Fantasy IC - Chapter 1A: "Blood On My Hands, Dirt On My Boots" (Indoria)

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @CharmyPie (gone~) in the original IC:
​

@CharmyPie (gone~)
as
The Sandstorm Thief Dariela Zulton

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Location: Falcon's Haven, Indoria

Date: Month 6, Day 15

Time: The first hour of night (1 P.M.)

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Falcon's Haven, Indoria
​

The sun was blazing hot, even the wind that promised a cool breeze gave nothing but heat. The noise in the market place did nothing to soothe the weather in the Kingdom of Indoria. The chatter and the noise of its inhabitants filled the morning air. It was crowded and almost chaotic.

"What an absolutely, spectacularly, wonderfully, beautiful day." Dariela giggled. She was walking with the crowd. A scarf covering her neck and head, protecting her from the heat of the sun. She took a deep breath and caught the scent of sweaty people, sand, traces of food in the market place, and the comforting scent of Indoria.

She moved quickly with the crowd… sometimes overtaking a few slow people, but never did she move too fast as to cast attention to her self. A low profile, keep a low profile. She reminded herself. She had a job to do. She eyed the market stands and the houses behind them. The houses in this region all looked familiar that it irked her, how was she supposed to find the house that she was supposed to rob?

The house with the Apple stall in front of it, they said. The house with a white course wall and a rod supporting a balcony, they said. It has dirty brown drapes for the windows, they said. Well stab me with a Kebab Stick but all these houses look the same! She huffed angrily. She let her eyes roam some more, looking for an apple stall that maybe stands out.

"Oh I want that." She mumbled quietly to herself when she eyed a golden bracelet on the arms of the lady in front of her. "I know someone who'd gladly buy that." She said aloud, not worried of anyone who might have heard her. She knew her words would drown in this sea of chatter. Expertly, she positioned herself on the lady's left, her hands barely touching the bracelet, then. Swipe. She overtook the lady, with the bracelet in her hands. She smiled… she felt proud of herself. The upperclass lady didn't need anymore jewelry.

She decided to look around some more then… Oh there, a dirty white house, dirty brown drapes, dirty rod, balcony, rugs, apple stand. Hey I found it! I think… she grinned and walked towards the apple stand and discreetly took an apple. She looked behind her and watched the crowd flow like fluid. She shrugged and figured that no one would notice. She bit the apple and used both hands to grab the rod. In three long pulls, she's up in the balcony, and no one noticed. Quickly, she head inside the house, leaving a trail of sand. She laughed quietly, remembering her nickname in the underground… 'Sand Storm'. She looked around and saw that she was in some sort of office-like setting.

"What a workaholic. I guess it makes sense now. I was wondering where I'd find a scroll in an ordinary house." She talked to herself as she walked towards a shelf. She pulled out a couple of scrolls, looking for one with a certain seal. Not you, not you, not you, not you, that's a snake, not you, Oh my Lamb Stew that's a Snake! She backed away quickly, stumbling a bit. The snake was at least 20 inches long, it was black and it had golden stripes by it's head and tail.

"Oh what the hell, first vague descriptions, now, snakey pets. They better pay me higher." She backed away until she hit the table. The snake hissed at her, approaching slowly, ready to strike. "Sorry snakey snake. Do you want an apple?" She threw the apple at the snake. It only seemed to agitate it more. It hissed and raised its head. "Oh my, just stay back I need to find a scroll." She searched the table with her hand, never losing eye contact with the snake. She grabbed a couple of things. "I have a… a back scratcher? And a scroll." Her eyes darted to the seal on the scroll. It was the right one. She laughed, forgetting the snake.

She heard it hiss, her eyes darted back to it just in time to see the snake strike at her heel. She jumped in time. To miss the snake, she darted to the balcony and jumped to the rod, her hands clutching it like dear life depended on it. She fell down to ground, making a mess at the apple stall. And she just ran with a grin on her face and a scroll on her hand. She ran and ran and ran, people tried to chase her but she lost them in the crowd. She ran and ran and ran until she reached the outskirts… she panted and she caught her breath.

From there, she knew she was safe. Calmly, she walked to the rendezvous point, her dealer was waiting for her there.

"I have to say, I'm surprised. Well done." A masked man grinned, he was leaning on a ruined wall.

"Hey man, I went through a lot to get this scroll, and I'm not settling for the original price." Dariela cocked a hip. "You gave me a reaaaally vague description of a house and a scroll, then there was a bloody snake chasing me, i had to jump off a balcony for whatever the fuck this is." She sigh.

"How about I double the price, and make you another offer?" The mask man offered.

"Yeh, i'm listening." She grinned.

"Great. I'd have to ask you to come with me, Sand Storm."

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​

The following was originally posted by @CharmyPie (gone~) in the original IC


CharmyPie (gone~)
as
Dariela

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Location: Outskirts of Falcon's Haven, Indoria

Date: Month 6, Day 15

Time: The second hour of night (2 P.M.)

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"You want me to do what?" Dariela choked on her water, spitting it out. She watched it fall down to the sand, evaporating immediately. It was always hot in the desert. She wiped her mouth as she glared daggers at her masked client.

"I need the wedding bracelet of the wife of the general of the Kingdom of Indoria." He repeated calmly. His voice showed no signs of rush. He watched her carefully through his mask. It was a little after noon, and they were in the outskirts of Falcon Haven. There were many ruined constructions there, broken down by time and frequent sandstorms. No one went there as much as Dariela. It's too far and often not worth the travel. Dariela was sitting down on the sand, by the shade of a lone wall while the masked man stood tall, facing her. Unmoving and unflinching, despite the heat of the sun and the sand in the wind.

"What kind of creep asks for a wedding bracelet?" She let out a chuckle after a while and put her water container back in her satchel. "You're kidding right?"

"No." He said. "I'm absolutely serious."

"But that's General Gethario El-Wazzi." Dariela cocked an eyebrow at him. She sighed and massaged her temples. The masked man stayed silent, watching Dariela. She thought of how strange all this was. A masked client, asking for a scroll, then gave her vague descriptions before sending her out to get it. Not to mention, how the man just FOUND her out of the blue. That never happens.

"I cant. It's not worth it." She decided and looked up to see him. It was too risky.

"What if I can promise you that you'd never go hungry ever again? You wont have to worry about your mother. You wont have a single care in life, because all you need will be provided and more." He paused for a while and approached her. He kneeled on the ground so his face is at the same level with hers. "What if you can have all this… but only if you do as I say."

Dariela stared at him blankly. Doubting his words, but at the same time, wanting them. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it. She found no words to say.

"I'm going take your silence as a yes." She heard a smile in his voice. "You know where to go, you know what to do. How you do your task is your decision to make."

"Y-yes." She said.

"That's a good girl." The man stood up and turned around, facing the capital. "I'll find you."

​

Oh boy, two gigs in one day, what a time to be alive! She felt herself grin lightly. Desperately trying to ignore how strange the man was, and how strange he talked. Dariela took a stroll in the city, like it was an ordinary afternoon. She watched the people being busy with their everyday lives, she saw the lifestyles of Indoria change as she got nearer and nearer to the center of the capital. She hated it. She hated how fate plays with lives. She hated how fate gets to decide how you're born, when you're born, where you're born… no. Stop it Dariela, you're better than this. Afternoon came and the streets were busier than ever. It was the best time to disappear. Dariela stole some cloth and began filling sand in them. She stole some rope too and tied it together with the cloth. Quickly, she hung it on an alleyway, setting a trap blocks away from the General's house.

"I probably wont use you… but eh. I'm sure you'd come in handy sometime." She pat the cloth filled with sand and avoided the trigger of the trap. She drew a big noticeable red circle around the trigger of the trap, to make sure that no one would step on it accidentally. "Things'd make sense later." She shrugged to herself. Evening soon came as She watched the General's house. She watched the lights and the shadows they made. Soon, the General left the house, heading to the tavern nearby. Dariela waited until the lights in his house went off. "Show time." She wrapped the red scarf she has around her face, showing only her eyes. She circled the house, looking for an opening. She ended up opening a window and jumping into the first floor. It was dark and quiet.

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The following was originally posted by @CharmyPie (gone~) as a collaboration with @King Ad Rock in the previous IC


@CharmyPie (gone~)
as
Dariela

@King Ad Rock
as
Marashaa El-Wazzi

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Location: General Gethario El-Wazzi's home, Falcon's Haven. Indoria

Date: Month 6, Day 15

Time: half past the eleventh hour of night (11:30 P.M.)

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Dariela walked around the dark and silent house. Everybody in the household seems to be already tucked in bed, with the exception of the general getting himself drunk in the tavern. The house was big. It was obvious that he had a good, if not extravagant, lifestyle. She seemed to have landed herself in the kitchen.

"Wouldn't hurt to get a few things for myself." She shrugged as she took an apple from a bowl. She bit into it and started walking slowly, looking at everything. The furniture was nothing like she's ever seen. The walls were decorated with priceless art and beautiful decor. Even the scent of the house was different. She walked around some more. This is like a field trip. I'm sure they won’t mind. She smiled to herself.

She found herself in the living room, there; she saw a rug of fur, good enough to sleep in. She saw elegant seats for their guests, more art, and weaponry out in display. Swords, axes, daggers, bows and arrows, and other things unknown to her eyes. She marveled at them. I could use a good sword. She thought as her hand traveled to the hilt of her own dagger. Though I have to admit, fighting around with a kebab stick does sound like a lot more fun. She giggled then put a hand over her mouth. Keep quiet, Dari. You don't wanna die yet, right?She scolded herself as she finished off her apple in two giant bites. She chewed quickly and forced it down her throat. She threw away the core of the apple on the ground, not caring at all. She looked behind her and saw the trail of sand she already left behind. She smirked at her trademark. Sandstorm. She thought of her silly nickname before diverting her attention back to the sword. She sighed lightly and bid goodbye to it. She let her finger trail at its edge. Needless to say, it cut her and she bled.

"You idiot." She hissed as she put the bleeding finger in her mouth.

Annoyed by her own actions, she marched herself up the stairs. She didn't even bother to look at the other intriguing things that met her along the way.

Dariela walked through the second floor quietly. She had her finger still in her mouth. Which one… hmm. Whatever. She opened a door and entered it slowly. The door creaked and she cringed. Oh dear.

Penelopi awoke to the sounds of her bedroom door slowly creaking open while her sister, Teroshi, stayed fast asleep in the bed beside her. The twins had insisted on continuing to share a room despite the many chambers in the manor. One of her small hands reached up to rub her tired eyes as she questioned the possible intruder,

"Father, is that you...?"

WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO?! She screamed in her head. Panicking, she made sure she didn't step out of the shadow. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE SOUNDS LIKE, DARIELA YOU IDIOT! She let out a drunken-like grunt. She deepened her voice and prayed for strength from Anahit that it would work.

Teroshi stirred in her bed while Penelopi got up into a sitting position and struggled to get a glimpse of who was in the shadows of her doorway. She heard what sounded like her father's grunt, the kind he made after a long night at the tavern.

"Faahtherr..." Penelopi trailed off in her sleepily state. "Mother said you are not to come in our room anymore after you've been drinking." She said the last word with disgust. "We need to sleep."

Dariela closed the door a bit. She made sure her figure was hidden in the shadows. She let out another grunt… a happier one, as she closed the door. She had enough of that. Dariela, you almost killed yourself.

​

As Dariela shut the bedroom door to the twins' sleeping chambers, another door abruptly slammed shut further down the end of the hall. Standing underneath the lit hall torch was a tall Nomasdae woman. Her shoulders were broad for a woman, and the definition of her body was evident even in her nightgown. Her dark hair was braided and tied back by some sort of ornate jewelry piece. Her eyes were narrow and beautiful despite the wrinkles that had begun to form under them, and her nose had a golden ring pierced through one of the nostrils. The look on her face was one of fury, but a contained one. This woman was Marashaa El-Wazzi, the wife of General Gethario and one of the fiercest female pit-fighters in the history of Indoria.

​

"You have broken into the wrong home, you little street-rat whore!" She hissed. Clenched in her right hand was a curved dagger with a dark colored blade and golden hilt. "And you have tracked sand all over my rugs!" The containment in the fury was now gone as Marashaa charged full-force at the young intruder. Dariela stared at the woman with wide eyes and a smug grin.

"Well lady, we live in the desert. In case you haven't noticed, there's damned sand everywhere." She watched her charge and Dari sighed. Ah this is it, Dariela, you're going to die. She took out her own dagger, but tried to dodge Marashaa instead of blocking. She knew she didn't stand a chance agaisnt the skilled fighter. So she jumped away from the angry wife, desperate to avoid her dagger. She was lucky that Marashaa was sleeping just moments before. Her reflexes and aim were not as on point as they normally would have been in her half-awake state. She reached Dariela with her speedy charge and hacked wildly at her head and mid-section. The young thief showed a surprising agility with her dodging of the strikes. One of Marashaa's deadly attacks had too much effort in its swing and the freshly sharpened blade found itself lunged deep into the wooden door of the twins' bedroom as Dariela ducked under the blow.

"GEEZ, THAT ALMOST HIT ME!" She hissed and flinched farther away. Her heart was beating fast and her breathing was heavier. Her eyes lingered to the dagger then back to the general's wife. Why am I here again? Oh right… the band.

"Rude." She tsked. She still had her own dagger in hand but made no attempt to strike the angry lady.

Marashaa glowered at Dariela with fire in her eyes.

"Do you think this is some kind of game, young one? You break into my home and disturb my children!? I will open your throat with my bare hands!" The enraged warrior mother let go of the trapped dagger and spun on her left heel in a full circle while extending her right leg in a spinning acrobatic kick at Dariela's torso. Dariela managed to get distracted, and she moved too slowly. She moved back, but Marashaa's foot got her abdomen and she stumbled. She hit the wall and regained her balance there. Damn it, get your head in the game. She scolded herself as she put her hand on her stomach. It hurt. Dariela's eyes looked at the warrior's wrists, looking for the wedding band.

Marashaa was a lifelong trained combatant so she knew where her opponent's gaze fell. She was acutely awake now, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. If she had the moment to think, she would have been impressed with how well Dariela took one of her kicks.

"Is this what you are risking your life for, girl? This piece of metal?" Marashaa asked while holding up her wrist and exposing her flawless and expensive looking wedding bracelet wrapped around her wrist and forearm. "Like I said, you have made a mistake. You have entered the wrong home." Marashaa calmed herself and slightly bent her knees, getting into a proper hand-to-hand fighting stance. "You either leave here with what you came for, or not at all." The Nomasdae mother smiled, her maternal rage now replaced a warrior's excitement for potential combat. Her hands were raised in front of her, part of her stance, and with a motion of her fingers, she gestured to the late night intruder to "bring it".

Fighting a general's wife. A warrior wife. What could go wrong? Dariela sighed and almost groaned. Knowing she can't win against the she scanned the area at the corner of her eyes. She saw a table with unknown things. Those look expensive. She backed away slowly, her eyes never leaving the warrior. Her hands grabbed what they could and threw it at the angry lady.

Marashaa grabbed her prized vases from the air with nimble ease, tossing them gently onto her carpeted hall floor and saving them from destruction. She sighed with anger at the young thief's annoying way of handling the confrontation. "Come girl, fight for what you came for!" Seeing that her opponent had backed into the hall corner just above the stairs, the large woman ducked a further bit down and with a sprinting leap forward, threw a hard and fast right jab at Dariela's cheek.

Dariela's eyes widened as she dodged left, instinctively trying to grab the hand that tried to punch her. She forgot that she was holding a dagger and it cut Marashaa's wrist. Oh dear gross. Oh wait no, this is good. She grabbed the wedding band and used the blood as a lubricant to slide it off. She jumped from the second floor to the first, with her dagger on her hand, and the band in the other.

Bad idea.

Marashaa yanked her arm back when she felt the blade slice into her wrist. This effectively helped the bracelet slip off of her wrist and into Dariela's grasp.

"You little bitch!" She grabbed at her wound and quickly applied pressure. Off in the twins' bedroom a voice called out,

"Mother, is that you?"

"Penelopi! Teroshi! Stay in your chambers!" Marashaa called back. She watched the agile teenager jump over the railing of the hall to drop onto the first floor with her wedding bracelet from Gethario in hand. She would not let the thief get away so easily and followed suit with a lunge of her own to the level below.

Dariela landed butt first.

Ow!" She hissed. I am not sitting down for a while. She got up and had her hands on her hip as she limped away, only to see the Warrior Wife jump too.

"Lady, just give up, I'm tired!" She hissed as she sheathed her dagger and ran back out the window from where she came.

With a heavy but graceful landing, several items fell off a wall shelf from the impact of Marashaa's bulky body hitting the wooden floor. She crouched her knees and braced herself for the landing. The sound of feet moving away from her quickly was right by her side.

Marashaa eyed and predicted the small girl's attempted jump out of the wind. She would not let her get away so easily. She moved quickly and chased after the thief, her longer strides gaining on Dariela in a just a few steps. Before Dariela could make a full jump out of the window, Marashaa grabbed her by the waist band of her pants while she was in the air, and yanked back with every fiber of her being, effectively throwing Dariela back into her home and crashing into a wooden table.

Dariela groaned as she crashed on the table. She had her hands on her pants and she pulled them up.

"If you wanted to see me naked, you could have just said, you pervert!" She said as she quickly got up her feet.

Well there goes that way out. She moved away from the angry lady, calculating her steps. She eyed the rest of the house, but stayed alert, watching the warrior. Ah I could always use the front door. After all, it'd be locked from the inside. She ran to the door.

Marashaa watched the wiry intruder gather herself up from the now in pieces end table. She wasn't sure if the young girl was mocking or jesting with her accusation, but she did not care either way.

"The only thing I will take from your body is your skin!" Marashaa raged. Dariela's eyes darted back and forth, looking for another escape. Marashaa watched her line of sight connect with the front entrance. With an impressive burst of speed, Dariela sprinted to the door in a beeline.

Instead of chasing after her again, Marashaa turned to the wall beside her, and with her wrist still bleeding, grabbed one of Gethario's many beautifully crafted curved swords that he kept on display. There were many weapons on display in the El-Wazzi home such as long swords and battle-axes that Gethario had purchased or gained one way or the other over the years. She had quite a choice of sharpened tools, but the curved sword best fitted her purpose. With an unhinge from its hooks, it was in her bloody grasp, smearing red on the flawless hilt. The front door was now swinging open in Dariela's hands. Marashaa had one last chance to stop her. She aimed, and then with a flick of her wrist and hard swing of her arm, she threw the sword much like a dagger. It flipped through the air, cutting it with a slight sound, as it moved with great speed at Dariela's head. But her aim was off. It had just missed the escaping home invader's head by a few inches to a half a foot. The razor sharp blade of the curved sword hit the door and sunk into the wood with tremendous force, enough to slam it back closed out of Dariela's clutches.

"HOLY FUCK YOU ALMOST KILLED ME, CRAZY BITCH!" Dariela was knocked back and she leaned on the door for support. Her heart was beating and her eyes were crazed. She eyed the curved sword and let out something that resembled a cry.

"DAMN!" She panted and stared at the crazy warrior lady. She shook her head but opened the door again to get out.

Marashaa watched as her failure allowed the foul-mouthed burglar to open the door made of corl wood and slip out of the entrance. She could not let this happen. She could hear Gethario now. His voice mocking her in her head.

"The fierce Marashaa, undefeated in the pits of Braylic and Falcon's Haven. And she let's a little girl sneak into our home with our children and take her wedding bracelet? Directly from her arm, no less?"

No, she would not let his drunken ass have that satisfaction. She would give chase with everything she had. And when she caught the street-rat, she would smash her skull against the closest stonewall for all in the night to see. She began pumping her long muscular legs and raced out the entrance of her home right on the tail of Dariela.


I'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead i'm dead. Dari chanted in her head. She had a limp on her hip and running was excruciating. She didn't dare look behind her but knew the angry woman was right there following her and gaining on her.

Where do I go, I can't lose her, I can't shake her off! She groaned to herself. Oh oh the trap. She grinned and turned hard left, going back to the trap.

Marashaa eyed the little thief dart left into an alleyway. She was gaining on her. Continuing her long strides, she made it to the mouth of the alley and ran down it herself. She only made it a few steps into the darkness of the alley when she felt her foot step on something. Before she could check just what it was, a mound of sand smacked her in the face, entering her nostrils, mouth and eyes. Her eyes burned with a terrible fury as she chocked back mouthfuls of sand. Marashaa stopped in her tracks, coughing and hacking up the foreign debris.

"Waah *Hack* err! I nee wah err! Halp" She cried out to no one in particular as she fell on rear. Hoping someone in the alley would have the decency to help her. Someone handed her some kind of gourd, she could not see whom due to her temporary blindness. She poured the contents into her eyes, face, and open mouth only to have another kind of burning sensation replace the previous one.

"What kind of Idiot!? This is liquor!" She heard a burst of group laughter as her vision came to and saw it was a group of men leaving a tavern. She spit the contents and wiped the burning liquid from her face as she got to her feet. What happened? She looked up and down and found a trap mechanism was placed in the alleyway. Marashaa whipped her head around, looking for the thief, but she was nowhere to be seen. Marashaa let out a frustrated and furious cry into the night.

Dariela didn't stop running despite the pain. At least, she didn't stop until she heard the angry lady's screams. She slowed down to a steady jog. People were staring at her; she looked down. Her breathing was heavy and she decided to stop. She walked to an alleyway and leaned on the wall, panting heavily. She raised her right hand and stared at the wedding band. It had dried blood on the inside.

"All that for you." She chuckled and let herself slide down to sit. She had her head down.

"Well, that could have gone better." She heard a familiar voice and looked to the shadows to see the masked man lurking


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The following was originally posted by @Rengar in the previous IC:

@Rengar as
Former T'Odis Bandit Berk T'Luuh

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​

Location: The outskirts of Falcon's Haven, Indoria

Date: Month 6. Day 15

Time: The eleventh hour of morning (11 A.M.)

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Berk found himself drawn to the south, to the deserts of Zeldwa; he did not know if this pull was drawing him exactly towards what he sought or if his mind was tricking him to go there. He knew his father was from these lands and in the back of his mind he suspected that was the only reason he was drawn to this desert. He had followed the stem of the Rey Ho River until the green slowly transitioned to sand, crossing the border and heading straight for Falcon Haven. He figured the busiest place might be a good place to start; after all, he had lived the past few years mostly as a lone wanderer and despite dreading the crowds and the people there, it might be his best bet.

He was now already several days past the Libertia / Indoria border, the sand between his boots and feet was an unfamiliar feeling. He didn't like it, he would continue to make the occasional stop, which was becoming a monotonous cycle. "Blasted sand...!" Berk whispered to himself, as he sat down, removed his shoes, and watched the sand slowly trickle out of his shoes when he tilted them. He grabbed his map and compass, his fingers tracing the map where a drop of sweat trickled down his brow onto the map, beads of sweat covering his face as he verified his path was correct. Berk's face turned to the sun, the heat was not letting up; he removed his sash from around his waist and tied it around his neck and head, but not before wiping the sweat off his face. He was close to Falcon Haven, 'Maybe I'll get there without much trouble' he thought to himself.

He looked around, the scenery was quite different from what he was used to. The only resemblance to the forests he was accustomed to were the large rocky cliffs. Towering high, he thought they almost looked like giant tree stumps, sparsely spaced like the remains of trees in a baron wasteland that once was a beautiful forest. They weren't trees, however, and this wasn't the live, green forest; they were rocks, and this place hadn't a hint of life... 'On second thought...' Berk thought to himself, as he could see a moving shadow in the distance. Berk's eyes narrow as he tries to identify the cause of the shadow, his hand immediately reaching for his bow, which remained still on his back until he decided he actually needed it. His wandering thoughts now completely set aside, his demeanor changing to that of a survivor and hunter. Steps silent. Approaching the creature.

Berk was now close enough to make out the shape of this creature. It had mundane colors, brown and tan, as boring as the desert she walked but not any less dangerous looking. The creature yawned, or opened its mouth, it was irrelevant as Berk was confident it was a potentially hostile and aggressive creature. Its razor sharp teeth were overshadowed by two large and highly noticeable fangs. He continued to examine it, taking notice of the tail and eyes; his mind now fixed on survival. 'Take it out before it takes you out...' he thought, wielding his bow with his left hand as his right hand drops down. He runs his fingers through the feathers of his arrows before gripping one tightly and aiming it down the sight of his bow. His breathing now completely controlled to allow for an accurate shot before firing. Woosh, the arrow darts forward, piercing the air as it speeds towards the target. Direct hit! The arrow penetrates the creature where its short neck would be, if it even had a neck. The slight grin of pride and accomplishment quickly dissipating as the creature only staggers momentarily before regaining its footing; its eyes darting in Berk's direction.

A cloud of dust begins to rise from the ground as the creature violently jabs at the ground with its arms. The dust settles. The creature now gone, 'Where could it be...' he wonders with eyes scanning the horizon for any movement. 'It was gone...' a sigh of relief quickly turned into an initial panic as Berk felt his feet part the ground, his balance and footing completely thrown off as he felt his body sweep up and backwards through the air. He was normally good at regaining his balance, but the force and surprise of this attack caught him off guard. His grip on his bow failing, he could hear the creature below him but did not see it spring up and knock him into the air; the corner of his eye catching a glimpse of his bow as it hits the ground only moments before him. The air would have been knocked right out of him, but luckily he had been controlling his breathing and kept the air in his lungs at a minimum. The surprise and shock quickly dissipating as he regains his composure, only to hear strong and heavy footsteps charging towards him. His hands dart to his back, each reaching for a hilt before gripping tightly and swiping forward towards where he assumed the beast would be. He leans forward, gaining vision of the abomination as it charged him, his left hand stabbing the first dagger straight forward as the creature leaped to clamp its jaws around his neck. The force from the charging beast and the stab allows the sword to penetrate deep into the flesh of the beast's mouth before the tip exits, the metal reflecting the sun and momentarily flashes into Berk's eyes. He knew the blade had pierced through the creature, but when his eyes readjusted from the glare he noticed that one of the fangs had found its way into his left forearm. Berk knew he had to finish this quickly before he was finished, he looked for another opening to strike with his right arm as his left was stuck for now with the fang and his own dagger holding his arm in place. He noticed a wound where his arrow had struck, the arrow was gone, lost to the sand when the creature burrowed; but its purpose was true. He reared his right arm back, and swung it in an arc, stabbing the creature straight through the wound that was caused by the arrow. With the initial wound softening the creature's natural armor, the dagger easily pierced the flesh, only stopping when the hilt pressed against its skin. Darkness overcame Berk as his eyes heavily shut, collapsing into the sand. The last sound he heard was a large thud as his fingers slipped from his daggers.

Berk finally woke up, more calmly than he should have been after that fight. It was starting to get dark, but there was still plenty of light. 'What a crazy...' he started to think to himself before looking to his side, the slain beast bleeding out into the sand. It wasn't a dream, and after regaining full consciousness he felt a jolt of pain surge through his left arm. He felt weak, and immediately realized the creature must have released some sort of venom when it pierced him with its fang. He did not know the danger, but he wasn't going to take any chances; he had to get to Falcon Haven immediately. He weakly gets up, pulling the daggers from the slain beast and sheathing them before walking as quickly as possible to gather his bow. Luckily he didn't have to chance any of his arrows around. He got his bearings together and began walking as quickly as possible towards the city while wrapping his forearm tightly with his sash. The blood getting lost in the similarly colored fabric as he tied the wound to stop the bleeding. He knew it was too late to cut blood flow to his arm so he just covered the wound. His untimely nap, caused by the unknown and foreign venom entering his blood stream, made it so that he couldn't cut the blood flow in time.

After what seemed like hours, he could spot a large city in the distance...Falcon Haven. He continued on, his eyes a bit hazy and his body dehydrated. Time was distorted but he found himself walking through the alleyways of the city. "Where am...I?" he whispers to himself, aware that he was in Falcon Haven, but not sure where exactly he was or where he should go to seek help. He takes the last few gulps of water from his canteen before trying to speak as clearly and audibly as possible. "Help... Poison..." he repeated to anyone walking by, hoping someone would know what to do.

 

[King Ad Rock]

A collaboration post with

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/39682-rengar/
Rengar as Berk T'Luhh​

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/35581-king-ad-rock/

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/35581-king-ad-rock/
King Ad Rock as Tartae Moyamba & Rasuli Ul-Nanak

_____​

Location: Falcon's Haven, Indoria


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: 12th hour of the Morning (12 P.M.)

______​

Tartae! You are late boy!” A voice boomed from the second floor as Tartae struggled to get the poisoned warrior over the threshold of the small brick home. The inside of the household was neither glamorous nor gave the impression of even being lived in. Unpacked chests, wicker boxes, and baskets were strewn around the abode giving the appearance that the residents had just moved in. Scrolls, both rolled and unrolled, littered everywhere the eye could see. A staircase was before them at the entrance, leading to the second floor and underground level.


Tartae did not immediately respond the calling voice, instead continuing his fight to bring the man fully into the building. He used the back of his foot to swing the door closed, inadvertently causing it to slam shut.


SMASH!


Tartae winced in anticipation of what was to come. A tall, elderly Nomasdae man appeared at the top of stairs with his prized invention in his hand, a never-ending torch. It was an emerald green orb glowing brightly on the end of a staff. The orb contained a mixture of a certain Tral-el’s poison and various rare ingredients. The concoction causes an intense glow to emanate from it, illuminating quite a degree around the user.

Rasuli​

“Do not you dare slam that damn door!


The furious looking elder had dark skin, even for a Nomasdae, and was completely bald save for his white beard. He was dressed in traditional Ancient Nomasdae robes, much like Tartae, with an ornate necklace of some kind draped around his skinny neck. The emeralds in the necklace appeared to hold the same glowing mix that was in the torch’s orb, while the rest seemed to be made from Tral-el bones.


The look on the man’s face was that of rage. He was Tartae’s master, Rasuli Ul-Nanak; infamous alchemist, apothecary, herbalist, surgeon, Tral-el expert and inventor.


“Who in Anahit’s name is that!?” Rasuli barked the question down the stairs at the panting Tartae.


“Master Rasuli, we must act fast! He is dying of a Tral-el bite!” Tartae pleaded. He was still trying his best to keep the heavy stranger on his feet, though he was swaying every which way.


“Where are my scrolls boy!?” Rasuli demanded without a hint of acknowledging what Tartae said.


Berk took a few moments to grasp his surroundings; there were a lot of scattered items all over the inside of this house. While he wouldn’t necessarily call the items junk, they sure were scattered all over the place, each item occupying a random space in the home. Whoever left these objects in their place did not seem to care too much about keeping them organized; perhaps they were very busy with more important things, or perhaps they were just lazy. Either way, the surrounding environment did not help in easing Berk’s mind, he had hoped that whoever owned this building would take more care of their guests than they did their own belongings.


As if it could get any worse, the pain from the bite seemed to increase. Berk’s body felt even weaker than before, possibly due to the amount of energy he had just exerted to get here. Even with the help of Tartae, he felt that he had just spent his last drop of strength. His vision began to darken, the last thing he remembered feeling were his knees slamming into the floor before… darkness. The sounds coming from Tartae and his master were now mere echoes, incomprehensible voices floating in Berk’s mind.


Tartae felt the warrior’s body go limp within his clutches. He was no longer helping the boy support his own weight and sunk down, his knees buckling. Tartae turned to Rasuli and called out urgently,


“Master, please! He has lost consciousness!” Rasuli still looked unimpressed from the top of the stairs. With his hands on hips, he took an impatient stance. The scowl on his face deepened.


“Tartae! You brought some pale skin here!?” Rasuli half shouted-half whispered, trying to stifle himself so that his neighbors would not hear. “Boy! What are you thinking? Have we not had enough trouble with the locals as it is?” The duo’s flaunting of gold coin to hire mercenaries to hunt local Tral-el and bring back specimens had brought unwanted attention. Whether it was thwarting small thieves one day, or just having to shoo away a local drunk soldier curious about their work, they have had their share of trouble since coming to the capital.


“He is going to die Rasuli!” Tartae cried to his master in desperation. He turned his attention to the warrior, and used all the strength he had to shuffle the muscled man closer to a nearby table covered in scrolls.


“DO NOT PUT HIM THERE!” Rasuli roared at the top of his lungs. Tartae ignored him and with a quick squat for leverage, lifted the warrior onto the table and scrolls, knocking a few onto the floor. Rasuli came barreling down the stairs at full speed, his torch high above his head as if he was going to strike Tartae with it. “Have you gone mad!? Throw him back out on the street!”


“If you will not help me, then I will do my best by myself. Now please, stop screaming at me.” Said Tartae, his voice returning to its even calmness. He tried to clear his mind and its racing thoughts to remember the basics.


“Check the eyes.”


Tartae stood over the unconscious man and parted his eyelids with his small fingers as delicately as he could, despite his hands shaking from the adrenaline and nervousness. The man’s irises were an odd shade of light blue and grey, a color Tartae had only read about in books. There was now little doubt in the boy’s mind that this warrior was at least part T’Odis. His pupils were dilated, meaning the Tral-el’s poisons were working their way through his veins and causing him to enter a hallucinatory state. This also told the young apprentice what type of Tral-el had bitten the warrior.


“Rasuli, I think he was bitten by a Sandshifter.” Tartae informed his master as he took the man’s pulse by placing his index and middle fingers on the side of the man’ neck, in the soft hollow area just beside his windpipe. It was slowing down considerably.


“Hrumph” was Rasuli’s only reply, but eventually curiosity got the better of him as it always did. He placed his torch on a shelf on the wall to his side and made his way over to Tartae’s fading patient. “And what has made you make this assertion?”


“The centers of his eyes are dilated” Tartae answered. “He needs Shapeshifter blood mixed with Vasul flower extract, correct!?” He asked with immediate urgency.


“If you give him that first he will have a seizure and die in just moments.” Rasuli responded plainly. “What must you give him first Tartae?” It was evident in his tone that Rasuli was merely mentally piqued and was not really concerned for the man’s well being.


“This is not the time for lessons!” Tartae shouted at the aloof Rasuli. “What must I give him first?”


Rasuli leaned over the unconscious warrior while placing his hands on the table by his side. After a long drawn out sigh, he answered, “Lannis Milk. Then you must wait and let it make its way through his system. If you give him the antidote too soon after, he will die, if he is not too far-gone already. It is a game of timing from there, young one.”


Without a word of reply, Tartae darted quickly from his position to a shelf by the entrance. Its shelves were covered in various vials, some filled with liquids, others with powders. He looked through each of them carefully yet as fast as he could, trying his best to skim through the messy writing of Rasuli on the labels. After searching nearly all of them and not coming up with Lannis Milk, Tartae barked at Rasuli with frustration,


“I cannot find it! Do we even have any? Could it still be packed away?” But Rasuli was not listening. He had walked away from the poisoned man on the table and began making his way backup stairs. While throwing his hands up in the air, he gave his answer to his apprentice,


“He is your patient. Make sure to go back out and retrieve those scrolls after his expiration.” Tartae only glared at the Rasuli’s back for just a moment, careful not waste anymore time. The warrior stirred and moaned from the table.


“Do not worry, my friend. I will not let you die.” Almost as if fate intervened, as Tartae spoke these words he pulled the last two vials from the back of the shelf, Lannis Milk and Sandshifter antidote.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Charmypie in the previous IC​

Dariela Zulton
​

_____​

Location: Falcon's Haven, Indoria


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: 11th hour of the morning (11 AM)

_____
​

"Hey, I tried my hardest I'll have you know!" She grumbled at him sternly, turning to face the voice whilst her chest was still pumping from all the running she had done, various aches and pains around her body from the damage she had sustained. "I have your bracelet, now do what you said you would" She grinned, tossing the bracelet at where he presumed the mysterious masked man to be whilst being excited at the idea of her and her mother finally being safe and not having to worry about what they were going to eat the next day.


As quickly as the bracelet was engulfed by the shadows where the masked man stood, the shiny piece of metal was flung back at Dariela. No hands were visible in this motion, only the white mask that stood motionless in the blackness. From behind the mask came the monotone yet somehow enchanting voice,


"Keep the trinket for it was not what we were after." His answer was eerie. The mask swayed from side-to-side in a strange manner, seemingly disconnected from any visible body, giving it an almost floating appearance. "You will acquire what you seek. Stay quiet and await our contact."


And before Dariela could react, the mask was swallowed by the shadows and inexplicably, the masked man was gone.


"Hey! Come back here!" Dariela yelled furiously at the shadows, momentarily distracted by catching the slightly-bloodied bracelet, taking a few steps towards where the white-masked man had been standing. "This is not what we agreed!" She ranted, raising a fist and contemplating running after the man as her anger built up at the fact that she had been deceived.


After a short period of waiting where she silently hoped that he would return and deliver what was promised but knowing it were unlikely, she stomped the ground once and stormed out of the alleyway. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this..." Dariela mumbled, looking at the bangle she currently had clenched in her fist. "It's good, solid gold... I might be able to sell it, after all, he didn't tell me I couldn't, but I could have stolen any other bit of gold with half the hassle!" She hissed, her voice quiet and unheard by the nearby people, only seeming loud to herself. She trekked through the town and found a small shack selling various sorts of food, mostly fruit and bread, and paid for what she could with the meagre amount of money she had, barely able to afford a single loaf, before returning home, a bag of bread in one hand, the bangle still in the other, a faint pink mark on her hand from how tightly it had been held.


"I'm back, mum" she called into the dimly lit house, resting the bag on one of their only tables and lay down on her makeshift bed, resting her weary body after the day's struggles.


Exhausted from the day's activities, Dariela soon fell asleep on her ever-comforting bed, before she knew it, it was morning once more. The tan woman let out a yawn and shuffled out of her bed, still fully-clothed and wandered out the door, bracelet in hand. She lifted the small golden trinket and looked at it's gleam as she made her way to the town, a little more rested than before.


"Screw it" she hissed to herself. "I'm selling this damned trinket, all it's brought me is trouble" she seethed, the sight of the object reminding her of the man that had failed to hold up his end of the bargain. She went to a small segment of the town, notorious for it's black market and found the least shifty looking man of the shifty-looking merchants. She handed the bangle to him and asked the fateful question.


"What's it worth?"


Abeeku Suhailah was known in the Falcon’s Haven bazaar as the man to go to if one needed to pawn something gained through nefarious means. His physical appearance almost gave away his occupation on first impression. He was a dark, short, and wily looking fellow with a long and crooked nose. His beady eyes were narrow and his mouth seemingly always plastered in a sly grin with a large gap between his two front teeth. His Nomasdae hair knots were of an impressive length, but his lack of faith in Anahit, or any other religion, probably meant that it had nothing to do with combat or his physical prowess.

Abeeku​

On this especially hot Indorian day, Abeeku had decided to go without any type of top, and instead had his many fine necklaces adorned around his neck and directly against his bare chest. A beautifully and intricately designed tan robe lay across his shoulders, while a green sash of fine material was tied around his waist.


The bazaar around Abeeku was bustling with activity and life. People conversed, bartered, haggled and traded loudly in a mix of noise and commotion. The shady pawnbroker’s small shop, if you could even call it that, was located in a far corner of the market, shaded by the larger surrounding businesses. All it consisted of was a small bush-deer drawn cart and a poorly constructed stand to display his wares. His selection may have looked meager, but those who did true business with Abeeku knew that the real loot lied elsewhere.


As a young, light skinned Nomasdae woman with her own medium hair knots sheepishly approached his booth and cart, he began tapping his long, skinny fingers against the countertop as his lips spread apart to reveal his gap-toothed smile. The many rings of his fingers made an almost melodic clicking noise with each individual tap. Wasting no time with pleasantries or introductions, the girl thrust a shiny trinket into his direction and spoke quickly,


“What’s it worth?”


Abeeku gingerly took the item from the counter top and glanced it over. It was an obviously expensive piece, an Indorian wedding bracelet, that the street rat had more than likely stolen from some poor unsuspecting woman. Before Abeeku could give the girl his intensely unfair price, something caught his eye on the bracelet. There was some kind of small engraving scratched into the metal on the inside, almost too tiny to catch. The sinister smile spread even further on the mouth of Abeeku as he fumbled at the many pouches hidden under his sash at his waist, and produced a large bag of gold coin that he now took turn in thrusting in her direction, also strangely wordless.


With eager eyes and without hesitation, the girl snatched the bag from his grasp. A look of creepy enjoyment washed across Abeeku’s face as he spoke just a few words to his parting customer,


“Enjoy my little sweet. You earned it.”



"Wow! Geese... I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so.. Thanks, mister!" Dariela laughed, running off with the bag of gold coins in-hand, giggling giddily to herself. For the first time in her life, she felt like she wouldn't go hungry for a day. It almost brought tears to her eyes as she sprinted home in excitement, happiness and pride welling up in her chest as she burst into her home.

"M-Ma! I Have something incredible to show you!" She half-laughed half-sobbed through the house as her mother hobbled into the room.

"What is it dear.?" the old, withered tan woman, smaller than her offspring due to old-age and strenuous labour causing her to constantly be bent forward, her hair a light-grey in shade, seemingly bleached by the sun, asked her only daughter, wondering what on earth could have elated her so much given her dire situation.

"We aren't completely broke!" "What?!" an exchange went, the mother beginning to experience the same set of emotions as Dariela herself.

"I finally got a good-paying job... Look at this!" She gleamed, pouring the heavy bag's content of gold onto the table, making sure none of them slipped off. The two embraced and the sand-thief walked into her own room and slipped into sleep, allowing her mother to break down into tears at the sight of so much money without fear of being watched.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Tice in the previous IC

_____​

Date: Month 6 Day 12
Location: Mazelhome
Time: Late Morning, Onward to Noon

_____​

The orange and yellow hues of the ball of fire in the sky rose over the village of Mazelhome. Bringing another hot day to a land turned brittle and dry by the sun, it did little to halt any activity inside the settlement. As with most established towns, Mazelhome was a wheel of residential structures around a center of trade - and more significantly - the inn. Lacking a large source of lumber, the homes were constructed with a fair use of stone, masonry being the leading theme in architecture. Signs with symbols pertaining to the specific goods were hung over the market stands, using objects like fruit or a basket to advertise the merchandise rather than text. It was a simple yet efficient way of staking a claim in the center; for even the relatively small population made the streets crowded. It was a time where Sesler'ther would put a plank with a pickax painted overhead and sell his wares.


But now, he no longer did such a thing. If someone wanted tools or a lock crafted, they came directly to his home. Sesler'ther worried far too much about leaving his wife alone. She couldn't move herself and get food even if it was placed across the room. But he knew her too well. She would try anyhow and hurt herself more. Parthis was dying, and here he stood, dipping the end of a spade into a water basin. The steam hit his face, the moisture momentarily snapping him out of the thoughtless drone. There had to be a cure, somewhere. As the sun crossed into the highest point, he had an appointment with Del-Far, a man who claimed to have information pertaining to a mirerot cure. Sesler'ther wasn't naive enough to suspect a scam, but he had no choice.


The tall Nomasdae would sit down in a chair directly behind him, the head of the shovel forming a point with a small crater at the square bottom. Sesler'ther turned, digging into a bin filled with wooden sticks of varying length and width, finding one that seemed to satisfy him. Quickly and forcefully jamming the rod into the crater, what molten metal was left inside splayed outward across the wood with the impact, cooling as it left the heated crater inside the shovel and hitting the colder air of the outside word. Sesler would wait for a bit before placing the tool back onto the anvil. A hammer with a square head was swiftly and accurately used, hitting the small point of the bottom of the handle. What little space was left got jammed by the force, making the rod impossible to remove from the spade by normal means. Sesler'ther slammed the spade onto the anvil before striking it with the hammer once or twice with a quick display of force. The hammer was like an extension of his limbs, landing where he wanted with the perfect amount of strength behind it. Satisfyingly, the metal head didn't move or even bend, ensuring that it was quality. Sesler'ther looked down at the tool for a moment before standing up, muttering some swears to himself that'd make his mother turn in her grave.


Forging took his mind off of everything but his wife, no matter how hard he tried to forget. Crossing the extensive forge, Sesler'ther would mount the shovel upside down on a rack before swiftly exiting the smithy. As always, even the oven-cooked air under the Indorian sun did wonders to cool his dark skin off, as the forge made the room deadly-hot. Grimacing, Sesler'ther entered the only other room he truly visited for an extended period of time; the master bedroom. He couldn't stand to stay inside the nursery he had constructed for long, his mind briefly picturing the pale blue of "Lointine" inked into his shoulder. The kitchen was only used when he needed to and nothing else. Anyone else would simply go to the tavern, which acted as an inn for travelers, and yet he could not do so. Becoming a barfly would hurt his wife even more. Nor did he want the mind-numbing effects of the drink. Stepping inside, Sesler'ther quickly broke the solemn disposition he had taken, kneeling beside his sleeping wife. All she ever did was sleep now, even with the lack of activity. The Rot took all the energy from her body. With a touch delicate for the blacksmith, Sesler'ther pushed a strand aside of Parthis's long and dark hair, clearing it from her eye. He felt rather than saw the grin she put on before rolling over from her side, facing her husband. Neither of them said anything for a moment, Sesler leaning his forehead down onto hers. Wind blew outside the window opposite to the door, the light sound breaking the trance. Parthis was the first to speak, her voice light and clear as crystal even in her sickness.


"I still condemn the idea of you leaving, Sesler. Stay with me, just for a little while more." Sesler placed his hands on her cheeks, the right side of her face marked with the strands of dark yellow as his large hands covered the symptom. He would sigh for a moment, the air seemingly coming from deep within, as though waiting for the day he would have to do such a thing. "I don't want to go either, Parthis. I...you'll die. I should be gone for a month, at most. Kiull will care for you while I am gone." Parthis lifted her chin up, swiftly kissing Sesler'ther before dropping her weight back down. The little bit of effort drained her still. "Promise me?" As she closed her eyes once again, Sesler'ther hesitated before opening his mouth to answer. Yet, it was in vain; Parthis once again fell into a deep slumber. He would sit there for a moment, mulling over his future for a bit before standing. The man would exit swiftly before his mind stopped him from ever leaving, for if he didn't do it now, he never would. Stepping out once more, Sesler'ther traveled the short distance on foot to the center. The crowd was a collective mass of people who knew of him and his situation. As such, they also knew that words of sympathy would fall on deaf ears for him. For those who didn't immediately step away, he nudged with one strong hand so that he would not be halted.


The one-floor inn had a sloping roof style, the thatch bundles slanting downward from a peak in the center over cobblestone walls. Perhaps simple in design, no one came for environmental beauty. The inside assaulted the blacksmith's nose as he smelled spilled booze of different varieties and vomit from the more greedy of drinkers. His mind hardly noticed this as he swiftly took a seat on the edge of the tavern. Looking around, Sesler'ther could not pick out who his appointment was. He expected to be greeted by the man, his eyes darting through the crowd. A quick crash of wood on stone brought his attention back to the oak door as a traveler in a brown cloak to block both sand and sun stepped in. Any facial features the man possessed were hidden under the poor lighting and the raised hood. Then, Sesler supposed, he didn't know what the man looked like. He was only told to sit on the edge and wait. The hooded man was like him, quickly taking his spot across from Sesler'ther with his hands cupped together. Sesler inquired swiftly, already running out of patience for the tavern.


"You say you know where a cure for Mirerot is, yes? Speak truly and quickly, so I may not wring your neck." The unnamed traveler, gloved and hidden, spoke in an accent foreign to Sesler'ther's ears. "I never claimed to know where a cure for rot is. I DO know a man who would know such a thing. Maybe." The man spoke in a riddled fashion, and as much as Sesler would like to force the answer out, he had neither the time nor the means. "Who? And where would I find him?" Sesler'ther would reach into the pocket of his deerskin pants, the bush fur stripped off before being formed into separate pants legs. Pulling out a few coins of currency, he would nod the the hooded man. A pale hand slipped out of the sleeve, quickly taking it before pocketing it into the folds of the cloak. "You want Rasuli Ul-Nanak of Falcon's Haven. The man is said to be able to cure just about anything. Now, you know how reputations and legends spread in squats like this, but it is well worth a check. I would like to get out of here swiftly, as do you." Sesler nodded, his impassive and slightly frowning face a permanent set as he stood up. Though shaking hands would perhaps be a formality, his mind was already moving on as he passed the man and exited the tavern with a speed unseen from the blacksmith.

_____​

Date: Month 6 Day 14
Location: Onroute To Falcon's Haven
Time: Afternoon, Evening Close

_____​

Sesler'ther rode upon an Indorian Bush Deer, a blanket tucked under the seat which he sat upon so that the animal may stay comfortable. For even though the animals were exotic to the land, they have adapted all too well. Jugs of water hung upon the sides and a leather satchel contained what morsels of food were left. A little more hidden, Sesler'ther had a short sword wrapped in a scabbard horizontally across the saddle. Made of steel, he had forged it the night before he left himself. It wasn't the most artistic of weapons; it was a guaranteed way to get robbed, having a bejeweled pommel and handle. But it was efficient and sharp, things that mattered to him. Sesler'ther was no swordsman, not at all. But, the concept was simpler than, say, a mace. The sun was upon his back as he headed west, the light paneling two silhouettes on the side of the road, one lying upon the ground in a still manner. As Sesler'ther closed in to within several yards, he halted the bush deer and stepped off, preparing to speak. His movement created sound, the grit of sand rubbing against the soles of his sandals. The man kneeling over the silhouette tapped the downed body's shoulder, causing them to hop up. The light hit upon one of the men, white skin exposed under the hood. It was this that brought Sesler'ther to a halt, his eyes looking to the cloak before returning the man's face, no longer hidden as the sun fell upon it. Without a word, Sesler pulled the blade from its sheath and placed it into his left hand, the other forming a fist.


Both of the men exchanged a glance before pulling thin daggers, fanning out onto either side of Sesler'ther. It was then that one of them spoke. "The coin you gave me at the tavern. Need more than that." Sesler looked to one, then the other, contemplating consequences of either side of the ultimatum. Nothing prevents either of them from stabbing him in the back and leaving with everything other than coin. His mind fell to Parthis once more, settling into a calm and narrow set of thoughts. Stepping forward, Sesler'ther used what advantaged he had, the short sword having a larger reach as he sliced the cheek of the pale foreigner. His other friend, in contrast, was a Nomasdae just as him. The white man yelled in a mixture of pain and anger, shocking his bandit partner into action. The falling blade was aimed towards Sesler'ther's ribs, his left arm dropping to block the knife from a vital shot. A deep gash cut into his forearm and summoned a heavy swing from Sesler's free hand. Years of working a forge had given Sesler'ther a heavy hand, bone and cartilage snapping under the blow as the man's nose cracked sideways while blood coursed down Sesler'ther's arm. As the marauder Nomasdae fell, Sesler pivoted on his outside foot and slammed the end of the sword's handle into the white man's temple, a resounding crack signalling the man's loss of consciousness. Sesler did not know if there were others, as the robbery was obviously a planned operation. Swiftly jumping onto the back of the bush deer once more, Sesler spurred it into action as he slid the now-blooded blade into its resting place.

_____​

Date: Month 6 Day 15
Location: Falcon's Haven
Time: Noon

_____​

A white wrap of linen coiled around Sesler'ther's forearm had staunched the blood and tightened the wound, allowing it to gum up and scab over. However, an infection would put a major block in his quest, and so he kept it wrapped. A good deal of water was used to wash it out several times. In his eyes, it was well worth the effort. Falcon's Haven was a drastically different environment than Mazelhome, the volume of commerce reaching a new height in which Sesler'ther had never seen. It was crowded like the center in his home village, but with much more bodies. It did not take long to pinpoint Rasuli. As much of a criminal his appointment was, he was not wrong; the man did have a reputation. Which could go both ways for Sesler. The man may be too busy to answer Sesler'ther or even speak with him, or perhaps even he did not know.


Shaking his head, Sesler'ther grew bitter as he forced the thought out of his head. Hope was all he had in this adventure for Parthis. Bricks greeted Sesler as he drew close to the destination, the structure matching what he was told. The theme of masonry was across all of Indoria, abating his homesickness by a small amount. Letting out a breath of relief, Sesler stepped up to the door as his Bush Deer was bridled aside. Hesitating, Sesler'ther now realized the side effects of his hermit-esque lifestyle after Parthis was stricken. Socially, his mind was at a blunder. Grunting, the Nomasdae's arm felt like pure lead as he lifted it to the door, delivering a few quick rasps of force before dropping once more.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by FadingDaisies in the previous IC​

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​

Date : Month 6, Day 15

Time: Midday

Location : Falcon's Haven

_____​

“Hurry with those sacks, kid!” A deep voice called from ahead causing the white haired woman to raise her chin in disdain. “Why don't you help, eh?” She barked in response just before allowing her eyes to shift past her uncle's figure out toward the open sea. It wouldn't be long now until they were at the docks where a ship was said to be unloading within the hour. Finally she would be setting sail home. The beautiful land of Indoria would be left behind and the smelly streets of Parshum would be awaiting her. She didn't mind the smell much, to be honest, although it had been nice to see the far nicer areas in the world. As she stared out over the water, she couldn't help but notice the speed of her heart increasing. Ocean travel, though a great passage of travel, was one of the only things she truly disliked.


Her mind wandered then, again thinking of her home back in Parshum where her parents and brother were eagerly awaiting them. With such thoughts on her mind, she had not been watching her step as they went and quite clumsily tripped among the rubble hence dropping the heavy cargo she had been trusted with. The second the item had crashed down to the ground every hope of staying on her uncle's good side flew from reach.


Quickly kneeling down to gather the pieces of the once heavy orb, her hands were soon filled by blood from the jagged edges each possessed. “Why must you always be such a clutz?!” Her uncle's voice boomed out and she flinched away as though he'd hit her. “Get up from the ground, you'll gather more filth and cause us to lose our chances of boarding the ship!” He stomped toward her and reached down to grab her by the arm. She was lifted from the stones then. “Look,” his voice had calmed slightly now, “the cargo ship has arrived.”


Being unhanded, Akita's attention shifted away from her uncle and toward the vessel they'd been so ready to board. “I'm sorry about the crystal, uncle..” She mumbled weakly while letting her eyes shift down to stare at the shattered glass pieces. Her clumsiness was sure to have gotten her into trouble sometime. If only it hadn't been this time.


“It's fine. The wizard wanting it would have changed his mind when he noticed all those scratches on it from the previous thief.” With a heavy sigh, the raven haired, six foot Parshumian man rolled his shoulders and re-adjusted the sacks he had been carrying. Tearing at the end of his shirt sleeve, he handed the girl the strip of cloth to cover her bloodied hand. "Hurry now, we don't have much time to piss away like usual." It was true that he, too, was homesick for Parshum even though he'd left years ago with the intent of never returning. The village where Akita was raised was no place for a dreamer like her uncle. Akita's load, now much lighter, gave her very little resistance and once she was situated her head turned once again up to the sky and her feet began pushing her forward.


Her stomach started to roll again, however, as they trudged closer and closer to the ship they were about to use as transit for getting home. She bit at her bottom lip wondering how long they'd be on the water though then chose not to think much of it. The first time she left home she had been around the age of ten and that trip seemed to take an eternity. Eternity wouldn't be long enough to describe the amount of days on the sea they'd be dealing with before making it back to their home soil. She shook her head to clear the thoughts away but could still feel the heaviness in her chest. The thoughts of doubt and other negativities plaguing the back of her mind.


"Keep your chin up, kid." Her uncle smiled partially as he usually did when he could tell that her head was full of doubtful notions. His smile was enough. Akita's pace fastened to close the gap between them and she forced a more positive idea into her mind. "Thanks, uncle."


They finally reached the dock by the time the sun had reached a quarter past sun high. The two found themselves standing together and gazing up at the small ship's sails, they each made a quick glance at the other before moving closer. The contents of the ship were already being hauled away and the payment delivered just before the two foreigners reached the deck. Her uncle stayed in place waiting until each of the crew had been given their dues. He knew better than to interrupt such an exchange. In his life time of travels he'd experienced much of it all. When everyone had finished, he let the heavy sacks drop onto the wooden planks, a hand reaching into the dark blue cloak he always seemed to wear. Even with the weather far warmer than he would have liked he wore the same cloak. Akita watched as he reveled a small bag of coin from his clothing and tossed it onto the chest in which the pirate stood. "We'd like to board this vessel as part of the crew." This was how they were usually granted acceptance. Her uncle would ask for work and the both of them would do just that. Being part of the crew had never been too bad. In fact, Akita had actually begun to enjoy it; just minus the part where they're on water. When she was young, her main tasks would consist of being look-out or tying the rope knots. Her uncle, Cero, would mostly do any heavy lifting or really anything he was asked to do.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following is a collaboration post between

King Ad Rock & Deathchart as Rasuli & Tartae

Tice as Sesler'ther

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​

Date: Month 6, Day 15

Location: Falcon's Haven

Time: The twelfth hour of morning (12 P.M.)

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​

Rasuli could barely hear the rapping at his front door over Tartae’s deep crying bellowing out into their home. The soft-hearted boy was sitting on the bottom of the stairs to the second floor with his head buried in the crook of his elbow. He wheezed and snorted for gasps of air in between his sobs. Now self-stripped of his orange robes, the boy was clad in just a pair of brown slacks and sandals. His back and almost bald head were bobbing up and down as he convulsed. Rasuli passed by him on his way to answer the door while shaking his head in annoyance and disapproval.

Rasuli’s young apprentice had just lost a patient he had brought home.

Tartae had returned with a poisoned T’Odis man, a unique sight to see in the capital of Indoria. The foreigner was suffering from a Sand-Shifter Tral-el bite, a creature whose poison was known to be fast-acting. The boy had done everything correctly to try to counteract the poison, but the man was apparently too far gone. His deceased body was still lying on their table.

Before opening the door, Rasuli paused and turned to Tartae to hiss,

“Enough of that boy! Someone is here! Now go do something about the ice giant’s body before we find ourselves in a situation we do not want to be in!” Tartae snivelled a bit more before quieting himself down and rushing off to the back of the house. Rasuli took a deep breath and composed himself before slowing creaking the heavy front door open.

“Yes?”

_____
​

Sesler'ther grew nervous after knocking onto the door. Inside, there was a fair amount of commotion and even the sound of sorrow muffled beyond the entrance. Was this how an alchemist's office sounded like in the large cities? The Nomasdae felt like an alien in the capital of his people. Before any true second thoughts could take hold, the door cracked open. Between the narrow gap was an aged, dark face, fitting the profile of what the dead scoundrel told him. Eyes of experience and questioning of the man at his door found his.


"You seem preoccupied; so I'll make myself quick. I'm looking for answers, not services. May I come in?"

Rasuli returned the man on his doorstep’s question with a look of confusion. Before answering, his face changed to that of agitation and swung back swiftly to look inside of his home. With another quick swivel, Rasuli was again facing the man through the tiny opening of the door. The last thing the alchemist needed was more trouble from the locals, just like they had gotten into last time. He would not be chased from this home. They had barely even finished moving in. But then something jumped in front of all the worries in his mind, something more important to Rasuli and his research. He spoke one word, blunt and concise, with still a clear sense of irritability,

“Coin?”

Sesler'ther wasn't naive enough to be fully surprised by the old alchemist's request for money in exchange for information, but nonetheless sighed at the idea. He expected to be spending money, and brought a good bit of his wealth in preparation for moments like this, but so soon? His partner in trade was looking bothered enough that Sesler opted to not barter with him, but did not immediately grab at his coin purse buried within his leather trousers. Instead, he squeezed a few coins from the fabric and twinkled the currency in between his fingers, indicating that he did indeed have coin, but was not sharing as of yet. If he was pointed in the right direction or at least given a name, Sesler would gladly buy the old man a pair of sandals.

"I have coin; but I also have a difficult matter, perhaps one beyond your scope, or anyone's. Please, for your time." The blacksmith flicked the coins downward into his palms, holding out the thick and callused hand with the three coins outward.

Rasuli stared at the three shimmering coins in the rough palm of the man standing on his doorstep, getting lost in the shine and glory that the coin radiated. His gaze shifted over the man offering the coin. Rough skin, strong arm and shoulder muscles, worn but well taken care of clothes with a slight layer of ash. Rasuli could read this man like a book. The man standing before him had to be a smith, and a hard working one at that. This smith was sure to have more coin on him. Rasuli was smarter than to ask for it upfront. He turned to check how his pupil was handling their.... situation.

Tartae shoved and pushed the hulk of a man into a broom closet in the back of the house. His heart was beating and he couldn't get the look of the ice giant's eyes fading out of his mind. He tried his hardest and it just wasn't enough. How? with all of his training and studying, could he just freeze and forget everything he has been drilling into his head? How could Rasuli just stand there and let something like that happen? Tartae couldn't dwell on the matter. There was a guest, and from the muffled voices, Tartae could guess a paying one. Tartae rushed over to Rasuli and gave him a nod. Rasuli turned back to face the man.

"You may come in, but I cannot promise any solutions."

Rasuli snatched the coin from the man's palm and swung the door open. Luckily, there was already a table cleared off from Tartaes previous endeavors. He motioned to Tartae.

"Tartae! Bring the guest and I some chairs."

Rasuli assumed the man needed some pain relief mixture or something to cure a rare disease. He planned to milk this as long as he could, he needed the coin after all.

_____​

Sesler'ther found himself feeling a touch uncomfortable, watching as the stranger looked him over - and his currency - in a kind of analytic manner. As soon as the old herbalist looked away, Sesler vented out the pressure in his chest in one long sigh. There was optimism in him somewhere, and Sesler found it when he was allowed inside the shop. He muttered a swift expression of gratitude when the coins were seized from his hands. Sesler'ther couldn't expect a simple answer nor a cheap one; Mirerot was unavoidable his entire life, and the people of his home village knew it. Somehow, he couldn't quite accept that fact. No, something pushed him to change the fate of his wife with all the wealth, knowledge, and ample strength he possessed.

Sesler'ther's dour appearance was a kind of front, though his eyes gleamed with the potential of learning of a remedy. Those same bright eyes darted to the boy before returning to the herbalist, feeling the name inscribed into his mind. Tartae. While waiting for the chairs, Sesler placed a hand on the table and looked to his scarred, thick knuckles for a moment, composing his mind and tongue. Finally, he turned and faced the man who could help him, finding the words he looked for earlier.

"Many thanks, herbalist, for allowing me in. I am Sesler'ther Var-Indis, and I am here on behalf of my dying wife's condition. She's been ill for a stretch of years with a case of Mirerot. I have no intimation of your knowledge about the disease, but the illness is supposedly incurable. She is entering the last trimester, so any real hope of her recovering naturally is gone from my addled mind. I simply cannot watch her die without taking action; my smithing aptitude has declined over the past few months, but I do have some wealth. I come here in search of anything that can cure her. Not help her ease her pain, but remove it. Is there...something that can remove Mirerot?"

_____​

Mirerot.

The ultimate disease.

Rasuli had had his fair share of experiences with the beast. It was highly resistant to anything that anyone had thrown at it. The challenge had been haunting Rasuli for years. He had to figure it out. If he did, he would be a hero, or better yet, the richest man in the world. He would be able to sell the cure for an unfathomable amount of wealth. This disease was Rasuli's ticket to the good life. A life of luxury. No more side jobs and common treatments. No more wasting time with the general public. He could just enjoy himself and all of his wealth.

Rasuli sat in thought, "Mirerot... Thats quite an issue. As you are well aware, it has no known cure. It would take a lot of time and.....resources to even attempt to find a cure, let alone find one in time for your wife. However, I am willing to hunt for the cure, assuming you will be able to cover the costs." Rasuli informed the man.

Rasuli knew that this would be a massive investment of his time, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to obtain his dream life.

_____​

Beneath the strong exterior that made up Sesler'ther was a panicking man. He had no sense of Rasuli's trustworthiness, and was fully aware that he could be diving into a scam. Much as he was afraid of such a thing, he had no choice. Sesler was against the wall, and his wife was on borrowed time. With curled fingers around the edge of the table, Sesler'ther idly nodded his head at Rasuli's words. He didn't expect a cure to be handed to him with a price; Sesler'ther was far from the first to try. Without displaying any more coin like he had before, - a damn foolish act on his part of Rasuli was looking to swindle him - Sesler'ther agreed with the herbalist.

"I can provide the coin for labor and resources out of my pocket, and for future investments I can transport more wealth from my home. Elder, I want to be aware of where my currency is going, and I also want to learn of any information you or any hirelings may find on Mirerot. If it is necessary, I can find travel and move out of our land in search. Find me a direction, or a name, and I'll make us equals in wealth."

Sesler thought of his dwindling fortune, knowing its strength for the longest time. He and Parthis had a comfortable home, and Sesler was able to hire help before, but his conservative way with finances prevented him from doing so. Besides, he enjoyed the personal connection he had with the forge. A thought crossed his mind for a moment, and he relayed it to the one ally he had at the moment. "My wife is also infertile. I'm not sure what that means for you, but she always has been. Long before the symptoms of Mirerot started to appear."

Rasuli listened intently to the requests from the hulk. He could definitely make this situation work. As Rasuli was running numbers in his head, Sesler'ther said something that got Rasuli's attention. The hulk's wife was infertile. It could be a coincidence but Rasuli knew he had to dig deeper. He began running some of his knowledge on mirerot victims through his head. Quickly his head snapped behind his chair toward his pupil.

"Tartae! Make yourself useful and go fetch my notes on the three mirerot victims. Now!"

Tartae quickly got up from his seat on the floor and fumbled his way to the barrel of notes and assorted recipes. His hands sifted through the parchment as his ears awaited the inevitable criticism from Rasuli.

"Tartae! Are you blind, boy? What is taking so long?"

The insults flung his way was normal to Tartae at this point. At one point they would have burned into his mind as he slept the night afterwards, however now he just focuses on the times Rasuli was more or less slightly impressed. Tartae pulled out a stack of parchments sewn together with the word mirerot written on the top. Tartae quickly brought it to Rasuli.As his pupil produced the papers, Rasuli looked back to Sesler'ther.

"Infertile. That could be a coincidence, or it could not be. Quickly, I need to know everything about your wife. Where she was born, how old she is, when she started showing symptoms, the first symptom she showed, where she was when she started showing symptoms, color of her eyes....." Rasuli rattled off and continued to list even more criteria. He needed as much information as possible, it could be the key to unlocking the secret to the legendary disease.

Knowing that there was some kind of information taken on Mirerot before pushed Sesler'ther to correct his posture and sit more vertically, a hand on the table with the palm facing downward. Rasuli's admonishment of Tartae reminded Sesler of his father's hot forge and the nitpicking criticism that came before and after every action. Much as he hated it, it shaped him into a better craftsman. He could see that Tartae was expected to become a herbalist when he matures.

The quick list flung at Sesler left him agape for a few moments before getting his bearings. The short comment about his wife seemed to trigger something in the herbalist. Sitting back into the chair and taking on a musing mindset, Sesler pulled at his memories, vivid and faded, to come up with proper answers to Rasuli's questions, as they continued to grow. "I'm not entirely sure where Parthis was born, nor does she. She was a nomad and was born during travel, but she has always lived in Indoria. She's on her forty-sixth year, as well. She's been stricken with Mirerot for five years, now. I...did not believe that there was any kind of help at first. I searched for a very long time until someone pointed me your way. A brigand who left me this wound." He lifted his wrapped forearm for a moment before lowering it. "My limited experience with Mirerot tells me that she does not have terribly long. The painful stages have passed her, but she is eternally tired. The very first symptom we both saw was the pale yellow lines under her skin, towards her eyes. Those are green, as well. She's very small compared to me, perhaps an arm's length below my height. Her hair is dark and has yet to begin to grey. Parthis used to do strenuous labor for the caravan, but after she settled with me I made sure that she would not be strained any more. She was my housekeeper."

"Our child, Lointine, never made it to birth. That was nineteen years, three months, and seven days ago. Parthis is bedridden now, since the disease took her ability to walk. I distinctly remember the healer commenting about her inability to bear children due to a misshaped organ that housed the growing child. Would there be a connection between that and the disease? Would that mean Parthis was born with it? Was there no way to prevent this?" Sesler leaned forward on these last pointed words, making eye contact with the one man who could help him now. Somehow, knowing that he was powerless to stop the disease from beginning made him feel tied up.

 

[Tice]

The following is a collaboration post between

King Ad Rock as Rasuli & Tartae

Tice as Sesler'ther

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Date: Month 6, Day 15

Location: Falcon's Haven, Indoria

Time: Fifteen minutes past the twelfth hour of morning (12:15 P.M.)

_____​

Rasuli leaned back in his chair as Sesler informed him of his wife's condition. A look of stern concentration and deep thought was etched across his aged face; so much so that it may have appeared to Sesler that the elder apothecarist was not even listening to his story. But before Sesler could make such an assumption Rasuli responded.

“Mirerot is a foul disease.” Rasuli’s vocals held their usual grumpiness despite being tinged with a bit of sympathy. He could be emotionless at times in his pursuit of knowledge, but Rasuli was no monster. The man's plight had touched him.

“Only fools or liars would claim to have extensive knowledge of this affliction.” He stated and then punctuated the sentence with a flare of his nostrils before continuing. “It is a rare disease with few reputable writings on it. I cannot tell you how your wife came down with it, although the ‘how' is not a pressing concern at the moment, wouldn't you agree?” Rasuli stood to his feet before receiving Sesler’s answer.

Rasuli was beginning to slip into the terrible habit he had of appearing to be having a conversation with the person he was speaking aloud to, when in reality he is really just thinking aloud to himself. With hurried steps, he made his way over to a nearby bookshelf. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in the abode that appeared fully unpacked and set up. Rasuli brought a book of some heft down and began thumbing through the pages at a rapid pace before suddenly slamming his hand down and stopping on a specific one.

“Yes, here” he said almost muttering to himself. “The whites of the eyes turning a greenish hue…a telltale sign of Mirerot.” With that utterance, Rasuli slammed the book closed dramatically before snapping his attention back to Sesler. “I could take a look at your wife, but I do not believe that it will do anything other than waste what sounds like precious little time.”

Rasuli carefully placed the book back into its place on the shelf and then slowly turned towards the Indorian sun shining in from the front window of their home. The old scholar squinted at what little of the village he could see as he took several steps closer to the window, seemingly still ignoring the sitting Sesler. He thought about how it would just be a matter of time until one of their many experiments angered the already aggressive townsfolk.

“As I stand here, there's a damned corpse somewhere in the back.”

The pitter-patter of Tartae’s footsteps could be heard in the back of the house as Rasuli finally addressed Sesler.

“Are you willing to travel?”

Sesler found himself caught in a vice. Rasuli was not discreet; there wasn't much to go on about Mirerot. If there was, Sesler wouldn't be here. His large arms found a resting place on the table, Sesler leaning his body forward as though he was scared of missing any word. Truthfully, he was terrified of what Rasuli had to say. The old man had wisdom inscribed into his face and words, his questions eliciting a short nod from Sesler'ther. The healer was in his own world for a short bit, leaving Sesler to sit idly and stew in his own fear and depression. He damn near snapped at the man to bring his attention back to the matter before Rasuli turned back around, his assistant making light noises somewhere inside the home.

Sesler'ther sighed, self-aware of his finances. While large, they were also stagnant, no longer provided by a source of income. Travelling was expensive, hard, and took up what time he had. But with no other options, Sesler agreed without question. "Yes, I can travel."

Rasuli paused for a moment and pondered over Sesler's response with a tapping of his fingers on his own shoulders. An awkward silence hung in the air.

"Tartae!" Rasuli barked from the side of his mouth towards the back of their abode. More shuffling could be heard coming from the other room, almost in reply to Rasuli's call. Something heavy sounded like it fell over with a crash before silence came again. Rasuli nervously smiled at Sesler before calling again,

"Tartae!?"

"Y-Yes, master! A-Almost finished with the..." Tartae seemed to trail off with his faceless answer. "..The Accounting!"

"Accounting?!"

Tartae appeared in the entrance to the hall almost instantaneously after his nonsensical reply with a comical quickness. The boy gave Rasuli an obvious wink right in front Sesler causing Rasuli to shake his head slowly in disbelief at his lack of discretion.

"The accounting is...account...ed...for?" Tartae was struggling to make sense while struggling to keep his innocent smile. Rasuli finished his head shake with a sharp snap in his apprentice's direction.

"Release the birds and lizards into the back alley, lock the windows, and then start packing our traveling bags as we will be leaving in the early morning." Rasuli seemed to be focused on something out the window he turned from Tartae to face.

"Where are we traveling, master?" Rasuli turned to the still sitting Sesler before answering Tartae with a question to Sesler.

"Have you ever traveled to Mount Vagar?"

Sesler'ther wasn't inherently an overly curious or nervous person. People's doings were there own, not his. It was a strict point his father hammered out during his boyhood; customers - and others - were not to be assumed to be anything unless they say it. It was the basics of mannerisms.

This basic rule of thumb, this innate structure of social interaction, had its limits. He cocked his head to the side slightly, perturbed by the heavy and loud crashes. Sesler opened his mouth to speak, but bit it shut when Rasuli yelled the apprentice's name again.

While the old man may have been a strict master of his art, Tartae was the pure opposite. Young, impetuous, and perhaps a bit timid. He saw too much of himself in the young boy. And Tartae led him to think about his own nonexistent son. It was a dangerous path of thoughts to take, and were bitter to the touch.

But Sesler'ther's mind was trailing. Slowly pulling himself back to the real world, Sesler realized that Rasuli had asked him a question. "No, I have not. I once met a man who claimed to live at the base. Told that many go up it, but few come down. What awaits us there?"

The journey in mind was not a short one, either. His wife's time was draining like sand through a sieve. And he had no inkling of how much the trio planned to take along; Sesler'ther did not pack for a large-scale undertaking such as this. "And we may have to stop at my home. It's along the way; I hardly have supplies for such a journey."

"Quite a bit of danger, actually. If you have any steel at home then I would bring it. It is the only known habitat of 'Fire Tral-El', which we will need the blood of a certain kind. How are you with combat? Hunting? We may need to hire extra help." Rasuli spoke at a rapid-fire rate while still not looking at Sesler. There was a glaze over his staring eyes as his hands clasped together behind the small of his back. The wheels in his mind were spinning.

"Young one! When you pack make sure to fetch that blade the witch sold to us last week." And with that last command from Rasuli, Tartae spun back around and disappeared into the back of the house once more. Rasuli finally appeared to come out of his thought-induced haze and pivoted to provide attention to Sesler.

"You stated something about us both achieving great wealth earlier, Sesler'ther. I cannot say that the allure of wealth is not a temptation, but I assure you that my motivation in this task will be primarily a scholarly one." Rasuli's thick lips pursed and brow furrowed as he nodded a punctuation.

"And depending on the boy's speed, we may be able to leave for your home within the hour."

Sesler'ther, unlike many Indorians, was no warrior. Living under a Libertian father with Libertian morals in a foreign, rebellious land had subjected Sesler to a bizarre feeling of being an outcast. Much as he tried to avoid it, violence found him at times. The land bled of it. It would find him, no matter how he avoided it. Be it a Tral-El or highwaymen.

Speaking to Rasuli's back was not an enjoyable feeling. Though he knew that the old man was not trying to be rude or otherwise shunt Sesler aside, he was still a bit perturbed by it. Would Sesler'ther be like that when he grew old and wizened? He was climbing in years, and was starting to get a bit less limber around the joints. "I'm no soldier; in the business of making weapons I've scarcely had opportunities to wield them. But my late father had been a rather successful hunter, along with a band of men from my village. I'm sure they could be of aid, either with advice or service."

And to have his words fired back at him was another blunted blow to him. "I was not sure what was needed to acquire your help. I did not assume you to be a miserly man, but I am used to...dealing with those subjected to greed."

Standing up from the seat, Sesler stretched his heavy frame from shoulder to shoulder, expressing his gratitude as he did so. "I am grateful for your help, in any case. You and the child have given my wife another chance. There is no true payment for that kind of debt, but I will do what I can to alleviate it."

Rasuli was immune to the obvious social cues given to him by the looks of regret on Sesler's face. No, in his head, he was already halfway across Zeldwa. Sesler's words were like whispers on a distant wind, but they still managed to pull Rasuli back to reality. He turned to the now standing man and for the first time, really took in
Sesler's size. He claimed to be no warrior, but Rasuli could not imagine too many could strong-arm such a man.

"Save your gratitude for if and when we succeed. Hunters we will need, and those that take familiarity as payment are even better. " He chuckled a bit at that. If he was coming off as rude, Rasuli either did not realize or did not care. "We should make haste." Rasuli made a few shuffling old-man steps towards the back rooms of his home while bellowing out a deep, "BOY!?"

Tartae produced himself as if from nothing in the entrance way to the hall with numerous large leather bags swung over his small shoulders. A large dagger, closer to a short-sword, hung at his waist. The blade's sheath sported a weathered and ancient appearance, looking as if it was just recently pulled from the bottom of a lake or found in some crypt. The bags were filled with some traveling necessities, but more books and notes than anything else. Tomes that Tartae knew Rasuli would need to consult on this great journey.

"Ready when you are, master!" Tartae quipped brightly while seemingly struggling with the weight of the bags.

Though he wouldn't downright admit it, Sesler'ther was relieved to be on the move again; he was an eternally restless human being, his late father's criticisms of Sesler's work ethic still ringing in his ears. He was afraid that Rasuli would get lost in his own head again, further shaving off the time that Sesler swore he felt slip away from his wife's life. He jumped up at the exclamation just as Tartae appeared in that swift, almost magical way. Sliding the chair back into place underneath the table. "I agree; my village is close to three days from here." His words shifted away from the seasoned herbalist, Sesler'ther lowered his head a touch to address Tartae directly. "Now, all of us will be spending some time together, be it weeks or months. I can't allow myself to put burden upon others."

As he spoke, Sesler'ther removed what seemed to be the bulkiest of bags off of Tartae's smaller shoulders and easily swung it over his own. "From now, your burdens are my burdens. My Bush Deer is harnessed outside."

_____​

Date: Month 6, Day 18

Location: Mazelhome, Indoria

Time: The hour past noon (1 P.M.)

_____​

Mazelhome still possessed the sun-blasted, dry appearance that Sesler'ther had noted when he had left. Once the trio had passed a few of the outlying homes, Sesler pulled lightly on the bush deer's reins to bring it to a halt.

His home had turned into an alien place. Something primal within him was trying to pull him away, like a fear. It wasn't home anymore; it was Parthis's resting place.

But not yet. He was laboring to bring her back to good health. Sesler'ther looked over his shoulder for a moment, his eyes and face dulled by the sudden somberness that had fell over him. "This is my home. I originally thought about letting you see my wife, Rasuli, but..."

The blacksmith looked over the finely-built home once more. For all of its splendor and attractive construction, Sesler could only see it as a dark and vile place. "I'm afraid I might not come out if I go in." Kicking the bush deer onward, Sesler'ther's mind shifted away from the home and towards his task.

The small, yet bustling inn was the same as Sesler had left it; packed, and hardly enough room for him to walk in. He had avoided debauchery all of his life; now, he had walked within its presence twice in the past week. Na'mell was a prolific hunter and tanner, and perhaps one of Sesler's only friends. The hulking blacksmith was severely disproportionate to the smaller man as he approached, cupping his friend's hand in his own for a short greeting. "Na'mell, I ask of you a serious favor. The Fire Tral-El of Mount Vagar are vital to what I need."

Explanation wasn't needed; Na'mell knew enough to figure that Sesler'ther was referring to his wife, and her potential cure. He became aware of Sesler's traveling partners, and turned to look at them, namely Rasuli. "And what do you need of them? How many men are necessary for this?"