Fantasy Saga von Gaia: Dungeon Quest

[kitsunemage]

Cresselia stuffed down a weary sigh. What was it with humans- even half ones- who blindly rushed forwards without any intention of slowing down? She had passed that age over a hundred years ago. Now, standing next to her exuberant companions she felt positively old.


All she could hope for was a quick conclusion to their various quests, before she truly lost her sanity. Or passed out mid step. Whichever happened first.


Ever since they had stepped out of the relative shade of the tavern and back into the stifling heat of the desert sun, Cresselia had felt like she was just about ready to collapse. Her eyes stayed trailed on the eddies of dust kicked up by her companions feet as she lagged behind, dust coating her dry mouth once again. She longed for the shade of the numerous buildings they passed, longed for another drink of sweet berry wine- like they had made back in her home town. Heavens, she longed for a bath, to just be able to feel her skin without it's coating of dust and the tingles from her lingering healing.


She stumbled on the road, her head giving one ungodly throb in response to her clumsiness, and her features stretched into an expression of irritation. Get a hold of yourself, Cece. You've used more Magi then this before. While true, she'd never used so much magi with her stores still recovering from near exhaustion. She was pushing herself too hard, as always, and the first twinges of that time old ache in her muscles wasn't about to let her forget it.


She nearly ran into- what was his name again? Sol?- as absorbed as she was in her thoughts, with their arrival at the caravan. A caravan, she'd travelled with one briefly, before she'd encountered Roland and the rest of their impromptu group, but never one on quite this scale. The sheer number of people made her think of the migratory horse Aemal tribes of the flatlands. And the noise- she couldn't concentrate on anything. It all felt like one solid buzzing in the back of her mind, it was even difficult to pick out the worried faces around her. Had something happened?


A low whistle drew her eye to a familiar- if changed- face.


"Well I'll be. If it isn't little Cece!" A customary smile spread over the elf's lips, blue eyes shining with genuine happiness- until he caught sight of her rather haggard appearance. Concern replaced it, and one eyebrow lifted in a strangely tanned face. "Well, don't you just look horrendous. Wake up with another bear?"


"Nendaelin!" Cece felt a flush flash to her cheeks, lighting them on fire. That had been one time. ONE time! and he had never let her live it down. It wasn't her fault that her cousins idea of a good prank had been to smear honey all along the inside of one of her pillows, resulting in one severely unwanted bed-guest. Her happy greeting died on her tongue, and her brows lowered into a scowl. His laugh derailed her thoughts, as genuine as it was.


"You look ill suited to the desert. Never thought I'd see you leave that little hut of yours." He approached with wide arms, throwing a hug around her small form. A hug she reluctantly returned, not having forgiven him for the bear comment quite yet.


"Well, I'd still be there if I had any say." It no longer stands. Grief gave another violent jab at her heart. "I never thought I'd see you of all elves in the desert. Look at you! You've...changed." An understatement, if there had ever been one. He was no longer the young elf she remembered. He'd leaned, grown taller then her-much to her dismay- and his eyes had regained that happy gleam she thought she'd never see again when the river dried up. He wore new clothes- loose and well suited to the desert heat, a turban wrapped around his blonde locks almost concealing them from view- he'd cut his once long hair, and Cresselia really could not believe her eyes.


"I would say you have too, but really you look exactly the same as when I.. left." Words left unsaid hung between them, creating the awkward silence that broke their reunion of sorts. It was the same every time she encountered another elf from the abandoned Pandemonium. Not many elves were happy about the reminder of the home they lost. Especially when they learned of her quest. Hastily Nendaelin handed a stoppered water skin to Cresselia, offering her a drink.


"Here, this should perk you up a bit."


Too late the words registered in her mind, just as the taste hit her tongue- she nearly spit the liquid back in his face. She forced herself to swallow the burning liquid instead.


"What in the name of the creators is this- this ungodly brew!" Cresselia gasped out, thrusting the re-stoppered skin back in Nendaelins direction. Her mouth tingled, and she could feel the heat of whatever it was swirling in her too full stomach. One plate was far too much for her too long empty stomach to handle graciously.


All Nendaelin did was laugh off her question, turning instead to take in the small group she had arrived with. All obviously strangers in his eyes.


"So what's with the circus? What brings you here?" What happened to our home...?





"...It's a very long story."

 

[ZaiKai]

Leon follows them to the caravan. The man was probably another higher-up in the caravan, like Gordon. At first, he suspected the Sol person of being a bandit, but he dismissed the thought. Any bandit would travel in a group, and wouldn't let themselves get caught. Not any good bandit, anyway, which he expects is the case with the desert bandits. Of course, that wouldn't stop the four of them from stopping the bandits, as was bound to happen. Four people trying to unlock the dungeons' secrets are supposed to let nothing stop them, which Leon feels is something they should live by on their adventure. They also have to stick together, because apart they are weak.


Not that he thinks any one of them is weak. Far from it, in fact. He's seen enough of them to know that, and that questioning their strength was a silly waste of breath. However, their teamwork is the glue that holds them steady. Otherwise he expects they would all be dead by now. Leon sighs to himself. He always loses his train of thought. No matter what.


As they approach the caravan, Leon takes to counting the animals to get himself to focus. He gives up after about thirty. He looks around, then up at the sun, then down at the sand, then back up at the sun, then at his sunburned arms. He is starting to sweat again, as he had expected. He frowns at the ground. He hadn't brought anything to cover up his arms. He'll have to think to get something next time they went to a town. Especially before they inevitably went up near Umirea to Hollow Point. Oh, how he loathes the thought of going back up there.


He frowns again as Gordon is led away by the man, followed by the group of others. "They have an unsettling sense of urgency..." he mutters to himself. He hates it when men rush off urgently on horses. It means they're running either to or from trouble. Trouble isn't good. Trouble means a detour, and a detour means a delay, and a delay means they are pushed further from their goal. He hears talk among the crowds, but he can't pick up what they're saying. His hearing was never that good.


He turns to Roland. "What do you think is going on?"

 

[catplan3t]

Nerais hummed to himself, perching atop a stack of crates and sharpening a knife. He wore a light tan cloak to shade his sensitive skin from the desert sun. It was almost ridiculously out of place, a merfolk like him in a place like this. To see a merfolk at all was fairly rare, much less in the desert, and he had already grown tired of people staring at his pale blue skin with tints of lavender. It also shielded him from the cold desert nights, which were equally as harmful as the harsh days. Therefore, the cloak served three purposes. How efficient of him. He watched the people who travelled with the caravan, always seeming to be busy doing something. A sly grin crossed his face as he realized if he wasn't so good at avoiding having to do things, he'd be just like them, and then he'd have no time to sharpen his knives and engage himself in silly thought, and what's the fun in that?


He was shaken out of his thoughts by a rather interesting conversation somewhere below him. Some elf lady with rather absurdly orangeish hair was talking to a young boy. He stayed silent, paying closer attention. She got out... some kind of staff? Then, suddenly, it turned into a lamp. He leaned closer, almost loosing his balance on the stack of crates. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before as she blew into it and sparked the orb, lighting up the area. He hopped down, intending to ask her about it when she went to go talk to some other people. He went around the other side, intending to watch and listen, unnoticed.


As the image of a fairy began to dance, he began to feel that all-too-familiar sense of isolation and jealously rise up in the pit of his stomach. He should've realized it when she lit up the... lamp thing. Good for nothing but shallow entertainment and maybe some warmth, he thought rather spitefully, turning away. He accidentally bumped into a tall man with dusty brown hair who held an open crate in his arms. Aforementioned crate fell to the ground, spilling it's contents everywhere. Apologizing quickly, he leaned down to help the man pick it up when a rather large and deliberate gust of wind sparked, gathering the items together and back into the crate as the man glared at him. He straightened back up, feeling incompetent. He murmured an apology, but the man didn't respond, merely continuing on his way. He glared at nothing in particular before continuing on his way. Today had started off so great, too. He returned to his first spot, climbing back onto the crates and watching the people below.


A young looking short guy with blonde hair was talking to a man with a weird arm. The first thing he noticed aside from the weird arm, which he was carefully ignoring wondering about, was his incredibly attractive golden eyes. Nerais blinked, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. No way was he going to find that weird arm man attractive. Absolutely not. Now, if he happened to find his eyes attractive, or those ridiculous belts, well, that was a different story. The other guy, the short young one, looked even more ill-suited to the desert than himself. The thought amused him greatly, wondering how these ill-prepared travelers even made it this far while conveniently ignoring how his own journey so far was mostly only successful due to luck. He hopped down, intending to insert himself into their conversation.

 

[Lucem]

Nestled under the tattered tarp, Levarnius watched the passing scenery with glee. After trying for so long, he had finally secured a good position for himself to be in. This caravan was a blessing in many ways, despite what the intense heat that may cause others to say differently. If not for his new companions, he'd still be working in that musky tavern until the end of his days.


At the thought of the tavern, Levarnius grew a small smile. While there was nothing about his previous circumstances that could be considered good, he still looked back on it fondly. While the people were rude and he was disliked by all he came across, that place changed things for him. He could hardly believe he was actually able to leave.


The decision had been made for him to join this company before the management could say differently. He was in debt and that should've been enough to prevent him from traveling any further. But, it seemed as though everyone had some kindness in them, as Levarnius liked to believe, and was released from his servitude. In some strange and puzzling way, the young man had rubbed off on them. Whether out of pity or some secret dealings behind the scenes, he was allowed to leave. Of course, that didn't mean his debt was cleared. In fact, what he owed would was risen to a much higher degree. Levarnius was happy to do so and foolishly accepted. Perhaps they saw a benefit in letting him go so that they could earn more, but such a thought never came to his mind. All that he cared about was that he was one step closer to saving his people. Of course, he now had a second reason to gain funds.


The desert was an obstacle between them and The White Tower, but the blond didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed the trip, learning more things from what he saw in the scenery and the caravan. The blazing heat that caused many of them a great deal of discomfort didn't bother him one bit, the sun's warm rays feeling rather good on his porcelain skin. It was a wonder how he hadn't yet suffered from heat stroke, especially when considering his new state of dress.


When he left the tavern, all property had been returned to him, meaning he was able to do away with the sack and return to the clothing he had initially set out with. Rather than the tattered brown that gave off the scent of a vegetable garden, Levarnius now wore an elegant mix of both blue and white. The long coat covered a considerable part of his body, making it particularly suited for colder climates. The primarily white coloring blended well with the azure patches across the body and large collar, making it resemble the sky, but in a reversed fashion. The top was held together by various belts of blacks and blues, connecting with the ebony lines that travelled across the entire length of the cloth. Coupled with the golden buttons and clips that seemed to also serve well as accessories, it was quite an impressive piece.


Beyond the upper part of his body, all else was relatively simple. White trousers served as the replacement to the rugged material that was once used as bottoms and dark shoes now covered the previously barren feet. The boy also wore a pair of black, fingerless gloves that served well in combat. The material prevented burns that may occur from friction and protected the skin from injury.


The outfit had been personally made for him by Halem'Khai both as a gift and an apology when he had been banished from the village. The elder wanted the garments to serve as a reminder of where he came from, as the Elven people of the village had always carried a sense of elegance and beauty, despite their humble lifestyle. While he may not completely share their blood or have many of their distinct features, they were his people and his grandfather wanted to remember that. In addition, there was another symbol that would follow Levarnius on his journey that could be seen by observing the markings that kept to the bottom of the coat.


In their traditional language, these markings read out the word "hope". This would be a reminder and a sign that would give the Half-Elf strength when needed most and provide comfort in times of despair. While the old man knew Levarnius was strongly determined and held great willpower, he knew him well enough to where he could see the emotions that were within and would threaten to reveal themselves one day. While he couldn't be there in person to help his grandson through the struggles that would present themselves in the near future, he hoped that his words may serve well in providing him with guidance.


Simply wearing these clothes gave the blond a sense of comfort and he treasured them greatly, but these were not the only gifts he had received. In addition to he clothing, he was also given back the weapons he had relied on upon leaving the tavern. Much more reliable than the broomstick that had served him well in the great bar fight of Ethrym, he now carried proper weaponry.


Growing up in the forest, Levarnius had developed a unique battle style that served well in various situations. When tracking animals, keeping your distance was essential and made things go by much quicker. It was for this that the main focus of his style was the bow, a traditional weapon that many of his people had used.


Relying on his naturally keen senses, Levarnius was well suited for the long-ranged weapon. The bow in his possession matched the clothes he wore with its elegant design, as well as its coloring. Rather than the simple arrow rest, his weapon had multiple, allowing more than one arrow to be shot at once. Of course, this required a great deal of arm strength and could easily damage the body if there were any miscalculations or errors in judgement. It was for this that the gloves on his hands proved their usefulness.


While keeping your distance was very valuable, that wouldn't always be an available option. Situations would not always be so convenient to where you could hide and fight from afar. There would always be times where you would find yourself face-to-face with danger, something he had learned well in training and by watching the vicious cycle of nature. Knowing this, two more weapons were provided if he ever found himself in such a situation.


Coupled with the bow, a set of matching daggers were added to his arsenal. While he wasn't as proficient with the blades as he was with his traditional set of arrows, he wasn't poor in his use by any means. He had found his own method of tackling an opponent head on and used the short-handed weapons to the best of his ability. Of course, he would still need training before he could call himself anything near a master.


With several replacement wires and a maintenance kit, this more or less completed his personal luggage. Levarnius never had much to begin with and was pretty low maintenance. Although, it didn't exactly hurt to have a steady supply of food and water.


As the caravan continued along its way, Levarnius' attention was captured by the retreating Gordon, as well as the approaching men on horseback that followed. The situation easily catching his interest, he moved forward in order to hear their words. Of course, he forgot that he could've done so without having to move, his ears sensitive enough to listen from quite a distance.


Levarnius listened on as the dark-haired woman expressed her concern after the men began to retreat. 'Bandits, huh?' He had encountered a few of them while traveling, but there were never too many, their numbers being condensed to five or so. He wasn't a fan of how they attacked people and stole their livelihoods, always making it a point to turn them in whenever he came across a new stop. Hearing about them possibly attacking this caravan gave him a bad feeling, something that he always made sure never to disregard. Seeing the small child made this feeling grow, as he had a soft spot for children. Well, he had such a spot for just about everyone, but especially children.


Upon seeing Piras approach the women and hearing her words, a large grin stretched across the blond's face. "That's the spirit!" Literally leaping to the older woman's side following his outburst, Levarnius began his own version of trying to reassure the people in the caravan.


"I may not be a dragon, but I can definitely deal with any bandit that comes our way!" Offering a smile to the women, as well as his fellow Half-Elf, Levarnius retained his expression at all times. He would definitely keep these people safe. Of course, he would really like to see a dragon. Maybe there was a certain degree of danger that could be reached where nobody would get hurt, but he could still see a giant fire-breathing lizard. Maybe he could learn a thing or two.

 

[Sen Pai]

Narrowing his eyes as he watched the mysterious men ride off on their horses, Roland frowned and clicked his tongue before turning his attention to Leonel. Without taking his eyes of the disappearing figures of the men, Roland leaned over to the blonde bandana-wearing young man and said, “I guess we’ll just have to go find out.” Grinning mischievously, Roland didn’t even send his travelling group a glance before setting off into a run in Gordon’s direction. The giant wasn’t the biggest giant there was in the world of Gaia but he sure wasn’t difficult to spot. Although there were multiple giants in the caravan, there was a somewhat equal gender ratio, Gordon stuck out like a sore thumb, it was almost impossible to miss him.


Slowing down into a jog, Roland had his eyes set straight on Gordon that he almost didn’t have enough time to dodge out of the way when a blue skinned fellow suddenly appeared in his line of sight. Jumping to the side, Roland took a moment to steady himself before his gaze landed on the merman. They were about the same eye level, Roland didn’t have time to compare heights with the other man so he simply flashed the merman an apologetic smile before turning on his heel and hurrying off to catch up with Gordon. “My bad!” Roland waved at the merman as he weaved through a crowd that Gordon had easily passed through. The people separated like the Red Sea during the time of Moses when Gordon passed through.


Roland furrowed his eyebrows when Gordon’s back began getting smaller which must mean one out of two things; Gordon was walking farther away from Roland or Gordon was going through menopause. The brown haired man was pretty confident in his knowledge of Gordon’s gender so he crossed out the menopause option and took a deep breath of air into before plunging deep into the crowd and pushing past the skirts of women’s dresses and nudged his way out of the horde of people. When Roland emerged, he quickly glanced around to find Gordon again before pushing off his left foot and sprinting towards the giant. Jumping up into the air, Roland was thankful for his ridiculous belts or else he really would look silly if his shirt flew up.


“Yo, Gordon!” Roland shouted as he hooked his good arm around the back of the giant’s neck and limply hung for a few seconds or so. Hoisting himself up with the arm that was around Gordon’s neck, Roland grinned at the giant as he made himself a porch on the giant’s right shoulder. Bending down on his haunches, Roland steadied himself by grabbing onto Gordon’s ear. To be honest, Gordon wasn’t that big, he stood at about eight feet, which was two feet taller than Roland, but it was his bulky structure that allowed Roland to balance himself on the giant’s shoulder. Roland quickly glanced back at Leonel, flashing the blonde a cheeky grin before returning his attention back to Gordon. You would wonder which of the two was the older one…


Seeing as Gordon was about to explode like a volcano erupting, Roland placed two disfigured fingers over the giant’s lips to shut him up before he could cause mass destruction. “Hey, hey. Let me say my piece first.” Sending Gordon a somewhat mocking look, Roland pulled away, letting go of the giant’s ear. Looking out into the distance as if he was looking for someone, or a group of people. Specifically a group of worried men riding around on horses. “Some guys are looking for you.” Roland gestured to the back of him, causing the giant to whip his head around to look for the people who were looking for him. “One of them was a dravus with red eyes, do you know ‘em?” Staring at Gordon’s face with curiosity, Roland frowned when he saw an alarmed expression flash across the giant’s face.


Suddenly being thrown off by the giant, Roland’s eyes widened in shock as he landed on the ground on his two feet. Unfortunately, his landing wasn’t as elegant as a cat’s. Taking a step back to steady himself, Roland looked up at Gordon, an eyebrow raised in surprise confusion. When Gordon had asked where the men had gone, Roland pointed to the west, where the sun was going to set in a some hours. “They went riding off, looking for you.” Although Roland did not get to witness the giant running, his footsteps shaking the ground, he did notice an urgent quickness in his step and then began to jog to catch up to him.


Passing by the merman he had almost bumped into, Roland had only realized when it was too late that bit by bit people began to follow Gordon, equally worried expressions on their faces. There were some that poked their heads out of their tents and put down the things they were doing to glance over at their caravan leader with a look on confusion on their face, but when they either over heard or asked someone what was going on, they also became anxious. Roland frowned as he continued to follow Gordon, just a step behind the giant. As he thought, he remembered where he had seen such a familiar expression. The three women who were speaking about the bandits.


The large crowd kept on growing until it was a large train the followed Gordon, Roland was rather amazed when he saw the amount of people that were following the giant. It just proved how great of a leader Gordon was. Even if he did give Roland a bloody nose during the bar fight. Almost everyone in the caravan followed Gordon, even those who were just hitching a ride. Roland spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd, mainly Piras, Leonel and Cresselia. He had been looking backwards to see if he could find any other of his travelling companions that he hadn’t realized that Gordon had stopped walking and turned his head just in time to see the body of a horse right in front of him.


Taking a few steps back, Roland watched as the man who rode the horse got off and faced Gordon with enough elegance to command attention to him. The man wasn’t the tallest man in the squad of men, he stood at approximately five feet and eleven inches, but by the look of the heavy sword that hung at his waist, he was quite strong. The man removed his hood to reveal dark blue hair that was messily chopped to stay out of his face during battle and day to day activities but his eyes were what caught Roland’s attention. They were a dull yellow colour, they could not be described as golden because they were such a dirty colour. Looking closely at the eyes, they did not seem to have any pupils. Instead, there were very basic black designs in the place of the pupils. This man seemed to have a spiral that ended in a circle, the spiral was lined with what Roland finally recognized as the ancient Karan dialect.


“-... -.-- / ... - --- .-. .. -. --. / -- .- --. .. / .. -. / .- / -- .- -.- . ... .... .. ..-. - / -- .- --. .. / ... - --- .-. .- --. . / - .... .. ... / -... --- -.. -.-- / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -... . / .- -... .-.. . / - --- / -- --- ...- . / .- -. -.. / ... . .-. ...- . / .. - ... / -. . -.-. .-. --- -- .- -. -.-. . .-. / .--. .. -. -.- / .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / - .... . / -.-. --- -. -.. .. - .. --- -. ... / - --- / --- ..- .-. / -.-. --- -. - .-. .- -.-. - .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.-” The mysterious words continued on but Roland had his gaze pulled away from it before he could finish reading the tiny wording. The man with the symbol eyes was Undead. A necromancer had raised him from the dead using magi. Roland had barely heard of Pink, a necromancer that is said to be located in the Seraphinu area. But he decided that it was not his business to pry into, there was more important matters after all.


“We were attacked by bandits,” the blue haired man spoke, his eyes completely devoid of emotion. Not even bothering to gesture to the men on the horses behind him, the Undead stood still as a corpse - pun intended - his gaze did not falter, not even by a little bit. “They robbed us of most of our belongings and injured many of my men.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, but there was still no emotion in the dull yellow orbs. Gordon and the man seemed to stare at each other for a few moments, the giant stared at the Undead with such intense eyes that most would at least take a step back from the giant. But the blue haired man stood there, completely frozen in that position.


Gordon sighed and then began to walk into the large tent that was to be pulled by an elephant by the name of Bethany. He opened the tent and gestured for the hitchhikers to join him in the tent. The Undead man did not give the crowd a single glance when he moved surprisingly smoothly towards and into the tent. However, before the man disappeared behind the covers, Roland caught the dull yellow flashing in his direction. It seemed that Gordon was not requesting their presence but demanded it. The giant wasn’t being patient with it either so Roland picked up his pace and entered the tent.


But, unlike the Undead man, Roland did give the crowd a glance. In fact, he stared at the crowd, taking note of their uneasy expressions. He and the other travelers were to attend a meeting with Gordon and the blue haired man and by the looks of it, it was not going to be good news that Gordon shared. Even Sol was called in due to the fact that he was supposed to be handed over to the authorities that were to be positioned at The White Tower.

 

[Goddess]

Piras in the mist of her talking saw Roland leave at the corner of her eye. Her smile lowered as her ears twitched. Roland was moving fast and his feet were heavy. Not heavy as in he wasn't light on his feet, heavy as in there was trouble brewing, and following Gordon was one way to find out. You could see her muscles tense then release as she debated to follow suit. Much like a Maid the the master, Piras was one of the few to always follow Roland. He always got himself into trouble, and needed some form of helping when it came to brawls.


As she looked in their area of direction the small boy she was talking to before had came over, and tugged on the loose fabric of her leg. "Excuse me miss." Piras had looked down at him with a smile again. "What is it?" The boy had given her back the staff and bowed his head in thanks before running of to meet back up with his friends. All poking fun at what a beauty he was talking too." Piras looked back and saw yet another moving. "The caravan must be on the move again."


Piras twirled the staff in her had before pressing the button, so the staff could return back to its mobile form. Slipping it in its holster she moved along with it, curious as to why they were going the opposite way. Looking up it took no less then a second to find Roland. Catching a glimpse of his demonic arm was nothing but a bonus, or fall back in case someone looked like him. Gracing him with no smile she did a swift leap over a few of the travelers head before ending up behind him. Leaning forward she tried to whisper in her ear until she noticed a man on a horse ride up to them. She stepped back as the man got off, standing cold as ice. Piras already knew what type of man this was. Narrowing her eyes she reached back for her staff, only placing a hand on it, so if he attacked she would be ready.


The man began to speak, a fire burning inside of Piras. She knew this guy was no good, the way he spoke and his eyes explained his whole story. His lies put a bad taste in Piras mouth, and it burned her ears. Such folly could not be accept, and with just a little more she would have lunged at him, but she was called away. It seemed that Gordon had motioned for them to enter the tent. With very little patience the man had she knew it wasn't good and that something would end in bloodshed, if not a lot of injured people. Following afterwards, giving the man a glare she entered the tent and took her seat close to the exit.

 

[catplan3t]

Nerais blinked as the weird arm man took off in some other direction, nearly crashing into him. Their eyes met for a moment, and his eyes really were golden, weren't they? He rubbed at one of his eyes, watching the weird arm man disappear into the crowd. What seemed like mere moments later, the weird arm man ran past him in the other direction, jogging by a giant and with a growing trail of people following them. Since that seemed as if it would be the easiest way to get answers to the questions he wasn't going to bother to ask anyone, he merely joined the trail and allowed himself to float along with the tide, in a metaphorical sense.


That was all he seemed to do nowadays, just floating along with whatever anyone else was doing. He could never really decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing, just figuring to let things happen as they happen. The trail of people finally stopped and Nerais weaved his way through the crowd, although not without some difficulty. By the time he made it to the front, a blue haired man was saying something about bandits. His eyes, Nerais noticed, were a sort of... boring yellow, if there ever was such a thing. Such a contrast to the weird arm man and his weird golden eyes. Yeah, he was probably never going to look at someone's eye colour the same way again.


Except his own, of course. He liked his purple eyes. He felt they added to his charm. The blue haired man didn't move at all, and he felt a sudden urge to poke him, if only to see what would happen. It seemed almost unnatural, for someone to be that still. Nerais imagined he would probably be a very dull person. He was surprised as the blue haired man finally moved, entering the tent. Well, at least he wasn't frozen. There went that hypothesis. Gordon gestured for them to enter the tent, or at least, Nerais assumed he was included in that gesture. He entered, sitting down near the exit, by the elf person with the firey hair and the lampy thing. His nose twitched subtly as he moved away a bit, not wishing to sit right next to someone who wasted their magic on things like light fairy illusion things. What a waste. He instead turned his attention to the other people in the tent.

 

[Croissant]

Sol


Sol looked around the room, observing his surroundings, all he saw in his mind were a bunch of misfits. But don't think he was being degenerative towards them, he related with the group slightly, although he didn't not appreciate the large man's tone, nor his action of forcing Sol to go into the Caravan. He sighed and thought he didn't really have anywhere else to go, and he did not wish to stay in this desert city. He was almost bumped into by an Elven sorceress who had a wise and elegant aura around her. He found some interest in her as a person, maybe she was experienced in something? Who knew?


He shrugged and headed out, he had gotten his scimitar back but was being kept watch by the guards of the caravan. He headed into the caravan rather quickly, almost the first one there, he heard the news of the bandits and it seemed that the group leader wanted the hitchhikers to help out somehow. Sol didn't intend to act as personal muscle if the time came unless the situation were dire. Even then he wasn't sure of the true intentions of the leaders nor of the group. He wasn't even sure why he was being tagged along with them. But he had no where else to really go, as well as no one to really call to. Finding a job would most likely be the best step as well as laying low.




He took a seat at the farthest back of the caravan, it was big but soon it would be packed, he saw a red haired elf girl and the large man with an enhanced arm walk in, as well as one blond half elf it seems that seemed a bit overly enthusiastic about this. Maybe he would ask him what exactly they were doing, and where exactly they were headed. Although he wasn't very sure if they had all already heard all the announcements that he was some kind of criminal. He slightly unsheathed his scimitar, keeping the tip of the blade still inside and started using what seemed to be a one-edged, sharp knife to engrave symbols into it, They seemed like a morphed form of fire generation equations, only an expert could notice the specific differences he has in the procedure to create fire. But he quickly sheathed it once more, trying not to give people the wrong idea.

He sighed and decided to give talking a try, he looked at Levenarius and said

"Where are we headed um... I am not sure what your name is."



​

@Lucem Tenebris

​

 

[Lucem]

Levarnius' eyes trailed over the mass of people that followed Gordon. The image of several members of the caravan following the giant gave him mixed emotions. While he thought it was impressive that the tall man was able to lead so many people, seeing the sudden change gave him a bit of an ominous feeling. Even though it was simply others moving, something felt off.


Putting a spring in his step, Levarnius hurried after the caravan. As he moved amongst the people, bumping a few shoulders along the way, he began to look for the people he came here with. If his memory served correctly, their names were Roland, Leonel, Piras, and Cresselia. That was quite a number of people compared to when he was traveling alone not too long ago. Not that he didn't enjoy his new circumstances, more people always made for more fun.


As the hulking man came to a halt, along with all those that followed behind, Levarnius attempted to get as close to the front as he could. As he changed his position for a better view, he managed to spot his new companions not too far away. However, they didn't look to be enjoying themselves at the moment.


When the blond had finally reached a suitable location, he watched on with the rest of the caravan as the man on horseback began to dismount. Judging by his appearance, he must've been a warrior of sorts. He didn't come off as dangerous, at least not at the moment, and seemed like an average enough person. However, any notion he had about this man being normal was cast aside upon seeing the strange patterns within his eyes.


Rather than an ordinary set of pupils, the simple circle was replaced by a spiral pattern in a sea of dark yellow. Upon closer inspection, the spiral-shaped pupils appeared to be made up of several strange symbols. Levarnius had never seen such strange characters, but for some reason, he felt an odd sense of familiarity. He didn't dwell on this sensation for long, as the blue-haired man began to speak.


His voice was pure monotone, no detectable trace of emotion. If the eyes weren't enough to make him question this man, then the voice would surely do it. Even the most bland men gave off some sort of tone in their voice, but this man's speech was just plain empty. It was as if he wasn't even alive.


While the man's voice was something to take notice of, the words that it carried were more important. Like the three women from before had mentioned, bandits had struck. While the man didn't sound very concerned about the attack, Levarnius knew that this was a serious matter.


As he watched on, Levarnius' attention was captured by a semi-familiar face. This was the man he had seen back at the tavern just before they joined the caravan. He didn't come across as a bad person, despite what had occurred prior to their meeting. Many people would have done the same if they had found themselves in a similar situation.


When the man began to speak, Levarnius felt his prior ominous feeling begin to wash away and brought a friendly smile to his face. Connecting his thumb with the center of his slightly puffed out chest, he proudly began to introduce himself. "The name's Levarnius Eldridge! Feel free to shorten it, if you'd like!" He was always happy to strike up a conversation, even if it was something as simple as exchanging names.


Following his introduction, the Half-Elf nearly forgot what the newcomer had initially asked. "As for the other question," Scratching the rear of his head, Levarnius looked back towards the ongoing event.


It seemed as though the conversation had ended, at least for the moment, as Gordon began to retreat into the beige tent that rested on the large elephant. At the giant's gesture, both the strange man and the rest of his companions followed suit. It didn't seem like the caravan's leader intended on waiting and considering what he had seen what the man was capable of when angry, it would be in his best interest to hurry along.


Quickly turning back to his new companion, Levarnius' smile grew in size. "Why don't we find out?". Appearing behind the dark-haired man in an instant, Levarinus began ushering him towards the tent. The boy really was too enthusiastic for his own good.


When the two had entered the tent, Levarnius had finally released his hold on the man's shoulders and sat down along with the rest of his companions. Patting the empty space next to him, he gestured for the one he had unceremoniously dragged to the location. "So, what about you? What's your name?"


@Cressy

 

[kitsunemage]

"Well, if you're gonna be travelling with the caravan I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to catch up." Nendaelin offered Cresselia another small smile. "Though, I don't know when we'll be moving again."


"...hmmm?" Movement caught her eye, and she absently hummed her reply to Nendalin's statement. She should have expected Roland to run off, honestly she wasn't sure if he was ever able to stay still. The rest of her companions dispersed at the same time. Well, they could take care of themselves without her, for the moment.


"Wait, not moving?" Nendaelin had her full attention again.


"Well, the caravan's been sending out a few groups, but bandits have taken up nearby. We lose almost everything. So, people have been scared to try lately. Why, where were you headed?" Nendaelin grabbed a fig from a nearby basket, smiled and flipped a coin at a disgruntled looking lady.


"The white tower." Damn. And we thought we had finally goteen everything figured out.


"The- Are you crazy?!" Nendaelin nearly dropped his fig- catching it at the last second, before it hit the sand.


"Since when were you the adventurous type? You'll die going in there! If you even get there- what with the bandits lingering around!" Cresselia scowled at her old acquaintance, crossing her arms defensively.


"It's none of your business how I decide to spend my life thank you very much." She saw Rolands return from the corner of her eye, this time followed by a larger host of people. Something had happened.


"Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to my companions." She gathered her skirts in hand, and turned to follow Roland into the giant tent that seemed to be the center of the mass of loitering people.


"And Daelin?" She threw over her shoulder, already walking away "Never give up. You told me that once, right?"


Guilt flashed briefly on his face, and if he replied, Cresselia didn't hear it after entering the throng of people. Forcing her way through to the tent where everything seemed to be happening. She took up a position close to Piras at teh entrance of the tent- far away from any other brawl that might break out.

 

[Croissant]

Sol

Sol was a bit overwhelmed by the boy's reaction toward his question, as he was shoved in to the tent and asked to sit next to the kid, he sighed and shrugged. His looks might have made him more approachable, he's still young so I guess that might have made the boy more social. Or the boy is simply so incredibly happy that they were doing this "quest" to a specific place that he could not keep a straight face. As Sol sat next to Levarnius, putting his elbow on his knees and resting his chin on his hand, with a dull look he tilted his head towards Levarnius's just enough to where he could maintain a form of eye contact.


"... My name is Sol, pleased to meet you Levarnius."


His tone was slightly more welcoming this time, he didn't see him as a threat (yet) and if he was going to stay a long time with him on his caravan sitting next to him, he might as well get to know him. While avoiding saying too much of himself...


Then he realized. He had a reputation, news spread fast and the men in charge of the Colosseum will most likely still be hunting him down for a very long time. Unless he removes all his traces, he at one point would have to escape this wonderful carravan without being seen by the crowd somehow, but for now he would lay low.


"What brings you here Levanarius?"
​

 

[Sen Pai]

The interior of the tent was rather extravagant. The walls were dressed with gorgeous fabrics and the floors were also covered in the beautiful material. They were attached on the walls by what seemed to be pins and together it made the tent that much more attractive to the eye. The colours popped and melded together and there was a subtle scent of the spices that the Goddess Desert was famous for serving. The main colours seemed to be a deep shade of red, violet, canary yellow, and multiple shades of brown. The cloth that hung from the walls and were laid on the ground all appeared to be handmade and every stitch meant something. On the far east side of the tent hung a rather plain looking fabric with very amateur-like stitching but it seemed precious to the owner of the tent.


Speaking about the owner of the tent, Gordon did not lift the flap of the tent for long and allowed the others to enter by themselves. He made his way through the tent and then sat on a very plump looking carpet, cross-legged. There was a small wooden table in the middle of the tent, well, small for the giant. It was about the size of a normal dining table. The table had intricate designs carved into it, once again, it was handmade. There were elephants, horses, eagles, snakes, and more carved into the table. There was most likely a story in carved into that table but such a tale can be saved for another time.


The man with dull yellow eyes immediately took his seat beside the giant and laid his sword on the ground to the right of him. He did not attempt to smooth the wrinkles of his clothing but there didn’t seem to be many. His back was as straight as a board and his posture did not falter, not even for a second. The Undead’s breathing was shallow once more, but if one had good eyes, they would be able to catch the man’s chest moving up and down ever so slightly. The man simply waited. He was not impatient nor was he patient, he just watched as the rest of the people gathered around the table and took their seat. Gordon, however, did not wait.


“It seems that we cannot take you to The White Tower as we initially agreed,” Gordon spoke, his voice low and grave. He cupped his face with his large hands and began to massage his temples with his thumbs. The giant let out a long and tired sigh before continuing. “There appears to be a group of bandits set up in the middle of our usual route.” Gordon glanced over to the Undead man with slight concern before tearing his eyes away and frowning at Roland. “I apologize but you are going to have to find another way to get to The White Tower.”


Roland leaned forward and placed his palms on the table. Staring intensely at Gordon, Roland pursed his lips and then leaned on the table as well. Holding his face in his hands, Roland furrowed his eyebrows while he was deep in thought. A few moments of silence passed by as everyone waited for someone to say something. Finally, Roland opened his mouth to speak. “Because of the bandits, you cannot take us to the dungeon?” It was more of a statement than a question but Gordon nodded and watched Roland carefully. “What if, hypothetically, of course, the bandits disappeared?”


Knowing exactly where Roland was going, Gordon slammed his hands down on the table and shook his head. “No, you cannot do that! You would only risk the lives of the people in th—” The giant’s eyes flashed over to the entrance of the tent, where a small aemal child stood, hiding behind the curtain. When the child realized that she had been caught, she quickly closed the flap and then hurried away. Gordon took a deep breath and then continued on. “You would only risk the lives of the people in my caravan.” Taking his hands off of the table, Gordon set them in his lap as he regained his composure. “Instead, we will drop y—”


“That’s not a bad idea.” The Undead man spoke for the first time to someone other than Gordon. His emotionless gaze scanned over the group but due to the fact that he did not have any pupils, it was very difficult to tell who – or what – he was looking at. He then blinked once before becoming silent once more.


Gordon stared at the Undead man, his eyes wide with mixed feelings. “Kharnl,” The giant muttered the man’s name as if it was a question. Another moment passed and then Gordon turned towards the group and sighed as if he was dealing with a bunch of children. “Alright, we will bring you all to The White Tower.” Roland grinned. “Under one condition,” Gordon quickly said, hoping that it would wipe that smile off of the brown haired man’s face. But, unfortunately, it did not. It grew so big that it stretched from ear to ear. “You must defeat the bandits.” Gordon glanced over at Kharnl out of the corner of his eye and then exhaled through his nose when he saw the small smile on the Undead man’s face.


The group then proceeded to exit the tent, one after another, given the task with determining whether or not they would be able to go to The White Tower. The midday sun blazed down on the ground and those who had gotten used to the dimness of the inside of the tent found themselves slightly blinded by the brightness. It was almost difficult for them to spot the newcomer that stood before them. Kharnl stepped outside and stood beside the group when the newcomer was finally noticed by most.

 

[AshenLily]

Ethym was significantly different from Raynworth. The people were entirely different than the ones she'd grown to know, and the difference in climate was brutal. Though she'd studied before leaving, to ensure she would be well-prepared, there was only so much preparation a single person could take, when entering the Goddess Desert for the first time, especially on such a remarkably hot year.


Eventually having found her way to Ethym, she'd managed to acquire enough money to purchase some more appropriate clothing for Dungeon Diving, courtesy of a few unwary citizens in the marketplace. Now, she donned a loose, lightweight shirt, and a loose knee-length skirt. The usual scarf she wore around her face back in Raynworth had been forsaken, and was now located in her pack, along with the full set of scaled armor she'd managed to purchase (again, courtesy of the citizens of Ethym). The heat was unbearable as it was, even with the most comfortable clothing she was able to find. Wearing such an outfit in this climate would surely be the death of her.


Seeking adventure, Sylista had been advised to start with The White Tower, if she insisted on Dungeon Diving. While it was definitely dangerous, it seemed to have a significantly higher survival rate than many of the other dungeons, which was promising to say the least. That was how she came to be in Ethym.


Shortly after arriving, she'd heard quite the ruckus in a tavern, as it appeared a group of travelers had recently shown up, and apparently started a bar fight. After asking around a bit, in regards to the exact location of The White Tower, she'd been advised to speak with someone named Gordon, who apparently had some information on the subject, and had been directed to his tent. Arriving there now, she found who she assumed were the group of travelers that had, as rumor had it, started the barfight she'd heard of. Though it was just an assumption, judging my the clothing the members of the group were wearing, Sylista imagined she couldn't be too far from being correct. Lovely.


Slowly making her way toward the group, Sylista reached back, in a vain attempt to make herself look somewhat presentable. Her waist-length, rose-colored, naturally curly hair was soaked with sweat, and clung to her in thick strands; her lips were cracked, dried with the heat her body wasn't accustomed to; her skin red with the burn of the sun. A few patches of skin had already begun to peel away, revealing the usual soft pale tone of her beneath.


One had only to look at the girl to tell that she wasn't of this land. Even beneath the dirt, the scrapes, the burns, and the sweat, it was clear that she was still quite attractive, and if one looked even closer, or noticed the tips of her ears, they would be able to further discern that beneath all the muck, there was an Elf.


Self-conscious though she was, Sylista approached the group. Having just come from Gordon's tent, it stood to reason that they would know if he was there, or if he was available. She made her way to who she imagined would be the 'leader' of the group, if one existed. Sylista couldn't help but notice his arm, and made an effort to not stare. Instead, looking into his eyes, she was awed by the bright golden color of his pupils, and nearly forgot her reason for approaching him in the first place.


"Uh-- excuse me," she began. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and she quickly took a small drink from the flask she kept at her side. "S-sorry about that. Do you know where I can find a man named Gordon? I was told he might have some information as to where I might find The White Tower. I was told this is his tent." Her question asked, Sylista took a moment to look over the group. It appeared, at least, that she wasn't the only one who had had some difficulty with the crossing of the desert. The group before her appeared to be nearly as worn, if not more so, than Sylista herself was. She couldn't help but wonder what had brought them out to this part of the world, but decided not to ask. It wasn't any of her business, after all.

 

[catplan3t]

As they left the giant's tent, Nerais pulled up the hood of his tan cloak, momentarily blinded by the sun. He still wasn't used to it, being so different from his old home under the sea and the regular outdoors in other places. He really wasn't suited for the desert. He wondered if he was included in the rash decision to fight off any bandits that might attack, an offer made by Weird Arm Man. It seemed that was the case. Not that he minded, of course. He didn't really ponder on his decision for long, deciding eventually to go along with whatever the others decided. And while he was at it, he might as well get to know them, since they... potentially, of course, potentially might be fighting bandits together. Perhaps he'd back out if they looked incompetent, perhaps he wouldn't, in the hopes he could save them from dying. Basically, he decided on nothing definite.


When he finished not deciding on anything and pretending that was his decision, he brought his attention back to the scene in front of him. A lady- pretty? That was debatable. He admonished himself momentarily for being rude, reminding himself that no one was looking their best right now. When you're in the middle of a desert, you've gotta make some exceptions. He guessed that if they hadn't been in the desert, she would be an attractive woman. Her pinkish hair was rather interesting, Nerais thought. She was asking something, talking to Weird Arm Man. Where to find a man named Gordon. Nerais knew where to find a man named Gordon, considering they had just walked out of his tent. He cleared his throat, lowering his hood and stepping forward to answer the question.


"You've made yer way to right outside 'is tent, miss," He said, trying to offer a warm smile.

 

[Lucem]

The cheshire-like grin that stuck itself to the blond's face after the robed man took up the empty space was only interrupted by the movements of his lips, as he responded to his question. "I'm a mercenary!" His proclamation came with a prideful tone, despite his occupation ending in nothing but failure thus far. "I'm here to help out these guys at The White Tower!"


Cheek muscles still having not yet given out, Levarnius' smile remained, but the expression now gave off a sense of nostalgia. The energetic atmosphere that surrounded him was replaced by a more comforting and relaxed feeling after the large grin shifted to a smaller, yet equally as cheerful smile. "Well, I have other goals besides that once we get there."


While he would've liked to continue his conversation with the tanned man, a deep voice within the tent demanded the attention of Levarnius and all others that sat within the luxurious tent. Turning his attention to the Giant, who looked exasperated at the moment, he gave his undivided attention. While he was more than eager to listen to Gordon, he wished the news provided by the large man would've been a bit more pleasant.


Upon hearing of the loss of their transportation, Learnius sunk a little. If they weren't able to make it to The White Tower in time, he might lose would could be the only chance at amassing the fortune he needed. In his situation, time was vital.


As Gordon began to mention bandits, thoughts began to run through his mind. They were few and passed swiftly, but all had one common idea. 'If the bandits are in the way, let's move them out of it!'


Prepared to quickly turn these thoughts into loud, fiery words, the young man's unreleased voice was cut off by the elder male with the cursed arm. As Roland placed his palms on the table, Levarnius realized that in the end, it was his call. He was the leader, after all, and his word was final. Growing up in a village that followed the words of a single leader, even he could grasp this concept.


While there was always the possibility that Roland could simply decide to pack up their belongings and split apart, such an idea never entered Levarnius' mind. At the end the leader's question, a full-on grin returned to the boy's face. Despite having barely met, he knew that he could count on Roland to come through.


Watching as the two argued over the prospect of taking on the bandits that stood in their path, Levarnius only looked elsewhere when the previously silent man suddenly spoke up. Knowing that even he was in favor of their proposition made their victory in this verbal battle seem assured. This would come to be true, as Gordon was seemingly swayed by the words of the man known as Kharnal.


When all was said and done, Levarnius raised his arms in celebration, followed by an audible cheer. Elated, he neglected both the sun's harsh rays, as well as the person that stood outside the tent. He had only managed to notice the newcomer when the cracking of her voice reached his ears.


As he concentrated on the new arrival, the first characteristic that gained his attention was her ears. With the appearance of yet another Elf, Levarnius could hardly contain himself. Well, it wasn't as if he was trying to hold back. In the span of one day, he had gone from missing the sight of his kin to becoming surrounded by them.


Bounding as close to the woman as he could without coming across as a psychopath, Levarnius extended a smile and a wave. "Hello, fellow traveler!" Not even with someone he had just met could he put aside his overwhelming personality. Extending his index finger in the direction of the first who had spoken, Levarnius followed suit. "What this guy said!"


The closer he looked at the man, he had come to realize something. "Hey, I don't think we've met either!" Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, displaying no respect for personal space, Levarnius extended the same courtesy. "Nice to meet 'ya!"

 

[AshenLily]

"You've made yer way to right outside 'is tent, miss,"


Sylista smiled back at the man, and was about to thank him for the information, when another man nearly leaped at her, stopping far too close to her for her comfort. She slightly backed away, but felt some relief, after realizing the man was an Elf, as well. "Hello, fellow traveler! What this guy said!" She offered a polite smile, and turned her attention back to the first man that had addressed her.


"Th-thank you. I just need to find The White Tower. Do you happen to know if he's busy, or anything?" The question was definitely awkward, though Sylista had tried her best to keep it from being so. Apparently, from her understanding, she was just supposed to walk into the tent of someone she'd never met, completely unannounced, and ask him to direct her to the nearest dungeon. What could possibly go wrong?

 

[catplan3t]

Nerais flinched as the elf- personally, he'd use the word obnoxious but that's rude, Nerais, stop making judgements on people you meet in the desert, he reminded himself- the elf placed a hand on his shoulder. His smile dropped for a second before quickly being replaced by a rather forced one.


"And hello to you s'well," Nerais said, the 'as' blending into the 'well' and becoming one word.


He assumed that would be an acceptable enough response for the personal-space-invading elf, turning his attentions back to the could-be-pretty-when-not-in-desert elf. Lately he'd seen so many elves around, the descriptor nicknames were starting to get a bit lengthy. She asked about the White Tower, he knew about the White Tower, he was starting to wonder whether he knew a lot or if the girl just asked stupid questions.


"This caravan's on it's way ta th' very place ye mentioned, if I recall correctly," Nerais answered, feeling a small bit of satisfaction from knowing the answers.

 

[AshenLily]

"This caravan's on it's way ta th' very place ye mentioned, if I recall correctly,"


"Oh!" Well, that was easier than she'd expected. Maybe Sylista wouldn't need to end up barging into some random man's tent, to ask the whereabouts of the Tower, after all. How convenient.


Sylista shifted slightly, before continuing. She wasn't very good, when it came to talking to people she didn't really know. "I-I don't suppose you've got room for me to tag along? I'm heading there, now. Or, I'm trying to head there now, I guess. I'm Dungeon Diving, and that's my next stop." She purposely omitted the part about her never having actually been inside of a dungeon, before. Minor details, right? She knew what she was getting herself into, and that was all that mattered. Sylista had already received more than her fair share of lectures while asking around for the whereabouts of The White Tower. She didn't need another.

 

[Sen Pai]

With his mind mostly on how the group was going to tackle the large obstacle in their way, Roland had only fully placed his attention on the newcomer when the blonde half-elf bombarded her with his cheerful attitude. Placing his hands on his hips, Roland grinned and stood with his feet a little farther than shoulder width apart. Noticing that the elf was also in a bad condition, Roland didn’t even send Gordon or Kharnal a glance to ask if it was alright if their group grew in one companion, he simply chuckled and said, “Well, why not?”


Having overheard what Roland had said, Gordon frowned and then turned to look at the pale skinned elf who had also been beaten down by the Goddess Desert. “We’re not going to The White Tower, miss.” Kharnal’s dull eyes landed on Gordon, an eyebrow slightly cocked upwards. The giant exhaled when he felt the stare of the Undead man on his and then added, “It’s not exactly guaranteed.” The dead weight (pun intended) of the man’s gaze was removed from Gordon once those words were said.


Roland shrugged and then expanded on what Gordon had said, thinking that the maiden might have gotten confused at the giant’s words. Even if she wasn’t, he also didn’t want a woman to be walk into the clutches of death without even knowing it. “Ah, yeah. There’s a group of bandits.” Roland had said those words so easily that one would have also gone with the flow if they did not process what he said properly. “But that doesn’t really matter—”


“Yes it does!” Gordon quickly interrupted, glancing back and forth from the pink haired elf and the sunburnt man. “That is a very important fact someone should—” But even if the giant did interrupt Roland, the man didn’t seem to care since he simply continued with what he was saying without missing a beat.


“Since we’re going to get rid of them anyway.” Roland was confident in the abilities of his companions, the Kharnal guy was probably pretty strong himself, even if he was beaten by the bandits before. Reaching over to scratch his shoulder, Roland scrunched up his nose and pursed his lips as he took a moment to really think about what they were going to do. “Yeah, we’ll get rid of them.” He still hadn’t come up with a plan but Roland decided they would worry about that later.


Gordon, however, didn’t seem to be very pleased with that decision. “You can’t just say that and be done with it!” Throwing his arms up in the air, the giant still hadn’t grown accustom to the young man’s behavior, he wondered how Roland’s companions even kept up with him. Sure, he was charismatic beyond belief, the type of man who could say something unbelievable and some people would still go along with him, but Gordon just shook his head. It was useless to try and scold the boy now.


It was at that moment that Roland had remembered to actually ask his friends before truly making a decision. Turning to look at the two women and the demon, Roland folded his arms over his chest and beamed. “So, what do you guys think?” Slinging his arm around the neck of the so-called-criminal – Sol, was it? – Roland laughed and jokingly said, “We can handle another one, right?” I guess you could say that Roland was the type of guy who picked up puppies off the street and brought them home.

 

[Croissant]

Sol

Sol had remained silent after he heard the location they were going to go to, the White Tower seemed like a good place to finally lose anyone that was following him, or attempting too. Most would believe he died in the dungeon, although hopefully that wouldn't become truth. Sol had decided in his mind that to be able to escape from the officials who want him back in the arena he would have to go into the dungeon with the group, the cowards would never set foot in a dungeon and they would most likely assume he died inside. It was a dangerous thing to do, but it would insure he has escaped completely from the Arena and there wont be any traces of him left for them to follow after that. The issue at hand is if they would trust him. He sighed and suddenly he was grabbed by a rather large arm connected to an even larger man, with a peculiar looking other arm as well.


Sol looked away as he seemed to be asking for his acceptance into the group, at least this man seemed to be welcoming, as well as the boy. So it might not be very hard to become part of the group, as for dungeon diving and the bandits, he was confident in his skills at combat to take them out, the man also seemed rather skilled and he has a similar aura to Sol... He wondered... No it didn't seem like a very likely thing to have happened to this man too. He sighed and looked back at the group and nodded to the man, Sol was getting strangled a bit by the man's gigantic arm but he would cope with it.


"I don't believe I properly introduced myself... I am Sol, pleasure to meet all of you."

His voice still continued to give off that cold, melancholy tone he hated so much.
​

 

[Lucem]

With the addition of yet another member to the brave group of heroes that would set off to conquer The White Tower, Levarnius was becoming cheerier by the minute. He could hardly contain the excitement within himself at the thought of the adventure that was to come. However, his merry attitude was brought down a bit by the large man's interjection.


'Not going?' Hadn't this already been settled? They would charge in, defeat the bandits, and then continue on their way to the Dungeon. What was so complicated about that? As far as the blond was concerned, it wasn't much of an obstacle to overcome.


When his mood began to fall, Roland seemed to be right there to pick it right back up again. Seeming to share his sentiments about the issue with the bandits, Levarnius watched his new leader with a grin. Despite the interruption of the Giant, he continued onward without being phased. In the Half-Elf's eyes, the older male was as charismatic as could be. Of course, there wasn't much he hadn't been impressed by since leaving the village.


When Roland had directed his question to the rest of the group, even a blind man would have been able to tell how Levarnius felt about the situation. In his opinion, more people made everything better. Considering the amount of members they were taking along their journey as it is, it was bound to be a fantastic time.


Fixating his gaze on his robed companion that kept him company prior to their release from Gordon's tent, Levarnius mimicked Roland's invasion of personal space. Getting in close, he gave a rather enthusiastic pat on the back, hoping to increase the man's odds of acceptance. A simple recommendation would've sufficed, but like the other sensible options that had been available in the past, this never crossed his mind.


"My good pal Sol here can take on any bandit there is! He'd be perfect for the group!" Of course these statements were based off no real evidence, but Levarnius felt he was correct in his judgement. After all, Sol had a sword. Was there any more proof needed?

 

[Goddess]

Pira's ears perked up when Roland mentioned newcomers, granted she was there the whole time her mind was just in another place. Turning on her heel she walked over wiggling her way through the masses and nearly placing herself in the center of the group. With one arm crossed and the other on her chin as she walked around the one who spoke in a melancholy tone. Stopping in front of him as she breathed out a flame she placed her hand on his shoulder roughly and gave him a wide smile. "My old man always said to always surround yourself with good company, which meant to make new friends. Welcome a board ol chap. " She removed her hand placing them on her hips as she looked at Roland. "Going in and taking them down isn't a heavy task, rather simple from what I've gathered. I'm sure this team can do it if not a few of us, say a shy of three."


She felt the hairs on her tingle , her ears perking up and moving around. She heard rustling not far off from where they were positioned but it was probably a bunny or a deer. Shrugging it off Piras felt a tight tug on her baggy pants , pulling her down a little. Looking down she noticed it was the same boy who was cold earlier. "Oh, hello young one." Piras had backed away a little from the group, kneeling down toward the boy. The boy smiled and pointed toward a friend who was eager to see a magic trick. "Can you show her something cool.' Piras tilted her head and thought to herself. "Lets see, what do I have up my sleeve...oh whats this." She reached behind her back then flung out her arm toward the open space. Out came a small flame that began to flicker. "Thats to small." Piras hushed the boy and pointed toward the flame that began to dance , morphing into a small boy that copied the one standing beside her. "You can touch it, I will not allow it to burn you."


Piras said with a laugh as she stood up and watched the other boys run over. "Kids...I remember when I was their age. Smashing rocks , burning down the house...good times good times."

 

[Sir Raime]

A small wind billowed through the entrance of the tent, gently blowing the curtains. Unlike the usual warm winds of the desert, this one was strangely cold. This was no regular cold, it was a bitter chill that carried hushed whispers into the lavish home. If one were to listen closely, they could hear panic, sorrow and fear in the fleeting chatter of the desert. The wind ended just as abruptly as it had begun, and moments later Aspero slowly strode into the place where the many other adventurers had gathered, as if the icy breeze was heralding his arrival.


"I heard talk of bandits and lives being risked from some Aemal brat. What do we know about them in terms of mobility and armament? If we have enough time to plan, we could set up a-" His questioning was cut off as he stole a glance toward the man with the dull yellow eyes. His fists clenched as he bit back a snarl, likely one of rage, slowly pacing backwards. Two red eyes glowed beneath the bandages and cast hateful rays toward his counterpart's own eyes.


Those eyes. Those lifeless eyes. They were devoid of life. Each yellowed orb was a yawning abyss, an unnatural pool that screamed for a soul. That damnable thing was a wretched imitation of a living creature, an undead abomination. The emptiness in his eyes was all too familiar - it was just like the cold oblivion in the sockets of those ghosts down in the underground depths. He shook himself from his reminiscence and realized his fingernails would have dug into his palms and made his hands bleed if not for the dirtied grey gloves he wore. He turned his head away from prying eyes and loosened the bandages around his mouth to take deep breaths in and out so as to calm himself. If one were to look closely, they could catch the slightest glimpse of something that utterly disturbing and thankfully obscured. Fastening his bandages once more, he began again.


"If anyone is hungry, I haggled with some of the rabble around here for spices and sidewinder meat. I cooked a few extra portions of grilled snake if you can tolerate the taste - I kept most of the spices for myself." He withdrew a bundle of something wrapped in greasy cloth with a rather pleasant aroma, no doubt the aforementioned sidewinder he cooked, and held it out as if waiting for someone to take it from him.

 

[Hanzax]

Finishing off the last mouthful of rum, Halstein placed the glass back onto the counter of the bar. The dusty old place looked like it just had a tornado blow on through. The tables and chairs stood slightly askew from what one would expect. The row of glasses on the other side of the counter were offset. The floor was still moist after having to mop up any liquids that could have ended up down there. None the less, it was still one of his favorite bars to have a quick chat and good drink.


The designers of the recent rearrangement had apparently been a man on man dispute that ended up in an all out brawl. Admittedly it would have been rather injoyable to participate in but sadly that was over and done with until next week. What was more interesting were a group of soon-to-be dungeon divers, lead by a young man with a strange looking arm.


Rustling through his pockets, he pulled up a few coins to many and left them on the counter, spun around on his chair and fell the short distance down onto the damp floor. He had hooked a guarding job for a caravan that looked like it had a promising future. He stepped out in the familar warmth of the wind of Ethym, leaving the bar and headed for the tent that the caravan had pitched up.


The large tent came into view as he rounded the corner of another tent similar but much much smaller. A fairly slim looking figure that he had not seen before had just stepped the curtain doorway. The stranger began talking about bandits before abruptly stopping and continuing on about some sidewinder meat.


Stepping into the tent, brisking the curtains aside he stepped up to the side of the slim man that had just entered and took a piece of meat out of the cloth. "I wouldn't worry about any silly old bandits. With a group big enough they'd most likely lay low." Taking a look across the crowd, a single man stood out. He stood a fairly tall with black hair and a spooky looking arm. Taking a bite out of the greasy and spiced meat Halstein continued. "I 'spose you lads wouldn't be scared of any rag-tag bandits seeing as we're headin' for the same place."

 

[Croissant]

Sol

Sol raised his brow when the boy, Levarnius was it? vouched for him, which confused Sol as too why since the boy had never even seen the man fight. Although it might just be a way of trying to associate himself with Sol, or simply to gain Sol's approval as a friend. But the boy's assumption was not wrong, Sol could easily execute a couple of rag tag bandits single-handedly. The time he has survived in the arena proves that he is a man who can adapt to many situations. Lots of his fights were from 1 on 2 to him against the world. As things seemed to go, Sol had gained the approval of many in the group, and would be able to stay with them until his goal is reached. After that he would make a swift escape and hopefully never meet them again. Maybe he'll fake his death? Who knows.


As the lovely elf girl left his sights after welcoming him to the group officially. He sat down and sighed, wondering when they would get this caravan going. He smiled here and there to make sure they would think he was glad to be part of the group, but he would only use this until he found a way to escape and make sure he was not being chased by authorities. Although a dungeon run would be difficult, he could easily find the resolve and courage to go through the dungeon, but he wasn't sure how the group planned to survive. Food? Water? All of those things seemed necessary. He looked back at the elf girl and saw that she could wield fire (and was nice to kids I guess) with a great amount of control too. When Sol managed too summon his flames they're very volatile, and spark furiously at times. They are also of a near white/yellowish color. He would have to ask her about it... maybe she would know.


He crossed his arms and lowered his head, and he immediately started meditating a bit.
​