Fantasy Chivalry: A Pilgrimage

[Kaine]

Colette

​

Hmm. The young girl raised an eyebrow. This man was not so much a push over as she had first imaged. Well spoken, standing up for himself, and above all, didn’t take shit from anyone. Just the type of person she needed on her side. A smile broke lightly on her face before she turned around to grab her blanket. Flinging it over her shoulder, she sprinted a small distance to catch up to the man.


“You still owe me. I could have killed you.” She appeared joking, and even kind of smiled though inside she was completely serious. Had she been by herself, in a street, running the man through would of been first reaction, second would of been to loot his body. But that was neither here, nor the place.


As for the dragon comment, she believed none of it. Her mother had told her stories, and she had heard of many a people’s travels, but without seeing a dragon, or hearing a dragon, or even witnessing such a transformation. The general idea, of a dragon, in a human body, acting human, and socializing with such a lower life form was simply left for that of tales and magic in the words of a novel.


“I don’t believe you’re a dragon. Just so you know. Dragons are suppose to be these giant scaly fire breathing mythical beasts.” She rubbed her nose after snorting a little bit trying to remove the dust that was pestering her. “Besides your hair, you don’t seem very mythical to me.”


Colette continued to follow the man where ever in the wilderness he was to go.


@Terragon

 

[Dusky]

Minerva Purpurea

Before the man has a chance to respond, a shout carries through the quickly darkening air.


"I'D LIKE TO WELCOME YA...ALL IN MEH STOMACHE!"


The one eye she had opened closes again, and she groans softly before dragging herself upright. "Vencorus... The fool." As she watches, he flops down onto - onto a girl? Oh, for the love of all that is cold. Shouting, of course, ensues, and the girl seems to have taken particular exception to Ven's antics, saying something to give him pause. He turns and speaks, surely something too childish for his age if previous encounters are anything to go by. And as he wheels away, Minerva has the distinct impression there is damage to be fixed. Why am I always cleaning others' messes... I'm too kind, really.


So she turns back to her present company. "You'll excuse me, Argrave. I believe my presence is required elsewhere." And with that, she rises, slinging her pack along her shoulders. She creeps closer to the confrontation, too slowly as this form covers so little ground - but it will have to do.


As she draws near, the girl darts off after the dragon, trying to match his step - by now she can hear the conversation, from her shadows as she moves through them.


You silly girl - the eyes. Look at his eyes.


She frowns and nearly calls out to the pair. Nearly. It occurs to her, at the last second, that intervening in every possibility of the young wind dragon causing trouble is not the best way, exactly, to ensure he ceases to do so. With a sigh, she decides to wait and watch for his next move, listening closely. From this distance, in this lighting - so long as her eyes stay downcast, she should not be noticed.

 

[khuyen]

Katrin Hannelore Augüstin

​

The pilgrim so far had been uneventful. There had been walking, talking and more walking, and Katrin had succesfully blended in, drawing no attention to herself. So she had to wonder, what had beckoned her to approach the flames so carelessly. Careless was a fitting word, fore on a whim disguised under a stroke of genius, she had offered a wetted cloth to a man, she was supposed to keep away from. Even Milo de Gambel had to agree that learning an enemy's weakness was near impossible from a distance though. But it was too late now, he had taken her offering with kind words and appreciative eyes.


It took her a while to realize he had asked her something, despite having heard his words. She just didn't know what to say. What would be the smart move? Should she lie and go under another identity? No, he doesn't know who you are anyway. The color rose to her cheeks - one would think from the flattery he offered, but no, it was merely embarrassment of her current lack in conversational skills. "It is a pleasure, I-"


The gods must have been smiling down at her, as a woman approached them. No, she had approached Sayne, and had made it very clear that his presence was needed elsewhere. Perfect. Perhaps she should've been insulted by the obvious interruption, but Katrin cast a quick glance towards her saviour, nodding curtly. Another beauty, she dully noted, but curtseyed politely. "Pardon me." Locking eyes with Sayne, she gave him a quick smile and turned to rejoin the campfire. As her feet led her away, she made up her mind that that had been the right move. Maybe he would be intrigued, or maybe he... would simply forget her face. The wetted cloth in his hand, she hoped, would remind him of her later.


"...I once tried to cook my own rabbit, and needless to say, my bowel-" As Katrin joined the lively campfire, she sat next to one of the young soldiers. The people around her all shut him up with a collective 'Shut your mouth, Vinz!' and his flushed cheeks made her smile a bit. His name was Vinzenz, and they had conversed occasionally. The pilgrim hadn't been all too bad so far, and Katrin had to admit there sure were some interesting people. On the other side of the camp-fire, she saw Wardell, the elderly storyteller welcome a new face. In fact, a whole welcoming committee was starting to form, as people gathered around the newcomer. A bard, she was reminded and vaguely, she had heard his declaration of arrival. Curiosity tickled her, but as her eyes landed on Brien, she opted to remain seated, listening to the soldiers banter back and forth. A small sigh escaped her lips. It was going to be a long pilgrimage.


@Killigrew @Auren

 

[simj26]

Jacques deCapre

Jacques was sure he was to be turned away again, shunned like a leper. The world had indeed changed, where men now placed their own selves in a higher priority. What Jacques would give to have a world where men and women would help their own kind out in times of need, striving to meet the future together. It was truly a romantic future that Jacques deCapre looked forward to, but ah, what a beautiful future it was! Everyone was equal, everyone was welcome, and no one was to suffer from doubt or hatred.


As he thought this, however, he heard footsteps approach, and Jacques straightened up to meet the pale green eyes of a young woman. He recognised her as the lady who had been involved with sharpening her sword on the whetstone earlier, moments before he approached the gates. As she spoke to him, Jacques found that she spoke in his natural tongue, a hint of Germanic accent. This lady here was from his homeland. As she welcomed him to the entourage, his heart felt the warmth that a thousand dragons could not ever reproduce. What a kind soul this lady was! Perhaps...was she to be his muse? His inspiration? His heroine? Jacques could barely restrain his thoughts as they began to spin and whirl in his mind. He straightened up, only to bow again. Such a warm existence worthy of the codices could not be greeted by any meagre expression! He straightened up once more, the ever undying smile on his pale face, and laughed an airy laugh, as if a wisp had whispered in the wind.


“I would not presume myself worthy to rest my head for even a moment in a lady’s tent, especially one who has such a large heart to welcome a wandering soul such as I. Why, I would owe you my life, and twice over! I’d rather gaze at the horizons ‘til their vast infinities lull me to sleep with the promise of a rising sun in the near future, another bright day to face head on with vim and vigor!” He laughed again, his bright disposition seemingly enhanced by the fire’s light. He trailed off in his laughter, and looked forlorn for a moment. “I have, indeed, travelled these parts before. Weeks, maybe months ago, I forget, but then, there was no wall to keep intruders out. There were only the laughter of children, the cacophonous cries of adults, and an open tavern that promised food and bed for a few gold pieces a night as well as a place where I could sell my songs, stories, and books. Alas!” He shrugged and shook his head, then paused in thought.


“Ah! Where are my manners, to speak to an audience without a name?” Jacques bowed again. “I am Jacques deCapre, story-teller, bard, entertainer, peddler of books and codices! I sing just a little, but none have complimented me on my songs. Quite the opposite.” He laughed again, a wandering wind wistfully whistling.


A man with a beard that covered the lower half of his face walked by, and commented that a lady should not choose to rest out in the open. He made another passing remark at how he had not caught Jacques’ name, before he strode away from the group, saying how he was displeased with the behaviour of the villagers, and that it bore them some suspicion. Jacques’ brows furrowed as his eyes followed the man as he walked...no, perhaps stalked away. What a world to exist in. Suspicions and doubt cloud the minds of the people and one could not even spend a night without thoughts of skulduggery and stabbing at backs. That, and the man’s lecherous glance at the lady’s ‘assets’, so to speak. To quote the general public, ‘What a creep.’, and indeed, what a creep he was to even THINK of thoughts as such with regards to a being of overwhelming kindness! Why, if he wasn’t so exhausted from his journey, Jacques would have gladly and madly cursed the man’s name, that he may forever have his alcohol lukewarm, and that all beds he slept on would feel like rocks. He was right, however, in presuming that a lady -- nay, a goddess! A goddess like her should not sleep in the open, as wondrous as the night sky was.


...however, this specific goddess was from Vinoviloc. She could most likely send creatures and vagabonds to the hills better than he ever could. It was most likely in her blood to do so. Jacques deCapre, born Arthur Gottsheim, knew quite a bit of the Vinoviloc...'tradition'. While what the man said made sense, he looked to her as a woman, and not as a woman from Vinoviloc. Jacques chose to keep his mouth shut with regards to this matter.


@Elle Joyner

 

[Elle Joyner]

Gabrienna Fromm

The language of bards. Flowers and poetry... once a weakness of hers. In the Academy she had fallen for it, and today was proof that she had not quite recovered from her unfortunate misstep. Her knuckles stung from where they had connected with Sayne's jaw - she could only hope that he was just as sore - but more than her hand, her pride had been injured. She had sunk to a level she was not pleased with and she had embarrassed herself, graciously only to Sayne and not to prying eyes... Nevertheless, she was determined that it should be happen again.


As the bard bowed, Brien inclined her own head, straightening to find a smile on the face of the man before her. He was handsome, certainly, if not strange. Stark white hair and pale skin gave her the impression she was speaking to a ghost, but no ghost had quite so warm a smile, which reflected in his eyes, a light russet color she had never encountered before.


"It's not a matter of worth, on your part, though I hardly measure worth by conventional means. It is simply what is right. I am more than capable of sleeping in the open air... and to be honest, I often prefer it. One can so easily be snared, when one cannot see their surroundings. If you will not take it, then my tent, I'm afraid, shall go to waste." Her eyes shifted then, following the darkening line of the village wall. It was disconcerting to hear that the fortification was a new introduction... It was more disconcerting to know how quickly it had been raised, "...Intriguing. I had imagined we would not be so well received in all parts, but I see no reason for so thorough a means of keeping us out."


The bard continued and possibly for the first time that evening, Brien smiled, gently, the corner of her lips only barely raised, as she listened to his introduction, "And I am Gabrienna Fromm... Well met, Jacques."


A brow raised as another of her companions approached. She had not spoken to him yet, but she recognized him. To her knowledge, he was something of a priest, but his name escaped her. He carried with him a satchel and laid it before her, mirroring the bard's protest that she should sleep anywhere but a tent. She'd been prepared to offer him the same argument she had given to Jaques, but he was gone as quickly as he had come, though it did not escape her attention, the duality of both his chivalry and lecherous behaviors. That evening, her armor had been left tied to Beute's saddle and she wore a simple white jerkin over breeches, a leather corset fastened round her middle. To have been leered at, however briefly, in so unfitting a wardrobe was undoubtedly one of the stranger occurrences of the night. Her eyes followed the priest as he walked away, her gaze piercing... temper beneath the surface flaring ever so slightly. But it would not do to bruise her hand twice in one night. She needed to keep her head about her and save the battling for those who were not her company. If Gallace had taught her anything it was that there were far worse things than been ogled, inappropriately. She knew well enough that she was beautiful, and it would not do to deny she made a statement... even without intention. If the men around her could not contain themselves, then it would be up to her to ensure she be honored with respect, and the only way to ensure that was to behave in a way that demanded it... She was a knight, but she was still a lady.


"Well, then..." She murmured quietly, reaching down to retrieve the satchel, holding it out to the bard, "Here you are. Now you shouldn't need to worry that you have put me out." Gaze drifting again, she watched the small group by the fires, her eyes catching the child she had seen earlier near Katrin, making circles with her hands, which cast an odd shadow in the light of the flames. As she watched the girl she noticed the older blonde returned to her seat, and Brien felt a twinge in her gut as she thought about being so near to her former friend. But it wouldn't do for her or the bard to freeze on the hillside when there was warmth only a few feet from them, "...Come on then, warm your hands and we shall see if there isn't something to eat."


@simj22 @The Empress of Ice @khuyen

 

[Killigrew]

Sayne

​

Oh, a blush. How pleasant.


Sayne relaxed, for he felt a good amount more at ease in seeing so familiar an expression. The shifting of her eyes, shuffling of her feet, and the disconcerted peering -- these were all behaviors he’d inspired in giggling, curious scullery maids behind castle walls. There was a comfort in knowing the course of an engagement that was much like returning home, especially after so disturbing a reaction as the dark lady’s violence.


A sly grin played on the edges of his mouth as she mustered an answer. But the amusement was short-lived, for the maiden never finished.


Beside him. The presence was felt before the voice heard.

"Sayne, may I have a moment? It's about the town."

The young Lureana stood beside him. Sayne’s eyebrows rose. He’d expected the silent treatment from her to last the whole pilgrimage long. Indeed, through the course of the journey so far, he had considered it a blessing that she was so clear in her intent to leave their business buried. With the truce broken, he knew not what she’d expect of him.


Out of the corner of his gaze, he noted the maiden’s retreat. He supposed this convenient, if not lamentable.


“My lady Lureana,” he acquiesced, inclining towards her. His eyes shimmered with the spark of curiosity. "I am at your service.”

 

[Auren]

Lureana Rompth

Lureana nodded back to the lady that had spoken with Sayne previously. Then, she made an exit, and Lureana felt the whole of Sayne's attention. His gaze took on a spark that she didn't find particularly pleasing, and she assumed he thought that she might try to flirt. Of course, she was just assuming that he would take such action, and while she may predict it, she tried to shake away her assumptions. Sure, He was a man that enjoyed the company of women, and that is what held true in most of his actions. Though, she preferred to think that while someone is prone to such things, they may act otherwise with certain situations. She hoped this would be one such situation.


She tuned her gaze into his and glanced back towards the town.

"That guard up there, I don't think he's to be trusted. Something is wrong with that town. Do you recall any town guards that would have reason to have blood on their chainmail? Any guards I've ever encountered were either rigid with duty or sleepy with alcohol, but never have I seen one with blood on his coat. He also adorned a scratch above his eye, something fresh. On top of that, it was dusk when we asked to get into the city, and yet they declared no visitors at nightfall. They are very reluctant even when I pointed out the fact and with only the time of day as their defense, instead of mention provisions or such, I dare say that there is something going on. I'm just not sure what. I was hoping, since you are considered a leader here, if you might have an idea of how we should proceed next,"

she said, and her gaze traveled back to the gate.

"Do you think someone that is agile should climb the wall and gather information about the ongoings inside?"


Lureana's gaze traveled over to the wall around the town, and then it went back to the others at the camp. She hadn't been with the other pilgrims long, and she only had appearances to judge most of them by. She could see a few that were smaller that could be easily thrown over the wall, if they could not climb. She could be thrown, if it was needed. She would have to leave her heavier armor at their camp though, and hope that she encountered no scuffles during the investigation.


Her gaze fell back to Sayne, and she held the mask of professionalism and properness. She did not give any of her more negative thoughts of the man away with her eyes, or with the way she looked at him. They had a purely political relationship, and she only intended to use it to gain in her own goals, as she could not get rid of it. She expected Sayne to use it in a similar fashion, and she felt no need to seek him out for anything other than business associations.

 

[Killigrew]

Sayne

​

Blood on the guard's uniform was hardly cause for alarm. Mundane explanations arose immediately, like a drunken brawl or the careless handling of a sword. It was indeed strange that they had closed their gates early, even out in the untempered wild of Leonharte. But climbing up on the wall? Come now, that seemed a measure that went far beyond what's necessary. Even if the guards were... Sayne perished the thought. It would be in their best interest to leave the oddness alone, and not risk arousing the pain of combat. Yet Sayne made a show of nodding thoughtfully by the closure of Lureana's report. He would accommodate the lady squire for the sake of peace between them. After all, it was against his principles to demean the words of a woman.


"I am no leader," Sayne laughed. "But I do believe that you did well to come to me first." His arms had crossed despite his efforts, and upon realization, he casually let them fall to his sides. "Forsooth, your observation does stir a kind of fear in my heart. I would hate to inspire the same in others. Let's leave the pilgrims out of this endeavor, lest we raise a false alarm and stir the village to unfounded irritation."


He looked over at the wall that surrounded the town. Pillars of wood, sharpened at the top like pikes. It could not have been more than four hands above him from atop his steed.


"Hark, I've a thought; come, follow me."


Sayne sprung into a brisk walk, whistling to his horse. Snowflake trotted back around the camp, and set into pace beside Sayne. The young lord stole a backwards glance, and offered his arm to Lureana, but she shook her head, and intimated that she would rather be free to use her hands if she needed them.


"As you wish," he said, his manner gloomy.


His finger stroked long down Snowflake's mane as they traversed around the wall. He tarried on until they were far enough along not to be seen, and the campfire was a mere glow in the webbing of thrush.


"We have escaped the obtrusive gaze of those meddling pilgrims!" He announced. Snowflake whinnied. "Like two lovers en liaison, privacy is our medium! Oh, to hold one another under the comforting shadows of night... there is no pleasure besides those thieved from fate." He winked at Lureana. "I might teach you a thing or two."


Without further ado, he clicked his tongue. Snowflake raised his head, hooves falling flat. In a spry movement, Sayne's foot caught in the stirrup, as the other stepped up to rest against the horn.


"I was taught this trick," he began, the sentence halting as his other foot rose up, and set against the edge of the saddle. "From a circus performer. Keeping myself straight was about the best I could manage though. Ay, you ought to have seen the girl perform. Every move was like a dance. And she could do the strangest thing with her legs, as though she had no restraint to movement. She'd use her big toe to scratch behind her neck, that one... and sometimes mine." He was well aware he blathered. But Lureana said not a word. The quiet was smothering. Sayne could not abide silence; his tongue would wag worse than the tail of a happy dog.


Drawing a breath, Sayne rose up on his toes, and though he strained, the tips of his fingers only grazed the top of the wall.


"Tsk." He crouched back down, looking behind him at Lureana.


"I can't reach." He said, morose.


The young lord fell back against his saddle, either leg strapping against each side of the horse. He marked the height of the wall, and tilted his head as he entertained a passing thought.


"Milady..." Sayne shifted. "I know it to be an endeavor most uncouth, but perhaps you would be willing. If you were to stand upon my shoulders as I sit on this beast, there is no doubt in my mind that you will reach the top." His hand outstretched towards her below him, and on his face a smile of encouragement was at play.

 

[Terragon]

She doesn't think I am a dragon...? Wha wha wh-





"What?"





Ven gave this rather mysterious and insane girl the most baffled look.


"I'm sorry but why do you think I, along with two other individuals like myself, are being escorted? For funnsies and giggles? You know what? No. I'm not going to argue on this pointless topic. You will see my natural form soon enough. And if you still deny the existence of dragons then you are simply delusional.


Also I owe you nothing. I gave you a heartfelt apology over a very embarrassing situation and then in return you wanted me to become your man-servant plaything. That's not going to happen."





Terragon shook his head and pondered to himself out loud. "Great. I'm dead tired, and I don't think I'm going to sleep knowing this crazy human girl thing staring at me. And now I really want to hunt deer."





Terragon was silent for a few second until he shrugged.


Oh plow it. What is she honestly going to do while there are all of these witnesses?





"Eh. I'm going to go after that deer again. Good night, you crazy monkey." And with that he stopped and laid down onto the grass, attempting to drift off into slumber again.

 

[simj26]

"Gabrienna Fromm? Die Ostfeurer?" The snowy-haired bard took a step back. He had thought of a life peaceful and uneventful, except for the occasional bar brawl, but he had found himself, now, in the presence of the East Fire herself! It was no wonder that he could feel the blazing warmth that radiated from her. At this rate, all other fires, nay, even the sun itself would pale in comparison to her. He was inexplicably drawn to her, her radiance magnetically attracting him towards her. This was not the attraction of love or lust, for Jacques deCapre wrote and told not only of beauty of the skin, but also of beauty of the heart. His face was awashed with an expression of boyish elation, until he realised he had let slip his natural tongue, and quickly recovered. “Truly, you are theLady Gabrienna Fromm, the Ostfeurer? I, as a bard, and trader of tales, have heard and told much of you! I have tried to make these tales as wonderfully brilliant as I had imagined you to be, but alas, as I finally cast my eyes upon the true form of the East Fire, I realise that even my most regal tales cannot even compare to you!”


He waved his hand about, dismissing once more the Ostfeurer’s attempt to house him in her tent. “And go to waste it shall, milady, for my heart yearns for the horizons and the skies, stretching out beyond us. To be caged within makes one unable to reach out and grasp his wandering thoughts. I will be most comfortable, here, in the heat of the fire, and the blazing flames of the Ostfeurer herself. Permit me, if you will, to bask in your light just a little longer.” His smile continued to live on, never once falling, and he doffed the hood of his cloak, revealing his mane of hair that he had neglected to cut for near two months. The lady offered him a place by the fire, but her fleeting glance was thrown towards another lady behind her within a small group, or at least, he thought she was looking towards one of the group.


“Ah, do not worry about old Jacques here, Lady Fromm. I have walked longer distances, and I have gone through more sleepless nights than I can count on two hands. Please, you may leave me to my own devices as it were.” He laughed an honest laugh, a hearty and humble one, and sighed, as he walked towards the fire. “You would, of course, rather spend the time with an acquaintance of yours, rather than a revenant such as myself, would you not?” He laughed again at his own self-depreciating joke. He knew how he seemed to those around him, and often, he relished in it.


@Elle Joyner

 

[Kaine]

Colette

​

Quietly she listened to him drone on about her being delusional and escorted. This looked more like civilians from around the lands on personal missions. Not an armored guard trotting around with human like dragons. And his wording sounded almost like her brother at times with words like funnsies and giggles. She was rather taking a liking to him now, even if their meeting was not on the best of terms.


She was about to lecture him again, but his childish usage of words lead her to believe in his words when he blurted out about his apology being heartfelt and openly admitting that the situation was embarrassing for him. To which for her it was obviously just a time to meet someone knew and gain a follower.


As he laid down, she simply stood over him, her small frame not much to look at in comparison to his own body, and she spoke calmly and meticulously.


“Very well then.” Looking down at him, it was clear he wanted little more attention from her, but she continued, knowing well that her words did not fall on deaf ears. “I accept your apology, and...” She spoke a little uppity, trying to act as if she was a royal, speaking to her people. “...I eagerly await the day I am to witness your mightiful form.”


With a nod of approval, she tossed her blanket up, gripping it by one edge and as it fell, she came down, laying at a right angle to the man. Her head rested suddenly but softly against his abdomen and quickly she shuffled all the edges of her blanket underneath of her.


“So, dragon-boy." Colette asked with a giggle, purposely trying to push his buttons. "What's your name? Unless ya like the name Dragon-boy...”


@Dusky

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

"Well the light hadn't deceived my eyes," she responded to her gently, reaching behind her back and removing the skinning blade she had on her lower back. Literally all she used it for was skinning, she would never use it for protection even if it she was desperate enough to need it. A good skinning blade should not be ruined or tainted.


All the same, she turned away from the sister she just reunited with and marched off back to her camp she had set up. With a gentle, but firm thrust into the back of the rabbit's neck she began to remove the rabbit's skin as she had been taught so long ago and after years of practice, had become almost perfect in the task.


Once the skin and fur was removed, she snapped the neck returning her skinning tool to her back, and taking her anelace and severing the rabbit's head from the body. Wiping the blood from the blade, she returned it to its original location before thrusting a stick through its body until it was centered. Placing the stick over the fire (using supports she built) she let the rabbit cook in the flames.


She picked up the severed head, whispered a prayer and placed it int he fire before pouring some wine in after shortly after. She herself took a swig, and stood there in awe at the flames.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Gabrienna Fromm

"Ah... A title not of my own making, I assure you." She could see the look in his eyes, an all too familiar expression she had come across in her travels. A look born of misguided intimations, the result of overzealous poets and bards, story tellers unfamiliar with the true nature of war and battle, and the soldiers who fought it. The blood in her veins was less in volume than the blood on her hands, "Please... You do me far too much credit. I am but a humble knight, and that is all."


As he went on, denying her offer once more she nodded, "There are, I'm sure, others on our pilgrimage who are not so enthusiastic about a night beneath the stars. I imagine it will not go to waste, after all."


Moving with him towards the fire she chuckled softly, and shook her head in response to his self-deprecation. She could no sooner leave a stranger to fend for himself than she could cease to breathe. It was in her very nature to ensure those under her watch, even those more than capable of caring for themselves, were well looked after, "It's no trouble. To be fair, your company is refreshing in comparison to those I've been privy to this evening."


Almost as though he were summoned she could see from the corner of her eye Sayne, wandering off with a most unfortunately naive young maiden. It was little surprise that in no time at all he'd managed to make his way into someone's graces. Jaques's words drew her from her private thoughts, a frown forming on her lips as he went on, "...No. No, I don't imagine I'll be spending much time with that one at all. She was an old friend, but a friend no more. In fact, I trust she's been avoiding me, as well. Now, come... Sit. Eat. And tell me of your travels. The night is young and it's been too long since I've had the pleasure to fellowship with a dichter."

 

[Jays]

Eeonus

His peace was disturbed, as it was often done in these short months among humans. It was in their nature, he had realised, to be impatient. So much to do, so little time for it. And having little time they did, mere decades to explore a world infinitely greater than they could fathom. It was his own nature, he realised, to be distracted by trivial thoughts.


"The flight, human, the flight. If only you'd know its joy then you shall curse your gods for birthing you into this world not a bird but a human." He replied at last, standing and dusting off his clothes. His eyes burned a crimson red in the firelight's dancing shadows, his gaze sweeping over the bedraggledly organised camp, over the forms huddling together around fire-pits, and a slight frown came to his inhuman face.


The other two of his kind were...


Eeonus deftly turned away, showing no interest in the commotion. The wind dragon was old enough to have outlived the human cub's latest two generations, yet he acted nothing of the wisdom and composure expected of him. The Elders were too easy on their drakes, as I had told them unendingly. And this, this is the result.





But no matter, he was not the wind dragon's sire, nor was he responsible in anyway for such unbecoming behaviors. Perhaps the drake would be better suited to his task than Eeonus, with his minds fresh off the old draconic ways. Then again, his own fiery presence was never meant to bring peace, only representing unity between the dragons.


Eeonus' frown deepened, his senses focusing. There was smoke in the air, but campfire had smoke. There was the faint metalic scent of blood, but there was too freshly slain animals among the humans.


His face slowly grew thoughtful as he turned toward the direction of the town. Without a word, he lept out into the all-consuming night, cursing this human form and the treaty forbidding him from shifting as he legged toward the town.


There were smoke and blood, but not of this camp. What, then, burned and butchered and set his Ignis blood aflame?


(shitty post is late and shitty and late. Derp...)


(@myself #brooding)

 

[Terragon]

"Well...that was probably record time of me winning an argument. Heh, I must be getting good at this. My name is Ven-wa?!"


Ven silently gasped as the odd human girl decided to...what was the word? "Cuddle" up against him. His pupils widened the moment her head rested against his chest. Ven tried his best to not show that he was shocked, but he was shocked.


"By the glory of the great sky and wind WHAT JUST HAPPENED?" He thought to himself. Ven was insulting this girl who threatened to enslave him. Her response? Cuddle.


"Is that how most human males find their mates? 'Hi, you are ugly and weird, and you smell like a dead possum mixed with excrement.' And then that leads to mating. I just uhhh"





Ven started looking around at anybody who was watching all this take place with the face that showed the most obvious call for help.


"Y-ya heh heh. You'll uhhh, be i-impressed I g-guess."

 

[Sol]

Francesca Stenhardt

Back from the Dead

Francesca felt sluggish.

She felt the weight of her body, the cloth and the leather press down on her. It was a strenuous exercise but she tried to move her hands, then her arms. She gripped the packed and damp then tried to push herself up on her feet. One push wasn't enough, her body still felt like lead, another one and another. Her arms screamed for a rest but she didn't stop until she managed to lift her upper body so she was effectively sitting on her legs, one hand still stayed on the ground to help prop her up.


Just like her arms, her legs stung and burned as she tried to move them. She managed to put on foot forward so she was kneeling on one knee. Francesca look down on her leg, a section of her pants' thigh had a red discoloration against the brown of the material. A tear could be found on the pant leg which seemed to be the center of the redness. She grit her teeth and squeeze her eyes shut as she put weight on the injured leg and force herself onto her feet.

She was an unsteady on her feet, almost staggering back before she found the strength to stop the swaying. Granted, her upper body still drooped forward. As she straightened herself some sort of liquid tried to enter her right eye, forcing her to immediately close it. She placed a tentative finger on her brow, nothing, she slowly moved it upward and grazed an open wound on her forehead. The finger jerked away as she winced from the sting coming from the wound.


A possible laceration on her forehead as well as probable cut wound on her thigh. What other sort of injuries had she earned to day? What manner of scar would she add to her gallery now? She began dusting herself off before using the sleeve of shirt to wipe the mud that clung to her cheek. After scanning her body once, and tallied her injuries which consisted of nothing but the two wounds. She still felt, heavy though but kept herself standing straight.

After examining her body, she surveyed her surroundings. Arrowheads embedded themselves into the ground and on an overturned cart blocked the road, propped against the said cart were two men, finely dressed and painted red with their own blood from a clotted wound around their necks. By her feet were the bodies of men garbed in furs and leathers. She had difficulty getting because apparently one of them decided to die on top of her. The road to La Petit Drancy had become dangerous it seemed. She was both relieved and annoyed to know that none of the dead bodies wore any Leonhart heraldries. It would have been nice to see those bigots faced down on the ground with their backs split open, especially the rat named Philippe.


It doubtless that they let her body grow cold before pronouncing her dead. No doubt the other four, led by Philippe would finally meet with the pilgrims and report the success to Sayne and the loss of the, and she would quote 'The Vinoviloc Whore," it was either that or the "Filthy Bitch" the disdain which she was regarded with by house de Challant and it's followers was one flavor she was already accustomed to. Well it was something she was supposed to be accustomed to. Except for some strange reason she was irritated and annoyed to no end.

She patted herself down, noting the absence of the Katzbalger slung on her waist. Francesca surveyed the area around her again, this time not just panning her head and turning around but picking through the dead bodies until she found it snug under the corpse of what she assumed was a brigand. She smirked as she pulled it out of his belly, this one was definitely her kill. She wouldn't let anyone else touch the Stenhardt weapon. She placed the weapon on her hip then started down the road that would bring her to Reunion.


Of course, not five steps away and she was already privy to a crazed scream and the rustling of a nearby bush which held a tatooed and painted brigand hefting an axe and telegraphing an overhead swing. Her was response was dance out of his path as he brought the axe down in a savage overhead cut. As he swung and missed, she in turn pivoted and kicked, forcing his recovering body forward and onto to ground where he let go of his axe. The leg responsible for the kicking stomped on his back as she deftly pulled the Katzbalger out in the same motion. She planted the blade in the back of his head and withdrew it after hearing the crunch of steel piercing bone..twice. Using the man's shirt to wipe off the viscera on her blade.


2 Hours Later

The town of Reunion was finally in sight. However the town's state was what caught Fran's attention. It wasn't even sundown yet but the gates were sealed tight. Sure, she could understand the need for security after all the brigands that ambushed her and the other four of Sayne's retinue of escorts seemed well equipped and organized. They still could have used training though but the organization at which they struck the retinue was something that gnawed at the back of her head despite the fact that they managed to beat back the brigands with no one sustain that much damage...well save for her.


As she neared the perimeter wall, she noted how strangely quiet the town was. Surely some sort of ruckus could be heard from even beyond the wall but there was an absence of it. Cesca drew her sword and warily approached the walls. She kept her head on a swivel and then stopped in front of a section of wall. No crazed brigand jumped and rushed her. Still, she wasn't satisfied and kept the sword ready. As she brought her fist down onto wood three times to grab the a guard's attention. No response.


She had half a mind hack through the wood but her injuries decided that she couldn't for now. Straining her voice to communicate with whoever was on the other side seemed like a futile activity as a possibility crept into her mind. Knowing Sayne, he'd gather everyone in the biggest house to feast and make merry in. Which would explain the lack of a response and the deathly silence. Which meant she could hack away, pound and scream all she liked no one would let her in. Just her luck as usual.


Of course, Philippe and the others would get to Sayne first. Fran was probably an hour too late considering that most of her travel was done with walking and the occasional limping until such time she found the strength to numb the sting of her leg. Those four men would have already convinced him that she was dead by a brigand's blade and of course, to add insult to injury they'd probably convince him that she was a stain to house de Challant to begin with. A feast to the Bitch's demise or something like it. Again it was never a secret how exponentially different house de Challant treated her compared to house Fante.

It was an exercise in futility to just stand there and hope someone somewhere hears her. It was likely possible the town guard would assume her to be some stupid rodent that just happened to run into the wall, three times. Perhaps circling around and actually finding a gate would be smarter than harassing a segment of wall. On either side of her the brush was cleared, one path led to more brush, the other to a road. She decided to hack her way through the brush. Any desperate brigand would keep their eyes on the road for people stupid enough to be travelling at night. She also failed to realize something fundamental....she wasn't in front of Reunion's gates.

Painted against the gradually reddening sky was a plume of smoke not too far from Reunion. Which begged even more questions to come to mind. It was getting darker and darker as the sun finally hid behind the horizon. Her limping did her no favors neither was navigating through brush that almost swallowed half her body but she had to know just why there was a fire when Reunion was so close? Perhaps they were just travelers unlucky enough to be caught on the road as night fell before they reached Reunion. Perhaps they could also be very brave brigands intent on raiding Reunion after realizing it was vulnerable, save for menacing fortifications. The silence left something to be desired.


Could Sayne actually handle the accountability that came with his decision to hold a feast and allow the pilgrims rest as well as to secretly spit on her 'corpse' from miles away? She didn't put him above the latter action. After all he did drown her in a mine, he had never given her his reason and she was content to assume that it was simply boredom. Men in positions like his were prone to it. Still, she wouldn't allow innocent villagers to pay for Sayne's head being stuck up his ass. Even if Reunion's fortifications were menacing.


Evening had come when she finally caught sight of the orange glow of the campfire and a whole group of silhouettes gathered near it . She had only just completed her half-circuit of Reunion's perimeter against the road that circled it and yet what she saw by the town's walls confused her to no end. Then again, she heard if before she saw it.


"We have escaped the obtrusive gaze of those meddling pilgrims! Like two lovers en liaison, privacy is our medium! Oh, to hold one another under the comforting shadows of night... there is no pleasure besides those thieved from fate."


No one had the gall to sound so fruity as this. No one except for Sayne de Challant as far as Fran knew. So what was he doing outside Reunion with another lady? Of course the answer was obvious and it made her grind her teeth and simply irritated her. Still, like the shadow she is, Fran kept still and watched the exchange, crouched in the brush, concealed by nightfall. Seething and yet she knew she couldn't blame him, not when he believed her dead. In fact, he didn't know of her task neither, otherwise he'd take a blow to his nonexistent pride.


It seemed as though their goal was to scale the wall but why? Surely her assumption couldn't be wrong. But what if it was? What if she was wrong? What did it matter really? So many unanswered questions, so many variables and she couldn't do a damned thing about them. Francesca also entertained the possibility that the pilgrims were the owners of the camp fire.


She had not the opportunity to meet them yet as the de Challant household had sent the five of them ahead to la Petit Drancy where the second stop of the pilgrimage was. From there they would secure lodgings at least for Sayne and the dragon representatives. Such was the order of the de Challant Matron. They would only meet with Sayne and officially attend to him after they had done their job. She wouldn't have been part of it had it not been for Guillame and the La Oreille. It was a mercy at least, spared from day to day discrimination in exchange for being left for dead not three hours past.


As she continued watching them try to scale the wall, Fran felt her uninjured leg fall asleep. It caused her to almost fall backward before she placed pressure on her injured leg to keep her still, gritting her teeth through the sting that erupted from it and a patch red once more blossomed on her dirty white pants. Not that it mattered for all the ruckus she'd caused. Snapping twings, rustling leaves and the like. If they didn't notice it, then perhaps it was necessary she was there with them.


"Shit..."

 

[simj26]

"I thank you, Lady Fromm. It is indeed too much of an honor to even allow you to deign yourself to accompany a simpleton such as I." Jacques restrained himself from lowering his head once more in awestruck respect. Jacques was not one to revel in attention outside of his telling of tales, and to have such a legend whose name was traded amongst knights, rumormongers and other storytellers alike be in his company was an event than any other bard would have traded their souls for. Jacques exhaled sharply from his nose at this thought and reached up to doff his hood, fully revealing his long and unkempt snow-white hair that framed his similarly ghost-pale face.


Her response to his disdain for his own self lifted his spirits slightly, if only because he could instead be of assistance rather than have Die Ostfeurer escort him around the camp like a mother holding her child's hand "Truly, Lady Fromm, I have not the means to repay your altruism. Your humility and radiant warmth are worth more than all the gold in the world. But if my presence is as welcome as you say it is to you, I will more than gladly alleviate your woes and worries." He turned to face her, and instead caught a flicker of attention cast towards the other travellers, before she continued to speak about her relationship with whomever he had spied earlier. Jacques angled his head slightly to try and seek out the one she had singled out from the crowd earlier, but saw none of interest. None that he could see, in any case. The lights were dim in the crowd, and their hearts were dim as well. He could nary see a soul that burned as bright as the Ostfeurer, and, for a moment, he saw his fears staring back at him: a dim, dark world, people so caught up with their own selves and their own greed. He shook his head, banishing the thought, and, for the first time in weeks, he forced a smile, an uncertain and lacklustre one. Were he a lamp, his light may have died just a little.


He did as Lady Fromm told of him, sitting down near the fire, amongst others who had made themselves comfortable around it. His expression still unsure and distressed, as much as he tried to hide it, he fiddled with the neck of his drab cloak, and nearly missed what Lady Fromm had said. "Hm? Oh, yes, my adventures." He shifted in his seat, staring into the crackling fire, watching as the embers danced into the darkening skies and to the stars that began to appear, blinking at the mortals under them. "Would that it were deemed as one. My travels are nothing noteworthy. I have met knights who only wear that title so they could have someone to warm their beds at night, and vagabonds who have more honor in their words than those we call 'knights'." He rolled his shoulders, and dropped his bag of books beside him, and looked towards his current companion. "Shall I tell you of that story, Lady Fromm? The tale of a greedy knight and a kind thief?"


@Elle Joyner

 

[Stickdom]

Argrave was not at all put off by Minerva's swift excursion back towards the firelight of the camp. Even her apologies of dismissal were unnecessary, he was but a mere page and servant to such noble creatures, and did a lord or lady need excuse themself from the presence of a chamber-maid or stable-boy? Nay. It was he who should prostrate himself and beg intrusion on the dragon's privacy, how inconsiderate of him to impose upon her for time wasted in frivolous conversation.


There seemed to be a carousing of the people in the camp, many conversations floating up to frivolously mix in the cool, black air lit by the silver stars. But, no fires of red and yellow could warm Argrave's spirits, no words of cheer or tales of adventures would reach his soul. He longed only for the presence of a dragon to wait upon, to throw himself at their mercies in their service. Deprived of these as he was now, he felt the chill of night air to be refreshing, a mirror to a small emptiness he felt, a kindred spirit in the breath of the west winds. He lay out his bedroll on the heather and moss, closing his eyes to drift off to sleep, the ringing of the activities about the camp echoing in his ears, the smell of Aquila, the dragon-scent wafting across the quiet plains to fill his lungs at each peaceful, restful breath.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Gabrienna Fromm

Looking over at the bard again, Brien smiled faintly, dryly. There would be no point, she knew, in trying to convince him there was no need to address her so formally. Judging from his reaction upon having learned who she was, she imagined it would take some time, indeed, until he was able to accept she was hardly the story of legend. Certainly, she had done her duty as a knight... but no more so than her present company (some withstanding), and certainly not enough that her reputation should precede her the way that it did.


"You've nothing to repay, Jacques. Though I dare say, if a seat by a fire and a bit of conversation is so rare for you, the world is indeed a darker place than I have previously imagined." But then... they were sitting outside of the village, rather than enjoying the comfort of a warm bed in the confines of an inn. Really, it wasn't so surprising that the world had turned so cold... It had been happening or some time, now.


His own eyes cast on the fire, their color so close to the flames which dances in the circled orbs, she did not miss the look on his pale face, and for a moment her brow furrowed to see him so conflicted. Once, she had been little more than the daughter of a Gentry - simple and humble and while it was true that she was that girl no more, she made no motion to impress upon anyone otherwise... Rumors were the words of fools and no man was deserving of the praise her name seemed to warrant her.


But he continued and she felt appeased for the moment that he did not deem himself so unworthy as to regale her with his talents. It was funny, almost, how the suggestion of an ignoble knight brought her mind to the fair Sayne once more. The smile found her lips again and with a curt nod, she gestured to the man, "Please do..."

 

[Auren]

Lureana Rompth

Lureana raised her brow at the young lord, suspicious that his reasonings for not telling the others about the possible problem may not be as pure as they should be. But she let him have his way, as she might have needed his help if her fears wer correct and the village was in danger, she would need him. Whether that need would include him joining her, or to just send a message was yet to the seen.


When he winked at her after his prolonged monologue, she offered a polite smile, but no words. it was his nature to say such improper things, and she knew that a person’s nature could not be easily changed. She let him do his party trick, and yet again he babbled. She nodded in her kindest manner when he seemed to need some sort of response, but otherwise, her eyes trailed the wooden wall as she walked. It was fortified well, and she could see no weak spots. Except, of course, for the damage the priestess did to the gate earlier.


Of course he couldn’t reach. The wall was very high, and if a man could reach the top by standing on his horse, the wall would not be sufficient for defense. She was looking at the top of the wall where Sayne’s hand had been previously when he offered his idea of climbing onto his shoulders. While she had the passing thought that he would use it as a way to touch her inappropriately before their Union night, she could see no other way to see above the wall. She was at least a foot shorter that the man, and would definitely have no luck of reaching the top of the wall without assistance.



”It seems like it’s the only thing we can do,”

she nodded. She took his hand, though it wasn’t for long as she situated herself onto his shoulders and clasped her hands onto the top of the wall. Looking over she saw an orange fire that seemed to be slowly engulfing a building on the other side of the village. In the dimming light of the sunset, she narrowed her eyes and saw several shadowy bodies laying lifeless on the ground. It was then that she saw what looked to be a rather large man grab a small, what she assumed to be, woman, and he thrust her forward. In one of his hands was something that came to a very sharp point.



”Sayne, a building is on fire in there. And I doubt the man holding the pointy object is just playing a game with the bodies laying on the ground. Get the others in this wall immediately!”

she hissed to Sayne before climbing atop his shoulders and giving a hard shove with her feet as she leaped over the wall.


While she flew out of Sayne’s sight, she must have looked rather graceful. Yet, when she landed atop the hay roof of one of the unoccupied houses, she rolled to the edge before her foot became caught and she swung to and fro like a leaf about to fall from a tree’s branch. She winced as she felt a twinge of pain in her ankle before rocking herself until she could clutch the roof’s edge and unattach her foot. She grimaced a bit before jumping to the ground and rolling to lessen the impact.


Her ankle protested when she stood, but she ignored the pain with a small twitch at the corner of her mouth. She slowly snuck around the darker corners of the houses, nearing the fire to investigate what might be happening. She heard occasional men muttering as they passed, hearing a few unhappy mutters about “pesky foreigners,” and “keep to the plan.” When she drew closer to the dark bodies that were shadowed by the growing fire, she noticed blood trailing from the gashes on their bodies. Some were quick attacks, and other seemed to be a bit of overkill.


Lureana raised a hand to her mouth, grimacing at the smell. Then, her attention went to the fire. She needed to find a way to put it out. Though, she wasn’t sure how she could do that without alerting the bandits or whatever they were that killed the people. She hid behind a home, and thought as she took a quick survey of the surrounding area. Hopefully, Sayne would get the group in there. If not, she hoped she wouldn’t be sitting in her deathbed.

 

[Syrenrei]

Areynia the Daft

Areynia had been at the gate when Lureana had left her, but she had vanished sometime after the swordsman had gone to consult Sayne and the rest of the group. This was not in and of itself all that alarming; Areynia frequently wandered off. A few times she seemed to get genuinely lost but most of the time she was simply enraptured by her surroundings and followed unknown impulses. It wasn't as if she played a critical role in the group as a whole either. They were completely functional without the priestess watching their every move for signs of deception or malice. Although she was known to be proficient in spells, she had yet to use them around her comrades and thus they might give pause and doubt her ability. Yes, the person most at risk for her wandering off was most certainly Areynia herself. The rest of the party would hardly know the difference.


And as Sayne assisted with Lureana's "launch" over the wall, there was everyone's favorite simpleton with a butterfly caged in her hands while a bird rode on her shoulder. It would be comical if they weren't experiencing a tense, dramatic moment that required a certain level of seriousness- for Areynia looked like a blissfully ignorant maiden who had just made a few animal friends and wanted to share. "PSSSSST!" she whispered. "Look what I found!" she grinned with a motion. Yes, her softer voice was not out of consideration for the stealth they were now trying to employ but rather out of consideration for her butterfly and bird companions who might be sensitive to noise.


Realization slowly dawned on her and she crept scandalously close, a spark in her eye. Either Sayne would interpret this as the daft woman making a move on him or he would recognize it for a silly conspiratorial tones that she took at times. "Do you need help, Mister Sayne?" It was somewhat dubious exactly what sort of help she could actually offer, however. Acceptance would almost certainly be entertaining but perhaps not entirely beneficial.

 

[Killigrew]

Sayne du Challant

His crafty proposal was received more smoothly than he’d anticipated. No flickering of doubt hindered Lureana’s gaze when she took his hand, nor did she spare him a scowl when his hands wandered higher than her thigh. He nearly remarked on this, but the urge was interrupted before its utterance. The thrush beside them erupted in a cacophony of rustling and snappings, dead twigs proclaiming the proximity of some stalker. But was it beast or human?


Sayne was about to call out towards it, but Lureana spoke up from her place on his shoulders.

”Sayne, a building is on fire in there. And I doubt the man holding the pointy object is just playing a game with the bodies laying on the ground. Get the others in this wall immediately!”

Sayne gaped. He closed his mouth, and his brow furrowed. “No… Surely you jest!” He began. “Truly, a cruel joke--.”


Her feet pressed into his shoulders. A sudden burst of force drove him back; his body was thrust backwards to hang by the stirrups from his horse. The shock cost him moments to realize what happened; Lureana used him to vault over the wall. He tried to right himself. Sayne’s arms grasped behind him at open air, the shock bubbling his throat as a surprised yell. Unable to sustain the length of his weight, his ankles broke loose from the stirrups, and he fell to the ground below with impact enough to blow the air from his lungs.


The world snapped back into focus. His chest expanded with breath. He rose up, getting his feet steady beneath him, and stood, his head foggy still. He shook it clear.


He knew the matter was pressing. Lureana had leapt into the first sight of danger she’d seen. Some part of him wanted to let her handle the danger herself, and learn a lesson in reckless action. Her brash decision reminded him of a certain someone.


Sayne brushed off his backside in quick, beaten strokes. He was leaned over, scratching his hair clear of dust as a familiar whisper to his side gave him pause.


Below him, between his curled legs, was the oddly firm form of the priestess Areynia. He had not been able to tell the woman from the ground. He had little thought to dwell on the softness, or lack, of her form, for at once he was mortified by his unwilling transgression.


The Glaeslin priestess had her characteristic wide-eyed expression of innocence as he quickly got to his feet. Touching a priest of Glaeslin without warrant was another blot on his inky canvas of crimes against their temple. Sayne muttered a silent prayer to Pyros, resolved to throw his next meal into the flame.


A bird fluttered past him, chirping angrily.

"Do you need help, Mister Sayne?"

“Quite alright,” Sayne started automatically. Remembering himself, he shook his head quickly, a hand cupping over his mouth. “I rescind that." He offered her his hand, bending on his knee towards her. Once she'd taken it, he lifted her up, only to find the effort much like straining against wall of stone when he'd pulled too suddenly. "Come, we must go back to the camp at once. You ought to hide in the thrush as we... Oh, just come!” He snatched up her wrist to tug her along, clicking at Snowflake as he went, hastening back towards the encampment of pilgrims, where the warriors rested by the comfort of fire.


Once he saw the glow of campfire, and the shifting silhouettes cast by it, Sayne cupped a hand over his mouth and cried out at once.


"HO, PERIL! TO ARMS! TO ARMS!"


The swifter reply came from the gates beside him. A clattering sound, like that of someone rushing suddenly to their feet, followed by harsh voices barely audible through the wood.


"What alerts them so? Think ye that they've..?"


"I know not! But I'll seek out Vordeaux, and alert him of this!"


"Aye, and I'll hold the gate! Be swift!"


Sayne was struck by his own foolishness. He had just given away their position at the first. Were he still in the army, they'd have his head on the platter if the assault was survived.


He was fortunate that these were only bandits.


His pace quickened, Snowflake and Areynia with him as he neared the campfire.


He was panting, and so swallowed the cascade of breaths, gesturing at the gate. "Lureana used my shoulders to peer over the gate. She said she saw some slain men, and a the start of a wildfire. Something about a pointy object too -- I don't--" Sayne sighed. She and the dragons were of equal import for the future of his house. This had been stressed to him a thousand times. He could nearly recite the many furtive jibes associated with the command. He had to bring Lureana back in one piece. Which meant this crowd of pilgrims had to follow a coward's orders. After all, he was a Duke's son. Blood trumped any warrior's skill in Leonharte.


He saw the family shying away, and thought it prudent.


"Those trained in warfare, come to the front. Those without, find some place to hide, or seek some cover." Sayne hailed the caravan guards, and they jumped up from their booze and stood at a line of attention in front of him.


He could tell from the start of their journey that these men that could follow orders. His mother liked these kinds of men.


He surveyed the rest in military fashion, his hands clasped behind him, his back rigid, and head held high. Sayne waited for volunteers, but he could not wait long.

 

[Sol]

Fran Stenhardt

It all seemed to blur and blend together. Everything from the other woman using Sayne as a launch pad, which elicited a smile from Fran's own lips to another woman coming closer garbed in priestess attire and seemingly decorated with flying rodents. Wonderful and yet somehow it didn't look like Sayne showed an inkling of digust to things he's probably consider filthy. It felt a bit, unfair to say the least but that was not the pressing issue. Neither was the fact that Sayne's companions seem to be all female if those two were to be used a sample. What was this? Sayne's personal harem?


No, the pressing matter came in the form of what the other woman said before leaping off Sayne and over the walls. Something was wrong in the town. As usual, Sayne left a person on their own in great peril but that did not come as any surprised to Fran.


What did though was that if there was trouble in the town, how come it wasn't resolved by the rest of Sayne's entourage who had conveniently left her for dead a few hours ago? Philippe and the others were capable knights in their own right and she couldn't argue against any claims to their mastery of their respective weapons. She had seen the skill first hand after all, surely bandits wouldn't fare well against them. Except that maybe, Philippe and the others had rejoined Sayne earlier already.


Fran hadn't the time to spare a smile at Sayne's misfortune and otherwise awkward positioning on his horse nor where Philippe and others were or how they fared. She could barely make out what Sayne and this other woman were talking about but she seemed to pick out important bits like 'go back' and 'camp' which meant more were nearby. There rest of the pilgrims no doubt.


What happened next made her cringe, as if she wanted to bury herself 6 feet under in embarrassment. Sure, shout to the campsite while you're right next to the damned wall why don't you. Alert whatever is inside to your presence, give them time to prepare. She couldn't hear just what exactly was happening behind the walls but she was damn well sure whoever behind them heard him. Their numbers inside wouldn't have counted if they were caught by surprised but of course, Sayne in all his retarded shininess did not exactly possess the logic to see that.


As Sayne and other person thundered away back wherever their campsite was, Fran stood from the brush and went toward the wall, surveying the integrity and see if her sword could not cut a hole open. Any sort of timber would fall easily to a quality-made Stenhardt blade, it all relied on her strength and that proved lacking in her injured state. If she had not the time to hack away needlessly then perhaps the front gate would suffice.


Fran ran the idea through her head. A quick outline that would rely on whether or not the gate guard, if there even was any thought with his lower head more than his upper head. She pounded on the door, hopefully they'd see this as an isolated case from Sayne's idiocy but she couldn't expect them to have the brains for that too, still getting the gates open was a priority. She could already imagine what Sayne would do which was march all the able men he can straight to the gate and probably wave his bloodline around confident that would work in his favor.


She pounded on the gate. Noting how the wood felt like it was giving way, now she had no doubt that Stenhardt or even any lesser Vinoviloc blade could easily slice this pathetic excuse of firewood.


No response.


Once more with a plea for shelter. "Please! You have to let me in! I heard someone say there was danger nearby!" A dash of fear and anxiety in her tone to lend authenticity that was actually scared to be out here in the dark.


It would be a few seconds more before any response came. An orange glow came from the holes shoddily carved out of the gate. The eyes of a man soon followed.


"What do ya want? We're not lettin' anyone go through these gates! Go spend the night outside!"


"Please I'll do anything. I don't want to be torn apart by wolves o-or w-worse bandits."


"Anything you say?"


"Y-yes, I think..."


"You think?"


"I will! Anything at all! YOU name it!"


"Good lass, now don't let anyone know I let you in okay."


She resisted rolling her eyes at how easy this was when left the hole and began shuffling with the gate. Somehow whoever they left guarding the gates was left in the lowest rungs of their hierarchy. Fran knew exactly what this man wanted from her and she'd feed him her steel in the next few seconds or so. She heard the creak of the gate parting slightly, just enough for someone to fit through. The orange glow of the torch behind it. The man peeped his head out and then stepped out, looking around, to make sure no one else was there maybe.


He fixed her with a toothy grin and she twisted her lips upward in response.


"Now then my little pretty thing I want you t----"


"--I want you to lie down and die."


Fran simply kept her smile as she drew the sword she had kept held behind her back and plunged it into him, coming low, aiming high. His eyes widened in shock and she plunged it far enough to stop him from screaming. He wanted to but he was gurgling in the end. He collapsed onto her and she held his body up before shifting it and letting it fall to the side. She plunged her sword into him again to make sure this particular rat was dead.


To make sure the gate did not stay a problem and send a message, Fran grabbed the torch the dead man held and went to work with burning the gate, letting the flames take generous bites out of the shabby wood before tossing the torch away and retreating further down the road. All that was left was to find a nice spot along the road to Reunion, wear the best smirk she had and wait for Sayne to come by and see a 'dead woman' set the stage of his attack on the town.


Except that there were still a thousand and one things that could go wrong.

 

[Kaine]

Colette & Vencorus

​

Colette

Moving around a little it was pretty obvious that the dragon-man was uncomfortable with her codling him. She smiled slightly and shut her eyes as if trying to sleep. Though she knew this would likely not work. Exhaling, the girl snorted slightly, “You still never told me your name Dragon-boy.”

Vencorus

Ven was almost in a state of shock as this odd girl continued to snuggle up to him for no apparent reason. When she said "You still never told me your name, Dragon-boy."


"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Is what he was thinking to himself as a proper response. But then before he had a chance to reply, "HO, PERIL. TO ARMS! TO ARMS!"


"Yes, saved by the bell! ....Wait a minute. This implies that there is danger near by. Something that may be a physical threat to me. And I am more concerned about this random girl that tried to enslave me. Then again, there is this random girl that tried to enslave me.


....by the great winds I am pathetic."


"Well. I don't think we have time for exchanging names anymore. There is danger nearby! So run, run as far away as you can to keep yourself safe while we fend them off!"


"Heh heh, perfect plan."

Colette

Colette was a little brought back by sudden incursion of battle. It was normal for most to think she was a useless little girl, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.


Leaving her blankets on the ground and jumping to attention, she chimed in, “Ho, wait, what?”


Turning her head to the direction of the yell, she paused, then turned back, “Ho no! I am not running, and you still owe me your title!”


Crouching down she thought for a moment. Finger on her chin and eyes looking up through the Dragon-boy. Whispering she spoke to him again. “We are far enough out, why don’t we sneak around to the edge of camp and see whats going on? Common, surely you yearn for combat? Right? We will scope out the field before the others come.”


Her plan was falling into place. An eye brow cocked, and grin showing a little teeth.

Vencorus

"Surely you yearn for combat, right?"


Ven paused for a moment and tried to let that phrase sink in.


"Oh yes. I really do yearn for combat. It's not like there is a very shaky alliance between humans and dragons that can be severed very easily and start another all out war right? Child please. Also, I owe you nothing. I DID give you an apology for accidentally falling on you while I was asleep, but now I quite frankly wish that I 'accidentally' made you unconscious. Also stop smiling at me like that! I am supposed to be the creepy reptillian here, not you. So if you excuse me, I need to see where my other fellow dragonkind is."


Vencorus scouted the immediate area, trying to think of what was going on. With both this persistent and irritating human girl and what was happening nearby.

Colette

Arms crossed and cheeks puffed out, this man just did not like her, and her plan... Pft! Up with the wind. Her one chance to see what was going on. Gone!


“Hey... HEY!” Jumping she stumbled over to him over a shrubbery, “You cant rid of me so easily! The past is the past. You owe me, as I owe you, nothing. Kay?”


She tried to grab his hand once or twice and finally got a hold of it and pulled, leaning all the way over. “Commooooon, we need to go see what happened at the village before the others!” She whispered loudly, “Before the others realize we are not with the group!”


Her hands slipped and she fell into a shrub, “Ooph!”

Vencorus

Vencorus looks at her as she clumsily falls down into the bushes and grins. "Ahhh. Karma at it's finest. You know what? Fine. We will go have a look. A. LOOK. Nothing more, nothing less. And we will be from a safe distance. I am just warning you though, if you decide to do anything other than having A LOOK from A SAFE DISTANCE, then whatever happens, happens. You understand?"

Colette

Looking up at the dragon boy, she smiled. Finally! Alas! He caved and now they could go see what was going on before the others. Quickly she regained her composure and scuttled across the area, making sure that no one would see her as they went. This was not to hard for her with her small frame but the dragon boy, well he was being clumsy.


“Common!” She whispered loudly and waved for him to follow her, “Get down and let’s go!”


A few moments later they came to the road that ran along side of the camp. AS she came up to another bush she could now clearly see that a door was on fire, lightly thought, and that there was a person standing silently Trying to sneak up she waved for the Dragon Boy.

Vencorus

Vencorus shrugged and casually walked towards the strange girl. As he gazed unto the scene he crouched down and frowned.


"This...doesn't look good. Listen to me. This is as far as we go. Alright? If you run off there by yourself then that's your funeral. Got it? Let's get back to the others before they all start running around in circles looking for us."

Colette

Turning around, she puffed out her cheeks again and started to speak to him again, though without realizing it, they were within range of the person standing on the road. She wasn't trying to get them noticed, but at the same time, she kind of knew they were being loud and at the same time she was trying to see if the person was a threat or not.


Of course Dragon-boy didn't realize this, or maybe he had, she really didn't know but either way they would soon be joined by this person, for better or worse.

@Sol


@Terragon

 

[Wes]

Aiyen Niximorys
​

The night was quiet and calm as Niximorys glided through the trees, this walk a welcome respite from the clamor that came with traveling alongside so many others. None of his companions were particularly trying, of course, but a decade of life among humans was not enough to erase two centuries of relative solitude in the Dead Lands. He preferred to remain silent as much as possible when in their company, watching and listening in favor of participating, but their presence was enjoyed nonetheless. Oftentimes he simply needed a break from their consorting, which is why these evening promenades had become a sort of escape for him. These pilgrims were a lively group of humans. There were individuals from all different walks of life and from every human land, and it was interesting to pick up on their stories while they traveled. Dragons might have longer lives, but he was beginning to think that humans did more with theirs than most of his kind.


The two dragons besides himself were curious as well, though he had avoided interaction with them whenever possible. Eeonus was a proud member of an ancient brood, so far as he understood, with a legacy and longevity worthy of respect. His heritage and status appeared to have brought about an enviable self-assuredness that Niximorys greatly appreciated. Vencorus was yet a young drake, but in some ways more impressive than the progeny of Ignis. The wind dragon had such a way with humans, able to interact with them as if he had been reared among their kind. The youth seemed to genuinely enjoy them. Niximorys had spent a great deal of time in his little village interacting with humans, but he wasn't sure that he would ever be able to integrate with them so naturally.


He exhaled a long frosted breath, stopping in the middle of a tiny clearing surrounded by thick brush and tall needled trees. This climate would be considered pleasant for most humans, he imagined, but everywhere felt too warm for him - especially when humans insisted on huddling close to fires at night. It was infinitely better than the desert he had once traversed, and still a much less desirable temperature than the bitter tundra on which he had thrived. But even if these lands were always too warm, they were filled with life, purpose, and hope for a peaceful future. Even if he did not fully understand humans yet or even know his own place among the dragons this side of the world, it was safer here. Safe . . .





A twig shifted somewhere in the forest, and a bush erupted as a watch of nightingales burst into the night amid a chorus of distraught chirps. Niximorys had tensed immediately, but relaxed even before the last bird escaped the canopy above. A crow hopped into the space, clearly unafraid as it approached and studied him with those curious black pebble eyes. The drake knelt and extended his arm, allowing the animal to alight there and continue its observation at a better vantage point. Most animals knew instinctively to avoid him; human shell or no, they could sense a dragon for what it was, though in most cases that did little to save them if he was after a meal. For some reason, though, crows had never feared nor fled from him, on occasion even accompanying him for several leagues at a time. He had returned the favor by never killing them, let alone taking one as a snack; they had been some of his first companions in these lands.

"HO' date=' PERIL! TO ARMS! TO ARMS!"[/size']

The call came from far off, but it was the unmistakable voice of Sayne - and he seemed more than a little alarmed. Other sounds were apparent now that Niximorys was focused; his hearing was only slightly better than a human's, but enough so that the shouts coming from the nearby town's gates were more than clear. Something had startled them and Sayne both.


"Come friend; I must be away," he said to the crow, moving his arm to allow the crow to reach his shoulder. The bird alighted there readily, talons gripping as if it knew what was to come.


It was a brief sprint back to camp, weaving through trees in the complete darkness as if it were full daylight. The night was his nearly as much as the cold, after all, his cold blue eyes more keen in the absence of light than at high noon. In moments he spied the firelight through the foliage. Human forms were flitting about, doubtless in response to the call to arms. None appeared too hasty, though, as if the peril was not immediate to them, and so Niximorys slowed his pace to a walk again before breaking through the treeline. There was no need to startle anybody further than necessary.


"I will stay here to protect those who cannot fight, if it pleases you," he replied, entering the light of the fire at the tail end of Sayne's order. An uncomfortable glance was spared for the flickering flames, their added warmth making the area less bearable than he would have liked. He exhaled a puff of frozen mist, regulating his body temperature lower still to accommodate for the extra heat. The Glaeslin priestess Areynia was with the man, looking slightly lost and bewildered as usual. She was a kind girl, however dotty, and Niximorys afforded her a nod before turning his attention back to Sayne. He wasn't sure what was going on yet, but the story would unfold itself in due time. All that was known to him now was that something was wrong in the town, and that a skirmish may occur there. His chosen skill set was of better use here. He was through with battles and fighting for survival, having seen enough to last several lifetimes over. Safeguarding his allies was securing a future of tranquility - that was a purpose worth defending.