Fantasy Terryal: The First Age of Man

[Ayl]

Pauvel admired the grace the mage had. As he glanced upon her features, he couldn't help himself but remark how much more beautiful than he originally appraised. The darkness of the night had dulled his vision temporarilly. The woman asured him with a giggle as she laid down to him the fact that they were not brigands. So they were from Zephyr. That much he could compile, but "avenge" it? They were actually going to go after whatever was that thing that turned the once proud city of the West into ashes and dust? The woman may have been undoubtebly pretty, but Pav could not certainly vow for her mental state.


"I'm sorry,my lady, but did I hear you say you were on a quest to find and kill that monstrosity who devastated Zephyr? Oh, what am I saying, of course you aren't. That would be suicide! I saw from afar what that...thing did to the city. It would be truly madness to go after it!" he exclamed. Although come to think of it, that would explain their rather unconventional party. Especially that man back there with the strange axe. Or was it a spear? Nevertheless, he would have to remain on his toes for the remainder of the night, for who knows what more events would unfold.


“I cannot promise I will not mention you, but I can promise no harm will come to you… unless you threaten us.”





Somehow he did not feel very reassured at the fair lady's attempt to calm him. He did just lower his bow and spared her life, which was more than any brigand would do. But could he actually trust her? And what of her group? He doubted they would whole-heartedly accept another mouth to feed, a stranger no less, since they all seemed to know each other well enough to commit themselves to a one-way trip.


"Very well, then, my Lady, seeing as you did not incinerate me in the blink of an eye, I would assume your spells, although potent, need time to be casted. Therefore leaving you vulnerable. I would gladly accompany you in your search for your companions. It is not safe to travel the woods lightly, especially at dark,and I assure you, my arrows are way faster than your spells!" he said once again smirking.

 

[Sol]

It had occurred to Yurt, that this quest may as well fail before they could even reach the North. Just a day in and already someone had been killed, the party had been betrayed and one of their number most likely traumatized. This was never a good to start to any journey, perhaps he may never see his home again, perhaps they may be waylaid and slaughtered on the road North, perhaps many things may occur.


____________________________________


Kalalar had requested that the wine bottles collected was to be distributed to the camp. Yurt took his share, while Kalalar took one of the bottles form his hand. Ruger distributed the rest to the camp, it may be that the man had took it upon himself to do it since Yurt was more than incapable of doing so without making everything tedious. More and more, he began questioning his place among these people, he offered absolutely no benefit to the party whatsoever, unless Razaranje fulfills his promise of making him whole again. More and more, formidable people flock to Arrow. Perhaps a new guide to the north may be found along the way, relieving him of his duty.


No.


If he was to be replaced it would be through single combat. He had already relinquished much without a fight, there was no way he would relinquish his hold on something that would propel him back to his homeland.


He took a swig from the bottle of wine. Yurt felt the alcohol course through him. The world became clearer and blurrier at the same time. Voices felt muted and distant, yet his sense were more alive. He felt detached from the world, yet he was aware of what was happening. Drunkenness be damned, enlightenment be attained.


Damn, if he just wasn't a lightweight....


“OH NO, YOU ARE GOING NOWHERE TODAY, LITTLE MAN!"


The response to the stimulus was sluggish at best. Yurt envied Ruger the chance to take on a mounted opponent, to feel the rush of adrenaline course through your veins in time with the thundering of horse hooves or the faint padding of the excessively large and brutal felines mixed with warcries that erupt from all around oneself. It was glorious to say the least, the kind of glory robbed from Yurt.


Things happened afterward, blurred things, wine swigging to be the most prominent. Fox was supposedly executed or so the voices in his head had whispered to him. People arrived, people were saved, people died, yet Yurt did not mind at all, the cycle of life continues as ordained by the higher beings in life. To the gods, it may as well be a game, this little quest of theirs, the recent events have shown it to be. Not a complete day in, yet betrayals have happened and so have executions. As if the gods were impatient for blood.


It had occurred to Yurt, that this quest may as well fail before they could even reach the North. Just a day in and already someone had been killed, the party had been betrayed and one of their number most likely traumatized. This was never a good to start to any journey, perhaps he may never see his home again, perhaps they may be waylaid and slaughtered on the road North, perhaps many things may occur.


Perhaps the journey may be uneventful and the gods have had their fill.


However, the gods are never satisfied and neither was Yurt. He simply kept swigging on and on until he would be ordered to do something else again.

 

[Original Hylion]

It was enragingly depressive this moment where there was literally nothing that could be done. Again, even while he is there to defend someone he cared for, he could not help but sit there and watch useless and unneeded, incapable of supplying any type of actual reassurance, and real protection from any further pain. Airrow's resolve was not enough to help this time around. Wounds of the flesh were easy enough to keep from bleeding out, but the inner workings and functionalists of wounds within one's own flesh. All the man could do now is pray, pray and wait.


The time went on with no real change. Amras had returned but had nothing of strong supply to give back to the group. He brought Airrow's equipment and promptly placed it near the horse, whom was simply idling near the fire. Yurt sat towards the far edge of the camp, drinking from his lone bottle of wine and paying a meager amount of attention to the group's happenings. Aesriel left to see if she could retrieve Nadia from her hiding place. Airrow kept his eyes and attention mostly focused on Fae but only began to notice who was actually gone. Az had disappeared into the night as well, adding to the amount of people who were missing in action. As well, Ruger was out on the field, coming on over. He arrived with Aesriel, but she had left shortly after.


"What of you, Ruger?" Airrow spoke up, trying for anything.


Even as she left, Ruger's eyes lingered a bit longer on her back. He could never have imagined this day would come. A lady, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, saving his skin directly. He was used to favors being used to indirectly help him, but never had someone actually saved him as such. Losing his words as soon as he thought they were about to escape his mouth, he rubbed his temples as he broke away from her as she went off to search for someone.


"Ah, I am having nothing, Airrow." He sighed, a melancholy sound coming from a usually cheery man. "Maybe a bitting of heart problems, but the pretty Faelynn is suffering more than that, hm?" He turned his attention to the lady on the ground. "What is her ailing, Airrow?"


"From the fall, she may gotten illness from spending such time in the cold river. As well, her bones seem to be troubling her. I have no experience with the working of bones in all honesty. I have seen some barber-surgeons work their way with bone-setting but I dare not attempt to repeat the process. I doubt my supplies at and and even the my capability of repeating such an affect even if not entirely perfect in an attempt to save fair Faelyn." Airrow responded.


Airrow placed a hand on Fae's forehead and gently stroked her hair to give any comfort he could. 
(a little more rugery)


"Ach, there is reason why Ruger kill people, not heal people, yes?" He shook his head, his albino hair drooping over his eyebrows, apparently still not dry from their encounter with the river. "Yes, Ruger have many dying friend that other friend with knowledge in healing treat. See now, Ruger can...what is word, euthanise? Anaesthesize? Anaesthesizing the patient, Ruger can do, ease pain, stop bleeding, all of this. But proper treatingment..." he drew in a deep breath, puffing out his chest slightly, then exhaled. "Her arm is at dislocation, Ruger can see. Ruger, too, is not wanting to mislocate bone any more."


Ruger knelt by the lady, placing one hand on her arm lightly, before turning his head to look at Airrow. "It is fool's business to treat it. It is more foolish fool's business to leave it. Ruger can try, Airrow, but cannot guarantee hundred percent satisfaction. Ruger is sellsword, not sellmagichealinghands."

 

[Ozmic]

The souls, like a fine mist to his eyes and surely unseen to others, began to flow around the bodies as the giant 'prayed' over them. With a long inhale, he pulled them into his form and let the power surge and wash over him. He let forth a sigh of relief and stood, just as the other addressed him.


"Intrude? Yes, this is truth... you were already here to begin with," he replied calmly, slipping the covering over his face again as he wiped the blood from his odd weapon onto Fox's clothing. It was not a cleaning, but more of a messy wiping away. The other's blood on his weapon bothered him.


"Kill you? I'd not think of it!" he announced, continuing as if shocked. Leaning closer he whispered in a hushed tone. "You shall not die this day, fret little on that. However, if you wish to say safe, I would urge you keep quiet the things you've witnessed. Though only one of them was an enemy to our little 'gathering', I fear the other was no innocent herself."


Stepping back, he looked over the bodies and acted as if filled with regret, hunching his towering form over as if to further demonstrate this fact. "I've found them!" he called out in a seemingly-woeful voice, hoping to call the others to attention and toward Fox.


Almost instantly, there was a crack in the brush near them and another began toward them. It was the woman that had been speaking with Nadia. "Come quickly! Terrible things have happened, ma'am. Necessary, but terrible." He looked down at the corpses as if holding in great sorrow, though behind his mask he stifled the terrifying grin that threatened to spread across his lips.

 

[Syrenrei]

When people suggested that Aurora was somehow blessed by Sultra herself with her uncanny serendipity it was not an exaggeration. No one knew why the heavens looked so favorably upon her, but she was of such good fortune that it was unnerving- especially today. For several days she had been traveling on foot as she slowly meandered around the landscape surrounding Zephyr. In the early morning hours she had woken to a horse grazing near her with a saddle and bridle yet no rider. The conflagration that was once a majestic city had not escaped her attention the day prior and she had been in a state of loss and confusion as she had adventured back to its remains. One could only conclude the steed had escaped from its previous owner when the great fire raged or in the aftermath. Regardless, she saw it as a blessing and a sign from the great goddess herself. They were meant to be together.


She had named the horse "Lula" and set on her way. During a rest stop Aurora belatedly noticed that 'Lula' had certain physical features that were proof 'she' was not a mare at all. "Svet" was now his new name. Of course the animal couldn't actually understand the new name yet, nor did it have comprehension of the constant conversation she granted it. That didn't mean she didn't address him properly, using 'sir' and apologizing profusely for confusing his gender albeit for a mere few hours.


As the sun dropped in the sky and light gave way to stars illuminating a night painted with beautiful strokes of indigo, Aurora had her second bout of luck. She had been thus far relatively isolated from other people. Not that she was complaining, mind you. Sultra had given her visions to depart from Zephyr and thus she had been more prepared than those fleeing as all their worthy possessions were turned to ash. Her pack was full of supplies- both those for survival in the wilderness and those for healing. They made horrendous noises now and then as they collided; the rhythm of the horse's intermittent forays into cantering were not gentle rhythms. A lesser rider might have been thrown but she had been fortunate enough to be born to farmers. If there was one thing a young child of a farmer wanted to do it was to learn how to ride off into the sunset! Not that there was anywhere to go. Well, it would be her little secret that the farmlands could be even more boring than it already sounded to 'cityfolk.'


She was at a full canter when she abruptly crested a hill and discovered a small encampment of several people. How auspicious! With a practiced pull on the reins she signaled to Svet that it was time to halt. He tossed his head and whinnied, not completely ready to be compliant to his new rider. Her feet were properly sunk in the stirrups, her posture proper enough to keep her in the saddle, but she was distracted by excitement over new companions. Leaning forward to wave was enough to tip her balance during Svet's 'tantrum' and she toppled off the left side and into the ground. Svet shook himself and lazily moved to the right to get a lush green dinner, now acting completely complacent.


Aurora leapt to her feet, sputtering out dirt and a few blades of grass. She was uninjured at least- just about everyone who rode had a little practicing in falling as well. Without taking the time to study the scene, smooth out her clothes, or remove a little debris from her tangled hair, she ran forward with an exuberant greeting. "Hello there!" A lacquered wooden cross that bounced off her chest was visible as she drew closer. It was a proclamation of her faith and training, even if she had 'abandoned' her duties as of late.

 

[Haley]

Faelynn focused on her breathing most of the time that she lay there, soaking in the warmth of the fire and watching as Airrow looked down at her with worried expression. He hadn't yet left her side since placing her in her makeshift bed and for that she was grateful. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin to speak but before uttering a word, decided not to and relaxed her head back down. Airrow seemed not to notice, he just gently moved her bangs from her forehead and stayed quiet next to her. Fae felt her cheeks grow hot with the simple touch but whether it was because of Airrow or the fever, she wasn't sure.


Suddenly, Ruger appeared behind Airrow, making Faelynn jump slightly, but Airrow barely changed at all, only looked over to the large Northerner and asked about him. Faelynn didn't really listen to their conversation. Her mind was jumbled mess of thoughts that consisted of pain, exhaustion, breathing, Airrow, sleep, breathing, pain, warm fire, Airrow, sleep, breathe, sleep, breathe.... sleep.... breathe...


gasp!


Fae's eyes flew open at the touch of Ruger grabbing her arm. Her blue eyes were suddenly wild as she heard him say that what he was about to do could possibly not end well. At the same time a foreign female voice sounded from the edge of the camp. It was cheerful and caught her attention for a moment, long enough for her to see the wooden cross. She looked back between Ruger and Airrow.


"Wait, waitwait! What about her? Who is she?! The cross! Let her try! Please, wait!" She felt panic start to rise in her aching chest. It wasn't that she didn't trust Ruger, he was a nice man with a good heart, who seemed to like Fae well-enough but, she was petite and frail at the moment and very much afraid.

 

[Erica]

Aesri’s uncertainty about her new companion lingered. He called them mad to seek to avenge Zephyr: a point she might have corrected if Fae did not need immediate assistance. Hopefully the voice up ahead belonged to Nadia and the woman had not boasted about her ability to heal others. That Aesriel sought one stranger to aid another underlined how far her situation had deteriorated. And all this in the middle of the wood at night.


As she moved toward the clearing ahead, the newest stranger trailed in her wake, insulting her casting ability or trying to accentuate the value of his archery skills: it was hard to tell which. She cast him an inquisitive look, but accepted his presence - mostly because she didn’t have time to argue the point, and leaving him behind her seemed even less wise. The chanting from earlier still had the hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end. Maybe he was right about safety in numbers, even if one of the number remained an unknown factor. While she had held her tongue about the sanity of their choice to avenge Zephyr, the temptation proved too great this time. She couldn’t fully hold her tongue. “If you wish,” she said, leaving it open to interpretation whether the comment referred to his decision to accompany her or his declaration about his abilities in comparison to her magic.


The dried brush made far too much noise under her feet as she hurried ahead. The sounds of low conversation were lost in the wind - or perhaps it had been only the wind howling alone. Then she stepped into the clearing to a gruesome sight. Nadia and Fox lay in a bloody heap on the ground. The other stranger who had fought with them - the one with the nasty axe - stood above them, looking wretched. Another stranger stood at the other edge of the clearing - a young girl, it appeared. Once again, she wondered how many refuges from Zephyr lurked in the woods. She glanced once to the archer at her side, realizing belatedly she didn’t know his name - then back to the warrior. What was his name? Azra something-or-other?


Belatedly she realized strangers, the least of which held the bloody weapon, surrounded her. After a moment of shock, she looked between him and the corpses. She should probably ask who the newcomer was. Instead her first thoughts came tripping out of her mouth in her shock. “I came to find Nadia. Airrow found Fae, but she is hurt badly. Did Fox do this?”


Of course he hadn’t: he wouldn’t have skewered himself with a blade. Aesriel’s gaze moved between the new girl, the corpses, and Azra-whoever as she spoke. Suddenly, the thought of having her archer maybe-friend with her didn’t seem so stupid. Finally, her feet carried her to the two bodies. Squatting down beside them and attempting to keep the blood off her clothing, she checked them for signs of life. As expected, there were none. Nadia had a terrified look on her face. Inwardly, she felt for the woman and couldn't help but wonder whether bad luck was starting to follow all the women in the group. The situation didn't afford her the luxury of being able to dwell on that, however. She looked back to the seemingly morose killer (Azrathoth). “Not that I’m upset about Fox. I think the only complaint you’ll hear is that others wished to hurt him first.” Her brow creased in what she hoped looked more like concern than suspicion - and that it would mask the rapid beat of her heart. “But what happened to Nadia?” She stood and stepped back, looking to the new girl and including her in the question.

 

[Auren]

When the man moved closer to Ramya, she suppressed the urge to grimace at his awful smell. She nodded vigorously to the man’s demands, thinking that that he was a hume of two minds. The hissed, hushed tone matched the predator-esque nature of the man, but not the body language he portrayed. She trembled while he was close, feigning fear. When he called to his companion, Ramya decided to keep count. This man that smelled of poison was one, and he called to another, two. She placed her hands over her forearms, hunching her shoulders as if she was going through the shock of witnessing her first killing. She kept her eyes slightly wide and shocked.


The woman had another with her, a man hume. Three. She mentioned names, one was of the fallen, and then two more. Five. She felt that the woman may be looking to accuse her of the killing. If only Ramya were so dumb a killer to do that. She would have enjoyed killing the dirus that had brought her out of hiding, to feel a blade press through her gut as the blood spilled onto her gloves. But no, she did not kill with a lance. Lances were butchery, and Ramya enjoyed delicacy.


”I- I-...”her eyes grew large as she looked at the woman. She gulped. ”I was just wanderin’ round, ya see? And- and..”her gaze fell onto the dead. ”That lady, well she saw me and I was a’ sayin’ to ‘er dat well, my family lived close and I was explorin’ round the trees, and- and- well, there was that man, and he was threatenin’-like, ya see… and.. “she made tears come to her eyes. She sniffled, and wiped them from her face with her gloved hands. ”I ain’t never seen no one dead afore,”she cried, letting a few of the tears trail her cheeks. She wiped her face again, her nose twitching with the new scents the hume’s brought. One smelled of incense, the other of horse flesh. She hid her nose behind her hand, pretending it was to cover her mouth, as she had seen other beings do when they were shocked.


She turned her wide gaze away from the dead and towards the woman. She shivered in her tremble again, clasping her forearms tightly as she appeared to hug herself as a way to comfort herself. If she joined the troop, she would part ways before the city. She wasn’t keen on being part of the group, but she could handle it for a while. As long as no one became too curious, she would remain Rammie, the young girl that was clumsy, ditzy, and jabbered too much.


She let a soft sob escape her lips, pretending to have a soft heart towards others, even strangers. ”Dere’s so much blood,”she whimpered before looking at the ground and closing her eyes tightly.

 

[Ayl]

As he followed the Mage maiden, he could see how she glanced upon him, perhaps questioning him still. Indeed, who wouldn't? A strange man threatens you with arrows aimed at your heart one time and then offering to help you the other. A bit suspicious, he had to agree. Although she seemed like she wished to speak more, all she said to his offer of help was but one sentence. That "If you wish" surprised Pauvel, as he detected a slight note of annoyance in her voice. "Hmm, a spirited one. She must have token what I've said the wrong way. I surely meant no disrespect, but alas, now's not the time for chit-chat!" he thought to himself, while following from behind, arrows at the ready for anything unseen.


As they kept walking through the shrubs, they finally reached a clear spot, where the gruesome scene unfolded before them. Two bloody bodies lied on the ground, inert, as a giant of a man carrying the most peculiar weapon stood near them, with appeared to be a girl squirmed on the ground, crying. If Pav ever felt danger before, then it was the same as now. Nocking his arrows, he was ready for a fight, but then the woman he accompanied so far started speeking familiarly to the newfound stranger. He stood at the ready, counting the names he heard. "Airrow, Fae, Fox, Nadia. Just how many bloody people there are on this quest?!" his inner voice spoke.


Whisper started counting all the ways this situation could go wrong, at the same time studying the giant man's weapon. A half spear-half axe, which could've been used at range as well. This could be troublesome, as by Pauvel's calculations, he was right within the contraption's range. Would he to back away now, the man would surely notice and take him for a threat. The thought of running and turning his back was not a soothing one, not one bit! For now, he decided to play along and be silent, letting the maiden clear the air for him. He most painful sight for Pauvel was the one of the snivelling girl on the ground, begging for mercy. She looked harmless and was probably there by accident when she walked on the scene. Pauvel sighted what seemed to be blood on the stranger's weapon, although wiped almost clean, but still he couldn't be certain. “Not that I’m upset about Fox. I think the only complaint you’ll hear is that others wished to hurt him first.” "Aw, so the dead guy is this Fox fellow, not very loved I see. So this one really did kill them both. I better wait for the full story then!" . He loosened his bowstring's pressure, but kept his wits about him.

 

[Original Hylion]

There was no protest from Airrow at first, as it seemed the only option. His fixation on Fae was intense enough to be oblivious to the new rider entering the camp gathering. When Fae began gasping and objecting against Ruger's offer, Airrow placed a hand on the sell sword's shoulder to keep him from preceding. Airrow lifted his vision to the new comer of the group. Robed in white and green attire, with some coat of arms showing that she had gained the gowns in Zephyr. It was obvious what she was by the necklace she wore and that fashion she was presented in, and quite surprisingly, it really felt like a gift from Sultra. The only thing that would make it seem like a truly holy moment would be a bright ray of light across the field, following the girl and her horse towards the camp, too bad the moon shone and the clouds fogged.


Airrow still sat there, for a moment, stagnant as the girl approached. She arrived carelessly and without real bother to everything that was going on, she was no gift. Airrow made movement but hesitated when questions began to pop up in his mind. He kept from beginning an interrogation as he felt Fae's situation was dire enough to take the risk. She needed medical attention now, Airrow could not spare time checking the new comer down for poison or falsehoods.


"Hail, friend!" Airrow greeted her with a raised hand, "We have injured, and in need of assistance if it can be given." It was a simple question really. "She had fallen into the river rapids over yonder, a hurt arm and head is what we could diagnose ourselves with what ability we have. We will supply any supplies you need. As with all Zephyr, we are low on supplement and cannot give you everything you may require. If it pay you are seeking, I swear to you, I will pay your debt when we reach the next town."

 

[Erica]

The poor girl looked terrified. Aesriel could sympathize. She had seen battle before. Since leaving The White Hand, it seemed blood and gore served as constant companions. Such was mercenary life. Even so, this particular death disturbed her. The amount of blood alone made her stomach turn. Straightening her spine, she did her best to suppress her nausea along with the trembling threatening to take over her hands. The girl helped in that regard, for it allowed Aesriel to focus on someone else’s needs.


The story came out in halting utterances and an odd dialect, but she made out most of it. Her brow furrowed in concern for the girl, but she did not move to comfort her: not yet, anyway. “It’s all right, child. No one is going to hurt you.” I hope. She glanced briefly to the archer, who had gone from threat to possible ally in the span of time it took to stumble upon this scene. He was lowering his bow, ever so slightly. If Azra-whatever had done something foul, the girl should be demonstrating more fear. It didn’t seem like she was lying, but … well, Aesriel had to consider the possibility, however remote. If the girl were lying, then Aesri recognized she stood little chance of surviving this conversation unless she showed she believed… what? That Fox hadn’t been an ass who threatened Fae?


Her eyes moved to the large warrior and his bloody weapon. “Can you share a more …” She glanced to Ramya, flashing a quick apologetic smile before continuing to address the other. “… coherent account of what happened?” She said a silent prayer that he would make it quick, too: the adrenaline was starting to wear off and she could feel her nerves taking hold.

 

[Syrenrei]

Aurora's exuberance dissipated quickly. She was not so often this energetic but the respite from the solitude had made her overly eager to engage in conversation. Solitude was nice in smaller doses than she had been experiencing as of late. When Airrow explained the situation at hand, her eyes instantly drifted towards the woman nearby that was sitting with obvious injury and in distress. A soft expression of empathy and compassion crossed over her features and she offered a smile towards the lady as a sign of reassurance she would help even before confirmation slipped out her lips. "I left Zephyr before the tragic fires, so I have all the supplies I need for now. I need no payment nor promise thereof. It is by Sultra's wisdom and grace I found you during this time of trouble. It is my duty and joy to help those that need healing- sincerely. All I ask for is some companionship in return. Let me fetch my things."


Her entire demeanor had shifted with alarming alacrity. Gone was the childish glee of encountering potential friends; in its place was an enthusiasm for her calling. With a hushed hurry she fled back towards Svet and undid the straps of her bags to the saddle. As Svet wandered slightly closer to the camp it was apparent that he was not from the temple as it lacked any of the decor associated with faith. What little dressage was on his saddle pad, saddle, and bridle were emblazoned with military insignia- this was a fallen warrior's creature and made to carry someone who wore heavy armor. It ignored Aurora as its preoccupation with lush grass continued, swishing its tail to avoid the biting insects that were nocturnal. The priestess did not bother to tie him to any post or tree as it was apparent that he had no intention to flee.


With Airrow undoubtedly watching her actions closely, she swiftly made her way to Fae's side and opened the bag that had been so hastily retrieved. A change of clothes, a blanket, a cape, and various sundries for cooking and surviving as an adventurer spilled forth as she dug deeper into the pack. At the bottom, carefully arranged to avoid as much damage as possible, were smaller containers and instruments for her profession: a mortar and pestle, herbology journal, dried and crushed herbs themselves, extractions in vials, and other necessities. Aurora carefully withdrew a small folded packet of powder and handed it to the other female, waiting patiently for acceptance. " I will need to position your arm back in place before I can mend it. The pain should be fleeting but you can take this if you wish for some temporary relief. It will also calm your nerves. It is your choice if you think you would benefit from it or if you would like to refrain for now."


Her gaze fell to the arm in question but she kept a respectful distance until Fae herself affirmed that Aurora could intervene. Trust, however minimal, must be established unless it was life and death and the wounded was unconscious. The head laceration had also caught her attention but her first priority was making the girl mobile enough that she could fend for herself. Had they the luxury of a posh dwelling, her triage mentality might have spun differently as concern about an infection festering had also arisen in her mind. An illness was always a touch more difficult to treat and properly diagnose. Aurora desperately wanted to prove to these wary persons that she was earnestly concerned about their well-being. A demonstration that was easily visually confirmed would go a long way towards proving both her abilities and intentions. "Do I have your permission to begin?" Aurora asked gently, her voice soft. There was a certain calm assurance that pervaded her movements and speech. The first impression had been of a careless fool, but now she had fallen naturally into her role.


Sultra had blessed her certainly. Everything would be fine.

 

[Ozmic]

Azrathoth looked upon the other, smaller female and frowned, eyes showing nothing short of regret at her choked sobs. "You've my deepest apologies, miss. I assure you, had there been another way at the time without risk of the tricheor escaping."


He sighed, putting a hand to his head and turning toward the woman from before. "To answer your question... yes. Fox DID do this, though not in how you think. Regretfully, I skewered them together in such a way." He looked down to the corpses and grimaced, shaking his head as if bothered by the sight of the bodies.


Drawing down his facial covering, he dug around his satchel and took out a long pipe, quickly filling and lighting it. As sweet smelling smoke drifted around in the night air, he explained what had happened. "I, admittedly, came to find Nadia to speak with here away from the camp... about the battle, you see? Those creatures - I had to know if they were after her and why."


"I found her speaking with this young miss and, before I could even announce myself... Fox appeared. He nearly toppled me over, pushing past me so quickly. When he turned and saw it was me, however, he darted for Nadia."


The giant scowled and spat on the ground near Fox's foot. "Had I just grabbed him sooner..." he started, trailing off for a second and then continuing with his tale. "He put that small blade there to her throat and began to threaten me. I'd, admittedly, said some things about him and his 'love' earlier in the eve'. His soul was black and I suggested he run before the others found out as I had. I never expected this."


Tamping the pipe against his boot, he emptied it and, after exhaling a plume of the sweet smog, went on. "I could do nothing as he sneered and cut the poor girl's throat. But, as she died, I knew I could still get him before he escaped. So, I speared the both of them and took him by surprise. Twas not my finest hour, but I had to do what needed doing... and make sure he'd never hurt another again."


Sighing heavily, he replaced his pipe and moved toward a tree, moving his large form to sit beneath it and turning his gaze back toward the woman. "So now you've the tale," he said somberly and almost bitterly. "If I had been able to save her, I would have. Do you think I assisted her in the battle earlier just to drag out her death until now?"

 

[Haley]

Faelynn took deep breaths as the woman spoke to her and Airrow and then quickly left to grab more supplies. Fae had never been a religious woman but in the moment she felt as if Sultra had surely sent this woman as a blessing. She blinked a few times and looked up to the woman and did her best to take in everything she said by focusing on her mouth as it moved. When she asked if Faelynn would allow her to proceed with placing her dislocated shoulder she adamantly nodded grateful that relief would soon set upon her aching body. She cared not for the pain that would come with forcing her joint back into place, she shook her head no for the pain relievers, she just wanted it over with as soon as possible.


After it was clear that she wanted the woman to help. She readied herself by closing her eyes and clenching her jaw, readying herself for the next step. She took a deep breath and reached out with her uninjured arm, and searched for Airrow's hand only to find the hem of his shirt and took hold, squeezing tightly as she held her breath.

 

[Erica]

Aesriel listened attentively over the rapid thrumming of her heartbeat. When he mentioned Fox being the cause of the bloodshed, but “not how you think”, she wondered what he thought had been running through her mind. Certainly Fox had not skewered himself along with Nadia. While some zealous religious orders were known to commit suicide by impaling themselves on long poles, they had to take a running start to do so - and they wanted an audience. Granted, she didn’t know Nadia, but it seemed unlikely that the woman had signed on for a mutual suicide. (It did not occur to her how stupid her question had sounded, of course.) And the angles were all wrong.


Still, Aesri listened, tightening her grip on her staff to quell the shaking in her hands and consciously attempting to lower her shoulders. Azra-whatever’s story made sense, and the man seemed remorseful, in his own way. Personally, she would not smoke a pipe after killing someone, but she had seen many warriors take up alcohol or a smoke to relax after a tense battle.


When the man sat heavily beneath a tree, she shook her head. “Of course not,” she answered, mostly because it seemed the right thing to say. She looked back at the gruesome sight of Fox and Nadia’s torn and bloody forms.


She sighed softly. “It seems we are plagued with accidents and death. Let us hope that it ends with Fox’s death. We should return to Airrow and the others.


She glanced toward the archer who had been following her, and the young girl beside her, “Are either of you gifted in healing?


“I was hoping that Nadia could heal another of our party, Faelynn, who was found but remains injured,” she added by way of explanation. Whatever their answer, it was time for them to head back to camp. Whether they could help or not, Aesri now firmly believed they should stay with the others, at least until light.

 

[Ayl]

Keeping his bow near his body, but with an arrow still nocked, pointing downwards, he kept pacing back and forth slowly from two bodies laying on the ground. The large hole from where the polearn weapon pierced through was a horrible sight to behold, yet Pauvel wanted to know all the facts. There was something fishy about the giant's story that made the former mercenary captain mistrust him, therefore being wary of him. He backed away slowly from the corpses, gripping his bow tighter. The last thing he wished for was to get killed by a mammoth of a man with a weapon came from hell itself.


As the maiden started sighing, Pav turned his head towards claiming hers and her companions' quest has been a harrowing one so far.His eyes, sheltered by his hood, caught her while grasping her staff tighter, probably to help her shake off the nauseous feeling she could be having at the sight of the dead persons. Or she could be tired from before, it was hard to tell in the dim light of the night.


Being asked if he had any medical knowledge, Pauvel recalled all the times he patched up his crew back in the days. "I can only mend minor wounds. Sprains, dislocations and minor to average cuts. I can't treat diseases if that is what you are looking for, my lady, thus I apologise for my lack of knowledge. But if your friend's condition is not too bad, I can take a look, if you desire me to." he offered.

 

[Syrenrei]

Aurora gently set down the medicine and helped Fae into a laying position that she knew would be most effective. It was a little more difficult to correct the shoulder of someone more muscular or even someone substantially larger than herself- it was harder to see the joint as clearly and keep her patient still. The priestess leaned over her charge, placing one hand on the shoulder in question while the other grasped Fae's elbow and slowly maneuvered the joint into place. There was a subtle 'pop' that indicated her success, yet Aurora kept her hold at both locations. With a cryptic smile Aurora closed her eyes, letting disheveled strands of gold cascade over a shoulder and tousle in her visage. No explanation was offered to any of those present as she took up humming a tune as ancient as it was soothing. The melody itself was not an incantation of arcane power: it was something that helped concert Aurora's healing.


No glow emanated from her hands, but as her unspoken prayers flowed into hummed song behind closed lips, she felt a certain warmth flow. It was a strange sensation and many of those so blessed described it differently, but Aurora swore that it made her feel bright and alive beyond explanation- as if her will itself was burning with such radiance it could reach out beyond herself. The pain of Fae's shoulder faded as the muscles were coaxed from their irritated swelling and encouraged back to former strength. Perhaps she would not know that another healer, without the age of magic, would leave her with aches for days or weeks to come- or perhaps she was mystified by the eccentricities of this devout. When Aurora opened her eyes and withdrew her hands, the limb was just as mobile as it had been before her incident.


The music had faded into non-existence and a slightly more tired Aurora gazed down at Fae with a brilliant smile. She said nothing, awaiting the other female's affirmation that all was well before she proceeded towards the injury that was on her forehead. There was a gentle patience that seized the woman more tightly now than it had before. No matter how exhausted these endeavors left her, Aurora felt she was most blessed by Sultra in these moments. To see agony melt away into oblivion, to see one small sampling of misery eased away... what more could humanity ask for besides this assistance? Was it not hope eternal that rested in the palms of their hands? It could not cure everything that the faithful dreamt of. Some faltered and stumbled with this realization. Aurora just focused on each victory, letting it empower and embolden her to stretch further, push harder, and believe more fervently.

 

[Auren]

Ramya let the woman go about her business, slowly turning her sobs into sniffles. She wiped her eyes with her gloved hand. The rough fabric swiped the fabric from her cheek, and she let is slide close to her nose in order to cover the stranger’s scent. The man’s story was believable enough, but she failed to believe the sorrow in his eyes as he looked upon her. No, she would not be fooled. He was just as dangerous as she.


She kept her gaze lowered, and she returned to hugging herself. She made herself tremble again. When one of the men lit a smoke, she turned what would have been a cough from the smell into a sob, a deep, choking sob. The other man hume, the one of horse flesh, paced oddly. Something seemed to trouble him, though there had been nothing but death and the stories of two "witnesses". He wouldn't have a reason to be suspicious, least not of her. When the female hume asked about healing she shook her head.


”I-I can do some pain killers, but,” she sniffled, and let her eyes lock on the dead. Pain killers, or poisons, though she wouldn’t let them know that very few ingredients separated the two. She let her face turn pale, as if she was sick, before looking back to the woman and trembling. ”I-I, um, yes, pain killers. Mah family is a sort of potion makers, an’ dats why I was a wanderin’ in these parts. I-I needed some thistle for,”her gaze traveled to the bodies again and she bit her lip in order to tame its feigned trembling.


”May I be excused, Miss? I, they, the blood,” tears welled in her eyes again and she glanced to the bodies again before glancing away. She let her gaze travel about them, in attempt to not look at the bodies, as if they disturbed her so much.

 

[Erica]

Aesriel’s anxiety over the sight of Nadia’s and Fox’s bodies increased with each passing moment. The sight of Azra-whatever (she really should ask his name again) smoking beneath the tree with a despondent look up on his face and his gruesome weapon still at hand somehow proved even more disturbing. She was relieved to turn her attention away from both, and even more relieved when the archer volunteered to go back to the camp to assist. It would be best if everyone returned to the camp. Maybe Airrow could sort this all out, maybe not, but at least she would not be leaving strangers in the wood around them along with the corpses of two of their companions.


“I do,” she answered him, “and you will have my thanks.” Her smile was minute but as genuine as she could muster before turning to the girl beside her.


Good fortune continued as the young girl, despite clearly still being terrified and shaken, volunteered her assistance as well. A true healer would be best, but someone well versed in potions would still provide better odds for Fae’s recovery. Aesriel offered the girl a gentle smile and a hand. “Of course,” she said. “The camp is this way. There will be safety there, and we will be most grateful for any assistance you can provide.” Her lips pressed together as she glanced briefly to Azra-whatever, her thoughts vacillating. He seemed genuinely disturbed by what had happened, and Fox had unquestionably been a villain. Still, the large man inspired a vague unease she could not clearly name. Was that really his fault though? Her only exposure to him involved fighting and death. Perhaps it was to be expected that his presence would trigger disquiet.


Resolving not to hold that against him, Aesriel started back toward camp. Focusing on quelling the girl’s fear helped her to set aside her own, so she spoke as they walked. She glanced at the archer, incorporating him as well. “I think introductions are overdue all around.” Offering a gentle smile that she hoped would reassure the girl, she continued. “My name is Aesriel. You can call me Aesri.” She only spared a quick glance back to Azra-whatever as she led the girl away from the scene of death and toward the camp, motioning with his head to encourage him to follow in their wake.

 

[Original Hylion]

The Alpha's son sat and watch patiently observing the priestess at work. He kept a steady watch, unflinching in his demeanor as the women went about her work gracefully. After some time, he allowed himself freedom from his peering and gestured for Kalhalar. He instructed him to watch them closely, to perhaps learn something, but also of course to make sure the priestess was not someone of trickery. Airrow went to lay out the rest of the bedrolls, patting Ruger's shoulder and thanking him before sending him to take some rest as well, then to Yurt instructing him to get some sleep also. He laid the rest out, for when Nadia, Azrathoth, and Aesriel would arrive, they could rest as well. Amras was already fast asleep, of which Airrow felt no ill will towards. Afterwards, he took his place beside Fae and the priestess once more to continue observing her work. There was not much he could do, and the events of the night had stolen his appetite. So, along with Kalhalar, he continued to watch the women and Faelynn.


As the priestess took a moment to pause, Airrow spoke out, "Don't overdo yourself." He kept his eyes on Fae, "My sister is priestess. I took her on pilgrimage before she made home as bishop in Sanctitas, I've seen the self damage one could do to themselves. I thank you for helping my companion, but do not give your life in one night." Airrow brushed Fae's forehead. "If you can, would you stabilize her and accompany us as a temporary doctor for her, and perhaps for the rest of our crew. I can pay you full later on, but we would need to reach the next town before I can give you anything substantial."


Airrow turned for a moment, looking towards the woods as he saw figures arriving out of the shadows. He assumed it was safe to assume that those were his companions, but he watched them approach. "My companions are not too much in number, but a full party of eight. We head towards the northern lands, Agartha specifically. At best, our numbers will be at around ten by the time we reach our destination, and our commodations should grow in better conditions once we reach Hinxworth. We plan to pass the mountains to reach Yrgen and Faernyae, then reach Hinxworth and hurry towards Byzantium, then through Dinas. Jotunheim and across the north until we reach Agartha. I'm not asking you to stay for the entire mission, but as long as you saw fit. We may pick up other healers, or perhaps hire a small army to march on our destination, but for now, I plead that you stay and help Ms. Faelynn here on our journey across the mountains. " Through the darkness, it was clear that Aesriel was among them and the tall one was Azrathoth, and there was another girl, likly Nadia, and a male, Fox?


"Think on it, miss." Airrow spoke to the priestess once more before taking to his feet, giving Kalhalar another look then heading to his spear and plucking it from the ground. Airrow was somewhat against it, but he wasn't going to keep prisoners with him, and he'd rather not let Fox go free. Airrow would at least let him choose his execution. He took his spot at the edge of the camp, awaiting the group. 
Ruger had a middling sense of confidence about his skills of a medical practitioner. After all, he had sewn up his own wounds, repositioned twisted joints, and made medicine out of the sparse supplies he had from the surroundings. He, however, had to remind himself that he was a rough stone, jagged and worn and split in places from his life of sword-clashing and surviving the worst of skirmishes. The lady in front of him was a virgin pebble, smooth and unmolested, mostly physically, by the world's fury. The mercenary sighed, head bowing as the crimson knight touched his shoulder. He nodded slightly to Airrow. "Night is very cold, Ruger is just noticing. The cutting of cold wind is more deadly than cutting of cold steel." Ruger gave his signature laugh, though the usual mirth was absent. He uttered a soft assurance he would return, as the healer began her work. Usually, he would have immediately thrown out all the tricks of the trade to charm the healer lady. Alas, his mind was wandering, and his heart was laden with a sort of...emptiness.


The mercenary broke away from the group, and headed to where he had hung his tunic out to dry. As he grasped the fabric, he was reminded of the cold river that he had dived into, blind and determined, but ultimately failed in what he had wanted to do. He pulled the tunic over his head and slipped his arms through the sleeves, then looked down at his hands. Blood caked his palm and his fingers, both dried and fresh. The sounds of metal against metal, warcries, screams of pain, anguish and rage filled his ears, orders yelled across the cacophony of carnage, and the desperate cries of both comrades and foes to help them, spare them, that they have family, they didn't want to die.


Ruger blinked. The crackling of fire and the sounds of conversation replaced the hideous roars of battles and wars, and his hands spotless. Ruger's eyes shifted from his hands to his breastplate and his sword. He thought he was a savior, a hero, someone who could help the weak. He thought he could do it, but what he could only aid in with his two hands were just the scythe of Death, reaping the souls of the living. He was no healer. He couldn't even rescue Faelynn. All he was good for was to kill, to fight.


Ruger thought about this for a moment, then grinned, the joy returning to his features. The heart of the motley crew brightened up with a renewed sense of vigor. If it was killing that he was good in, he would continue doing so. After all, more rubble is less trouble! He gave a small chuckle, and strode back to the healer, Faelynn and Airrow. His reverie had taken as long as it had taken for the priestess to have finished her miracle-working on Faelynn. When he arrived, Airrow seemed to be trying to persuade the priestess to stay. Ruger, jolly as ever, stepped in as soon as he finished.


"Yes, yes, this group is needing of more pretty face. Ruger take too much battering to face, so we are having to stock up on prettiness to, what is word? offstay? offsay? ah, yes, offset Ruger's unprettiness. Maybe you can fixing Ruger's unprettiness too with your healings."


She looked like she knew what she was doing. Faelynn seemed to be in good hands. Ruger turned to Airrow to make a remark about the weather or something, but noticed that his quarry had his attention elsewhere. Ruger followed his gaze. The group that had seperated to capture Fox seemed to be returning. The darkness shrouded their features, but Ruger could tell that there were two males amongst them from their stride and build. One was definitely the scary one, Azathoth, but the other....


Ruger gave an animalistic snarl, strode over to his equipment and picked up his sword. The ring of metal was clear when he drew the blade. He strode towards Airrow. "Let Ruger kill coward. Ruger needs the satisfaction."

 

[Ayl]

Pauvel threw but one final glance towards the cadavers laying on the ground, forsaken by any gods. Pauvel was by no means a religious man. He thought the gods were simply overpowered beings who toyed with them, the mortals, their creation, as they saw fit. He loathed it, that helpless feeling he got everytime someone dear to him was taken. All his friends, family, lied dead, taken from him too early. His dream was to die peacefully, of old age, after having felt the loving nature of a family of his own. Alas, as he observed over the years, the ones he grew to care about were denied to him, one way or another, making him think that his' was a cursed existence, a mocking of the gods.


But Pauvel did not let that burden him much, instead, he accepted it as a fact and learned to live with it. He would always put on the cheerful mask of joy when near others who would party and live their lives like they had no care in the world, keeping his feelings and memories deep in his soul on a tight leash. As the small group departed, he thought to himself whether he should suggest to bury the bodies. "It seems like a disrespect. Whatever crimes they may have commited, all is forgiven in death." he thought, but decided to keep silent. Afterall, he was just a passerby, with no right to decide their actions.


They started their trek and the beautiful maiden that served as his companion for a short while suddenly decided it would a good idea to introduce themselves to one another. Pav's expression under his hood abruptly changed to a more serious one, as he did not want to compromise his identity just yet, given that the Black Hawks was quite a reputable and famous mercenary squad and himself even more so, as he was the leader for so many years. He contemplated for a second before finally speaking his mind out loud. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you, my fair lady Aesriel, though I wish it was under better circumstances. You may call me Whisper, marksman, wanderer and trouble seeker, which is quite convenient for trouble since it seems to be seeking me as well." stated Pauvel with a faked, amused voice.


As they approached the final part of their trek, Pauvel could see up ahead a clearing with a fire lit, warmly awaiting them. In the light of the fire, the marksman could make out the figure of a man waiting for them, with what would seem to be a long weapon, a spear perhaps, like the one which composed half of the weird contraption the giant with white hair wielded. Right before they could step out of the shadows, a roar made Pauvel's eye widden with caution.


"Let Ruger kill coward. Ruger needs the satisfaction."


In the blink of an eye, Pauvel nocked the two arrows from before, which he put away in the meantime, plus a third one and aimed them at a quite tall man which approached them yelling with a what appeared to be a heavy, long and very sharp sword. "Why do I always get myself into situations like this?" the thought echoed in his head. "Halt, or I will fill you with arrows like a pin cushion!" he threatened in the night, his words being carried by the winds to the ears of his aggresors.

 

[Haley]

Faelynn didn't know this woman but desperation had quickly earned the broken young maiden's trust. Fae nodded at everything she said, if she said anything, she wasn't exactly sure. Her mind wandered all over the place, half full of panic, half full of determination to get better and not be a burden any longer to Airrow. She squeezed her blue eyes shut tightly and readied herself for the procedure. She shook with chills and nerves and gave a little jump when she felt the woman's hands grip her arm and shoulder.


There was no count down, no words of preparation. One moment her hands were gently placed upon her trembling skin and the next, there was an audible pop before a sudden flash of white pain radiated from her shoulder out. Fae gasp and let out a loud cry before reflexively reaching up with her other hand and grabbing for her shoulder, but was intercepted by the woman's wrist. Fae gripped it tightly for a moment before realizing what she was doing and let go, opening her eyes and looking up to see a cascade of golden hair like curtains falling over her. Fae's breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded in her ears. She blinked a few times and stared at the unflinching face and unwavering grace of this woman. Only when she began to hum had Faelynn remembered to breath and slowly drew in a deep breath as she let all her tensed muscles relax with the soothing voice and work of the mysterious woman whom Faelynn was now convinced was some celestial being.


Fae felt better, despite the clamminess that seemed to cover her body and the sweat that had finally broken across her forehead from the fever reaching its peak and the chills that still shook her. Despite the sickness still coursing through her she felt better, and for that she had to thank this angel and of course, Airrow. If it weren't for him she'd be dead, or worse- still barely alive, trapped on the cliffside caught between hallucination and morbid realization. She sighed and allowed a smile to grow across her pale lips. She nodded and gingerly moved her once defeated arm, trying out the muscles and the joint. There was no pain, in fact it felt better than before. She gave a small laugh and watched as the woman smiled back before moving her hands up to address her head wound. She'd almost forgotten about that, until pressure of the woman's hands unravelling Airrow's make-shift bandaging brought an aggressive pounding back into the frontal lobe of her brain. She winced and closed her eyes again as her dirty, blood-caked, strawberry blond hair, fell into her face.


"He's right.." Faelynn croaked in agreement to Airrow's words for the woman to not over exert herself. Her body sickness and whatever else could wait for the next day. After addressing her head, all Fae could think about doing is going to sleep after having some of Kal's soup. The soup would help with her sore throat and empty stomach. When she was finished with it, she was readying herself to nestle down in the bed Airrow made for her when suddenly Ruger roared out about killing the coward. Fae gasped and shot up, looking around with panic. SHe looked at Airrow as he mind began to race. It was Fox! Of course it was Fox, he was cming back to finish his job. Could he sneak past? Did he have the skill, could someone stop him?? She felt herself begin to hyperventilate as she stared between Airrow and the treeline where figures were approaching.

 

[Syrenrei]

Aurora was not given proper time to respond to Airrow's explanation before he had risen, taking up his spear, and departed to greet an arriving handful of the group. Before the words had slipped past his lips she had already decided her course of action. Sultra had brought her to these people for a reason and she had faith it was not fleeting. As she gently laid down the soiled bandages from Faelynn's dressing she was momentarily lost in her thoughts. The journey was longer and more arduous than she had expected and the company was greater than anticipated as well. They had no healer thus far to speak of? How could she ever abandon those in such dire need, those who found themselves at the mercy of the elements, low on supplies, and fleeing a ravaged city? No amount of coin in her palm could ease the weight on her heart if she walked away- especially from this girl who shook with feverish sickness and yet looked at her with such earnest admiration. The devout sought divine guidance perpetually and here she was given an opportunity dreamt of over lifetimes!


The priestess snapped out of her reverie at the flirting. It seemed a little ill-placed and self-depreciating, but sweet nonetheless. Ruger struck her as a little slow not due to his search for the correct word 'off-set' but because he had complimented her face. Aurora had a decent amount of confidence but no illusions about her beauty. Faelynn and many other females were prettier than she- it was her good nature that found her suitors. Most had faded away once they realized the extent of her immersion in the church. A man had wants and desires to be first in the eyes of his beloved and it simply was not something she could fulfill. A faint blush rose to her cheeks regardless and he too moved on to confront the arrivals. There was obvious tension between subsections of this alliance but it was not her place to question. The matter of Fae's health was squarely in her solitary care and there was work yet to be done.


As the slight female bolted up, Aurora was startled. For a split second she rocked away from the figure of pallor, recoiling out of a sense of self-preservation and a desire not to be abruptly head-butted. Odd. Normally she didn't have such well-placed reflexes. With some gratitude for Sultra she gave Fae a reassuring smile. "They will handle it," she soothed, "and we should trust them while we get you well. Let me clean that for you. I can't rest until I know you are more comfortable. I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself properly. My name is Aurora." Her eyes were bright and encouraging, sparkling in the dim light with a generosity foreign to most strangers. She produced a cloth from her satchel, pouring some crystalline water over it to dampen, and then dabbed at the flesh wound. It was not severe as to be lethal but it certainly merited tonight's attention. "I apologize if this stings, but I promise you'll feel better soon."


Assuming that Fae was compliant, she'd gently move the tangled strangles of blonde out of the way and cleanse best she was able, noting the depth and breadth of the gash quickly. Some saw her gift as something to watch with awe, but Aurora was not one who enjoyed so much attention. It was a little easier without Airrow or Ruger hovering nearby, fixated on her movements. Relief sagged in her shoulders and the few creases of her brow relaxed, smoothing into her ordinary less-than-perfect complexion. "This will just take a moment." Before there was another instigation of fright or alarm, and before the injury was sullied or festered, she gingerly placed her fingers on the inflamed area and hummed once more. This time it was a ballad from the harvesting of crops in Hinxworth- a song that encouraged endurance over the days that stretched endlessly and demanded toiling in heat.


Again sensations blossomed through her being, swimming and shining in splendor of life before they rushed forth in their singular task- to encourage healing. There were limitations, of course; she could not mend the body any more than it could naturally over time. The rapid advancement of the process was worth the great toll it took even with the warnings Airrow and Fae gave her. As skin knitted together where it met and the last splotches of dried blood were washed away, Aurora could finally sigh with relief. Pink irritation was now the pallor that consumed the rest of Fae and a light scarring might remain; it was too early too tell. It had been a long day, however, even before this evening. Her melody died in her throat and she almost pitched forward in sudden exhaustion. No no, this would not do; she couldn't slumber without at least greeting those at the edge of the camp. Airrow expected to continue their conversation, she believed, and Fae could benefit from medication to at least ease the fever. Thoughts swarmed in an nebulous collective of images without coherence. Now might not be the appropriate time for a prescription. The girl would benefit greatly from dinner and sleep alone and herbs might be avoided.

 

[Erica]

Navigating the woods at night had been difficult with the fire at her back, but she found it more treacherous as she led the others toward the center of the camp. She had to be careful not to look at the fire or she would lose her night vision. After stumbling once over a piece of wood (using her staff to catch her balance so that hopefully no one saw the moment of inelegance), she was careful not to look directly at the fire. It was difficult, though: she was bringing strangers back with her, along with news of two people’s deaths, and she thought she saw movement by the fire.


She received the archer’s compliments with an amused and somewhat cynical ear, but she made note of the name he provided: Whisper. Surely not his given name, but could she blame him for keeping secrets when he had stumbled upon a group already so badly divided that two members had just been killed by their own? “The wise and bold smile at trouble, gather strength from suffering, and grow courageous by reflection.” She replied, mostly out of habit. She had always loved the quote, but it seemed misplaced as soon as it left her mouth.


As if mocking her pseudo-wisdom, the gods saw fit to have Ruger spot their approach. Why had she thought Airrow would greet them? Of course! He had been tending to Fae when she left the camp. And he had stayed at her side as they awaited a healer. True to Ruger’s nature, he met the oncoming challenge with the threat of violence, mistaking one of them (perhaps Whisper?) for Fox. Before she could say anything, Whisper drew three arrows and yet again aimed at a potential ally.


Aesriel rolled her eyes. “Whisper!” she murmured urgently. “That is Ruger, a friend. Remember what I said about not threatening the group?” Taking a step closer to the archer, she glanced to the girl beside her along with Azra-whatever, then commanded Whisper quietly, although it came out half pleading. “Lower it. Please.” Without waiting for his response, she called out loudly. “Ruger! It’s Aesri. Fox is dead, by Azra...” she trailed off, unsure of the rest of the man’s name and hoping the abbreviation would suffice, “but mostly by his own actions. Unfortunately, he not only stole away your opportunity to kill him, but he also took Nadia with him. The others with me are potential allies. They may be able to help Faelynn.”


Oh, gods, she sounded like an idiot.

 

[Ozmic]

After a moment and a motion from Aesriel, Azrathoth hefted his form upright. Refilling and relighting his pipe, he took one more look at the bodies on the ground, scowling at the male called Fox. He made a point, for appearances, to come back and at least bury Nadia. Fox, for all he cared, could be thrown away like the trash he'd been. Az had gotten what he wanted from him anyhow.


As they arrived in camp, Az took a breath post-exhale to begin and explain when many things happened. Airrow approached them, followed by Ruger who drew a blade and advanced toward what Azrathoth could only assume he thought was Fox. The new archer reacted, albeit poorly, and before there was ever a chance to speak, Aesriel took it before he could, explaining what had happened.


"Azrathoth," he chimed in. "If you mean to shorten it, I would prefer Az." He smiled blankly and with little joy as she continued. When she was finished, he spoke as well after a pause and a tamping of his pipe.


"Ruger, I'm to blame for any lack of satisfaction, I'm afraid, but I could not hold my blade and let Fox escape. The opportunity was there and my hand was forced by Nadia's death. My condolance... but you at least can live with the satisfaction that his death was not a painless one."


The giant stopped, frowning suddenly and lowered his head. "I wish I could say such words for the Death of Nadia. That cowardly cur managed one last victim before death and right before my eyes." Snorting, Az spat on the ground and moved past the others toward the fire, moving to clean the blood from his unconventional weapon.