Iona's Curse

[Miz]

A private game with @Esme

Iona's Curse
__________________________

Scene 1 - The Well

__________________________​

Etzil

The Wheatkeeper of Pryerhill
​

Etzil had arrived to the curse's supposed origin. It was a humble well. It was dug by the village's inhabitants a generation or so earlier. The well had a hatch roof and a wooden bucket to draw water. It was nothing spectacular. A traveler would come across of a hundred of these in the countryside. Compared to the great aquifer wells of the Eastern cities or the aqueducts of the South, the well wouldn't be something Etzil had marveled.


Yet this wasn't an ordinary well. This was where the curse was rumored to have been born. The water beneath the well had turned black. It was said to be as dark as tar, as lethal as poison. Except it didn't kill like a polluted well would, the drinkers didn't get sick, they didn't die. It was selective, targeting the children of the village. It turned their insides into hay, their skin into leather, their bones into sticks. They became scarecrows. Dolls with nothing but button for eyes and slits for mouths.


Panic had consumed the village of Byfox, after a father almost destroyed his own missing daughter. Within days, nearly all the children had become walking scarecrows. They couldn't make words, but they were animated, alive, they could moan and scream. It didn't take long for everyone to realize witchcraft was the cause.


Etzil arrived on foot. The villagers were slow to realize his presence. The morning fog that surrounded the village hadn't yet dissipated. He lacked a mount or steed. So his entrance was quiet. He had walked from his hovel on Pryerhill to the village center. Dressed in his green robes and his weather-resistant hat. he laid down his staff and examined the well.


In minutes people had surrounded him.Wondering who he was, what he was doing here. Their faces and clothes varied with only some covered in dirt. He looked at all them and asked a simple question. "Is this the well whose water turned black?"

 

[Esme]

Seric


Son of Throm
​

When his brother had fetched him, Seric had been at the window he had stayed at since his father had left. Outside in the yard was the screaming remains of their younger brother. He hadn't been sure how to handle it, this, any of it, really. Neither had his mother , who had locked herself in her room. So when Tristan had pulled him away from his perch, telling him they needed to get to the well, Seric had been uncertain. That was the cursed thing that started all of this, why would they return there? At the mention of a man in robes, however, he skin prickled.


Was it someone to help them? Or a messenger sent out from their father's crew? The two boys had moved quickly, sprinting across the fields that separated their home from the more dense part of the village. Tristan had yelled back his thoughts at him as they went, though Seric heard little. Wrapping around the edge of the shrine building, they came to an abrupt halt as they met the crowd of other villagers.


Seric peered between bodies, trying to get a glimpse of the man he had been pulled out here to see. His luck was poor and he was stuck on the outside of the group. Tristan had somehow managed to squeeze in and disappear somewhere in the crowd when he hadn't been looking. The soft murmur of the group quieted when the strange man spoke, voice rough and foreign. The silence lasted longer than Seric cared for and he found himself foolishly opening his mouth, "Ai, that be the well."

 

[Miz]

The crowd seemed to grow larger the longer he stood there. The gathering faces stared with curiosity, some with suspicion. It was an obvious choice, the mage dressed in cloaks and other garb, carrying a staff made of oak, to blame on such a disaster. Yet Etzil was not some rare pompous wizard that stored their knowledge in a private tower. He was a hedge mage, a hill doctor of sorts. Instructed by his mentor as a boy, self-trained through his profession, he would openly acknowledge he was not powerful enough to cast such a curse upon the land.


The silence loomed for minutes even after he asked the question. Eventually a voice, a young man, spoke up from the crowd. "Ai, that be the well," the man said. Hearing confirmation only made Etzil ponder. He gripped his chin, lacking any fashion hair to twirl, and tried to look over the well's structure.


Nothing was unusual about it from appearance. It was a well made of stone that dug straight into the ground. Beyond that it had just a wooden roof with the Two Fox-headed insignia of the village carved into the beams. Approaching cautiously he went up to the well. "Was there any other strange sightings before the well turned black."


"Nay, the well was fine," a woman said from the crowd. "My grandfather helped dig it in his youth."


"Its water became darker and darker," another boy said. "Then it made the kids..."


Etzil nodded and gestured in a manner that told the villagers he needed no more explanations. He didn't need the full story yet. He wanted to see the water for himself. Setting down his staff to lean against the well. He reached to the ground to pick up the well's bucket that was connected to a string and a weight. Dropping the bucket into the hole, he heard it fall for some distance before splashing into the well's basin.


Pulling it up, the crowd around him got closer and closer until the bucket was at the surface. The rumors were true, the water was a solid black. Etzil couldn't see the bottom of the bucket. He was atonished by the very sight. However he didn't stop there. Taking the bucket from the well, he poured just a splash onto the ground. The land hissed as if it was burned. The water acted almost like acid. Not to stone or to the ground but just to the grass beneath Etzil's feet.


The villagers all gasped and scurried away from the hedge wizard from Pryerhill. "This is definitely peculiar," Etzil said as calmly as he could. "There is no doubt about it. Black magic," Etzil said but the villagers looked at him like he was stating the obvious.

 

[Esme]

With both the changes in size and distance away from the odd man, Seric found himself able to see at least part of him just in time to hear the familiar splash. He flinched though it hurt him not, and indeed, not too long ago it wasn't a noise that had bothered him at all. There was hope that the man wouldn't drink it, however, all present could tell him well enough what happened there. Youth to straw, age to dust. Over on his right he could see Tristan staring apprehensively.


Tilting himself to see around the stocky women in front of him, he caught motion and watched the black water pour out. The woman knocked into him as they collectively moved back. Black magic indeed, it was why it was the colour it was, or so Seric thought. In truth he knew little about magic, or witches and wizards other than the fact that different magic seemed to have different names. And of his own assumption, that the colour black mixed with magic was the most powerful. He figured anyone with two eyes and half a brain could deduce that much.


Perhaps odd as he was, this man was a hoax. Perhaps attempting to find coin from them in their time of need? No, Seric thought, that was not so, from what he knew of charlatans and cons they arrived with pomp and circumstance, smoke and often a lot of mirrors. Despite his peculiar looks, this man had none of that.


"It came from the woods, " Someone from behind him said, " There's no other place for it to have come from."

 

[Miz]

The patch of ground finished sizzling once all the grass near the well had shriveled and died. The turf was now gray. It was a barren sight to behold especially for a hedge-mage like Etzil. The villagers were still staring by this point. Each of them, man and woman, young and old, just stood frozen in place. However once Etzil picked up his staff again and departed from the well, there was almost a collective sigh. People began to move again. Some of them, the younger folks, approached him with curiosity.


"It came from the woods, " someone said from the crowd. "There's no other place for it to have come from."


Etzil didn't examine the crowd to find the voice. He just grimaced at the thought. "The woods?" Etzil he said softly. He turned to face the West. The winds had all but died in the past few days. Not just for Byfox but for the whole region. He had a theory that something from within the Wild had caused this trouble. "I don't see an elf or a forestfolk doing such magic against you," Etzil knew that many were fearful of such creatures, others even doubted their existence. However regardless of beliefs or fears, Etzil knew it was unlike either an elf or some forest imp to cause this much trouble.


"Where then would it have come from?" a younger man's voice said from the crowd frustrated.


"We already sent a group of men into the woods, my husband included," another voice said from the crowd, it was a woman's voice this time. Others within the cluster of villagers started to speak. Their collective voice rose in panic. The party hadn't come back in several days.


It wasn't unheard of for people to go missing the Wild. It wasn't advised to go very deep inside. The people of the West were a superstitious lot, but how could one not be? So close to a magical woods, the edge of the world, the frontier. Life was rugged and only sometimes rewarding. Etzil held up his hand and gestured it over the crowd. He didn't cast any magic, he just expected that the crowd would calm down. "Let me examine a child who has turned."

 

[Esme]

"Let me examine a child who has turned."


The effect was instantaneous. The crowd went into a silence so thick it was like they had stopped existing. No one dared to breath. While it was a tragedy they had lived with daily since it had occurred, no one had fully admitted to what had happened. They tripped over their tongues and fumbled with words and it was never said. To have an outsider so blatantly put it out there, no one was quite sure how to respond. A woman's sob was what broke the trance, the effect rippling between those comforting and those who became distraught themselves.


"My brother," Seric said in a strained voice, "You can examine my brother." His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. He didn't like the thought of what the man could do, or would do to what remained of his kin. Or how his mother would respond to him doing it. Olya be damned, if this man could help him, he'd make the gamble that meant trusting his intent. Besides, he told himself, trying to be 'brave,' a knight in training was meant to take risks in order to learn properly.


Stepping forward through the crowd, he moved to the front. "Follow me."


Turning back through, he started back through the crowd. Out the other side of the bodies, he kept on going, through the untended field that still held the tracks from his run in.

 

[Miz]

It was as if he spoke a magic word. Except this time he didn't. The entire crowd froze, the panic and the fear Etzil has previous sensed completely disappeared. Shock replaced any other emotion. Etzil wasn't sure why there was so much surprise. He only stated the obvious. What happened to the children here formed the rumors that filled the countryside. Even places as far away as Pryerhill heard of Byfox's misfortunes. The house-wives discussed it in their gardens, the men in their fields and the merchants in their inns. Everyone knew something about Byfox. While the rumors kept getting more and more exaggerated. The idea of children turning into scarecrows was perhaps the most frightful detail and apparently it was true.


Etzil had been watchful of scarecrows on his entire walk from his hill to Byfox. He was careful to not damage one or hurt one, heaven forbid they be a child. None of them moved, any of the scarecrows along his way that he inspected, none of them were supposedly alive. Definitely not children turned to straw and sacks. It was only when he arrived at Byfox did he notice the subtle changes. A lack of children, a surplus of figures in the field. He was careful before coming into town if any of them moved.


Looking around at the villagers that encircled him, Etzil could feel their hatred. However he merely sighed at his respondents. Etzil couldn't be the first to acknowledge the terrible act that had occurred on their land. Likewise, they would have to accept what happened to their children if they intended undoing such a foul deed. The silence was broken by a woman's crying. As if another enchantment hit the crowd, several people began to weep at once. Etzil wondered if he would have to explore the matter by himself. The people too scarred to examine their fate.


Except a voice did cry out. Nervous and strained, it didn't at first make a full sentence. It just mentioned a sibling. "My brother," the voice said. Etzil wasn't sure where the voice originator was, the speaker was hidden amongst the crowd. Yet just speaking words aloud made the crowd split like a sea. Passage was made for a boy, no young man, who obviously holding back his own emotions offered to show his brother to Etzil.


Etzil asked no questions towards this young man. He merely nodded and followed as the villager beckoned him. However it didn't take long for the crowd to follow. Several of the men, a handful of the women, trailed behind Etzil to the boy's house across the neglected fields. Etzil promised them no answers, no solutions, but they were desperate enough to give them their curiosity.

 

[Esme]

Across the field Seric went, until he hit his home's fence. Skirting along it, he followed it around to the back. With a practiced motion, he flipped the lock on the back gate and passed through it. He stopped just inside, using his body to keep the door open. This was the closet he had gotten to his brother since they had moved him here out of the fields.


Staring at the scarecrow, he nodded once. "Don't hurt him, please."


The scarecrow looked just as rough as Seric felt. Burlap for skin, straw sticking out all over, and the noise it made. It haunted him. As if it, he, read the young man's mind, it gave a muffled howl of pain. As a hand hit his shoulder, he knew it was Tristan trying to keep him calm.

 

[Miz]

The young man led Etzil to his home, opening the simple wooden gate to their property, he could see at once the scarecrow figure slouching near the family shed. The scarecrow was unusual in size, smaller than one would expect a farmer to make something for their fields. Further it wore clothes obviously made for children. As they approached, Etzil could tell that the boy grew more nervous. The crowd following them had stopped entirely at the gate. Only one other young man, someone similar to Seric's appearance, followed after them.


"Don't hurt him, please," the young guide said to him.


Etzil nodded, "That's not my plan," he said. The wizard cautiously stepped closer to the former child. Placing his staff into the ground, he knelt over the child. Etzil would need to examine this body. The water gave him only so many clues. There were a variety of possible culprits: Necromancy, Malevolent Spirits, Questionable Forestfolk, Demons were even possible. Etzil had to eliminate them one by one. The task wasn't a easy one. Commoners didn't understand this though. Often times they expected him to just wave his hands and know the source.


When Etzil moved his hand out to touch the scarecrow, it moaned. Not one of pain but just a motion to prove it was alive. The reaction startled Etzil but he kept his hand still on the body. He felt the skin of the former-boy. He was now nothing but a burlap sack with straw stuff inside. He was sewed together by thread. "What is this boy's name?" he said turning to the two young men standing next to him. He needed the name in order to speak with the creature. The damned seemed to always be able to respond to what was once there's.

 

[Esme]

Exchanging looks, the brothers nodded . Tristian removed his hand, and speaking up for the first time since he had fetched Seric, offered up a meager, "Rodrick, youngest of Throm."


Seric nodded as if to confirm it, though he had no need. In truth, he was both scared of worse happening to his youngest brother, and far too hopeful that there was a chance to fix him. It was selfish of him, when all the children had turned, to think only of his brother. He couldn't help it. His father had made him promise he would look out for him. And so he watched the supposed wizard work.

 

[Miz]

Etzil listened carefully to how the second young man said the boy's name. It was important to get the sounds that the boy's family would make to the child. The older boy, who said the name, Etzil took for a familiar figure of the scarecrow child. Listening into the words, he noticed that the beginning of the name had a stronger tone to it then the second half. In fact the emphasis of the name was on the "Ro" sound in the beginning. Such a small detail was important, extremely important for Etzil task.


When it came to divination magic, how the name was spoken aloud was a crucial piece. For child souls especially, it didn't matter how the name was supposed to be said, what counted was how a family member said the name of the soul. "Repeat yourself one more time," Etzil said waiving to Tristan.


The older boy seemed confused by the question. He wondered if he did something wrong by speaking up but he listened to the Wheatkeeper and repeated his words. "Rodrick, youngest of Throm" the older boy said.


When the boy spoke aloud, Etzil held up his hand to his own throat. Casually massaging his neck, he listened once again very carefully before speaking the boy's name. He tried to get the sound as close to the older boy's voice as possible. That way when he spoke, to an untrained ear, he would sound almost like Tristan. "Rodrick..." he whispered. "Rodrick, youngest of Throm," He repeated the name several times intermixing it with mystical words of magic. While chanting, Etzil's voice got a softer quality to it. His words became airer almost heavenly. When he spoke the boy's name for the last time in his chant, he reached out and pressed his palm against the scarecrow's face.


In seconds there was a wail from the scarecrow but the scream was that of an actual child, not the moans of a doll. "Rodrick, Rodrick," Etzil said trying to calm the child down. "You must listen to me," he said trying to repeat. Etzil truned ot the two older boys behind him and gestured them to come forward. "I am here with your brother," Etzil tried to calm down the child who was still a scarecrow but was now thrashing around on the ground. "Rodrick, youngest of Throm..."

 

[Esme]

Seric and Tristan watched the strange man do what they amounted to magic. As his brother's cry ripped through Seric nearly jumped out of his own skin. God, his brother was... he sounded so in pain. A single glance over his shoulder and Tristan was already moving towards the mage. Following suit, he found himself crouched next to what remained of his brother.


"Rodrick, Rodrick hey, Pipsqueak, it's us. Tristan and Seric, we are right here, Rodrick, you're okay." Hopefully, in truth, he had no idea if he was or ever would be okay. Swallowing hard, he reached his hand out, placing it what he assumed was the arm of his brother.

 

[Miz]

The screams went silent as Seric spoke up to the former child. Reaching out and gripping his once brother, the young man's touch seemed to bestow some form of passivity on the creature. The sight was moving but the fact remained that the child was still cursed. His skin was still made of leather, his eyes buttons. No sense of closeness or name-calling would undo such a measure. Etzil was curious, he wondered if there were other relatives that could restore something to the now lost. Yet, he saw the situation at hand and realized that getting the mother involved would be far too much. The poor woman's heart.


However looking around the near-abandoned property, the two boys and the poor condition of the field, Etzil also concluded that he too lacked the option of a Father. For there was no paternal figure to greet him, no one rushing to Seric or Tristan's aid. It was a sad state of solutions. Patiently though he let the fondness between the brothers exist before attempting something anew.


Setting down his staff, he removed the sack tied around his torso. "This is no ill phenomenon. This is black magic, purposeful artes at that." Etzil said to the two boys. However by this time, others from the town had encroached on the private moment. "Does this village have any evils? Legends? Myths of time gone by?" he asked out loud.

 

[Miz]

_______________________________________

Scene 2 - The Meeting and the Quest

_______________________________________

​

There was only one evil that was known by the village and its people. Etzil discovered its myth when he roamed Byfox after trying to calm Roderick. Etzil had studied several of the child's bodies. Their ragged skins and hay-filled flesh reacted negatively to his touch. They moaned for hours, no matter what Etzil concocted to remedy their pain. It was a futile task to calm the scarecrows. The boy Roderick, even with his brothers there, returned to his screaming state as soon as Etzil left the scarecrow's side. Powerful magic. Powerful spells.


Over the course of several days, Etzil didn't hear the story in one simple version. Each person he discussed with who had seen the events unfold had a different detail, all of them equally claiming to be true between the town elder to the town fool. Though there was something consist. The curse began as soon as the village chopped down trees to build a house in the Great Western Forest. The action was done, not out of spite for the woods, but because of duties to the noble lord who hereditary claim rules over Byfox.


Soon after the cottage was built, a place for noble hunting and sport, the town elder began to have nightmares. She saw in her dreams a woman speak to her. Her body draped in a black gown. She spoke in a language she did not understand but the old woman knew, that these were warnings of what was disasters were to come.


Others suffered from similar frights, except they came in many forms. Some saw ghosts of their relatives. Others found themselves waking in other people's houses. Nevertheless it was the Children who began to act the strangest. They began to wander far into the farm fields in the night. Sleeping there, they would wake up to find themselves in the dirt far away from their homes and comfortable beds. The families tried to stop them, they locked their children in, or barricaded the doors. However some way, some how, the children always escaped.


Then they turned into scarecrows. Their bodies littered the fields. Their moans only substantiated by the light of the full moon.


Etzil heard each of these details, told again and again. He found out quickly though that he wasn't the only wizard to have passed through this lands. Another spell-mender by the name Aogeor arrived in the village several weeks ago when the plague was first brought to the land. He and the other men sought to head into the forest and burned down the cottage that was thought to be the cause. Good intentions surely, but that didn't remove the curse.


The men went further into the forest to find answers. This included men like Throm who left their children and wives behind. Its been many weeks since and no one has seen them or heard from them. Yet no one dares to step into the forest, fearing for their lives.


That was why Etzil called for a meeting. He wanted another group of people, volunteers who were willingly to go. The woods had to be explored for it seemed to be the only place that had any answers. Arranging the discussion to be in front of the shrine to the local goddess Aelia, he hoped for a crowd. When he got a mere handful in his audience, he was not surprised. Few wanted to risk their lives further.

 

[Esme]

"Seric, enough. You know as well as I do that father isn't coming back. Do you want to do the same?" Tristan spoke calmly. He was resolute in his stance and was right in his logic. Throm hadn't come back and it had been a mage that had led him, and the others, to what had had to have been their certain doom, and now another mage wanted volunteers. Seric, however, adamantly refused to believe it to be true, at least in part. He kept the idea in his head that they were fine, and perhaps just needed more help, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.


Despite his doubts, he felt he needed to try. Hell, even if they were all dead, he needed to do what he could to give Rodrick a fighting chance. Even if it was something simple like gathering supplies. But, a thought crept into his head, perhaps the reason wasn't as selfless as he wanted it to be. This was his chance, a small part of him said, to get away from spending the rest of his life in the fields, doomed to work under Tristan the eldest, until he married and then mostly likely further after that.


He could step away from the role of second born who would inherit nothing, and leave a very small memory in the minds of those who knew him personally. This was his chance to make himself a legend, Seric the ByFox savior, not son of Throm. Try as he might to push the thought out of his head, it lurked in the shadows of his minds, making him feel guilty for his decision.


All the same, Tristan's words fell on almost deaf ears. Seric was sure of what he needed to do, for Rodrick, he told himself and he was going to do it. And so, with rucksack over shoulder, he attended the second gathering at the middle of town. The assortment he joined ranged from three boys of his and Tristan' age, too old to be scarecrows and too young to be warriors for the first crew, Hobkins, a man too old and frail to have been taken on the last excursion,Eliza, a tomboy who was less interested in things becoming of a farm town maiden and more so of the items and knowledge and justice, as well as disapproving women folk, scared for their children both young and old who wanted answers.

 

[Miz]

Etzil didn't expect much from the village when he called another meeting. He knew that he was pushing his luck. Certainly, he was a stranger to these folk. The wizard was not surrounded by the peasants of Pryerhill. He was merely an outsider to these farmers, another magic user who was calling for volunteers when the last group did not return. While not necessarily educated, the farming-folk of Byfox were no fools. So removing his pipe from his mouth, the wizard had no qualms if he was left alone and unattended on this next quest. It wouldn't be his first.


However the small crowd that gathered by the shrine of Aelia was modest in size. Though clearly from examining its population, none of his audience appeared to be warriors of any kind. Most were older children, too old to become afflicted by the curse, and concerned women worried about their love-ones. Only a few in the gathering stood out and seemed to possess any skill at all. Etzil knew those select few should be the focus of his speech.


"I'd like to thank all of you for coming today," Etzil said as he slowly walked towards the crowd that surrounded him. He was given special permission to have this meeting by the village elder, who solemn face had not moved an inch since she arrived with the crowd. "However I fear that many will dismiss me after I have conveyed to you my intentions." Etzil placed his staff in the ground, so that it could stand upright by itself. "It is evident from all that has been told to me, that the solution we seek to cure Byfox is located within the Western Woods. A normal place at first," Etzil directed his gestures towards the West. "However as one steps further into the land, the more enchanted it becomes. I have many suspicions about what might have befallen this simple town. Yet as I have explored more and more, I have become greater in my confidence that this curse was deliberate. I seek to find out why, to do so, I will need accompaniment." Etzil took a pause from his speech. The very suggestion of gathering more men or women from the village made many in the crowd sneer at him. However the village elder did not turn away or depart from the meeting, her face only grew further in its solemnness.

 

[Esme]

"I will need accompaniment."


Seric's body bristled with a mixture of wariness and excitement at the magic man's words. This is what he had had an inkling was going to be said, and inside, his heart was trying to beat out of his chest in excitement. Terror, however, was what made that beat skip. Throm and the other's hadn't returned from their quest to burn down the hunting station and to find a cause, who was to say the same wouldn't happen here. Tristan, he admitted to none but himself, was smarter than he gave him credit for. But it was nonsense, he had come knowing he would do back flips if it meant fixing his little brother and quench his thirst for something bigger than all of this. Something that had started with the well.


Despite the looks that stirred and the soft whispers from the group of women closest to his mother that struck up, he raised his hand and as he had before, stepped forward. "For Byfox and Rodrick, I offer my aide to your company."


His words were drowned out at the end by the sound of horse-hooves that had grown in volume as they grew closer. Until, at the word of his aide, they were upon them, three horses each carrying what appeared to be a large man in battle gear, polished to a glowing white. The two on the sides carried flags that carried the crest of the King. The middle, and by far the one that had the largest air of superiority swung off his horse and strode forward, the few there stepped aside silently.

 

[Miz]

The crowd grew silent at the very mention of accompaniment. It was the usual response when a wizard asked for aid on a dangerous quest. Etzil understood, for he had grown up as a peasant child before being adopted by his Master. Going on dangerous quests, doing the impossible, were why wizards and heroes were respected. He, as a man donning the robes, should be invincible. Not needing aid or help on his quest from small peasants from a wayward village.


Still, there were a few who rose to his pleas. One was a young woman, that by her clothes alone Etzil knew she was not like the standard women in the village, another was an elderly man who seemed only a few years younger than the village elder, the rest were village boys who were not old enough to be with the first party but were too young to be turned to scarecrows.


Many of these volunteers were short-lived because just as several boys raised their hands, women from the village who wore shrouds or work aprons reached forward and pulled them down. Etzil could only assume they were only the boy's mothers, siblings or other relatives who knew of the risks the youths couldn't comprehend. Still even after this, there were a few who spoke up. Even with these volunteers, there were only three: a woman, an old man and a single young man who Etzil had met before. These were all he could assume would help him.


That was until the sound of cavalry arrived. Three horses, three men, two banners of the King. There was a knight in their presence, an armored man who stepped down from his steed and his saddle. The crowd forked like a dammed river. He was an imposing figure, tall and muscular, with a face showing the markings of war. His hair was a light brown and partially braided in an ornate fashion common in the Southern provinces. He held a sword at his side and a crossbow on his back. Even with his charm and his courteous manners as he made his way through his crowd, even his very smile was intimidating.


The bannermen on the horse started to speak, "Presenting..." the man shouted but was cut off by the knight's own gesture.


"No need, Lucian," the knight said in a bold voice as he approached Etzil. Sticking out his hand towards the wizard, he presented himself. "I am Sir Romus, Knight of his Majesty. I have heard rumors of a terrible curse afflicting this land and heard conversations of a meeting. You must be the Wizard?"


Etzil nodded and moved his hand towards the crowd. "Yes, sire, and these are my volunteers..."

 

[Esme]

Seric puffed up his chest as the mage motioned at them. He was never taught not to be prideful, but then, he never did have something to be proud of. And, standing with the other two, he thought he was the best suit from their group. And a Knight, well, he could learn from a knight.


The girl, on the other hand, merely set a hand to her hip. Eyeing the large man, she stared right up at him and boldly asked, "So, are you joining us or not?"

 

[Miz]

The entire crowd with all of its chatter silenced immediately when Eliza spoke up the knight. The audacity of her speaking in such a manner. She lacked any respect or revere for the man's character, his smile or his manners. Her question was a vital one, but it still ignored the ceremony of the occasion. A knight of the King's militia hadn't arrived in Byfox in years, any word even a speech from one is a sight to behold.


Some in the crowd whispered comments about her insolence, but all were put at ease when the knight started to bellow out laughter. "Well it seems like we have a capable group," he said approaching Eliza and Seric.


Etzil wasn't sure if the man was responding sarcastically or not. Yet it didn't seem to matter much as the knight made another gesture to the man named Lucian and the two banner-men nodded and rode their horses away. Either he didn't mind the insult or realized the desperation of the situation, regardless Etzil didn't seem to really care. He needed the knight's capabilities (whatever they were) to make this mission even survivable. "You are all certain of this?" he said turning to Eliza, the old man and Seric.

 

[Esme]

Still in a state of semi surprise, Seric just stayed staring at the girl and her boldness. Sure, she'd said some stupid things to the village Elder, but nothing that could put her, or the rest of them, in a state of disrespect with the King himself. And insulting one of his knights? That was next tier stupid. But either she didn't notice the stares or didn't care, because she grinned with pride that was unbecoming of a female.


"More than capable, and more than certain. If Death is waiting for us in those woods, I'll gladly drag him down with us."


His jaw dropped a little, before he shook his head and nodded. Setting his jaw and puffing his chest out a bit he grinned like the poor sap he was. Next to him, the old man simply nodded his head and rested his hands on his cane. He was decided, he would go whether they took him willingly or not. "Very certain," Seric said with the confidence of the incompetent.

 

[Miz]

The girl's comments and eagerness made Etzil break the solemn face he was trying to portray. He gave off a light chuckle but for many it might have gone unnoticed. Everyone's attention was on the volunteers who had selected this task. Each one agreeing that this was their decision to go with the group.


Etzil's own assumptions were being improved as the group members confirmed. He thought that their chances of survival were much greater with such a determined bunch. Perhaps the lost of the first party motivated them further, perhaps they had inside-themselves something only destiny knew about - regardless, Etzil nodded at each of his volunteers before turning to the knight. "I assume Sir Romus, you are also committed to along?" he said.


"Well I did ride all the way over here," Romus said with laugh. "And these people intrigue me. Beats waiting in the nearby barracks."


Etzil laughed with the man as well, trying to keep up the appearance of friendliness. They desperately needed Sir Romus's help if they were going to investigate the situation properly and survive. But the crowd that remain silent for some time began to move again. The village elder approached Etzil while ushering the volunteers forward.


Her face was wrinkled, her veil nearly covered her whole head. In her hands were trinkets it seemed. Behind her were two others, a man and a women, both as old as the elder. How many years they all possessed was unknown but they were years past even the huntsmen who was joining the ranks of volunteers. The two others held in their hands some vials with liquid in them and what looked like a map-case.


The village elder raised her voice for all to hear, but the words that escaped her were still quiet and required good hearing to pick up. "Bless all of you," she said. "Some which I have lived alongside, some which I have held in my arms and others who came to our aid," she said gesturing to the respective volunteers.


Yet the woman's face got more somber as she looked at Eliza and Seric. "However: Eliza, Seric, you must be careful. You are brave, courageous, I see that in your faces and your hearts. You are the pride of our village. But you have never left its protection. Consider this journey carefully, for once you go on it, you might not have the chance to come back to your homes," the elder paused to make sure her message was understood. "If you understand these risks and promise to make every effort to come back alive, hold my hand," she said placing out her hand, palm-open, to receive the two young adults.

 

[Esme]

Listening to the elder's words, Seric bit his tongue. He knew precisely what he was leaving behind and how much it was going to hurt, but he. He couldn't stay, not if he wanted to help Rodrick, not if he wanted to help himself. He wasn't sure how much weight he could give the promise, the woods were no place for children or men, but if it would appease her heart he would at least try. Setting his hand into the woman's he tried to reassure her in his confidence with a gentle squeeze. Turning to Eliza, he didn't know what was going on in her head but she had struck up a grin. Her hand went over his and her chuckle was all Seric heard for a moment. It was one of pure confidence.


"We'll come back breathing, don't you dare think otherwise."


Seric was a bit impressed. Sure, he knew she was hard headed and well enough on her own to not need to marry. But to not even hesitate? Looking to the wizard and the Knight he waited for their next move.

 

[Miz]

With the two young adults grabbing her hands, the elder nodded her head and gestured with her other hand for the two other village elders to approach her. Both of them wearing the plain shawls similar to the village elder's cloak. The man of the approaching two held in his hands a stave with two trinkets dangling from the staff's crook: one was a green disk and the other was a white bird. Both were symbols of the goddess Aelia. The other one, held in her hands a two jars for which she presented to the village elder.


Reaching out with her open hand for the jars, the elder grinned at Eliza comments and Seric's eagerness. "Because we believe you will come back," she said back to Eliza. "For you are the pride of our village, I grant you this blessing from Aelia." The elder took her free hand and dipped her fingers in the first jar that appeared to be some substance similar to wax or paste and then stuck her fingers in the second jar that appeared to be ashes. "For you will surely grow on this quest and face dangers perhaps unseen to most of us." She now placed her free hand on foreheads of both Eliza and then Seric leaving a mark. She gripped the two young volunteer's hands tightly before whisper words.


Etzil could only hear it briefly from where he was standing for the whole ceremony but he knew the woman was speaking magical words, a spell of protection and divination. However he couldn't hear all of the words and those that he did, he did not fully understand. However by the nature of the ceremony and the sacraments involved, Etzil was certain that it was a passed-down ritual in Byfox.


When the elder finished her words, she looked back up at the two young adults. For anyone witnessing the ritual take place, they would have noticed as the woman spoke the more the ashes on the two volunteer's faces began to fade. Releasing her grip on their hands, she smiled with tears in her eyes. "I have given you the only protection this village has left to give you," she said solemnly. "With those magic words, as long as you remember where you came from and wish to return, you will know how to come back to us. Whatever obstructs your path or makes you fear for your very life, you will know what direction to head in order to reach safety."

 

[Esme]

Seric nodded, setting his now free hand over his heart. In a pseudo bow, he locked eyes with her. Determination burned in his eyes, " I thank you humbly for what you have given us, and hope that despite what we will face, we will return, for Byfox and you, with an answer and a cure."


Eliza smiled softly, stepping towards the woman and giving her a soft small kiss on her forehead. Looking at her for a moment in silence, she also nodded before stepping back. Turning her gaze to the Wizard and Knight, her hand settled on her hip. "When do we leave?"