esteemed with, and carried it on their person to full effect. Argrave saved her visit for the last, as he prayed to Aquila that she would speak to him through this dragon most noble.
@Dusky
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Dusky
Succubus
Minerva Purpurea
Minerva snorts, missing the gust of air that would have resulted in her usual form. She, too, enjoys the outdoors, but it does not escape her notice that these are not safe lands. It is with some irritation she remembers that her draconic form must remain under wraps, even tonight - it would be ideal for responding to any attack at a moment's notice. Protecting these meatbags. Why is she bothering w- oh, the reputation bit. Dragon integration, all that. A part of her thinks, Well, why bother with that?
She shakes her head and casts a glance among company. A motley lot. She watches quietly through heavily lidded, scale-adorned eyes as they agree on where to make camp and begin setting up, then with a sigh rises to help - merely dissatisfied with the speed they were making, you understand. She passes Eonus as she works and meets his gaze with an unblinking one of her own. "Senses honed, tonight," she intones.
At last, the camp is set up, and Minerva withdraws into the growing shadows just on the outskirts of one of the campfires, her travel sack behind her. She should find shelter in one of the recently erected tents, but she will instead enjoy the snap of cold night air as long as this frail body can handle. Leaning back, she scans the night sky. There it is - the serpent. Connect a few bright points of light and you have a cold-blooded organism. That's what she read, anyhow. Funny, that these humans like scaled beings moving through their skies as an abstraction more than as a reality.
With a sigh, she settles into the ground, resting her head on her sack as she prepares to do some avid stargazing - or perhaps simply let her thoughts wander. She has just closed her eyes drowsily when that funny little man approaches. So much more chipper than the rest, she wonders why? One very large lid lifts, a disturbingly reptilian action.
"I am well, Argrave. You do not appear concerned about our sleeping arrangements."
Minerva snorts, missing the gust of air that would have resulted in her usual form. She, too, enjoys the outdoors, but it does not escape her notice that these are not safe lands. It is with some irritation she remembers that her draconic form must remain under wraps, even tonight - it would be ideal for responding to any attack at a moment's notice. Protecting these meatbags. Why is she bothering w- oh, the reputation bit. Dragon integration, all that. A part of her thinks, Well, why bother with that?
She shakes her head and casts a glance among company. A motley lot. She watches quietly through heavily lidded, scale-adorned eyes as they agree on where to make camp and begin setting up, then with a sigh rises to help - merely dissatisfied with the speed they were making, you understand. She passes Eonus as she works and meets his gaze with an unblinking one of her own. "Senses honed, tonight," she intones.
At last, the camp is set up, and Minerva withdraws into the growing shadows just on the outskirts of one of the campfires, her travel sack behind her. She should find shelter in one of the recently erected tents, but she will instead enjoy the snap of cold night air as long as this frail body can handle. Leaning back, she scans the night sky. There it is - the serpent. Connect a few bright points of light and you have a cold-blooded organism. That's what she read, anyhow. Funny, that these humans like scaled beings moving through their skies as an abstraction more than as a reality.
With a sigh, she settles into the ground, resting her head on her sack as she prepares to do some avid stargazing - or perhaps simply let her thoughts wander. She has just closed her eyes drowsily when that funny little man approaches. So much more chipper than the rest, she wonders why? One very large lid lifts, a disturbingly reptilian action.
"I am well, Argrave. You do not appear concerned about our sleeping arrangements."
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Elle Joyner
Fracturer of Fairytales
Gabrienna Fromm
Seated on a boulder, The Eastern Fire sat, quiet and focused as a sentry, eyes fixed on the village gates. Hand and head gripped hilt, as she ran the whetstone along the body of her blade, slow, steady strokes, thoughts guarded and distant. Night would fall soon, with grace, pulling a silken curtain of indigo across the sky, stars specked in patterns like holes in fabric, the moon hanging high, silver and bright, but still so pale a comparison to the brilliance of the midsummer sun.
It wasn't the threat of bandits in the night, of assassins or thieves, which threatened her calm and set her on edge, sharper than the sword perched between her knees. There were two rather startling, unanticipated contributions to her unease. The first, Sayne de Challant... a miserable mewling child. A rotten, ignorant boy, expertly disguised in the costume of a man. Undoubtedly, he was there to fulfill some egocentric act of self importance. But he was a mere distraction, albeit an irritating one. The real problem was Katrin.
It had been years since she had seen her dearest childhood friend, but their parting played in her mind as if only moments had passed. When Katrin had left the academy, Brien had been certain she would never see again... but fate, it seemed, had other plans. Their reunion had been brief - civil, but cold. Still, an nearly paranoid sense of uncertainty had gripped Brien since their journey had begun, one thought in particular a plague in her mind.
Kaspar...
With a sigh, she rose from her position and stretched, slow and languid, nearly feline before taking the few steps to her horse, tethered a short distance away. Slipping her sword into the shield, the whetstone into her saddle bag she rested a hand against Beute's thick neck muscles, stroking with the grain of his velvet coat. Beute wickered and his breath left his nostrils in a puff of fog, his large, black pupils flicking in her direction.
Down the path a small bonfire blazed and from her vantage point she could see both blondes gathered near it. The journey would be perilous and long, sure to take weeks and monumental amounts of patience and cooperation. It would hardly do to attempt to hide from those things which came as an unwanted surprise. With a sigh she gave Beute's flank a rough pat and made her way to where the rest of the sojourners had gathered, finding a place to sit near the warmth of the rising flames.
Seated on a boulder, The Eastern Fire sat, quiet and focused as a sentry, eyes fixed on the village gates. Hand and head gripped hilt, as she ran the whetstone along the body of her blade, slow, steady strokes, thoughts guarded and distant. Night would fall soon, with grace, pulling a silken curtain of indigo across the sky, stars specked in patterns like holes in fabric, the moon hanging high, silver and bright, but still so pale a comparison to the brilliance of the midsummer sun.
It wasn't the threat of bandits in the night, of assassins or thieves, which threatened her calm and set her on edge, sharper than the sword perched between her knees. There were two rather startling, unanticipated contributions to her unease. The first, Sayne de Challant... a miserable mewling child. A rotten, ignorant boy, expertly disguised in the costume of a man. Undoubtedly, he was there to fulfill some egocentric act of self importance. But he was a mere distraction, albeit an irritating one. The real problem was Katrin.
It had been years since she had seen her dearest childhood friend, but their parting played in her mind as if only moments had passed. When Katrin had left the academy, Brien had been certain she would never see again... but fate, it seemed, had other plans. Their reunion had been brief - civil, but cold. Still, an nearly paranoid sense of uncertainty had gripped Brien since their journey had begun, one thought in particular a plague in her mind.
Kaspar...
With a sigh, she rose from her position and stretched, slow and languid, nearly feline before taking the few steps to her horse, tethered a short distance away. Slipping her sword into the shield, the whetstone into her saddle bag she rested a hand against Beute's thick neck muscles, stroking with the grain of his velvet coat. Beute wickered and his breath left his nostrils in a puff of fog, his large, black pupils flicking in her direction.
Down the path a small bonfire blazed and from her vantage point she could see both blondes gathered near it. The journey would be perilous and long, sure to take weeks and monumental amounts of patience and cooperation. It would hardly do to attempt to hide from those things which came as an unwanted surprise. With a sigh she gave Beute's flank a rough pat and made her way to where the rest of the sojourners had gathered, finding a place to sit near the warmth of the rising flames.
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Terragon
New Member
Vencorus (Dragon)- Dancer among the winds
What a beautiful day to be a dragon. The sun was about to set over the horizon and the wind was as if the earth was giving him a soft kiss across the cheek. The sky is infinite, and it belonged to him. In his draconic form he leaped into the air and expanded his wings, twirling about into the sky with a proud roar. He looked down from thousands of feet into the air and saw all of his prey scurrying about.
"Hmmmm. Decisions decisions. Should I go for a few hares tonight? No no that won't do they are two small. How about a pig? Mmmm I like me some pig....on second thought their squealing gives me a headache. What about-WELL HELLO BEAUTIFUL!"
He spotted several deers eating grass without noticing him up into the air.
"So it's venison tonight eh?" Vencorus said licking his chops. "I'd to welcome you all, INTO MY STOMACHE!" And with an astounding speed he dashed towards his prey.....
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It has been a long day for Ven. He was, against his better judgement, nominated by his father Venoptimus to go onto a pilgrimage along two of his fellow dragons to promote peace, or something along those lines. He did not pay much attention in politics and all of this was rather sudden. The explanation to his newfound journey was rather dumb downed for him to understand. However, if it will help fulfill his dream to explore all of the earth then so be it. This world was created for both dragons and humans alike! No side should be able to restrict the other to explore the great unknown. With that in mind, he graciously accepted this daring task.
He was being escorted by these humans. Why he was being escorted on ground rather than just flying to his location was a subject to his mind, but he grinned and took it. Politics as usual he thought. However, this journey was long and rather boring for him so far. While the humans set up camp, he decided to take a nap which then entranced him into a deep sleep. So much so that he started mumbling and flailing his arms about in his human form. At one point while he was still sleeping, he stood up and started slowly walking away from the campfire. He then yelled out in a almost incoherent manner "I'D LIKE TO WELCOME YA...ALL IN MEH STOMACHE!"
Ven embarrassingly enough extended his arms about as if they were his wings, and then fell face first into the dirt. He lay there into the dirt motionless and snoring.
What a beautiful day to be a dragon. The sun was about to set over the horizon and the wind was as if the earth was giving him a soft kiss across the cheek. The sky is infinite, and it belonged to him. In his draconic form he leaped into the air and expanded his wings, twirling about into the sky with a proud roar. He looked down from thousands of feet into the air and saw all of his prey scurrying about.
"Hmmmm. Decisions decisions. Should I go for a few hares tonight? No no that won't do they are two small. How about a pig? Mmmm I like me some pig....on second thought their squealing gives me a headache. What about-WELL HELLO BEAUTIFUL!"
He spotted several deers eating grass without noticing him up into the air.
"So it's venison tonight eh?" Vencorus said licking his chops. "I'd to welcome you all, INTO MY STOMACHE!" And with an astounding speed he dashed towards his prey.....
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It has been a long day for Ven. He was, against his better judgement, nominated by his father Venoptimus to go onto a pilgrimage along two of his fellow dragons to promote peace, or something along those lines. He did not pay much attention in politics and all of this was rather sudden. The explanation to his newfound journey was rather dumb downed for him to understand. However, if it will help fulfill his dream to explore all of the earth then so be it. This world was created for both dragons and humans alike! No side should be able to restrict the other to explore the great unknown. With that in mind, he graciously accepted this daring task.
He was being escorted by these humans. Why he was being escorted on ground rather than just flying to his location was a subject to his mind, but he grinned and took it. Politics as usual he thought. However, this journey was long and rather boring for him so far. While the humans set up camp, he decided to take a nap which then entranced him into a deep sleep. So much so that he started mumbling and flailing his arms about in his human form. At one point while he was still sleeping, he stood up and started slowly walking away from the campfire. He then yelled out in a almost incoherent manner "I'D LIKE TO WELCOME YA...ALL IN MEH STOMACHE!"
Ven embarrassingly enough extended his arms about as if they were his wings, and then fell face first into the dirt. He lay there into the dirt motionless and snoring.
Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
Sayne
A click of the tongue snapped in the cold air.
Snowflake whinnied, and Sayne leaned over to pat his hand against the horse’s neck, calming him.
The guardsman had denied them entrance. Yet it was still day! Plainly it could be seen that the sun still crept down the horizon. The sky’s variance of color and shine had a ways yet until night had fallen. It was a known policy of villages -- so long as Pyros ruled the day, evil was suppressed, and travelers and pilgrims were allowed entry. It would be an affront against the gods to do otherwise!
He seemed alone in his thoughts. A surveyance behind him saw others in the pilgrim group gathering wood, resigned to sleep beside a campfire, to brave the chill. His teeth ground at the sight, for he was sore with travelling, and desired to be rid of the unyielding earth.
This travel had proved unpleasant. A rat crawled into his cloak last night, and nibbled at his toes. His nose was thick with the moisture of ailment.
He’d hoped for a warm bed this night.
But the guard had refused them. And the rest of his party forfeited the opportunity to argue.
“Oh, very well!” He muttered, and raised his leg over Snowflake, falling smoothly to the earth.
He let the reins go. Snowflake meandered towards the thrush to graze on weeds and Sayne made for the now-kindled fire. His palms were out, and the heat beat against them. It dried his nose, too, and the wind carried away in a cloud of white his slow release of a breath.
Sayne’s eyes strayed and he spotted her.
That raven-haired lass with all the poise of a princess. She’d stayed on the fringes of the group, and Sayne had foregone the opportunity to... speak with her.
But now the temptation took hold of him.
Perhaps a body beside him tonight, under the comfort of his cloak, would bring him all the comfort of the bed in an inn.
He smiled as the decision set in his mind, and tore away from the fire to approach the woman from behind.
With a clearing of the throat, he called out to the woman.
“How is it that in all the days we have spent with one another, I did not notice you until now?” Thoughtfully, Sayne tilted his head. Then his hand reached towards her, with the intent to set aside a stray strand of hair and gently stroke her cheek. “Your eyes are full of radiance. This raven hair, and the dust that obscures its shimmer… Ay me! Your eyes tell of strength, but I see you walk as though you danced.” He sighed wistfully. “The sight of you -- it refreshes my soul. I say it now, and say it with tenderness; travel becomes you.”
@Elle Joyner
Shura
Pounce Ninja
~Corinna Oriel~
Priestess of Pyros
Another long day of travel rewarded by the sight of spectacular sunset, at least Corin saw it as a reward of sorts. There were few things that could compare to the sunburst of colors which would paint the sky, it was a very warming site even on the coldest of days. The priestess paused in at a small break in the trees to watch the warm colors fade into the murky darkness of night. She had covered a lot of distance but was still behind on attempting to catch up to the pilgrimage group, slightly frustrating but understandable. She had gotten a late start over all in trying to reach the Academy. When she did reach it the whole city had been consumed by flames and the group already a day in head in terms of travel.
Corrin would have left to try and catch up immediately however there were injuries and sick who needed to be tend to. The young woman spent two days aiding in the recovery efforts of the town before resuming her mission. Three days behind Corin had a lot of catching up to do, her task was made not easier with the frequent stops made to aid the sick and bless warriors. She had taken to traveling in the darkness of the night in order to try and gain some ground. It was a fair bit dangerous but she had a task to complete. Her drive to successfully complete her task was only strengthen after seeing the suffering.
What started out as an effort to gather information had turned into a mission of justice and retribution for the lives lost and damage done by the sinful serpents which till crawled among humans. The idea of sending these creatures to travel with a group of innocent souls was one of madness! It was dangerous enough letting them into such a crowded city in the first place! It sickened the priestess to think that such creatures were allowed to just waltz among innocent souls. She understood the necessity to win the war against the ravenous ForeSworn who had invaded the lands and showed no signs of stopping. But it was unforgivable to align with the inhuman creatures. However there was one thing she could say with absolute certainty, the only silverlining to having such a threatening force was that the demonic reptilian race was fairing great losses as well.
Still, this pilgrimage needed to be stopped, if only to spare the sinful influence of the dragons upon more innocent people. She wasn't sure what kind of manipulation or deception the serpents had played upon the humans with in the group to have them speak out in their defense. . It was bad enough such death and destruction was allowed to even happen. To add insult to injury the creature had used the great element of Pyros to cause such an event! Fire was supposed to be a force of light and warmth, but it had been twisted into one of pain and devastation. It was unforgivable! Whatever force was inflicted upon the humans of the pilgrimage, Corin had made it her personal mission to break the Dragons power over these people and have the fowl creatures brought for for proper punishment. Perhaps then efforts to make peace with a race better left dead would stop and more efforts could be made to strength defense and have the people rely on their own strength to over take their enemy.
khuyen
poot poot
Katrin Hannelore Augüstin
"Katrin. I need you to do something for me." Katrin looked up at Milo. "What is it now?" Her tone was annoyed, but she wore a smile, they both knew she wouldn't say no. For the first time though, the look on his face made her doubt a bit. He never looked this serious. "There's a... A guy, I need you to follow. I want you to find out everything about him. Anything, we can use against him. But prepare yourself, it will be a long-winded mission. You're, uh... going on a pilgrimage."
A pilgrimage. That's what he had said a week ago, and part of her had hoped, wished, he was joking. But he hadn't been joking, because here she was, sitting on a rock, watching someone trying to light a camp-fire. Unbelievable. Her eyes scanned the crowd, she had been hanging around the last three days. "Katwin, Katwin!" Little Haven tugged at her sleeve, wanting to catch her attention, and she turned to the three year old girl with bright blue, innocent eyes.
It was lucky really. The little girl taking a likening to her. Katrin had purposely walked near the family of 6, and when they asked about her, she told them she was here for religious reasons. Or some other lie. She didn't remember. But it was easy, making them feel at ease around her, enough to even let her help them with the kids. Though, she really had no ill intentions towards them - the kids were quite pleasant actually. They just happened to be helpful without knowing. It was far easier to blend in like this.
A loud thump caught her attention. One of the... dragons had fallen over a few steps away from her. Is he asleep? Dead? She watched the white-haired dragon-boy, Ven or something, lie on the ground face down. Her eyebrow rose just a wee bit, but she remained still on her rock with Haven on her lap. Dragons. It really was something. Katrin had always felt so... distanced from it all. During the war, she focused on selling weapons and in return she only thought of business. Survival. In the latest years, she'd been travelling with Milo, being even more distanced from everything. It had always been about survival. If one would ask her opinion on these people, she would merely reply, she had none. Though they did fascinate her. Scare her even. But she'd never admit that. Deciding to let the dragons be dragons or what not, her eyes searched for the frivolous target of hers.
Sayne de Challant. He was pleasing on the eyes, though Katrin could not see past the information she had on him. Her source, others would find questionable, but she was blindly trusting. She had been watching the smooth-talking nobleman for three days now, yet she had kept her distance. If he had caught her eye, she merely gave him a small smile and acted coy. Luckily, he seemed easy to distract and didn't seem to be aware of her at all. Perfect. But just as she thought it was going according to plan, her eyes followed Sayne making his way over to a certain brunette, Katrin had been trying to avoid. Her before calm and observing gaze turned into a glare against her will. Scheiße, anyone but her.
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AkuTheWolfOkami
The Shape-shifting Master of Goatees and Darkness
Kierstyn Oriel
She had been late to the pilgrimage, a contract that she had acquired taking longer than she had expected. She was to track and follow a convoy transporting something of value, and then sneak and steal it. The convoy kept running into obstacles and challenges, and it provided no opportunities for her to just grab what she was tracking. Nay, she had to wait, and wait until they reached their destination.
Actually, once the convoy reached their destination with night as her cover, taking the item she was after was quite easy. She turned it into to the person who hired her, and she was paid brilliantly. Had she had the time she would had taken the effort to do research of the item, and see if it would be worth more if she sold it herself, but she had a pilgrimage to get to.
When had arrived at the starting area near the Academy atop of Shadow, she sighed to find what she should have expected. They had been gone at least a day, maybe two. It was a frustration for her, but it wasn't necessarily anything to be too upset about. With her tracking skills if they had drifted too far off of the obvious path it wouldn't be that difficult to catch up with, though she figured the terrain wouldn't afford them too much of the opportunity to wonder.
So, she and the horse left. It would be a bit of a boring travel for her like, before she found herself in need for food. The brush made it a bit difficult for her to hunt as she normally would, but she had found a mark and been able to keep track with it until this point. It was a rabbit, and she had closed in on it and had finally found a clear shot. Her eyes narrowed as she focused, before she felt her fingers part slightly and watched as the arrow carved through the air and into the neck of the rabbit.
He didn't immediately fall, but eventually its own blood filled its throat before he finally collapsed. Kierstyn slowly approached the rabbit, picking it up by its pelt and doing her best to remove the arrow without ruining the meat. When she had finished with that, she managed to look up and catch a figure off in the distance. Oh Goody, maybe she had closed in on the group faster than she thought? These types of terrain always made tracking a little more variable.
She slowly made her way towards the figure, and as she drew in closer the person became more and more familiar. It took all of her will to speak up loud enough to be heard,"Sister? Corinna....?" It had been a long time, but she looked familiar. She was sure it was her sister.....
@Shura
She had been late to the pilgrimage, a contract that she had acquired taking longer than she had expected. She was to track and follow a convoy transporting something of value, and then sneak and steal it. The convoy kept running into obstacles and challenges, and it provided no opportunities for her to just grab what she was tracking. Nay, she had to wait, and wait until they reached their destination.
Actually, once the convoy reached their destination with night as her cover, taking the item she was after was quite easy. She turned it into to the person who hired her, and she was paid brilliantly. Had she had the time she would had taken the effort to do research of the item, and see if it would be worth more if she sold it herself, but she had a pilgrimage to get to.
When had arrived at the starting area near the Academy atop of Shadow, she sighed to find what she should have expected. They had been gone at least a day, maybe two. It was a frustration for her, but it wasn't necessarily anything to be too upset about. With her tracking skills if they had drifted too far off of the obvious path it wouldn't be that difficult to catch up with, though she figured the terrain wouldn't afford them too much of the opportunity to wonder.
So, she and the horse left. It would be a bit of a boring travel for her like, before she found herself in need for food. The brush made it a bit difficult for her to hunt as she normally would, but she had found a mark and been able to keep track with it until this point. It was a rabbit, and she had closed in on it and had finally found a clear shot. Her eyes narrowed as she focused, before she felt her fingers part slightly and watched as the arrow carved through the air and into the neck of the rabbit.
He didn't immediately fall, but eventually its own blood filled its throat before he finally collapsed. Kierstyn slowly approached the rabbit, picking it up by its pelt and doing her best to remove the arrow without ruining the meat. When she had finished with that, she managed to look up and catch a figure off in the distance. Oh Goody, maybe she had closed in on the group faster than she thought? These types of terrain always made tracking a little more variable.
She slowly made her way towards the figure, and as she drew in closer the person became more and more familiar. It took all of her will to speak up loud enough to be heard,"Sister? Corinna....?" It had been a long time, but she looked familiar. She was sure it was her sister.....
@Shura
Elle Joyner
Fracturer of Fairytales
Gabrienna Fromm
The nerve. The utter, unadulterated nerve. She had heard his footfall and turned to face him, stunned by the boldness with which he approached. His fingers brushed her skin and for a moment, only a moment, she was sixteen again, standing at a Masque ball, swept away by poetic words and a gentle caress. This time though, there were no masks hiding identities, no mystery. She knew who he was, and she was in no mood to be impressed up by the scoundrel a second time. It had been insulting the first time, it was infuriating, now. It had been some time since she had seen him, but she had no trouble recognizing him - yet there was no indication in his own gaze of recollection or familiarity. It had been no stolen moment in time, but many moments... culminating in the eventual ruin of her trust. It would have been one thing if he had recognized her and wanted to repair the damage he had done back then, but he didn't even remember her.
It happened faster then she had meant it to... Her hand had curled, reflexively into a fist and almost of it's own volition swung towards the pristine image of unmarred beauty, colliding with no small amount of force with the side of Sayne's jaw. She watched as he reeled backwards and her eyes narrowed, the rim of amber which spiraled through frosted green alive with the fire of rage. Her knuckles stung from the blow, but it had been worth it to see the momentary look of pain cross his face.
"The scar on your belly wasn't indication enough, to the folly of your despicable behavior? You don't learn, do you, Sayne. I had thought after what had happened at Gallace that you might gain some semblance of propriety, but clearly, I was misguided in my own judgment. It will not happen a second time. And on that particular note, if you lay so much as a finger on me, unwarranted and unrequested, I will not hesitate to run you through. Are we clear...?"
@Killigrew
The nerve. The utter, unadulterated nerve. She had heard his footfall and turned to face him, stunned by the boldness with which he approached. His fingers brushed her skin and for a moment, only a moment, she was sixteen again, standing at a Masque ball, swept away by poetic words and a gentle caress. This time though, there were no masks hiding identities, no mystery. She knew who he was, and she was in no mood to be impressed up by the scoundrel a second time. It had been insulting the first time, it was infuriating, now. It had been some time since she had seen him, but she had no trouble recognizing him - yet there was no indication in his own gaze of recollection or familiarity. It had been no stolen moment in time, but many moments... culminating in the eventual ruin of her trust. It would have been one thing if he had recognized her and wanted to repair the damage he had done back then, but he didn't even remember her.
It happened faster then she had meant it to... Her hand had curled, reflexively into a fist and almost of it's own volition swung towards the pristine image of unmarred beauty, colliding with no small amount of force with the side of Sayne's jaw. She watched as he reeled backwards and her eyes narrowed, the rim of amber which spiraled through frosted green alive with the fire of rage. Her knuckles stung from the blow, but it had been worth it to see the momentary look of pain cross his face.
"The scar on your belly wasn't indication enough, to the folly of your despicable behavior? You don't learn, do you, Sayne. I had thought after what had happened at Gallace that you might gain some semblance of propriety, but clearly, I was misguided in my own judgment. It will not happen a second time. And on that particular note, if you lay so much as a finger on me, unwarranted and unrequested, I will not hesitate to run you through. Are we clear...?"
@Killigrew
Jays
That Loitering God
Eeonus
Dusk lulled him, as it always did. It was often then that he returned to his cavern after a day's hunt, full, sleepy and content. Now he was full and sleepy, but there missing from a perfect dusk was the rush of the hunt, the exaltation of cornering a prey and the satisfaction of its blood gushing between his teeth. It was no mindless savagery of an animal, for an animal he was not, but the normality of centuries. He had killed for survival for so long it became his very instinct that mere months among human could not erase. Now that there was food aplenty, found with no effort and served readily without cost, the meat filling his stomach seemed worthless. But it was clear none in this camp, not even his own kind, understood the uneasiness in him. They had never had to suffer starving despair. But there was meat, his boredom had lessened somewhat, and dusk filled the western sky with majestic lambency.
Dusk filled the western sky with majestic lambency, burning the stars into the growing dark curtain, setting the clouds ablaze with amber flame and stretched long the shadows of mountains and men. Gales of wind blasted across the open plane, flattening grass, fluttering cloaks and hair to twist those shadows into unrecognisable shapes. Birds circled the heaven, adding their own voice to the melody of the retreating day and oncoming night. Faintly noises of the town could be heard, a jumble of notes buried deep at the back of the song. The pilgrimage was exposed to the world's weathering but also its breath-taking beauty, a more than even trade.
But complained still the humans did, so absorbed in their senseless struggles inside and out so to miss the magnificence right before their eyes. This realm was beautiful, as Eeonus had observed countless time before, each one unique and just as splendid as the last.
Except for humans.
That he had yet to see, for either they hid it well, or this world's gods had made their first and worst mistake.
Eeonus set his small fragile human back on a boulder, watching the sun setting, feeling that remnant of uneasiness slipping away while contentment took its place, driving out even the cacophony of the pilgrimage behind him.
A more than even trade.
Both of dusk and dawn.
Dusk lulled him, as it always did. It was often then that he returned to his cavern after a day's hunt, full, sleepy and content. Now he was full and sleepy, but there missing from a perfect dusk was the rush of the hunt, the exaltation of cornering a prey and the satisfaction of its blood gushing between his teeth. It was no mindless savagery of an animal, for an animal he was not, but the normality of centuries. He had killed for survival for so long it became his very instinct that mere months among human could not erase. Now that there was food aplenty, found with no effort and served readily without cost, the meat filling his stomach seemed worthless. But it was clear none in this camp, not even his own kind, understood the uneasiness in him. They had never had to suffer starving despair. But there was meat, his boredom had lessened somewhat, and dusk filled the western sky with majestic lambency.
Dusk filled the western sky with majestic lambency, burning the stars into the growing dark curtain, setting the clouds ablaze with amber flame and stretched long the shadows of mountains and men. Gales of wind blasted across the open plane, flattening grass, fluttering cloaks and hair to twist those shadows into unrecognisable shapes. Birds circled the heaven, adding their own voice to the melody of the retreating day and oncoming night. Faintly noises of the town could be heard, a jumble of notes buried deep at the back of the song. The pilgrimage was exposed to the world's weathering but also its breath-taking beauty, a more than even trade.
But complained still the humans did, so absorbed in their senseless struggles inside and out so to miss the magnificence right before their eyes. This realm was beautiful, as Eeonus had observed countless time before, each one unique and just as splendid as the last.
Except for humans.
That he had yet to see, for either they hid it well, or this world's gods had made their first and worst mistake.
Eeonus set his small fragile human back on a boulder, watching the sun setting, feeling that remnant of uneasiness slipping away while contentment took its place, driving out even the cacophony of the pilgrimage behind him.
A more than even trade.
Both of dusk and dawn.
Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
Sayne
The blow crashed against his face. His brain rattled round in his head. The world was black. The world spinned. Sayne caught the ground by knee and by foot, and his jaw was fixed to the full-natural turn of his neck.
Pain thudded dully, and vigor sprouted in his chest. Like lightning it raced from his heart to the ends of his limbs; it required he act. In the war, this thrill made him run. But here it drew him towards the conflict. His foot spinning, and his leg propelling, Sayne rose to his feet to stand over Brien.
The woman looked decidedly less alluring.
Sayne felt his eyes burn as he stared down at her, and suffered her hatred. The scathing words washed over him, remaining like roaring in his ears.
Had she done this in private, he would have scoffed at her behavior, and left her to feed her fury. But he could feel the eyes on him; there were those in the encampment that were observing their encounter.
For this cause, the need to retort possessed him.
"Far be it from me to offend you, Lady. My approach was out of courtesy," Sayne said loudly. The place of impact complained with every opening of the mouth. "You speak of propriety, and it is good you do. If only you expected the same virtue to govern your own actions. For some, it would seem, the arm of friendship must be met with enmity and hostility." His mind worked as he talked. If he'd known her before, it must have been at the Academy. She mentioned Gallace. While her face registered no spark in his mind, Sayne estimated their encounter had been brief, and insignificant. His polite deadpan became a sneer. "However freely you gave yourself away, do not blame it on me. It's a vulgar sight."
Having said his piece, he turned away, desiring to join by the fire again. An ill mood had him in its grip.
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Elle Joyner
Fracturer of Fairytales
Gabrienna Fromm
She wanted to do nothing more in those few seconds than to walk away... He was infuriating. He was infuriating and foolish and above all else, he was dishonorable. To insinuate vulgarity when he, himself, was so prone to acts of lasciviousness. The fact, alone, that he hadn't remembered her to begin with was aggravating, but after her revelation, to still not recall who she was...
Unfortunately, as irritating as he was and as frustrating as the circumstances were, she had a job to do and she could hardly accomplish that job distracted by petty battles with past demons. There was something very real and very dangerous happening in the world and it wouldn't do to dwell on the emotional shrapnel from her days at the Academy. Sayne was difficult enough, but if she allowed herself to succumb to such an unprofessional disposition, she would surely never last in Katrin's presence... and there were certain details that she could not reveal, so far from home, with so little information...
She needed to focus... and she could only do that if she were able to put Sayne and his indiscretion behind her.
"Sayne, wait..." She said, with a resigned sigh, "...You're right, and I apologize. I had not expected to see you, but my reaction was rash and inappropriate. I should have composed myself properly, before I addressed you. We are both here for a reason and I am more than capable of exercising constraint when necessary. Provided you do the same, I don't see why we should have any problem interacting amiably enough."
She wanted to do nothing more in those few seconds than to walk away... He was infuriating. He was infuriating and foolish and above all else, he was dishonorable. To insinuate vulgarity when he, himself, was so prone to acts of lasciviousness. The fact, alone, that he hadn't remembered her to begin with was aggravating, but after her revelation, to still not recall who she was...
Unfortunately, as irritating as he was and as frustrating as the circumstances were, she had a job to do and she could hardly accomplish that job distracted by petty battles with past demons. There was something very real and very dangerous happening in the world and it wouldn't do to dwell on the emotional shrapnel from her days at the Academy. Sayne was difficult enough, but if she allowed herself to succumb to such an unprofessional disposition, she would surely never last in Katrin's presence... and there were certain details that she could not reveal, so far from home, with so little information...
She needed to focus... and she could only do that if she were able to put Sayne and his indiscretion behind her.
"Sayne, wait..." She said, with a resigned sigh, "...You're right, and I apologize. I had not expected to see you, but my reaction was rash and inappropriate. I should have composed myself properly, before I addressed you. We are both here for a reason and I am more than capable of exercising constraint when necessary. Provided you do the same, I don't see why we should have any problem interacting amiably enough."
Kaine
Auburn Mystery
Colette
The Unimportant
It had been long in their travels. Nights and days without much besides just walking, well riding. Roy, her monstrous Clydesdale, not only her seat but travel companion as well as pack mule for the entire group it seemed. Large satchels on both his hips as well as his shoulders, filled to the brim with food, and camping supplies for a nights bedding. But he was strong. She could tell Roy loved it when the weight was put on. It was almost like he had a sense of pride in it. Strange thing to see and comprehend for a horse but they were nearly a person’s best friend if treated right.
Towards the back of the group, Colette couldn’t hear the conversation, but they seemed to be turned their first village. Without argue or word, it was simply accepted. The group backed away and many started to setup camp at the edge. No one questioned why they did not grant them entrance, or even that it could have been in the name of peace. This kind of flared Colette’s anger. But what was a girl to do? The only thing she could; at least that her appearance allowed her to do.
Throwing a leg over, she sat there sideways atop Roy. With a little nudge of her butt, she quickly slid off the saddle down to the ground with a light thud. Instantly she threw her arms up and stretched with an exasperated sigh of relief. Taking a few steps to the front of her mount, she pulled Roy’s head down to her level. The horse just stared her in the eyes before making a weird snort. The wind moved her loose hair around on her face before Roy’s grossly long tongue came out and attempted to lick her face. She giggled as she tried to stop him.
The others that were with the group began to unload his satchels. Getting canvas, wool blankets, and twine. The beginnings of makeshift huts and shelters had begun.
The Important
Some time later, With her blankets under her, next to a tree. She sat comfortably asleep. Well, asleep enough to appear asleep. Her trained had taught her you never truly sleep around others. Your body can rest, but your mind was always alert. Listening to air around her for the slightest of whispers allowing her to spring into action. With all the hustle of the other pilgrims, it was evident she needed to remain vigilant in this task.
Her eyes snapped open as the crack of a foot step, and the yelling of “ALL IN MEH STOMACHE” But even with training, and awareness, the attack caught her by surprise. Half because she could see the man was asleep, but half because she didn’t expect a full grown man to launch himself on her. She couldn’t help but squeal at the attack.
“Umph” The man had landed on her even as her arms came up and tried to soften his landing. His chest and flailing arms pinned her legs down, his face right in her lap off to one side, and started to saw logs. The severity of his snore rattled her whole body.
Her hands flew up as she didnt know what to do but as she just sat there, everyone else just minding their own business, paying no attention to the young girl. Colette leaned over, her thick braid of deep auburn hair coming down off her shoulder, almost mid waist. With her lips in close to his ear, she tried whispering.
“Hey.. Hey you!” Her words soft but obviously reaching deaf ears. Her hand came down and gently, she brushed his snow white hair out of his eyes and off his cheeks. She stared at him with a softness that only a child could create, right up until her other hand landed solidly against his face with a good amount of force, instantly leaving her hand print.
“HEY. You! Get off me.” This time her voice carried commands for the young lad who should of surely woken up.
@Terragon
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khuyen
poot poot
Katrin Hannelore Augüstin
What? What in the worlds? What in the name of Aquila! The internal monologue inside Katrin's head involved many questions. She had been watching them for a while, though she hadn't noticed it herself. From the second Sayne approached the fearsome brunette till now. From an outsider's point of view, Katrin might have seemed like an insane witch-woman, glaring at two people who seemingly had nothing to do with her. But they had everything to do with her. So why were they together? The wheels and gears in her mind churned, as she tried to piece a possible story together. She was too far away to hear what they had been discussing. Sayne had approached her. Brien knew him and... probably didn't care much for him. That slap to the face wasn't exactly a friendly greeting. Interesting. But what had come after that had shocked her. The intel she had gathered on Sayne did not prepare her for the sudden change in attitude. She could practically see the venom in his words despite not being able to make them out clearly. His face was that of someone's trying to be in control. She made a mental note of not underestimating him.
"Katwin!" A little hand tugged harshly at her blonde braid, and Katrin winced a bit. "Haven, ow, that hurts!" She half-scolded the little girl sitting on her lap, whom she had completely forgotten about. She cast a quick glance around her surroundings to orientate herself. The odd sleeping dragon-man was still lying on the ground just a bit away from her, but a small voice caught her attention... Was.. was someone actually stuck underneath him? The image was fairly amusing, and she was about to get up to give a helping hand to the poor person in need.
A helping hand. It was genius. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? Quickly, she picked up Haven, got up and placed the baby girl on the rock. She brushed off her trousers and adjusted her hair. Out of her travelling bag, she got out a handkerchief and her water-pouch, pouring some water onto it. She walked determinedly towards her target - it wasn't toward the person stuck under the dragon-man, and she felt a bit apologetic, but no, this opportunity was far too golden. Sayne and Brien had been in an awkward stare-down, neither of them saying anything. Eventually, as Katrin had gotten up, Brien had decided to walk away - was it because of Sayne, or had she seen her coming their way? Regardless, it was working out in her favor, and Katrin couldn't be more pleased.
Ridding her face of all traces of contempt, she approached the handsome noble-man tentatively. "S-sorry, I don't mean to be nosy, but... I thought you could use this?" She offered the wet handkerchief for him to take and press on his reddish skin. Katrin wasn't sure what her approach was, but so far the strategy was to be coy and nice. Make him aware of her. Put his guards down around her. She put on the slightest of smiles. "Are you alright?"
@Killigrew , @Elle Joyner
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Terragon
New Member
Ven dove straight down onto the the unsuspecting dear and tackled it. Then right when he was about to sink his teeth in it spoke....
"HEY YOU! GET OFF ME!"
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Ven instantly woke up and jumped away. "BY THE GREAT WINDS THE DEER SPEAKS!" After he regained his bearings he looked around his surroundings. He was at a camp, people were sleeping, he was still in human form, and there was this human girl that was glaring at him.
"Oooooooh....." was his response after he realized what he did. His eyes shifted from left to right and noticed that a few people noticed what happened. "Well uh....this is awkward. Just a little bit. Just so you know I definitely did not mean to do that alright? Please tell me I didn't try to bite you or anything? Oh hell I think that made it worse. Hahaha....heh." He rubbed the back of his in embarrassment.
"Right well. I apologize for that little mishap. You should go back to sleep and I'll uh...just take a little stroll around the area."
"HEY YOU! GET OFF ME!"
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Ven instantly woke up and jumped away. "BY THE GREAT WINDS THE DEER SPEAKS!" After he regained his bearings he looked around his surroundings. He was at a camp, people were sleeping, he was still in human form, and there was this human girl that was glaring at him.
"Oooooooh....." was his response after he realized what he did. His eyes shifted from left to right and noticed that a few people noticed what happened. "Well uh....this is awkward. Just a little bit. Just so you know I definitely did not mean to do that alright? Please tell me I didn't try to bite you or anything? Oh hell I think that made it worse. Hahaha....heh." He rubbed the back of his in embarrassment.
"Right well. I apologize for that little mishap. You should go back to sleep and I'll uh...just take a little stroll around the area."
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
Jacques deCapre
“Hmm. Yes. Why, of course. And he...hmm...no, that’s not it. That doesn’t sound right. He wouldn’t be a hero, would he? Maybe it’d be a story for those with darkness in their hearts, but are bright and shining like the stars on the outside. Perhaps. But what are the chances? Oh, hello, what’s this, then?” So engrossed was the man of snowy hair in looking at his recent writings in the pages of his book that he had not noticed that he was walking right into a gate, until it was nary an inch away from his nose. What a surprise it was, for the storyteller, for was it not Reunion that stood behind these stakes in the ground? The last time he was here, this obstruction had not, well, obstructed his way! Jacques deCapre cast a furtive glance around the immediate area, and spied a door positioned at the side, along a large collection of travellers setting up camp at the side. In the dim light of the near-gone sun, and the blazing fire, he could see some of them carrying weapons, and some not. A convoy, perhaps? Why, then, did they seek shelter in their own tents and constructs rather than in the relative safety of the village...providing that it was the village that he knew. An idea of the reason formed in his mind, but he had already found himself walking towards the door.
Clearing his throat, he rapped his knuckles on the makeshift door that connected the village from the outside world. “Err, yes, hello!” he tried to sound as cheery as possible, for he had realised, in his many days, that cheerfulness tended to spread to the other person in a conversation. “This is the village of Reunion, yes?”
“Aye, it is,” came the reply, as brown eyes appeared at the slit of the door. “What do you seek here, traveller?”
It was indeed Reunion, then, but what indeed has happened here that the folk might erect such constructs around themselves? Bandits? Vagabonds and plunderers? What a tale this could be! A village trapped within the walls they have built themselves, fearing the evils outside their rickety walls. A hero, or heroine (for he had also spied a young woman sharpening her blade at the whetstone earlier), steps forth and cleanses the land of evil-doers, freeing them from the curse put upon themselves! Jacques gave a soft smile, as his eyes lit up with inspiration. A short story, perhaps, to stir the masses. Excitedly, he turned to the door once more. “I have come to enthrall your people with the stories of--”
“A bard? My apologies. Like those travellers over yonder, you will have to take your tales elsewhere. Wanderers are not welcomed within these walls after nightfall.”
And that was that of the conversation. Jacques had expected this, but disappointment was still disappointment. He opened his mouth to argue that night had yet to fall, as the sun's rays, inching as they were to the other faces of the globe, were still visible, casting its warm hue across the cold dark blue of the incoming night. Sadly, his argument was stopped short long before he could start as the guard left him as he was. He supposed he could head on over to the crowd, and work on his stories near their fire, perhaps even tell them of the tales he has read and written, if he were so inclined. He would have preferred a roof to go with it as well, however, and it seemed the crowd was already busy with their own interactions to accommodate or humor him. He rubbed his temple with the spine of his journal, and thought about his next few actions. He arrived at a decision not long after. He would, of course, simply confront the group head on! It was simple!
He strode up to the travellers, lute in one hand, and a shut journal book in the other, his serene smile on his features. He cleared his throat once more, and called out, his voice crisp and clear, a sound that often rose above the rowdy voices of a crowd in many a tavern. “Salutations, friends! I am a wandering bard, storyteller, and peddler of books. I have come to Reunion to spread the wonders of the magic of words alone, but alas, I am not welcomed into their arms. I seek a place to rest my head, in relative safety, away from the claws of the wicked that roams in these lands. I speak to he who is the head of this company, and I ask, most humbly, if you will offer me a place amongst you for this one night.” He bowed, low, sweeping one hand across his chest, and straightened up, the smile never once leaving his face.
“Hmm. Yes. Why, of course. And he...hmm...no, that’s not it. That doesn’t sound right. He wouldn’t be a hero, would he? Maybe it’d be a story for those with darkness in their hearts, but are bright and shining like the stars on the outside. Perhaps. But what are the chances? Oh, hello, what’s this, then?” So engrossed was the man of snowy hair in looking at his recent writings in the pages of his book that he had not noticed that he was walking right into a gate, until it was nary an inch away from his nose. What a surprise it was, for the storyteller, for was it not Reunion that stood behind these stakes in the ground? The last time he was here, this obstruction had not, well, obstructed his way! Jacques deCapre cast a furtive glance around the immediate area, and spied a door positioned at the side, along a large collection of travellers setting up camp at the side. In the dim light of the near-gone sun, and the blazing fire, he could see some of them carrying weapons, and some not. A convoy, perhaps? Why, then, did they seek shelter in their own tents and constructs rather than in the relative safety of the village...providing that it was the village that he knew. An idea of the reason formed in his mind, but he had already found himself walking towards the door.
Clearing his throat, he rapped his knuckles on the makeshift door that connected the village from the outside world. “Err, yes, hello!” he tried to sound as cheery as possible, for he had realised, in his many days, that cheerfulness tended to spread to the other person in a conversation. “This is the village of Reunion, yes?”
“Aye, it is,” came the reply, as brown eyes appeared at the slit of the door. “What do you seek here, traveller?”
It was indeed Reunion, then, but what indeed has happened here that the folk might erect such constructs around themselves? Bandits? Vagabonds and plunderers? What a tale this could be! A village trapped within the walls they have built themselves, fearing the evils outside their rickety walls. A hero, or heroine (for he had also spied a young woman sharpening her blade at the whetstone earlier), steps forth and cleanses the land of evil-doers, freeing them from the curse put upon themselves! Jacques gave a soft smile, as his eyes lit up with inspiration. A short story, perhaps, to stir the masses. Excitedly, he turned to the door once more. “I have come to enthrall your people with the stories of--”
“A bard? My apologies. Like those travellers over yonder, you will have to take your tales elsewhere. Wanderers are not welcomed within these walls after nightfall.”
And that was that of the conversation. Jacques had expected this, but disappointment was still disappointment. He opened his mouth to argue that night had yet to fall, as the sun's rays, inching as they were to the other faces of the globe, were still visible, casting its warm hue across the cold dark blue of the incoming night. Sadly, his argument was stopped short long before he could start as the guard left him as he was. He supposed he could head on over to the crowd, and work on his stories near their fire, perhaps even tell them of the tales he has read and written, if he were so inclined. He would have preferred a roof to go with it as well, however, and it seemed the crowd was already busy with their own interactions to accommodate or humor him. He rubbed his temple with the spine of his journal, and thought about his next few actions. He arrived at a decision not long after. He would, of course, simply confront the group head on! It was simple!
He strode up to the travellers, lute in one hand, and a shut journal book in the other, his serene smile on his features. He cleared his throat once more, and called out, his voice crisp and clear, a sound that often rose above the rowdy voices of a crowd in many a tavern. “Salutations, friends! I am a wandering bard, storyteller, and peddler of books. I have come to Reunion to spread the wonders of the magic of words alone, but alas, I am not welcomed into their arms. I seek a place to rest my head, in relative safety, away from the claws of the wicked that roams in these lands. I speak to he who is the head of this company, and I ask, most humbly, if you will offer me a place amongst you for this one night.” He bowed, low, sweeping one hand across his chest, and straightened up, the smile never once leaving his face.
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Shura
Pounce Ninja
~Corinna Oriel~
Priestess of Pyros
With the sun setting it was about time for some kind of temporary camp to be made. As much as she would love to sit and watch the sight to its completion the last bits of sunlight were needed to make a fire and at least start cooling a meal. She had been fortune enough to capture a rabbit in her days travels meaning she would have something decent to eat instead of simple berries and nuts. Corin was no stranger to travel, she had done it most of her life so surviving in the wilds came as naturally as temple work.
Humming softly Corin went about setting a camp setting rocks in a circle with some dried twigs and branches inside. Starting the fire was thankfully easy thanks to the flint stones she had in her pack. The small spark soon began to consume the offered twigs and grow into a decent size fire. The warmth of the flame gave her comfort and a feeling of safety. She sighed starting to ready the rest of her stuff until she heard someone approach. She didn't immediately jump to defend her self but made sure her sword was at her hip.
Being approached by others was nothing new, it happened on a daily bases due to the robes she wore. A voice called out to her first by sister which was also common. It was a title she had grown used to being addressed as. Then her name which she found slightly odd. Perhaps it was someone she had aided in the past? Or perhaps someone from the temple. The possibilities were endless really. The redhead turned to the source of the voice with a small smile. "Yes?"
Corin froze in place as she saw a young woman who looked remarkably like her younger sister, or rather what she would have looked like if she had aged. Most of the childish attributes were gone but there was still a striking resemblance to the pictures she had seen of her mother. Surly this had to be some kind of hallucination, perhaps a sign from Pyros? but why?
"K-kierstyn...?"
@AkuNoOkami
Kaine
Auburn Mystery
Colette
“Uhm. Excuse me? No one said you could leave.” She exclaimed, looking up at him with furrowed brows and her arms crossed as the man tried to escape what had happened. But she was old enough to learn well from her mother, even with what little time she spent with her.
“You don’t get to just act like nothing happened. You clearly tried to pull something and now the consequences will be paid.” But as she was talking, the man was still trying to escape. Throwing her wool blanket off of herself, she jumped up and reached over attaching herself to part of the clothing around his waist. Quickly she tried to pinch him to get his attention.
“I’ll scream!” Colette spoke through her teeth, trying to portray anger, to show this man just how serious she was. He would not get away. She was going to make him her servant. Why? Because since the starting of their travels it was something about him. The white eyes, the white hair, his voice? She knew not, but it was going to happen. “Then everyone will think you’re a miscreant! So what about it? Gonna listen to me now?”
She took in a deep breath, readying herself to scream at the top of her lungs; awaiting his answer
@Terragon
Terragon
New Member
"Oh ho ho ho. Haha. Oh that's cute. Listen uh...person who I don't really know all that well. I think you forgot that I am a DRAGON. You know. A giant flying creature the size of a house. I think you may have heard of those before. On top of that I am absolutely positive that I can outrun you. Also as far as I am concerned, everybody here already thinks of us dragons as miscreants already. But that isn't stopping us from being allies now does it?" Ven snorted. "Now then. I was trying to be nice and apologize for my embarassing sleepwalking incident. But now I really don't care. So scream until you turn blue. I'll plug my ears. And I am sure most people here would be more angry at a raging screaming lunatic that interrupts everyones slumber then little ol me. So toodaloo and good night madam!"
Terragon turned around and began walking away from the camp. He needed to make sure that if he sleep-walks again, then the only thing he will be pouncing is the dirt itself.
(OOC: Sorry for the layout. Posted on my phone.)
Terragon turned around and began walking away from the camp. He needed to make sure that if he sleep-walks again, then the only thing he will be pouncing is the dirt itself.
(OOC: Sorry for the layout. Posted on my phone.)
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Killigrew
Magnificent Humanicorn
Sayne
Interacting amicably, she says, seconds after having acquainted violence with his most prized possession. Sayne's tongue worked over his teeth, tasting the blood come down from his cheek. It would be best if he did, but Sayne found not an inkling of desire in his heart to accept her apology. A lump of lead sat in his chest, constrained his tongue.
So he kept his eyes on her instead, and in scrutiny, sought deceit, for if he had learned anything in his philandering, it was that a scorned woman hides a knife behind her smile.
But the lady knight revealed of her motives nothing more. Her gaze flickered; Sayne followed it, seeing the blonde approach, and when he had turned back around, the young knight only caught a glimpse of her retreating back.
The new woman's words caught in his ears. The strain over his chest did alleviate.
"To a troubled heart, kindness is sweet," Sayne said, a smile gracing his face. The lady's brown eyes were warm, and her expression demure. He took the cloth from her hand and inclined his head. "You have mended my wound. I thank you."
The wetted fabric was soothing against his cheek. With his attention loosened, the sounds of the environment invaded. Around the camp, movement had made a play of things. Children hung round the flames, mesmerized by the bright, erratic dance. Their parents slapped away experimental hands, as the guards took turns seeing who could spit the farthest. The white dragon escaped the grip of a girl half his size, and that crazy priest that had sniffed through all of Sayne's equipment conversed with the blue one, as a bard approached and took a bow, announcing his presence to the encampment. Against a far boulder the red serpent lay, aloof to it all.
A pot was set against the flame, and its steam rose to fade into twilight. Etheless and her companion, Josefa, stoked the flames, and Wardell stopped his tale to glance up at the bard. With a chuckle, he waved the boy in, bidding he join by the warmth.
"I have not made too contemptible a scene, I hope." Sayne's chagrin was sincere. As he spoke, his eyes returned to the woman. "I'm aware that the heralds introduced me upon my arrival, but it is never the same as doing so when one face meets another. You may call me Sayne, forget the title. I would never demand a pretty lady remember it." He winked. "And you are, pilgrim?"
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Auren
7th Level Procrastinator
Auren said:
Killigrew said:
Syrenrei said:
Killigrew said:
Auren said:
Killigrew said:
Lureana Rompth
Lureana kept her gaze calm, hiding her own suspicion from the marks on the man's eye. But surely that came from some scuffle he had with one of the others in the town. Though, she wasn't sure of any townsfolk that would be so rowdy. This town didn't seem like a particularly large or rowdy sort. Then, she saw the blood over the chainmail that he wore.
She nodded to him.
"Goodday, and night to you, sir,"
she said as she motioned for Areynia to follow her away from the gate. She hoped the priestess would at least leave the area, if not follow directly behind her.
When Lureana walked toward the camp, she gazed about the accompaniment, gauging each individual as best she could from her limited knowledge of them. She eventually settled with approaching Sayne, who seemed to be in a conversation with one of the many women of the pilgrimage. Though, it was expected of him, even given that he held as close to a leadership role as any in the group. She cursed all the ties that bound her to such an unloyal man, but she would make the best of her ties, even if they weren't what she would consider her best interest.
"Sayne, may I have a moment? It's about the town,"
she said, trying not to sound too urgent, especially since she didn't want to alarm the other madam. But her voice was strong, not a whisper or a mumble, and it almost demanded attention, if not respect.
(( Collab of @Killigrew and @Syrenrei ))
Elle Joyner
Fracturer of Fairytales
She'd seen the conflict in his eyes, which belied his nature. A chance to be spiteful was measured against his desire for conquest. She'd turned him down, violently. This would enrage... particularly given his affection for a pretty face, his own most zealously... but she'd been foolish not to think it might also ensnare. In pushing him awsy, she ran the risk of trapping herself... of enticing the snake to pursue, rather than flee. As luck would have it, her own escape came at the expert timing of Katrin. Had they still remained close, Brien might have expected it was a plan to help her... but they weren't close. Not anymore.
As Sayne turned, Brien did as well, walking away. She needed no closure. Her apology had been sincere, but his words were anything but, and she could trust nothing that came out of his mouth. Let Kitty have him, she thought... returning to the warmth beside the fire.
The looming wall of the city to her left, as Brien walked she considered all that had occurred. It was troublesome, their forced encampment. The pilgrimage was no clandestine arrangement, and to be turned away at the gate was greatly disturbing. Idly, she thought perhaps the dragons were not so well received here, understandable, supposing history, but the rest of them should have been welcomed as heroes... not turned away like beggars, to camp in the brush.
Her thoughts were cut across as a voice rang through the camp. A bard, announcing his presence. It was unsurprising. Their ilk often attached themselves to all things noble and grand. Undoubtedly, he sought inspiration... a muse.
Unless the gates had turned him away as well... While a large pilgrimage might make sense, turning away a single bard was senseless and cold.
Approaching the stranger, Brien inclined her head briefly, "Evening Bard. It seems we share the plight of being unwelcomed where we ought not. As such, you are welcome to share our fire and some food, and I've a tent you may rest beneath. I'm preferential to the stars, as it is. Tell me, have you traveled these parts often? Is it customary for one such as yourself to be turned away by the guard for the night? Particularly when night has yet to fully show her face...?"
@simj22 @khuyen @Killigrew
As Sayne turned, Brien did as well, walking away. She needed no closure. Her apology had been sincere, but his words were anything but, and she could trust nothing that came out of his mouth. Let Kitty have him, she thought... returning to the warmth beside the fire.
The looming wall of the city to her left, as Brien walked she considered all that had occurred. It was troublesome, their forced encampment. The pilgrimage was no clandestine arrangement, and to be turned away at the gate was greatly disturbing. Idly, she thought perhaps the dragons were not so well received here, understandable, supposing history, but the rest of them should have been welcomed as heroes... not turned away like beggars, to camp in the brush.
Her thoughts were cut across as a voice rang through the camp. A bard, announcing his presence. It was unsurprising. Their ilk often attached themselves to all things noble and grand. Undoubtedly, he sought inspiration... a muse.
Unless the gates had turned him away as well... While a large pilgrimage might make sense, turning away a single bard was senseless and cold.
Approaching the stranger, Brien inclined her head briefly, "Evening Bard. It seems we share the plight of being unwelcomed where we ought not. As such, you are welcome to share our fire and some food, and I've a tent you may rest beneath. I'm preferential to the stars, as it is. Tell me, have you traveled these parts often? Is it customary for one such as yourself to be turned away by the guard for the night? Particularly when night has yet to fully show her face...?"
@simj22 @khuyen @Killigrew
The Empress of Ice
Shitpost Overlord
Émillien
~ Aloís ~
* ~~~~ *
The Cursed Corridor ~ Inner World ~ Ten Days Past {May be skipped, 'unimportant' to any and all interactions during Present Day.}
Soft eyes, neither gray nor blue but a mix of the two, stared out into the endless night, chasing the moving clouds eagerly to flicker close seconds later. A figure, undoubtedly male, layed still on the ground, surrounded by trees and the ever-lasting howls of wolves. If one would ever dare walk into the forest where the figure lay, they would think him dead or close to it. But the slight rise and fall of the man's chest said otherwise, the light coat of sweat on his forehead glistening in the moonlight. He was trembling, as if tortured yet not a single sound escaped from the being. As he was, once again, heading down that corridor.
Thousands of emotions, sensations, coursed through Aloís, not all of them pleasant but few of them unknown. The depth of these emotions were somewhat shallow, like always, due to his hardened nature but it was among these feelings that he felt the trickle of fear. Yet Aloís was never afraid of anything, truly. Death was nothing to be dreaded, neither was pain. In fact, fear was the one feeling that Aloís... feared. Only one being could bring forth such an absurd emotion, and that being was his lord. His Master. And even then it wasn't true fear, more like respect, yes, respect. Respect for what his lord can do. But not real fear. Not the type that make men run with their tails between their legs.
But as he stared out into the seemingly endless hallway, shrouded in darkness with red doors lining the hall, the Blessed Pendant clutched so tightly in his left hand that his knuckles whitened, he felt the slight tremble of his knees as he staggered but took deep breathes nonetheless. Fear. Yes, indeed, only this cursed place could ever bring forth such a thing.
As the large man hurried down the hall, he felt the cold trickle of fear increasing as he passed the first red door. It had been quiet for just a second before a heart-wrenching, muffled scream could be heard and his heart pounded faster. His breathes turned shallow, and with a rare cry, so soft so that it could barely be heard by himself, Aloís closed his eyes, walking down the hall using his faulty memory as a guide rather than his perfect vision. Strangled cries, the sound of whips and, worse of all, the sound of rushing water was excruiating.
And then he was there. At the, seemingly, end of the hallway that always changed shape from day to day. Or was it week to week? Perhaps it only changed once a year , but Aloís wouldn't know. He had only been here once before. Even then, he had almost regretted his decision but left it at that. A memory, one he did not enjoy recalling.
A single white door with no door knob stood in front of him, his fist raised to knock but the door opened by itself.
Nothing. Not a single thing to be feared, neither The End nor The One.
An audible sigh could be heard, before a deep voice invaded the looming silence. "What is that you want, Son of Glaeslin?"
Akhenatom Kallistos sat at his usual spot when he was within the Cursed Room, at the farthest corner with a book on his lap, his fingers tracing the letters. He was like a bright light, but then again, it may have been just that small, small window that lay over his head that caused such an illusion. His gaze never left the leather journal but for brief seconds when he'd turn his dark eyes to his side, his hand disappearing for a few seconds in a motion that Aloís best not think of. "I... A favor. One only you can grant me, as my lord does not keep control of this body."
"Why, there is many a thing that your Lord has no control over, but that is another subject for another day, " Akhenatom grinned, sensing the slight glare from the youngster, yet never "And as far as I can remember, you cached your personal favor in a long, long time ago. And what a favor, it was!"
"Three days. I beg this of you,"
It was silent for awhile before Akhenatom responded, "And last time it was three years. Last time, I didn't interfere, this time, if it ever comes to occur, I'd like to know why before I grant your request."
It was a simple request, really simple as Akhenatom never favored one of the beings. Humans, nor dragons. But Aloís knew also that Akhenatom didn't quite favor problems within The System either. And this was bound to create some, whether they be small or not.
"And do not try those little lies with me, we both know that it doesn't matter who is with you during your prayers. What matters is if they stop you from doing what you crave the most. Shockingly enough, it isn't a woman's touch. Ah, Son of Glaeslin indeed. Poor, poor bastard," It was a joke that Akhenatom shared with Marwin, one at the cost of Aloís pride at the moment.
"That does not concern you, however... I wish to join the pilgrimage. The one with the dragons. My Lord would want that. And as such, I can not leave them in the hands of, Glaeslin forbid, incompetent men," His stomach clenched as he kept himself from letting his eyes stray from Akhenatom, "and those with true hate and vengeance in their heart will surely seek them out. Is it not then my duty to protect them?"
"Your duty? I suppose. Our? Not so much. I don't see how this won't create conflict... But, I truly am fascinated with this... This charade of heroism of yours, ah, but you aren't a hero, are you?" Akhenatom uncrossed his long legs, to cross them again seconds later, a dainty smile on his face, "Very well, I'll keep them at bay, but I am not the one that shall explain to them why they're stuck in a journey that is bound to end in a disaster.
"Oh no, not this time. Not again. Far too tiresome, I'm afraid. And I don't enjoy it when Réne gets mad, she's... Hm, scary? That's not quite it..."
And then it happened. Akhenatom turned his gaze from the leather journal, and like some sort of unexplainable magic trick, he grabbed an oat cookie, slightly burnt at the sides, from thin air. His hand moved towards his left, where the window lay, and in response small arms of a child jutted out from the dark corner, grasping the cookie in it's hands. Aloís breathe hitched, and he tore his eyes from the sight.
Akhenatom chuckled, his hand disappearing into the dark in that weird motion that Aloís knew he did not enjoy, the one where he'd ruffle his hair. "Go to sleep, my child, you have been awake for far too long."
Akhenatom's soft, gentle voice echoed in Aloís brain still as he finally returned, his eyes once again following the odd patterns of the stars, and the passing clouds. The sky had never been so beautiful before.
Interactions Below
* ~~~~ *
Village of Reunion ~ Outer World ~ Present Day {If you skipped the flashback, for the first following sentence, just read the last sentence above.}
~ Co-conciousness with Akhenatom Kallistos and {Gutnicht} Marwin,~
Or so that was Aloís thought as he watched the sun drift down towards the horizon, the heat from Kaylar's body warming him up. The two were standing off at the side, the horse eerily quiet while munching on some grass. It was always like that, between the two. Aloís preferred the company of Waverly, who had settled for the night, seeing that he was carrying more weight than usual. He had left to unload Kaylar's luggage the instant they were denied entrance to the town.
Could he for once, not just enjoy the cold of the dark night's breeze and the beauty of the moon?
Aye, what is one to do at moments like these. Lay down and sleep underneath the mighty shadow of Glaeslin?
No, of course not. He was duty-ridden, and stuck with people who not only enjoyed attention, but seemed to crave it. Foolish as such, one of them had even got hurt by the hand of lady. A lady that was certainly not in her right mind, as she approached the so-called bard, accepting his request without question. Incompetent men... Huh. More like incompetent women, his eyes settling on yet another one that caused a ruckus, a priestess by the name of Areynia.
She was beautiful... He frowned. That was an absurd thought, not that the lady wasn't attractive, but... Ah, he should have noticed it before. A silent sigh escaped him, and then he let himself drift for but a second.
Now, now, ol' Al, what have you gotten yourself into?
Of all that Akhenatom could have sent, he sent the lust-filled bastard.
How predictable.
* ~~~~ *
~ Adelheid ~
~ Schnitzer, viele Schnitzer und betrunkene Drachen ~
Hm, yeah, but... Hm.
She couldn't quite decide, something that tended to happen every time she was surrounded by gorgeous women, not that, that happened a lot. But when it did, she never needed to question who'd she seduce, as the few times she was surrounded by women that made her eyes water, she had been in town, for a day or two then left. No, these would notice, as they were to travel together. This was unique to her, a challenge. Adelheid loved challenges, but still, with such an exquisite pick, she simply couldn't choose.
So she settled during the night. During three nights, in fact, the woman was getting a bit annoyed. Not only had the dragons NOT entertained her, they were also a bit... Boorish. Except that rare one that always seemed to be dreaming of food... Ah, that one was funny.
And when bored, Adelheid comes up with the weirdest of plans, her gaze set on the dragon leaning on the boulder. He was utterly vulnerable, in all the wrong ways. With booze in hand and a grin on her face, she took off, towards her newest victim. And hopefully a worthy companion to share a cup of Ale with. The finest ale of Schlaraffenland, the one she brews herself. Lenard watched his mother walk away, snorting before drifting away to find entertainment himself. Loyal he was, but even he knew how crazy the woman became when drunk.
Or when bored.
A combination of the two was bound to be a catastrophe.
* ~~~~ *
Émillien
~ Aloís ~
He was frustrated, rightly so as vivid thoughts invaded his mind, none of them his. This time, as Aloís unloaded yet another satchel from Kaylar's side, this one containing his camping equipment and his tent. Before, he had only informed the soldiers of his nightly checks, enjoying the quiet dark of his lord, and keeping danger at bay, but now? No, now he needed a reason to stay away until morning. An excuse. And the bard was just that.
It was no secret that he was Glaeslin's follower, the sword on his side said a lot of things and the pendant was like a tag, but the strange flicker of his gaze will without doubt catch attention if he didn't handle it. So he wandered over to the bard, and the foolish lady, his stride the same as always. Slow but determined. Like his Lord's mission, one that takes time but will surely come to be true.
"It is unfit for a lady to sleep out in the open," He muttered, laying the satchel down, "and I take it you agree, Ser... My utter fault, may Glaeslin forgive us, I did not catch your name."
He turned to the woman, his eyes for a miliscule second falling on her bossom before settling on her face. He needed to leave. Now. "My Lord owns the night, but it does not mean it is safe. I shall go on and keep guard. Those villagers do not strike well with me.
"So sleep in your tent, I ought to be gone for awhile."
@Jaysun {Read all le Adelheid parts xD }
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