Fantasy Rifts [IC][Closed]

[Chaos Gallant]

“Mmph- uck!” Terrence grunted in pain as he felt the soldier’s spear dig into his right thigh. “Fine then, allow me to award your impatience!” He roared, kicking his free leg into the knight's gut in order to pull his ax free of the armor. He grabbed the soldier's spear in place and swung his ax towards the man.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

Vera grimaced as she narrowly deflected what could've been a grievous blow, parried lethality reverberating through her blade and sending a jolt up her arm. Fuckin' hells. Her sword grip tightened as she brought her weapon forward in a retaliatory thrust, simmering anger guiding her attempt to gut the knight as he near-did her.

 

[Breadman]

"Shut up." Fraskia responded to the ranting zealot, not tearing her eyes away from the other oponents she has to face. The rune knight swung again trying to take the injured one out permanently.

 

[Beann]

Aelestra punched.

Spoiler: jk

Aelestra watched without a hint of remorse as the soldier she had struck suffocated to death right at her feet. She hadn’t intended to deliver such an agonizing death but she also didn’t intend to fight in the first place. For a moment, she watched his face turn from a deep shade of red to purple, allowing a small window of opportunity for another soldier to strike at her. She grunted in pain as she felt a burning sensation against her arm, blood slowly trickling down from the open wound. Aelestra offered the soldier a brief look of annoyance, one that was conveyed with furrowed brows before she launched herself at him, intending to strike at his throat as she had done to his fallen comrade.

 

[joshuadim]

Battle of the Abandoned Church - Turn 5


​

---

ALLY ROLLS
Arnas - 1; Critical Failure! Counterattack Roll 1d4 = 4. Arnas takes 4 damage. Arnas HP = 12.
Ser Faralt - 8; 4 damage to Agathe. Agathe HP = 44.
Edoardo - 3; Miss.
Terrence - 10; Crit Roll 1d6 = 3. 7 damage (4+3) to Knight-Zealot #2. Knight-Zealot #2 is dead!
Vera - 10; Crit Roll 1d6 = 6. 10 damage (4+6) to Knight-Zealot #3. Knight-Zealot #3 is dead!
Fraskia - 6; 4 damage to Inquisition Soldier #5. Inquisition Soldier #5 HP = 7.
Aelestra - 8; 4 damage to Inquisition soldier #4. Inquisition Soldier #4 HP = 11.

ENEMY ROLLS
Agathe - 10; Crit Roll 1d6= 4. Arnas takes 8 damage. Arnas HP = 4. Counterattack Roll 1d5 = 5. Arnas deals 8 damage to Agathe. Agathe HP = 36.
Knight-Zealot #1 - 3; Misses Edoardo.
Soldier #2 - 5; Misses Fraskia.
Soldier #3 - 6; Edoardo takes 2 (4-2, Hardened Hide) damage. Edoardo HP = 20.
Soldier #4 - 5 (6-1, Monk Evasion); Misses Aelestra.
Soldier #5 - 10; Crit Roll 1d6 = 3. Fraskia takes 7 (4+3) damage. Fraskia HP = 15.
Soldier #6 - 3; Misses Terrence.​

---

By now, the flames had engulfed a number of buildings in the area in their embrace. Black columns choked the sky and made the air heavier for those fighting in front of the church, smothering everyone in shroud of darkness where the moon and stars above were no longer visible. A chaotic situation was made all the more chaotic as the environment itself became hostile for all parties involved, and also provided ample opportunity for the defenders. Terrence swung out with a vicious strike of his axe, intent of carving a path through the spear-bearer that had impaled him prior. This forced the man back from his original plan of following up with another strike, withdrawing from the immediate field; this in turn, made Terrence's axe flow around in the air until it lodged itself into the knight that he had been fighting all along. With a pitiful gurgle, the man coughed up blood as he weakly pulled up an arm towards his neck before collapsing.

Vera would also have the same luck as she utilized the opening she had received from blocking the previous strike meant to gut her. Finding a gap in between his plate armour, her steel sank as a stone would in a deep lake and effortlessly cut through his flesh until it had practically burst out from the other end. The man grabbed at the blade in a futile manner, but was kicked back by Vera and left to die as his wound was too grievous for even the greatest of healers to mend. He writhed on the floor for a moment before quickly coming to a still, drawing his last breath on this earth.

Fraskia would trade blows with the soldier she had struck at before, having dodged another strike from his compatriot by sidestepped it gracefully. Keeping with her momentum she barrelled forward and slashed horizontally at the man's midsection. Just underneath her strike was the man's own steel as he swung out with a yell, and the two impact one another almost simultaneously. Fraskia's blow would strike another large gash into her opponent, leaving him to stumble back; but she too also stumbled as he had broken two ribs after having bore the brunt of the impact that connected into her side.

Aelestra struck out at the man who had sworn to avenge his fallen comrade, who charged at her with reckless abandon with the intent of using his greater mass to overwhelm her. However, her nimble nature allowed her to use his movement against his as her arm snaked through his defences and made its way towards his face. With a fast strike, she punched and broke his nose and forced the man back with a cry as he clutched at his face. Blood poured out from his nostrils as the broken cartilage made a mess of what used to be a well-defined visage. Gritting his teeth, he managed to shoot a glare out towards the monk and growled at her with rage.

Agathe and Arnas wrestled with their blades locked, though it was obvious that the latter was on worse footing and strength; the young mercenary was rapidly losing his ability to fight properly as he knees buckled from the immense pressure of being pushed down upon. It was weakness that, like a shark in bloodied waters, Agathe took advantage of as she twirled their blades about and disarmed Arnas with an audible clang. His blade fell to the steps nearby, much to his surprise, and was then met with a slash to his belly that would have split him open were it not for the leather jerkin he wore under his own armor. Still, her blade cut deeply into him as he coughed up more blood. An instinctual flash of fear coursed through his body as he wondered whether or not this was his end.

His breathing slowed, and his eyes narrowed to fight through the pain. His body wanted to buckle down onto his hands and knees, curl up into a ball on the ground and lie in a pool of his own blood. But something else took root in his mind's eye as he felt the vibrations in the air; steel sang, embers crackled, and he could hear the heaving breathing of his vicious would-be killer above him. He also saw, in that moment, her movement left something to be desired. Through her boundless arrogance, having already believed she had won this bout against her prey, he saw an opening. He might not have had his sword at the moment, but he did have his dagger still. Carried through the reflexes of his muscles, his body committed to the action without him even commanding it to and was met with a howl of pain.

His dagger had cut into her face, carving a deep gash from her cheek all the way to her forehead - only narrowly missing her eye - and forcing her to clutch at what she had prized once before. Now, it had been defiled with the strike of an arrogant, dying boy. She had no time to commit to her vengeance as Ser Faralt and Edoardo both rushed to Arnas' aid, seeking to deliver unto her more blows that she rightfully deserved. Edoardo missed, as in her now heightened state she scrambled out of the way with a low dash while desperately trying to stem the bleeding that now flooded her face. Her right eye was effectively blinded because of it now, and this blind spot left her open to Ser Faralt strike from behind as he carved a gash into her back. Still she remained standing, but now she had lost the confidence and composure that she previously wore as a mask only to be replaced with that of a vicious wild animal.

"MY FACE!!! You... you little fuck!" Agathe spat out, her uncovered eye staring out to the bleeding young man with hate that could drown the world.

But before more could be done, the fires that raged finally broke up the battle as the two sides retreated to their respective areas once more. The zealots had lost three good men, but the group they faced was not faring much better. Wounds were piling up, and worse still the air grew more and more difficult to breathe. Agathe had to be restrained by two of her men as she tried desperately to lash out, not realizing she herself was being saved by her compatriots in that moment. Arnas in the meantime struggled to stay conscious as he coughed up more blood, his teeth now stained by them, as he gripped at his belly in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

Aksh vo'sovoth tijn.

What? Arnas was confused. A voice pierced into his mind unlike any he had heard before. He wondered if blood loss had made him go mad as he felt a hand press on his his shoulder and another on his wound. Ser Faralt was trying to stem the bleeding as the fires grew heavier and more intense around them. By now the Zealots had retreated fully and were practically dragging Agathe away kicking and screaming. "I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH IF I MUST! DO YOU HEAR ME BOY!?" the Inquisitor's howls marked a vengeful promise that she fully intended to keep. But on this day she would be denied her bounty as a building collapsing between her and the group that had harried her from her quarry, and in turn she and her fellows disappeared from sight at last. Ser Broz had by now left the confines of the church as the temporary sanctuary for the baron and his daughter were no longer safe.

"We must find a way out!" the Justicar shouted, looking around was grave worry upon his face. The flames grew ever closer upon them, threatening to swallow them in an urban furnace that would surely boil them alive. But if there had been a path before, it seemed as though it was denied to them now given how long the fighting had taken. But then, to everyone's vision, the space around them began to vibrate - and then distort - as though it were glass in a singing house. Their surroundings began to distort as though they were in a lens, shaped by its intensity and curvature like on a telescope, as an imperceptible sphere took root around them. The chaotic sounds of the city burning down as it had before grew more warped until, at last, it became nothing.

So too had their surroundings changed to a grassy field outside the city itself, the fires illuminating the sky in the distance as testament to the consuming monster that raged within its walls. They were just outside where the court scholars were camped, and were looking on in awe at the awesome display of power that had just been committed. The Guardian loomed near the group with extended palms, relaxing as his work winded down at last. He quickly saw Arnas' condition and summoned a stream of energy to his hands that he then - after striding over to the young man - placed over his belly.

"What happened in there?" the sorcerer asked bluntly, his focus mostly upon healing the one he had charged to carry his token.

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Breadman]

"We met with the inquisition." Fraskia gave a curt answer to the guardian. She didn't like being teleported without warning, but given how they were ready to burn alive just moments before, she wouldn't complain. "An Agathe, Dumont. Very talkative and" She looked at the wound Arnas had sustained "...vicious."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Edoardo's wicked teeth bit only the Leskau's flame-torn air, its sky haunted by the energies of the Rift and the black smoke palls scraping up to the sky like svelte fingers knifing at the sky's edge. Her reflexes were as heightened as her zealotry, throwing herself low to avoid his snatching jaw. However, their efforts had not gone unrewarded. Arnas' dagger had sheared through her cheek, splitting a deep line up Agathe's features, drawing blood in a thick rivulet down her haughty mien. Ser Faralt rushed, sword swinging high to low. The blade barely paused as it bit, then sliced down Agathe's back, describing an arc of blood that stained the scorched grass.

Edoardo spun in time to see the zealot, her blonde hair wild and her apparel tattered, dragged off by her followers. Blood-stained, front and back. Her howls overpowered the flames' roar, the air alive with the screeching throat of a madwoman. Edoardo stopped, forcing himself to remain by his allies side as the sea of flames encroached around them, cutting them off from salvation. His breathing quickened, pulse raced, mind trembling. He knew that he was one focused thought away from panic, not daring to pause and consider options.

Then reality began to bend, his vision warped as the surroundings stretched and twisted around him, he experienced a gut-wrenching sense of dislocation. He shut his eyes, bracing for an impact to lift him from his feet. He felt buildings come crashing apart, wood splintering, breaking, buckling under their own weight. A force pulled on him. Then in the darkness, his hands clenched, and suddenly, he tasted the pleasant aroma of grass, a smooth breeze replacing the infernal heat that surrounded them.

His eyes started open, though he could not believe what was before him. Limbs loosened, feeling the ache of exertion spread through out his body, and the pain of fresh wounds settle on his mind.

Amber eyes fixed on the Guardian. Edoardo nodded once. "Aye, tis what Fraskia said. An Agathe Dumont from the Inquisition had been tracking undead activity and had discerned Faralt's existence through hearsay of a defeated foe of ours." Edoardo paused, marshaling strength to breathe, loathing the heat as all his kind did. "I reckon we had not seen the last of her or her ilk, especially after what we had just done in her eyes."

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Terrence’s heavy breathing slowed when he noticed the knight's body grow limp from his blow. He'd just turned to face his next foe, the sounds of battle and chaos all around, when he'd felt the distortion. Before he realized it, they were back outside the accursed town, inside the scholars’ camp.

Then the real pain his adrenaline had been hiding hit him. The orc sat down on the ground, wincing with every little move. He figured the rest of the party would more than ept enough to tell the guardian about the newly developed situation, deciding instead to start tending to his wounds.

 

[joshuadim]

When Fraskia and Edoardo both gave their recounts of what had occurred, the Guardian remained silent and he continued tending to Arnas to stem the bleeding. The news of the Cleansing Flame zealots being here made him frown. He then turned his gaze over to where Ser Broz stood alongside the Count being held by his daughter, which was noticed by Arnas as he managed to speak up finally: "...Ser Faralt found them... with Fraskia and Vera." he spoke in between pained breaths, "They were being hunted like us." Arnas then winced as he felt the air leave his body from a sudden jolt of pain, to which the burnt knight quickly helped steady his posture.

"Indeed. They are innocents in all this." Faralt spoke plainly, most of his attention on Arnas. "He stood up for them bravely."

"But foolishly." the Guardian snapped back with annoyance, "I can't have you *perish* for this task." The sorcerer then stood up, having managed to put an end to the young man's blood loss. Instead he focused on the collected and pointed a finger up in the sky. Drawing several circles, the clouds above seemed to move closer until a patch was just above them; this was followed by a quick snap of his fingers as pink droplets began to fall. And where they fell, it did not become wet but rather it began to heal. Cuts and scrapes closed, bruises faded, and flesh mended in its entirety as though nothing had happened. The effect was potent enough to also bring life back to the soils beneath them as plants began to grow at a rapid pace. "It seems proximity to a Rift allows me to utilize more of my abilities while the ley lines are in flux." the sorcerer commented.

He then turned his gaze back to Arnas, who was still sitting next to Faralt and observed how his wounds closed in front of his very eyes. But Faralt did not share the same fortune, as his body remained the same as it had before. The burnt knight grumbled disappointment, but remained silent otherwise as the Guardian continued. "So? Did you find anything there?"

"If you mean by our intuitions, then no we didn't." Arnas commented. pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm pretty sure everything we saw came as a result of before. Nothing was new."

The Guardian looked visibly disappointed as he scratched his chin: "Then this isn't over yet." he spoke, motioning his head to where the dormant Rift was. "I could not find anything wrong with this tear, nothing like in that village or the others I had closed recently."

"So... what now?" Arnas asked.

The sorcerer did not immediately respond as he kept a hand to his chin and paced around nearby, lost in thought. The sorcerer was deep in thought as he tried to figure these things out. He then let out a sigh: "Now, we have to take a course that I rather we didn't. But it seems that we don't have much of a choice to begin with. We'll have to go to the source, the first Rift." He stopped and turned to the group with his hands behind his back, as if expecting a confusion to arise from this.

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Beann]

Aelestra stumbled slightly at the warped surroundings and before she could react properly, the group was faced with the Guardian once more. She looked around for a moment, noticing that they were no longer in the fiery chaos of the battlefield but instead in a more serene environment. Her eyes followed the Guardian as he tended to Arnas’ wounds, he had taken the brunt of the Inquisition’s force. Without a thought, she walked over to the two of them, standing a few feet behind the young mercenary as she watched the magic weave into his severe wound.

Her own wounds were tended to along with the rest of the party after that, the droplets of magical rain easing the pain of the cut she had received on her arm. The Guardian’s reappearance was well-timed but that didn’t mean the party was guaranteed their rest. Aelestra’s head tilted slightly to the left at the mention of the first rift. ‘Where would that be?’

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Listening to the conversation between the Guardian and Arnas made Terrence start to question whether the original payment set forth by the magician would actually be worth the amount of grief their adventure had brought them so far. The stones certainly fetched a pretty penny in Dandolian markets, and no doubt the rest of Ergos would be the same, but the coin wouldn’t be worth much if they never made it to those markets in the first place, and with the way things had played out so far, it seemed far to fair an assumption. Perhaps an increase in pay was in order…

The thought left Terrence though, and he eventually stood up, his wounds sealed and his body feeling rejuvenated from the Guardian’s spell. However, his clothes did not seem to get the same benefit as he did from the rain, a few rips and tears standing out obviously on his pants. He sighed walking to his cart, rummaging around through his bag until he procured a needle and thread, going to work on patching up his attire to the best of his ability while the group continued to discuss their next course of action.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

The vertigo from the unexpected teleportation caused Vera to stumble lightly as her boots transitioning from cindered ground to lush grass. Now free from immediate peril, the knightess allowed her adrenaline-addled mind to subside to a cautious calm, further spurred on by the Guardian's healing downpour.

"Seems to me like the goalposts keeps movin'." Vera remarked, staining the green grass red as she cleaned her sword on it. Once sheathed, she turned to eye the Guardian critically. "This first Rift notion of yours sounds mighty dangerous. I'm not one to cower from danger, but the deal's sourin' if the stakes are risin' without a bump in pay, aye?"

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Arms crossed against his chest, hiding the tatters of his devotional robes, Edoardo waited. The investigation had been in vain. He felt a trickle of disappointment as his eyes close, hiding in the darkness. The priest stewed in that stream. Wishing that this inquest provided providence to the dreaded question of the Rifts. If the calamity and malformations were any indication the world will be set upon by things that prowl and hunt in places far deeper, darker than this world could fathom.

It rained. Edoardo's eyes started, wheeling themselves up to the gathered clouds, coalesced from the sorcerer's mystical magecraft. Lifting his hand, clawed fingers splayed to the side, he caught the pink raindrops in the palm, seeing them roll and slither in the space between his rigid, hard scales. Being subjected to this dry, rejuvenating sensation had created a curiously enlightened, dissociative feeling. The wounds across his body that drew blood, now no longer — he could feel his wounds clotting, the sting driven away by the soothing rain. He clenched his hand. Despite their failure, they had done good; the extrication of the Warden's shattered soul, the rescue of the Count and his daughter.

The knowledge brought an ebb, a softness, to his thoughts. His jaws widened slightly, amber eyes gleaming, reflecting the sunlight. A Sobekoni smile.

He supplied himself with a worn rag, torn free from the shredded cloth of his vestments. He traced the curved edge of the khopesh. Hearing Vera's concerns, Edoardo tilted his head in curiosity, eyes narrowing. He stepped up beside her, spotting Ser Terrence's unspoken support behind her.

"I will continue as promised. However Ser Guardian, Vera and, I suspect Terrence, have a right to their concerns." Edoardo began, bright eyes holding his gaze. "For matters such as these, I wouldn't have condoned the bartering, but a pact must be honoured." Sheathing his khopesh at his hip.

 

[joshuadim]

‘Where would that be?’

"Across the sea, within the continent of Argos." the Guardian stated a matter of factly, though the news made Arnas audibly scoff as he shifted where he sat. By now his wounds had healed enough to where he could move around more, though he felt uneven in his balance and thus remained planted below for his own sake. "I don't know if you know, but passage hasn't been exactly easy for anyone." he commented, "The elves have cut themselves off from the rest of the world, and refuse to allow ships in their waters. And that's not to mention the actual travel across the sea itself."

"Believe me, I would rather we didn't have to deal with the Tirai Empire. Which is why you won't be. Rather, you'll be going through an unofficial channel." the Guardian then stated, "In the port city of Gwell, there's a smuggler by the name of Gerwin who knows his way across. He will get you to Argos to the elvish town of Eslari, on the frontiers of the Tirai Empire and far from prying eyes."

Arnas narrowed his eyes as he noted the Guardian's overt caution from alerting the elves to their presence. "...is there a reason we're playing it so safe then?"

"Let's just say the last time I was there I left on bad terms and leave it at that." the Guardian replied flatly, leaving no room for prying into the matter.

"Seems to me like the goalposts keeps movin'. This first Rift notion of yours sounds mighty dangerous. I'm not one to cower from danger, but the deal's sourin' if the stakes are risin' without a bump in pay, aye?"

"I will continue as promised. However Ser Guardian, Vera and, I suspect Terrence, have a right to their concerns. For matters such as these, I wouldn't have condoned the bartering, but a pact must be honoured."

If the Guardian was annoyed by the request, then he kept it very well hidden as his face betrayed no emotion. Rather, he quickly accommodated the desire for additional pay on the job with a quick thinking: "In Eslari, there's a merchant that owes me a favor still. A jeweler by the name of Kortaar. Invoke my name and he'll understand. You can extract some valuable stones from him then."

With that matter settled, Arnas then cleared his throat: "So, we get to Gwell. We find this Gerwin, and he takes us across the sea to Islari. What then?"

"Then you will need to head for the Grystalian Desert, and then use my talisman I've given to you so I can hone in on your position as you did here."

"From Islari to there... it's dangerous, I assume?"

"Very. Which is why you will need some more help. I'll have ravens dispatched for my other acquaintances to meet with you in Gwell." the Guardian then said, before turning his attention nearby and outstretching an arm. With a grasping motion, he summoned forth energies from the nearby Rift to his command in order to stabilize his connection to the ley lines. Streams danced around his arm as he furrowed his brow, before clutching his hand into a fist with a sharp motion. A small milky-blue pearl coalesced in the air, before growing further rapidly until it had become the size of an ornate window one would see in a palace. Large enough for any man, or beast, to step through, as it shimmered with intensity.

"This will cut your journey to Gwell much shorter. I must return to the Tower and continue investigating on these matters." the Guardian then spoke with a slight urgency to his tone. "Every moment that passes is another moment lost to whatever is the cause of all this."

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Breadman]

The others brought up the issue of pay before Fraskia could which satisfied the rune knight. If mages needed help, they had best be prepared to pay and the Guardian was going to be no exception. Luckily he was prepared to pay them their dues and the benefit of producing quick transportation for them.

"How will we know who your associates are?" She looked to the guardian "Will they have a salute or a phrase?"

 

[joshuadim]

The others brought up the issue of pay before Fraskia could which satisfied the rune knight. If mages needed help, they had best be prepared to pay and the Guardian was going to be no exception. Luckily he was prepared to pay them their dues and the benefit of producing quick transportation for them.

"How will we know who your associates are?" She looked to the guardian "Will they have a salute or a phrase?"

"Thanks for bringing that up." Arnas commented, nodding to Fraskia for her inquiry. "We can't just walk in blind and not know who to look for."

"A fair point." the Guardian commented, realizing the slight oversight he had made through all this. "You will meet them at the Golden Talon Tavern. That's also where you'll likely find Gerwin, all things considered."

 

[Breadman]

"Its always a tavern isn't it?" Fraskia spoke as she remembered how this started with all of them meeting in a tavern in some small village. "Very well, we'll be on the lookout for them." She turned her attention to Arnas "If your wounds are healed and are feeling good enough, I think we can proceed."

 

[joshuadim]

"Yeah... I'm good." Arnas said, as he shifted to his feet. It was a strange feeling, to have been grievously hurt in one moment to returning to peak health in the next. Magic was too disorienting for the likes of him as he patted his body, making sure that everything was in place where it needed to be. He then turned to where Faralt was, though was stopped before he could ask the question; the burnt knight shook his head as he turned to the Count and his daughter. "Nay, I cannot join you on your quest." he remarked, "Not when I can see them to safety, as is my duty as a knight."

"Where will you go?" Arnas asked.

"To the only place that can be safe for the likes of us now." Ser Faralt stated, "Quoidge, the Dead City... I've heard of it before."

"A superstition!" the Count then remarked from behind, though stayed silent otherwise. He didn't really have much of a choice in the matter after all, being carried in his daughter's arms.

"Still, anywhere is better than here. Get as far away as you can from where the Inquisitors ride." Arnas said with a nod.

"Indeed. May we meet again, young man." Ser Faralt then said, offering a gauntleted hand for a shake. He then turned to the others and also offered farewells: "Safe journeys to all of you... I wish you the best of fortunes."

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Beann]

The Tirai Empire was something she had read about in a few books during her time at the monastery. Aelestra was no historian but she knew enough to realize the Guardian was asking for a lot sending them in elven territory. At the very least, it would seem they would be receiving more compensation for their new task — not that monetary objects mattered to her. She turned to look at Ser Faralt and the other two that would be escorted with him. Aelestra wasn’t sure how the trio would fare traveling by themselves when each of them had quite the target on their backs. Nevertheless, she made no effort to offer her input, merely nodding towards them in farewell. With Arnas in better condition, there was nothing left for the group to mill about so the monk was the first to step through the portal provided by the Guardian.

 

[Breadman]

"Good luck, ser Faralt." Fraskia gave a nod to the burned knight "Should your journey take you close to castle Vrana, tell them my name. Mentor Duncan would offer you shelter and maybe some of the scriers there would know more about the conditions the plague you." The rune knight patted Arnas on the shoulder "If you're feeling well, then there's no time to waste." She followed Aelestra through the portal with a hint of hesitation. She really started to hate the feeling of going through them.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Edoardo inclined his head slightly. He'd been intently listening to the Guardian's explanation, detailing their journey and contacts while avoiding the Tirai empire's vigilant ire. The priest allowed that when his scholarly work began, it was not fathomed that the Elven domain would ever be within his reach. Not only because of a matter of distance, but he knew well the obstinate, reclusive nature of the long-eared inhabitants. His hand drops to the khopesh's hilt, letting the calm wind yawn over him, swishing the grass blades around his feet. The air then hummed with arcane energy, vitalised by the potency alone. Edoardo stepped away further from the Guardian as the man began to coalesce something from the aether of unreality, lifting his other hand to shield his eyes from the light.

An orb manifested. It was smaller than Edoardo's palm, milky, smooth like a marvel of marble, the day's light glittered around its pristine surface. Then it grew in size and width, flattening out until it resembled a window belonging to an ancient, abandoned palace amidst the waves of golden sand. A window not simply in design, but function as well, bridging two vast distances within a single point. A portent to their futures. The priest was undeniably impressed by the mystic mastery at work before him. Elegant, impossibility, and magnificence — the display certainly reminded them all of the Guardian's august role.

However, the entrancement would soon fade. Replaced by the irritating realisation that their destination beyond Gwell and Islari would be the Grystalian Desert. He takes one slow, sharp breath, rasping in the groaning wind. The scorching glare of the sun had been anathema to his kind, Edoardo was no exception, he sheltered a hope that their path would be beside a stream.

He turned, amber, hard gaze on Ser Faralt. The rows of wicked teeth gleaming in the sunlight, his form silhouetted by the illumination from the window’s glow. He slammed a clench fist to his chest. “May the Gods watch o’er your fate, Ser Faralt. And may they grant you the strength for all your trials.” Edoardo spoke, broad voice imparting his blessing to the undead man’s plight and duty.

He stepped through the portal after Aelestra and Fraskia.

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Terrence had always been curious about the western continent, although the few interactions he'd heard from traders in Dandolio with the elves did seem to leave much to be desired. Still, it was an exciting prospect, his merchant mind taking the reins to his thoughts for a moment, a concern quickly popping into his head as he watched the rest of the party start to walk through the portal. “What of Abdula, Chowder, and the carriage? Will we be taking them with us as well? If not, I'd like to request they be sent to the Halforth Estate after I retrieve my things. Unless that is you'll be watching over them?” The orc waited for reassurance from the Guardian, already grabbing a few of his smaller belongings to stuff into the satchel he kept under the driver's seat of the wagon.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

Vera huffed sharply, her exhale born from a blend of ingrained skepticism and reluctant acceptance. The Guardian's convoluted method of compensation left her feeling ambivalent. She half expected the sorcerer to conjure their recompense himself, right then and there. Her harboring feelings were shrugged aside for the time being, and she turned to Ser Feralt, offering the undead knight a brisk nod of respect. "Aye. Stay sharp, knight."

She cast one last assessing glance to the Guardian, before steeling herself and stepping through the portal after the others.

 

[joshuadim]

“What of Abdula, Chowder, and the carriage? Will we be taking them with us as well? If not, I'd like to request they be sent to the Halforth Estate after I retrieve my things. Unless that is you'll be watching over them?”

The Guardian looked over towards Terrence's point of concern, as the horses grazed on the grass without a care in the world to their surroundings. Though Chowder lifted his head up and snorted towards the sorcerer as it noticed the attention he was being given. It was almost as though he was expecting some carrots in that moment, though when he realized such a treat was not coming he returned to the grass below and continued to chew. The sorcerer looked back to Terrence and let out a sigh: "I suppose... I could look after them for the time being. There's plenty of grazing areas outside the Tower. You needn't worry." he then conceded. "I will look after your wagon as well. Doubtful that any of my avian neighbors would take interest. If you need anything from it, I suggest you take from it now."

And Terrence did, rummaging through the contents of his travel vehicle before setting off towards the portal. He passed through with ease, like the others, and joined them on the other side. Arnas gave a final nod to Ser Faralt before turning towards the portal, but was stopped for a moment by the Guardian. "Take great care once you get to Argos. There are things far older and far more dangerous than the elves that reside there." the sorcerer whispered to Arnas, "Trust your instincts. If there is something there you feel as though you can't fight, don't."

Arnas gave the Guardian a glance of concern before slowly nodding: "I suppose you expect us to run into trouble there regardless?"

"It wasn't just the elves I angered. There are beings there that also hold grudges... grudges that last far beyond mortal lifespans." the Guardian said, shaking his head.

"And what are we supposed to do about it?" Arnas then asked, now annoyed that he alone was being given this knowledge.

"I wouldn't ask you to put yourselves in such danger if this weren't of grave importance. Some of the others aren't motivated by bounties, which is fine. But I do need all available hands I can get for this. So keep this to yourself, at least for now. Otherwise, what happened that night I found you lot will likely happen again, and continue to happen because I would not be able to find a solution." the sorcerer spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose in visible frustration. "All that I ask is for your trust, and to do the right thing."

Arnas looked towards the portal, then shifted his gaze back to the Guardian. A part of him hated the idea of keeping secrets, but on the other... perhaps a white lie was necessary to keep everyone on board. Otherwise, the danger would likely scare off those more monetarily inclined. Arnas let out an exasperated sigh: "Alright... fine." the young man spoke as he took steps towards the portal, but before breaching he took one last look at the Guardian with a furrowed brow. "But don't ask me to do something like this again." he then made as a demand before stepping through.

---

Unlike the previous times Arnas and the rest of the group had been warped across space, this doorway that they had travelled through was far more pleasant of an experience to move through. It was a seamless transition from being near Leskau to a far more peaceful setting of a lonely crossroads under a cloudless night. The gentle moonlight blanketed the grasses and trees like a silver blanket, providing a new sense of calm for the group as they adjusted to their new surroundings. Arnas savored the crisp air and breathed in deeply, before looking towards the only noticeable landmark in their vicinity.

A lone wooden signpost, indicating directions, and as Arnas looked them over he could see where exactly they were. Various other posts indicated the other realms of Northern Argos, but what stood out to him was Gwell, their destination, which pointed westward. The lonesome road there beckoned, which left Arnas to pace himself a few steps before the group before turning to them with a faint smile.

"Wouldn't want to keep a sorcerer waiting, would we?"

---

= Chapter 1 End =
​

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[joshuadim]

Chapter 2 - Faces and Fees

The port city of Gwell beckoned the group as they approached beyond its walls, the cries of seagulls heralding their arrival amongst its cobbled streets, as Arnas took a moment to survey the city. The streets bustled with life, a contrast to the desolation of Leskau, as the port invited all walks of life from across the continent to its embrace. For Terrence, the crowds of merchants were a familiar sight as they traveled with their wares from various realms and cultures - a few were even from Dandolio, given their attire and accents, as they bartered with a few others over a shipment of spices.

The streets themselves held no order, and instead winded and curved to create a network of paths that brought a semblance of structure to an ever growing city. Artisans worked tirelessly at their craft - tailors at their looms, smiths at their forges, and so on - while the citizenry and commoners went about their daily lives. There were also all matter of folk who stood out on account of their armor and weapons, signaling their positions as mercenaries, adventurers, or anything in between. In this instance, Arnas and the others stood in the crowd not as strangers but as welcome additions to a ever growing pool of faces.

The young mercenary took a look around as they walked, observing the daily life of a bustling and prosperous realm, and couldn't help but let out a smile. "It's nice to be back to some sense of normalcy." Arnas commented as he watched a dwarven smith haggle his prices to a customer, a knight, for swords. The quality of his craft was undeniable, but the expenses caused some noticeable grief as the two were arguing while the group passed by. "...felt like ever since Ember, normal hasn't sought us out."

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian