Fantasy The Roaring Sky

[Ramjammer]

"I think I've done enough strollin' for one day Vivinne." The Lizardman said dourly from his spot in the back of the supply cart.

It was not in Band'lur's nature to be so grumpy, and in honesty it wasn't her fault. But even he had limits, or more pressingly, his feet had limits.

Their departure hadn't been a thing surrounded by fanfare. They'd all scattered to the four winds in a pronounced haste to get their affairs in order. Band'lur didn't carry much in the way of material possessions and was used to being able to pick up camp at a moment's notice. He'd been ready before most and found himself milling around boredly in the courtyard as he waited for the remainder of his own team. At one point he considered scaling one of the Fort's towers and enjoying the view while he waited, but that plan was cut short in the shrillest manner possible.

A child, surrounded by guards trying, and failing to comfort her, was crying like her life depended on it. The Lizardman was sure she wasn't in any danger, but the reason for her distress was clear.

"Where in the hell are her parents?" He thought.

The Caravan had left hours prior, winding it's way out the gate and down the road like a massive serpent. The Citadel was a few short hours off, but the Caravan would be slow moving. Meaning the poor kid was effectively stranded, but not so that she couldn't catch up if given the means. Band'lur rolled his eyes and groaned loudly, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the situation was now his problem. The Lizardman huffed and shuffled over to the gaggle of hapless guards and shoved his way through to crouch in front of the sobbing girl.

She recognized him on sight, though Band'lur wasn't hard to forget in the first place. The girl threw herself into the Lizardman's arms and clung to him as if she'd fly away the instant she let go. He chuckled softly and placed a large clawed hand on the top of her head.

"What happened kiddo?" He asked kindly.

"I wuh was sleepin' an-" Her inelegant blubbering devolved back into full blown sobs, but Band'lur didn't need much more than that. Kids often would wander around and hide in the strangest places, and it wasn't uncommon to practically trip over one of them as they'd chosen to fall asleep in that exact spot. Clearly, the Caravan had missed one of dozens as she dozed who knows where and she'd woken to find everyone that she recognized gone without her.

The Lizardman grumbled lowly and hoisted the girl into his arms before getting to his feet. "I'll get her to the Caravan." He said. The Guards collectively began to disagree, urging the man to head out on his own journey and promising to see to the child. Band'lur couldn't be swayed. In part, due to his own stubbornness and in part due to the fact that the child didn't like the idea of being separated from the Lizardman, as evidenced by her renewed crying.

"Don't worry, 'm fast. I can get her there and run back real easy."

And before anyone could object much less stop him, Band'lur hoisted the kid onto his shoulders and took off through the gates with nary a backwards glance.

"Just let the other Stormchasers know I had to run an errand! I'll catch up!" He shouted.

The trip wasn't quite as swift as it'd have been were he traveling alone, but the Lizardman had no desire to scare the child by cutting through the wilds and leaping through trees and over rocks. The packed dirt road made for an easy run anyway, and it wasn't long before Zeldem was out of sight behind them. The trail the Caravan left for them was easily marked and Band'lur figured they hadn't even gotten halfway to their destination. That many people moving at once was a tedious affair, and no one wanted to break off from the pack or get left behind, lest they become easy pickings for bandits.

And so when he finally spotted movement in the distance, it was a meandering speck that grew into a small army of carriages and laborers the closer he got. Band'lur jogged towards the rear of the Caravan, drawing curious looks from a few people but he paid them no mind. He merely hoisted the girl from off of his shoulders, passed her to the nearest adult with orders to find her parents, and perhaps a few unsavory words to deliver for leaving their child behind. Normally the Lizardman was more than happy to make his ire known, but he was on a schedule. He settled for giving the girl a smile and a wave before turning around and speeding off back the way they'd come.

The return trip, and the trip required to catch up to his team was more to his liking. Hills and cliffs were scaled, and tree limbs bowed under the Lizardman's weight as he leaped from one to the next. He knew the way, taking the time to get a good bearing of the direction of their first stop in the event they got separated. Band'lur just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Like the Caravan, his companions were slower moving than he. They had supplies to haul, and at least one of them was nearly decrepit. Band'lur didn't think Aelfweard would be able to run if the need called for it, weak as he looked. That meant if the need arose at least one of them would have to carry him.

Band'lur sighed internally as he could only imagine who'd get the honor.

Slowly, but surely he closed the gap. When he finally saw the small figures on the horizon, the Lizardman sped up and sprinted towards the group. Bellowing a "Hey there!" Band'lur didn't stop and instead clambered atop the covered wagon to nearly collapse there with a loud groan.

He was a hardy man, with stamina to match. But running miles through the wilderness took its toll. Band'lur was momentarily envious of Vivienne then. She was fast, and he didn't think hooves could get sore the way feet did. He'd have to ask her at some point.

Listening to her ramble on, would have to do in place of that. The other Beastfolk was at least fun to talk to, and her stories passed the time. They at least took his mind off of his aching legs and Band'lur winced at the thought of being unable to fight should the need arise suddenly. If push came to shove he'd find it in him, he was the Wallbreaker after all! But neither he, nor his aching muscles would like it.

Band'lur didn't regret what he'd done. Someone had been in need of help, and he'd done just that. But the ordeal also solidified his decision to never have children of his own. But it was over and done with. All Band'lur had to worry about was resting up and regaining his strength for the task at hand.

"Oi, how far off are we Vivienne?"

AnonyMouse

 

[Cursed_Romance_Route]

Cecie
Location: Travelling w/t Team 2
Interaction/s: Xethyrion {Alentiar}, The One Eyed Bandit {Deirdre}, _Line 213 {Myvyryium}, simj26 {Steingrimr}, CerpinTaxt {Virion}Virion, Reinhardt {Osferth}
​

Cecie had been planning to discuss the details of travel once the group had met up in the stables. As it was, starting off on the journey was a little more chaotic than expected and the questions became of lesser importance than making sure she had a decent horse. In her rush to leave, it seemed she had missed a few exchanges back in the meeting room as well. That, and forgetting Lupa wasn't in their group, were mostly in-character for Cecie. There was no reason to believe that some invisible hand had made a mistake or missed a post on some random forum. After all, any belief in a collective determining the actions of others would be ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

Anyways.

The monotonous landscape swiftly stifled her excitement. Even the storm became boring after a time, but such were the effects of travel. Cecie was well aware that between life-threatening dangers and occasional comradery would be mind-numbing boredom. Life had a way of doing that. Still, she didn't pay it too much mind. She was busy chewing on a piece of jerky and thinking of a game to start up.

"Anyone up for Hangman's Trist?" She said, half a strip dangling from the side of her mouth. "Now I dunno 'bout where y'all are from, but back home, ain't no one gonna turn down a game-- 'cept cowards and broke people."

She looked pointedly at Osferth and Myvyryium. "No magical cheatin'."

 

[Birdsie]

Aelfweard Māragas
On the Road Again

"Yes, for once, the sky above seems content to stay in place and not disgorge any thunderous remarks upon the populace," Aelfweard sagely agreed. "Unlike a certain someone." He gave her the gimlet eye treatment, staring at the back of her skull as if his gaze were a trepanning tool. From a certain perspective, it was.

Aelfweard believed the march had been pleasant, despite her chatterbox nature. It had been a decade since he was properly allowed to spread his legs and just walk. When he'd first left prison, he needed to use crutches for a week, simply to re-learn how to walk. He'd tripped up a little on their march, and even fell over at one point when his foot caught on a rock that he didn't see - something that, although he would never admit, made him seethe internally; for how could a man whose main strength came from his ocular power not see something? - but now, it was becoming second nature.

It didn't help that, in addition to Vivienne, the other people around him wouldn't shut up. Not the Stormchasers, but the other people, the ones no one except him could see. The march reminded him too much of the old days, and with it came less pleasant delusions, and visions.

He would cast them off as quickly as they came, knowing they weren't real, merely imaginary. But it was sobering, and kept him on his toes.

For the most part, he hadn't interacted with the others on his team. A mission was afoot - hardly the time to fool around - and besides, it wasn't as though anyone except Vivienne would invite him into the conversation. For the most part, he was content to play the part of the man who stood back and offered smart-ass remarks. It suited him, and amused him. Not to the point of being acrid or fully unpleasant, but perhaps enough to reinforce his own part, and downplay his own intent.

He couldn't help but think, however, that Osferth's choices for the mission were subpar. Their directive was to investigate the Crawling Sands, with rescuing the caravan as a side objective. Was there anyone on the team even capable of that? The lizardman's skillset was largely physical, and the few magicians with them were mostly utility-oriented, not divinatory in nature. As far as he knew, at least.

He sighed at the thought. He once met a witch who offered to teach him how to divine the nature of a place's leylines from the entrails of a chicken. He should have taken her up on the offer.

Come to think of it, he might have imagined her too. His adolescence could be described as many things, but 'lucid' wasn't one of them.

While Vivienne was answering Band'lur's question, Aelfweard subtly slowed down his walk, lagging behind the rest of the team, pulling back to a safe distance. Whilst they busied themselves, Aelfweard looked to the left, where the Pale Sage ambled with the rest of them, invisible to all but his imagination.

"Do you have anything that can help with the mission?"

"I wasn't there for the briefing," the Sage coyly said.

"Right," Aelfweard offered skeptically. "Do you know any spells that can help with investigating the Crawling Sands?"

"Nothing more than a spell that lets the user see through walls. Alas, I no longer have eyes. And yours," the man tapped a finger gently across Aelfweard's forehead, causing him to flinch back, "are too atrophied to be suited for it. And I imagine it'd be useless besides. A thaumato-environmental distortion is likely more mysterious in nature than a simple orb sitting in some cave underground."

"Thanks for nothing."

"No problem." The Pale Sage nodded, as Aelfweard turned back forward and caught up with the Stormchasers, returning his attention to the conversation going on.

---
Silver Wolf Reinhardt Ramjammer Sinful Sorcerer Cauldhill

 

[Xethyrion]

ALENTIAR ZELTHORN

FORT ZELDEM, VALHEIM

INTERACTIONS: TEAM 2

The dwarf of the squad had spoken. And before realizing that his armor was gaining attention from the source of the noise, Alentiar slowly turned his gaze to Steingrimr, refusing to speak at first. The last thing he wanted was to have too much attention on him—disliking the popularity. Though, to say that the dwarf was causing commotions would've been an exaggeration. As such, the others would hear Alentiar lightly chuckle behind his expressionless helmet, something that was possibly unusual to witness from the advocate of stoicism.

Of course, he was mildly uncomfortable as the dwarf requested for his still posture while surrounding him with eyes that scanned every part of his body, as if she was attempting to locate the possible weaknesses that the Steelborne armor had—a clear sign of difficulty trusting his own allies. Perhaps a symptom of his trauma, the moment Alentiar realized that he was already beginning to suspect his own companion, he took a deep breath, relaxing himself and becoming ease with the situation.

He then finally responded after Steingrimr mentioned his primary weapon, Ashrune, surprised to hear that she knew about the sword's long forgotten history.

"It has... certainly been a while since I've met someone who knows the equipment I carry. You can call me Alentiar, or just Alen, if you'd prefer it shorter."

Alentiar accepted her handshake without hesitation, satisfied with the small talk as it felt like he had just made a new friend. Perhaps a bit too early for a celebration, but knowing that he was recognized by the others was a sign that he must've been doing something right. Although, carrying a pack of armor and a large broadsword surrounded by legends probably didn't help in his case. He thought about leaving his armor and sword at home when departing to join the Stormbringers, but knowing that his gear and soul was one, it was a difficult decision to make.

Nonetheless, even after the dilemma, here he was—wearing and equipping his Steelborne armor and the sword he hated since the dawn of that night.

After a while of traveling across the Eastern Roads, Alentiar's passive curse didn't seem to activate to warn him about approaching dangerous entities. Certainly, one would expect monsters to be lurking the shadows by the time abandonment of civilization was obvious. But knowing that his ability would often trick him with deceit, Alentiar remained high on guard anyway, though probably not needed.

He finally spoke a word for the first time without being initiated first, a step to his ever-growing improvement on socialization.

"A Hangman's Trist... that sounds rather deadly."

Alentiar trailed off momentarily before continuing.

"I'd be up to participate, if you could give a quick explanation on how it works. Uhm... that sounded more demanding than I wanted it to be. Not that I request for an explanation, I'm plenty fine learning by observing someone else participate."

What was he even trying to say at this point...

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

Deirdre
Interacting with: Team B(est) Xethyrion _Line 213 simj26 CerpinTaxt Cursed_Romance_Route Reinhardt​

Squirrelled away in one of the corners of the Stormchaser's supply wagon, Deirdre sat crouched over the stack of papers that Osferth had hoisted off to her like some sort of makeshift, jittery windbreak. One pair of her hands worked to keep the papers steady in the face of the wagon's turbulence, while the other flicked through the papers, occasionally pausing to jot down a hasty note or diagram.

At some point in the journey, Deirdre had made the decision to actually look at the stack of documents, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that they were not, in fact, just of bunch of boring paperwork. The standard operations for her expeditions ditacted that she would've handled all the administrative duties involved in their expeditions, like securing permits and supplies, while Lady Zinzin hogged all the interesting leads and actual investigative work to herself, so this was a nice change of pace.

The state of her makeshift office made the work both slow and agonizing. Whenever the wagon jostled or buckled, the papers threatened to escape Deirdre's grasp, and she just kind of had to hope that nothing would cause her to stumble while jotting down a note, ruining whatever page she happened to be working on at the time. Her eyes darted back and forth in her skull as they scanned and rescanned over the text and illustrations the papers beheld, and her expression couldn't seem to settle on any single emotion for more than a few minutes.

The contents of the papers were equal parts exciting and concerning. On one hand, she was practically being given a golden ticket tour into the minds of what seemed like a collection of very talented archaeologists, prospectors and treasure seekers. Then on the other, the fact that none of them had found the Archives was really making her doubt whether she and the rest of the team would be up to snuff. If that weren't enough of a worry, though, there were also her less personal concerns. She couldn't shake the feeling that if the Archives were in fact in a lowland, they were effectively doomed. That, on the other-other hand, actually made the string of failures to locate the Archives into a sort of good news, but on the other-other-other hand, it also meant that all of the information that had yo work with might be useless.

To cut a long story short, Deirdre really, really didn't know how to feel right now.

Her ears perked up when the others started to speak amongst themselves. Admittedly she, as usual, wasn't really paying attention for the most part, but she pieced together enough from bits and pieces that stuck to do a bit of word association, and get an idea of what they were chatting about.

"Oh, you have no idea." Deirdre said out of nowhere, her head breaking out of the ironclad lock that'd fixed her gaze on the papers for the last couple of hours. "I'm honestly kind of surprised to hear you know about it. The Hangman's Tryst isn't a very well known story amongst scholars, let alone anyone else." Deirdre smiled as she spoke. If she were to be frank, she wasn't expecting much in the way of scholarly knowledge from anyone here, aside from maybe the wizard, so it was good to know she was in like-minded company.

"It's like something right out of a play or novel. A Queen bedding an Executioner... The Executioner, er, executing a King, and then the part where his half-brother brings him to justice! It's hard to believe that it happened in the same world that we're living in!" In the distance, a bolt of lightning flashed across the skies, and Deirdre flinched. "Er, or it was, ah, b-before all of this happened."

 

[Sinful Sorcerer]

Byakuren Hijiri & Sennen Heydari

Traveling with team one

Interacting with: AnonyMouse {Vivienne}, Silver Wolf {Lupa}, Ramjammer {Band'lur}, Birdsie {Aelfweard} Reinhardt {Khur}​

The journey had only just begun and already a bit of an oppressive atmosphere was looming over the group. For once the storm wasn't the cause; it had been strangely quiet for a while, instead it was the group dynamic. Vivienne was pulling the wagon alongside a jet-black horse, and she seemed to be the only one talking. Although for the most part her conversation was with said horse, she would turn around to give the rest of the group some words of encouragement every now and then. Band'lur seemed to be deep in thought and Aelfweard had chosen to walk alongside the wagon, perhaps he didn't like crammed spaces or maybe he just wanted to stretch his legs. As for Lupa and Khur, neither of them had said much of note. Byakuren and Sennen had ended up sitting next to each other, more out of coincidence than anything else. They hadn't really spoken much before, but now it seemed unavoidable. The awkward silence was deafening. Looking for something to break up the monotony of the ride, Byakuren glanced over and spotted him sharpening a small iron dagger.

"So... Have you ever killed before? I mean, if worse comes to worst we might have to. I'm not sure I could bring myself to do it. How could one prepare themselves mentally for the taking of a life?" Strangely enough, it was Byakuren who initiated conversation. Perhaps it wasn't the best topic of discussion, but it would be important to know what her fellow travelers were capable of. They had no idea what they'd found out there, and chances are it wouldn't be good.

He looked up from his handiwork, surprised at the foreigner who was usually more reserved striking up a conversation. "Animals; yeah. People; nah. But I've maimed a guy 'fore. Back when I was a merc. I expected that job to come with more fightn' and less marchin' and standin' 'round guarding shit." Sennen put away his dagger and turned towards Byakuren. "What 'bout you?"

Taking a while to decipher the man's words, she was slightly taken aback by his answer. Perhaps it should've been expected, considering his previous occupation but sitting next to someone with that sort of skill-set felt unnerving. She was just glad they were on the same side so to speak. All things considered, as strange as she felt about it, this was the response she had hoped for. If nothing else, it meant that he would likely be reliable if a fight would break out, she only wish that she could say the same herself. The follow-up question was inevitable, but how truthful did she want to be? Sennen had spoken from his heart, and he seemed to have held nothing back, but perhaps it wasn't as big of a deal to him. Out of respect, she felt it proper to respond with the same transparency.

"Yes, I have. It was many years ago now but it still haunts me... My brother was ill. Very, very ill. First he could not feel his toes anymore and couldn't stand up alone. Then his legs and arms. Soon his whole body. Near the end all he could do was move his eyes..." She took a deep breath, the image of her paralyzed brother fresh in her mind. "One day he refused to look at me. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon the entire time. There was nothing more I could do to help him, so I tried to take away his pain... I hope he doesn't suffer anymore." Another deep breath followed by a long pause. She had been transparent, perhaps too transparent. Sennen remained silent but gave an understanding nod.

"Sorry, I might have said too much." Byakuren pulled back, not expecting a response but Sennen spoke up with a reassuring tone. "We're gonna' be working together for a while, so it's as good as time as any to share." The man's words were a warm welcome. He was a lot more understanding than one might think at first glance. Byakuren smiled and nodded back, thankful for his kind words. No words were needed. The silence returned, but the warmth from their brief discussion lingered on. They had gotten a little closer.

 

[Reinhardt]

Khur Yshta​

Location: Path to Holheim​

Khur had been in the air for the past few hours, using his innate flying capability as a Kharsai to act as an aerial lookout. Albeit the travel was rather slow and calm, the beating of his wings had grown rather weak, and it was clear from his form alone that he surely wasn't used to lengthy flights.

It didn't take him long to come gravitating down onto the cart, in a not-so-smooth landing. As his wings folded and his feet touched the wooden surface, he didn't account for the sudden shift in balance, let alone the slight numbness all over his body - which caused him to slip forward and come crashing face-first onto Band'lur's scaly hide.

Granted, he was quick enough to react and push himself away before any unwanted complication, or aggression from the rather large beastfolk, emerge. Somehow riddled with sweat and awkwardly positioned somewhere in the middle of the cart, Khur crawled onto a nearby sack that contained supplies and swiftly opened it.

"Whew.", he said, still panting and in the midst of rummaging through the sack's contents. "You know guys, I'm not really built for flying for a long time."

"Can you guys, uhh, put the scouting duty for someone else?", he added, despite the fact that clearly, nobody had urged him to be placed in such a role or position in the first place, and his current situation was of his own fault after somehow coming to the conclusion that he is to be the group's scout since he had the ability to fly.

He finally lifted one of his hands off from the depths of the sack, which now held an apple - that he didn't hesitate to take a bite out of. "I mean...", he continued, mouth still full with portions of the fruit. "...I'm not against being a scout, but you know?"

"We got lots of people.", he gestured with the bitten apple toward Aeflweard, bits of the munched apple occasionally flinging out of his mouth after every few words or so. "Like him! Maybe he can scout instead of me?"

Interaction/s: Band'lur ( Ramjammer ), Aelfweard ( Birdsie ), Byakuren ( Sinful Sorcerer ), Sennen ( Cauldhill ), Vivienne ( AnonyMouse )

 

[Birdsie]

Aelfweard Māragas
Aloft and Lovin' It

"Have you ever killed before?" He wasn't the one the question addressed, but he could hear it all the same.

The question made him freeze internally, his chest feeling as if an ice demon had gripped his heart with a taloned hand. The feeling passed as quickly as it came; a sudden shock. But the content of the question remained with him, caused him to consider.

A decade ago, his weapon had been the conviction, the sweet juxtaposition of gambol and ennui; knowing that he was doing the right thing, and doubting it only when there was time to doubt, only for the delusions that surrounded him to drive him further. People never died in his eyes; he could see them long after in their idealized forms. At the slightest beck, Aelfweard could picture an entire army of rebels that he fought and ate alongside, and these pictures could develop a slight will of their own. They could talk to him, convince him their opinion was better. In times of extremely low lucidity, they could even fight him, and hurt him, if he didn't control them.

These convictions, carried by the delusions in his mind, would become his own. Their continuation caused his own vision of the world to change; every slight and evil of the Empire became magnified and amplified a hundredfold, every good deed that managed to register barely a speck on the tapestry.

His conviction became hatred. Hatred so intense as to be blind.

After ten years in prison, ten years of literal blindness, however, without the constant presence of his 'friends,' his conviction was ebbing closer and closer to the truth under the veiled crust.

But now, the emperor was dead. It wasn't at his own hand, but the adversary was beaten. The Empire persisted, but it was too occupied with clinging on to dear life, to even consider him a problem.

Meeting the Stormchasers, he wanted to be smug at first. Woe to the conquered, and all that. But there was no enmity; they didn't antagonize him, until he antagonized them first. There was no more enemy to fight, no one left to hate.

He looked around the field surrounding them, strolling by. In his mind's eye, the sky was clear of the storm; it was, instead, like a blood-red canopy, with a sun that looked like a tumor spewing out liquid darkness. As he stared at the crows, the carrion, the bodies strewn about the field. Like a feral animal had ripped them to pieces.

It didn't bring any resolution or satisfaction.

It was so easy to see the Imperials as scum, when they'd killed his family. But he killed families too. Was he even fighting a war back then?

Once the conversation between Byakuren and Sennen paused, Aelfweard decided to speak up, "You killed out of love. That's not going to help you any on the battlefield."

Once he drew the attention to himself, Aelfweard realized that he'd need to follow that up with something more substantial. A disparaging comment like that, on its own, was of no use to anyone. He considered the issue, then added, "A good heart is anathema to killing. If you see the enemy as a person; someone whose life is precious, you won't be able to do it. You need something to drive you. The way I'd been taught to do it, is through hate. If you're able to entirely picture your enemy, not as a person, but as a manifestation of that which you despise, it's much easier. Even to the point where not killing them becomes harder. Find something else, instead: conviction, or the will to survive."

With this commentary offered, Aelfweard receded back to walking beside the carriage, silent. For a moment afterwards, he didn't really consider anything, simply focused on the images of his mind, trying to arrange them, and put them into an order that was more pleasing.

At least until Khur came down and forwarded him as a scout. Aelfweard stared at him with a crooked smile, clearly unamused.

"You're the one who insisted on scouting like that," he pointed out. Wanting to be in his team's good graces, however, Aelfweard agreed, "But I'll do it."

Aelfweard's eyes became a bright lime-green with hints of gold, as he closed them to build up mental focus and refine them. A moment later, both eyes snapped open, Māragagan activated; irises infused with amaranthine energy, streaked with bolts of purple and deep blue, with amethyst bubbles shot broken with the rare slash of cyan. A confusing amalgamation of deep, sensual colors.

Both eyes looked up, reflecting the sky above in their splendor. And to them, the sky bent.

With a grasping motion, he snatched a handful from an ivory-white mass of cumulonimbus, and when he brought his hand back down, there was a tangled mass of dusty white cotton in his hands, visible to everyone in the team. He started working it delicately, as if threading or weaving, or making a pastry; he compressed with his arms, then dug his fingers deep and stretched the cloudpiece with a mixture of strained force and expert precision. In moments, he was done, forming a large cushion or rug from the pillow, mostly flat but with inflated edges.

Like a mat, he threw it down on the ground and stood on it. With slow unease, as if testing the motion, the cloud rose and he rose with it, ten feet into the air, then twenty feet, and finally thirty. Once he was confident that it could hold his weight, Aelfweard sat down cross-legged, waved to the people underneath, and said, "I'll keep aloft for as long as I can."

With those departing words, he raised his velocity rapidly, rising until he was the size of a distant fingernail from beneath.

It looked almost hilariously suspicious; a lonely tiny cloud at such a low altitude was an abomination to the natural order.

AnonyMouse Silver Wolf Ramjammer Reinhardt Sinful Sorcerer Cauldhill

 

[_Line 213]

Myvyryium Vyrybyryium
Fort Zeldem
Interacting with: Group B( simj26 , CerpinTaxt , The One Eyed Bandit , Xethyrion , Cursed_Romance_Route , Reinhardt )​

For the vast majority of the journey, the wizard had rested silently against the side of the cart, his high hood and low hat rendering him more a lump of cloth and items than a man. Indeed, his very cloak seemed to breathe around him, as if possessed of more life than he. Not even the rocking of the cart seemed to bother the fellow at all, the method with which he mildly swayed to-and-fro from the motions of the road perhaps hinting at a certain amount of familiarity with such a spot of bother.

It wasn't until Cecie's voice reached his ears that he stirred of his own volition, his hat tipping upward as he raised his head, a single open eye peering out at the woman. It was difficult to tell whether or not his curiosity was piqued, and before the man could speak for himself, it was, oddly, one of his familiars that piped up instead; perhaps, surrounded by familiar company in the form of the resident elf and dwarf, they were more willing to speak than usual.

"Ooh! I'll take ye up oen a hand'a Tryst any day ends with a 'Y' I will," flapped the top of the magician's sack, the item plodding forward from its place by its master as it approached the woman directly. The magician himself opened his other eye, seemingly properly roused by the raucousness of his own object as he sat up a little straighter. Though, again, before he could offer his own input, his sword rattled lightly in its sheath, apparently possessing its own take on the bag's declaration.

"'E could notte play a game of cards iffe his hide ond stitching were on the tah-ble," it interjected with no small amount of scorn, prompting the tottering bag to turn back toward the blade.

"I'll have you know I'm a proper old card-shark I am, ye blunt-edged salt-slashin' scabbard-sniffer, eh?" the bag protested, 'pointing' one of its straps toward the sword as it told its companion off, "if I were you, I'd spend a good proper time thinkin' on how I cleaned youer whole stake'a polish out last month!"

"Through cheating both clumsie ond shameless..." the sword muttered with a rattle, a strange wound in its voice.

"Why don' you put some sharpness back in youer blade an' cut youerself on a deck'a cards then, ye hidey-hole havin' coward, yeah? I'll take ye to the store an' back again I will! No question! No question!"

The wizard looked up from the two items to Cecie, shaking his head lightly. "...I, personally, am not one for cards. But, perhaps dear Packwell and Whippoorwill will make for suiting volunteers," he offered, briefly moving to try and pull his cloak more tightly around him--before the cloth simply did so itself. Perhaps content to let the potential players hash things out amongst themselves, the wizard then looked to the resident archaeologist, listening to her ramblings with a far more sincere eye than most would likely give. "As wonderful a story it is, Miss Deirdre, I believe Miss Fallenmire refers to the game to which the story has given its name."

 

[Silver Wolf]

Spoiler: Appearance

Lupa
Location: On the Road
Interactions: AnonyMouse (Vivienne), Cauldhill (Sennen), Sinful Sorcerer (Byakuren), Reinhardt (Khur)
Nearby/Mentioned: Birdsie (Aelfweard), Ramjammer (Brand'lur)

​

Journeys weren't often exciting. Yet, many people framed them that way. What they didn't know was that all the exciting parts often came in short time spans and left. Hence, Lupa stared with amusement as Vivienne flirted with the draft horse as the young wolfgirl led the beast. The amusement was minor though. Lupa had stories she could tell, but she would save those for the evening. It was more fun to tell such things when people were resting their feet and stuffing their bellies. It tended to often go far better than what Vivienne was attempting with the draft horse of all things. Maybe she could tell one of the less exciting stories, like one of the many times she found herself impaled. Those tended to shut people up fast. Thankfully, her history with serious stab wounds was really damn lucky. Hopefully that luck would last.

Although, her boredom didn't last nearly as long once Byakuren and Sennen struck up a conversation about killing of all things. Lupa listened in quietly, and as they spoke she thought of the times she had to kill. A soldier of fortune like Sennen, it was surprising to hear he never actually killed. Lupa understood well what it meant to kill, not out of a heart, but because the job demanded it. She decided to weigh her own thoughts in. Once Byakuren was done, Lupa said the following, "Killing...I remember when I first did it. As a young freshly recruited officer, I was charged with a mission where we investigated rumors of bandits in the Northern Mountains. My superior had retired, leaving me in charge of the men. As dusk set in, our lookout spotted something in the bushes. As soon as our light approached, it scurried away. We were merely a reconnaissance squad, so we had begun speculating on what it could be. None of us wanted to believe it was a bandit." Lupa paused, looking up to the sky. "How foolish that was. Thankfully, our senior officer was experienced and had us set up makeshift defenses. Barricades and tripwire mostly. Soon, more scurrying was sounded. Lots of it. Archers in the back on any high ground, and those of us who could wield a lance sat up front, myself included."

"I had trained for combat, more than anyone could've thought. Yet, my lance shook. It was like I was a scared little child again, sitting in the woods with a used up knife. Terrified of anything and everything. Yet, when they came, the training ultimately kicked in. A young man, a feral look in his eyes as he ran at me with a weapon. I panicked and took a step back as he took a swing. Then he tripped on the wire, and he was impaled swiftly. I'll never forget the smell of fresh blood...or the scream. After that, he crawled, crying like a newborn babe. Calling out to loved ones and apologizing. He looked at me, some fire briefly returning to his conscious and gave a curse to me."

Lupa gave a heavy sigh and let her free hand fondle the charm of Aetara wrapped delicately around her neck. "At that point, mercy is the only thing I could give. The mercy of freeing him from his suffering. He may have been my enemy, but I gave him a brief blessing before finishing him off. People don't die quickly unless the effort to do so is made. He would've harmed more people than me. Maybe he had a lifetime of killing ahead, but I stopped him." Lupa clenched the charm. "I give proper rites to all those who have had to die by my actions, and I even do so when that's not the case."

Shortly after, Khur bumped down onto the carriage, causing Lupa to snap her head back. After the Kharsai landed, Lupa listened to his rather meek excuse for not being a scout. Honestly, the fact he wasn't a long distance flier wasn't a big deal. After all, the most important thing was view. What view could be better than that of a bird's? If they really needed Khur's flight for scouting, it would be likely they would have stopped in their tracks. A few hours was rather impressive though. If they needed Khur to scout around an area, he would be a good fit.

Aelfweard did not look like a good fit for scouting. Malnourished and skinny, there was no way he would be able to march ahead for extended periods of time. Yet, to her shock, Lupa watched as he used magic to create a tiny cloud he used like a balloon to pull him up. What in the world happened? She hadn't seen magic quite like that before. She didn't dwell on it much as she turned her attention back to Khur.

"Please don't push yourself, Khur. If we have need of your abilities we will ask. We'd probably ask for brief searches that wouldn't take more than an hour anyways. For now, we're just following the road. If there's a reason for suspicion, that's when scouting is necessary. Until then, please make sure you're rested."

 

[AnonyMouse]

Vivienne Yvarra
On the Road to Holheim​

"About two hours, if we keep up this pace," Vivienne replied to Band'lur's question.

His added bulk in the wagon didn't seem to be affecting the draft horse, though she wondered why certain members of this group seemed intent on wearing themselves out. This was only the first leg of what would be a multi-day trip to the edge of the Crawling Sands. And, once they arrived, they still had a desert to explore. Band'lur's detour to deliver a lost child was understandable, knowing the type of person he is, but she couldn't fathom why Aelfweard chose to walk rather than ride or why Khur insisted on flying around.

She took her mind off of it by rambling on and on about anything and everything and hoping someone might join in. At last, it appeared to be working. Aelfweard's sly remark about 'a certain someone' talking too much brought a slight smile to her lips, though he couldn't see it. "Perhaps a certain someone would not thunder so if you soothed her with the sound of your voice, dear," Viv teased, briefly casting a smirk in his direction before returning her eyes to the road. Unfortunately, he went back to talking to himself, as he often did, and probably didn't even hear her invitation.

The centaur listened in meditative silence as Byakuren and Sennen spoke of killing, offering a small window into their respective pasts. Their answers were the opposite of what Viv expected. Byakuren had taken a life. Sennen had not. Viv was about to offer her own story, when Aelf delivered his remarks about the relationship between hatred and killing. Horrified, Vivienne abruptly turned to face those traveling behind her, but was cut off when Khur Yshta landed upon the cart, momentarily startling her. To be fair, she hadn't quite thought of what to say and his arrival probably spared her from mouthing off too soon and making a fool of herself.

Her instinctive response was that Aelf was wrong and his words had come from a place of personal pain and loss... but was that really a fair assessment? The Kharsai's landing and Lupa's response gave Viv time to reflect on what had been said and its deeper implications, a heavy topic for what had been a rather carefree journey thus far. She gazed in wonder as Aelf took the role of scout and conjured a cloud out of thin air. The way his hands moved as he shaped it, giving it form and purpose, before climbing aboard and lifting into the sky solidified her belief that there had to be more to this man than hatred and bitterness. He clearly had an artistic side, a flair for creativity, and magical skills the likes of which she had never seen before.

"I disagree with the insinuation that love has no place on the battlefield," Vivienne said as Aelfweard ascended. He may be out of earshot, but she felt compelled to respond nonetheless. She slowed her pace, dropping back until she was side-by-side with the majority of the group. Her tone was melancholy and just the slightest bit wistful as she continued:

"I grew up in a small village. I learned to hunt from a very young age. And, yes, I know that is not at all the same as killing a man, but trust me, I'm going somewhere with this," she said, briefly looking to Byakuren, who had sparked this discussion. "My first kill was a hare. I remember the look in its eyes as it took its final breaths, skewered by an arrow. I remember the redness of blood on snow. I was horrified and swore I would never eat meat again. Well, that lasted all of three days," she said, her lips set in a thin line. "Because, you see, my second kill was a wolf. I was out picking berries when our paths crossed. He looked at me and I at him, little more than twenty paces apart. Here I was, little more than a foolish child, with a basket of juniper berries slung over my arm. And there he was... with a hare pinned beneath his paws. We each had our meal. He saw me. I saw him. And, the moment our eyes locked..." she paused for dramatic effect, "the hare leapt free and darted off into the under brush. Bloody prints in the snow."

"I learned a harsh lesson that day," Vivienne said, wagging her finger skyward. "Never come between a creature and its next meal. Be it wolf or man or... reindeer-woman or she-wolf," she smiled at Lupa, as if to silently apologize for the implications of this tale. "I would like us all to live and laugh and love one another. Because, when that wolf came at me, the thoughts of my life and my loved ones were the only things that kept me alive -- NOT hatred. I don't hate him for seeking his next meal, but I love myself enough that I will not allow myself to be it. And that singular thought is what has carried me through bandit attacks, traps, and even outright betrayal. It is possible to kill out of love."

If anyone had been listening to her blather on for the last couple of hours, they would know she had killed. Unlike this more somber parable about the wolf, Viv's previous stories were told in an upbeat, cheerful manner. Some were comedic, some adventurous and daring. And more than a few of them involved highwaymen, robbers, and even a kidnapping or two. She didn't go into detail. She didn't glorify it. But the fact that she was alive and all of these tales ended with the cargo and/or client arriving safely, the implication was that she was either one hell of an escape artist and knew how to beat her hooves out of danger... or had left her share of bodies across Valheim.

The truth trended toward the latter... but it didn't hurt to have them believe the former. A client had once asked if she would kill to protect his cargo. Viv's response was an unequivocal, "no." No material possession was worth anyone's life. But she would kill to protect herself, her reputation, her livelihood, the lives of others.

"Whether that is right or wrong... I don't know," she concluded with a shrug. "But we will never find out if we're dead. So..." she clapped her hands and immediately became all smiles again, "the moral of the story is, share good food with good company and make many friends!"

Interaction(s): Band'lur ( Ramjammer ), Aelfweard ( Birdsie ), Byakuren ( Sinful Sorcerer ), Sennen ( Cauldhill ), Khur ( Reinhardt ), Lupa ( Silver Wolf )

 

[Cursed_Romance_Route]

Cecie
Location: Travelling w/t Team 2
Interaction/s: _Line 213 {Myvyryium} Xethyrion {Alentiar}
​

"A Hangman's Trist...that sounds rather deadly."

Cecie considered lying about a man dying during a round, but Alentair's awkward rambling convinced her not to.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure ta explain." She said. On the one hand, it would be nice of her to go easy on him. On the other hand, he could probably stand to lose a few coins.

Cecie pulled out a deck of cards. The edges were soft with plenty of nicks and the occasional bent corner. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and began shuffling. It was difficult keeping the cards from flying away with each bump, but she managed.

She was going to ask Deirdrie whether or not she could shuffle two decks at once, but the beast-woman interjected. Cecie nodded along, despite having no clue that there was a story behind the game. People killing other people didn't seem like a rare occurrence, though.

"Yep. A very sad tale." She began making stacks of five cards, occasionally recounting to make sure it was right. She looked around to see if anyone else was going to join in.

It was at this moment that the unfamiliar voice of a hopping sack caught her attention. Any doubts of Myvyryium being a wizard were as gone as the jerky she had been chewing. Cecie instinctively leaned away from the sack when it approached. Her mind was a whirl of questions, which began to tumble from her mouth before the sword began talking as well. She didn't hear any of the bickering as she was busy with her own thoughts. Such as whether or not the sack and sword could play cards without hands. Did they have their own money or did Myvyryium have to pay for them? This then led to the question of whether or not Myvyrium paid his sentient equipment and the ramifications of a union forming should he not. And so on and so forth until the wizard's gaze broke her out of the spiraling questions of the economy of talking tools.

"...I, personally, am not one for cards. But, perhaps Packwell and Whippoorwill will make for suiting volunteers."

Cecie nodded. She slid one of the stacks over to the items and one to Alentiar. After a brief moment of debate, she slid another stack to Whippoorwill and Packwell, so that they each had one.

"I don't know how y'all gonna play, but I expect coin from each of ya." She said.

There were a few extra stacks, which would be passed out to anyone else who wanted to play. Picking up her own cards, Cecie took one from the top of the main deck and flipped it over. It was an ace of spades, though the shape was difficult to make out beneath grey smudges. She raised a brow, but made no other expression.

"So whatcha doin'?" She looked to Alentiar, completely forgetting to explain the rules.

 

[Ramjammer]

"Ahh 's good. I should be right as rain by then." The Lizardman shot a wary glance at the overcast sky and flicked his tail thoughtfully. "Or maybe somethin' else that don't fall from the sky. Flowers? Rocks? Uh...Hm." Band'lur placed a clawed hand to his chin in a contemplative manner. "Right as my Ma when she'd used to shout 'Because I said so!' when I was a whelpling. Hah!"

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, feeling slightly better, and glanced around at his companions. All of them seemed to be at varying levels of distracted. Well, the odd Priestess whose name he forgot, but not because he didn't know how to pronounce it and Sennen seemed caught up in a conversation about killing. The Lizardman didn't really see the point in it all honestly. That kind of talk was best had around the fire with the Clan.

Band'lur had been raised, like all children in his Clan, with the understanding that to kill was a matter of grave importance. Be it for food, or to protect yourself and others. A Warrior's kills were never to be spoken of lightly, and while one's finest kills were things worthy of praise it was the kind best left for important occasions. Celebratory feasts, holidays of great importance, perhaps a wedding. Trudging down a dusty road after a rattling cart filled with supplies was not such an occasion.

The Lizardman's snout wrinkled in clear displeasure, but he could not object. Humans were predisposed to speak of things so flippantly. He supposed it came with the territory when yours was a species that expected someone else to do the fighting for you. He grumbled lowly, allowing the rest to fall into a discussion on the morality of killing or some such nonsense. Band'lur didn't know why people had to complicate things so much.

He flopped forward onto his stomach and decided that loafing in the carriage was preferable to putting any more thought into things beyond his understanding. In all honestly, the Lizardman would have preferred a sunny rock at high noon than a cart, but he had to take what he could get. The Desert should be warmer, maybe they'd let him get some sunning in then. His scales were getting a little pale around the edges.

All thought about his appearance fled the Lizardman's head as something fairly large and heavy landed square onto his back. The air was driven from his lungs immediately and for a briefest moment Band'lur was positive that he'd come under attack. That was proven false mere seconds after, as the weight rolled off of him quickly, and Band'lur scrambled to all fours with a rumbling growl. Whipping his bulk around, his eyes fell upon the Kharsai scout and the Lizardman let out out a low warning hiss at the other man. While interrupting a Lizardman mid loaf wasn't an offense punishable by death, it was still quite rude. Band'lur didn't go around sitting in Kharsai nests or whatever the hell they lived in. Because he had manners.

Perhaps it was good that their destination was getting closer. Band'lur didn't mind long journeys, but it was becoming more apparent to him that his extended detour had left him crankier than he'd like to be. Naturally, the Lizardman wouldn't hesitate to do it again if the need called for it and would never regret helping someone. But he was only one Lizard! He resolved that next time a child needed to be returned to their parents, someone else in the group was doing it.

His gaze fell on Aelfweard, who was muttering about something that made no sense. And to someone that very much wasn't there.

So definitely not him. Someone else.

The reedy man made Band'lur nervous. He didn't know whether to be concerned about him keeling over at a moment's notice, or afraid that he'd wake up to Aelfweard chewing on one of his legs because that honestly seemed like something he'd do.

In addition to flying. He was flying because that was what humans did. Unnatural things that freaked everybody out. Band'lur watched Aelfweard ascend into the sky looking like the world's most confused bird and shook his head.

"Now that 'aint right." He scoffed and rested his back against the wooden paneling that made up the side of the carriage. "And if he falls, 'm not catchin' him. Someone else can do it."

Birdsie Reinhardt

 

[simj26]

Steingrimr, Team B(est)
The moment the dwarf clambered onto the cart they called a carriage, she set herself in one corner and seemed to drift off to sleep. Eyes shut, her breathing level, and her body relaxed, she seemed to be unawares of everything around her. Indeed, not a peep came from the rest of her companions for a good distance of the journey, and the dwarf was left to her own mental devices, still threading together a tale to tell. Every moment she must document in her head, and in times of nothing to document, she would settle in the very same half-asleep status, and sew her tapestry in her head. However, the idea that she was truly asleep was quickly discredited the moment the party began to speak, starting with the hunter, Cecie. When the spider began to relate the hunter's game to a tale, the dwarf's eyes sprang wide open.

"Oho!" she cried aloud, coming alive and straightening up from her seat. "That's a story I know! A tale of deceit, forbidden love, like most beanpole stories are want to be, but one that ends with vengeance wrought, like a good story should end!" At first, Steingrimr was content with leaving it at that. That was before the hunter piped up, claiming the story to be 'sad'. The dwarf's eyes lit up, as if beset by the spirits of stories. "And NOW I know you've not heard of it! Sad, the tale is not! You'll most likely cheer by the end of it!" With a flourish of her hands, began to provide a summary. "A most beautiful queen, charmed most likely by the hangman's chiseled frame and jaw, lies with the hangman, and lies to the king. Afore the deception could be detected, convoluted conspiracies occurred, eventually ending with the ending of the emperor's esse, hanged by the hangman's noose for a crime uncommitted. The queen wept fabricated tears, but her people saw not past the veil, and, content, she continued the affair of her affair. The dust began to settlez but lo! Come forth from the right stage, the king's half-brother, having discovered the devious duplicity behind the death! Steel in hand, he vows vengeance against his vexing villains! He sets forth to bring about a coup, scheming his own schemes in retort to the couple's own!" Steingrimr took a deep breath, and relaxed, having finally realised she was getting a little far too excited for her own good. She cleared her throat, and composed herself. "Anyroad, that's only the first act. The second and third act tells of the half-brother bringing the lies to light, but I'll leave that for some other time. While 'tis a little cliché, that little tale spawned a gambler's ruin of a game, it did," Steingrimr jovially indicated the cards that the hunter had removed from her person, and was now beginning to shuffle. "And for that, I don't think I'll be participatin' in it! I'll not part with me coin that easy, you scoundrel!" Steingrimr gave a loud laugh from her belly, as if to persuade the hunter that she did not mean much by her insult. "Asides, we need a watchful eye on the road, and it ill behooves us to leave that unattended! And me fat hands're not built for card-playin' too!" She wiggled her fingers. She turned to Alentair, and nudged him in the gut. "Take care you not lose your armor to the wily ones! I know the wizard and the elf are right cheat! One talks to the cards, as he talks to his tools, and the other palms cards into his luscious hair and his armor!" She laughed loudly again.

Cursed_Romance_Route _Line 213 Xethyrion The One Eyed Bandit CerpinTaxt

 

[CerpinTaxt]

Time passed, and the eventual departure of Group B came. The paladin felt prepared, both mentally and physically now; a few brief prayers whispered before their trip began sealing his confidence. Now came the slow part of the journey; actually traveling. He clambered into one of the free spots of the cart and got himself settled; his blade resting against the wood next to him as his mind began to idly wander. He remembered back when he would travel alone, faced with merely his thoughts for company as he daydreamed for seemingly hours on end as his horse would guide him along. Memories of his wife traveling alongside him began to naturally mix with the memory of lonely days of boredom and a smile crossed his face. What he wouldn't give to relive some of those days. Hearing her tell those stories for the first time, or the time she laughed with such force that she nearly fell off of her horse! It reminded him of before this accursed event.

What he wouldn't give to be home with her right now.

Suddenly his head jerked about as if abruptly awakening from a dream. He took a brief look about himself, noting the abrupt change in scenery. He slowly shook his head and let out a small laugh. "I must have started daydreaming again.." He said to himself as his ears picked up the nearby conversation. It sounded like they were discussing a card game! He sat up in his seat, resting his head on his arms as he leaned in to be a tad closer to his compatriots. "Hangman's Trist? I can't say I'm familiar! Heh, I was barely aware of most card games until I met my wife!" His oath had forbidden him to lie, but it never said anything about friendly wagers! Though it appeared he was not the only one unaware of the game, as the man in the black armor and even the spider spoke up! He tilted his head a bit at the mention of the story, though a friendly smile remained on his face. "That's..quite a tragedy..I hope the game isn't so lethal."

Cecie had already begun dealing their cards, though Virion shook his head in the case that he was offered the chance to play; mostly due to wishing to observe a match before partaking. He remembered the nagging he received from playing with a handful of soldiers who were less than thrilled to figure out that the man was very bad at remembered the rules. Conveniently, that was when he seemed to process the loud voice of Stein; far too loud for her own good. It seemed she had a new angle upon the apparent origin of the card game, though was it really that important for a simple card game? Wait a moment..a cheat, she calls him?!

"I'm no cheat! You know well that I could never conceive of such an act." He scoffed and crossed his arms, an exaggerated pout forming onto his face. He was just having a bit of fun, so why not play along? "I'm wounded by your words. Besides, I ah..don't trust the pack. Goodness knows your innumerous companions are capable of running a tournament amongst themselves if they desired, Myv. "

_Line 213 simj26 The One Eyed Bandit Xethyrion Cursed_Romance_Route

 

[Reinhardt]

Osferth Zylavor​

Location: Eastern Roads​

The trip's uneventfulness was welcome, but it certainly gave an eerie feeling. The threat of the storm suddenly striking down near them was something that Osferth had already accounted for, and the fact that it had been doing nothing but calmly grumbling in the distance was enough reason to take more caution in their travel.

He was riding a horse, one that was not among those that pulled the cart onward. The Grandmaster was occupied with plotting routes upon routes on the map he held, as well as formulating plans of actions in his mind, but that didn't stop him from herding the rest of the horses to the less coarse ground every so often.

And while his attention wasn't entirely placed on the group, but rather on the fate of their journey, hearing that the individuals he had gathered were getting along alleviated him from the worries of in-fighting. Well, that was in this group at the very least - he could only hope the same applied to those who were tasked to head south, since their bond was questionable at best, especially with the great differences each individual held in that group.

After having spent some time in the travel, though still not quite close to any feasible resting spot, Osferth halted the horses from their tracks, dropped from his mount, and headed twoards the cart. Once there, he would drag out one of the supply bags, loosen the rope that sealed its mouth and rummage through the contents thoroughly, searching for something specific.

 

[Reinhardt]

Khur Yshta​

Location: Path to Holheim​

A small chunk of slightly chewed apple bits flew from Khur's mouth as Aelfweard sculpted a cloud with his very hands, and rose up in the air a moment after doing so. Though the Kharsai was familiar with magic, witnessing Aelfweard's specialty first hand was something else entirely compared to what he had been used to seeing. Certainly, there were those that weren't that fazed at the sight, but reshaping a cloud as some flying chair? That was quite eye-opening to Khur, especially with his innate affiliation to the skies as a Kharsai.

"For sure, big guy.", Khur nodded in agreement to Band'lur's comment with the feat Aelfweard had just demonstrated. "I've seen people try to fly before with magic, but never someone turning a cloud into some magic...carpet?"

Khur, after seeing Aelfweard and his magic cloud fly off in the distance, returned his attention to, well, whatever it was that he was doing before. With the apple clearly finished, but not entirely consumed, he threw the remnants of the fruit off the cart - and began to rummage once more through the opened sack of supplies.

He had gone through several things without intervention so far. First, he took out a filled waterskin and drank its contents. Then he dragged out some sort of bread delicacy, and took a hefty bite out of it, then set it aside. Clearly, this Kharsai was just taking whatever he pleased without much regard.

Perhaps it would be best to stop him before he wastes a fair amount of supplies for the trip.

Interaction/s: Band'lur ( Ramjammer ), Aelfweard ( Birdsie )

 

[Reinhardt]

TEAM 1​

Location: Holheim​

The travel persisted for a few more hours, and within that period came a fair amount of unaccounted occurrences. Some simply being casual chatter on various topics, others being random shenanigans that brought either slight inconveniences or undeniably annoyances. It was usually the latter.

Eventually, the group arrived at their destination. Though they weren't exactly on time by Vivienne's estimation, they weren't necessarily too delayed. Still, much better than not arriving there at all.

Holheim. A name that would otherwise be forgotten amidst the many towns scattered all over Valheim, if not for the town's strong ties to the prominent religion, the Aesthirian Theology. It was considered to be one of the many sites to visit in various religious pilgrimages, mainly due to the temple located at the center of town, which said to have been standing for many centuries. The town, though having reputation for it, never truly grew - it was constant and surviving, but never evolving. Like an old, preserved flower.

Nothing was known of why it was abandoned during the chaotic emergence of Fimbulstormr. Many theorize that the people who survived the onslaught of the merciless storm fled to The Citadel and left their memories of the storm's horrors behind - with the rather few former inhabitants refusing to speak of their experiences in Holheim, and some outright stating that they have chosen to forget everything about the town.

Now, Holheim appears much like any other abandoned town - several ruins that were once houses, empty streets covered in dust and soot, buildings that have crumbled down through the passage of time. Various debris scattered all across random spots of the town, accompanied by traces of what once lived in the area. The wooden fence-gates that once encircled the town withered away into scraps, some even barely standing.

At the center of it all, was a large structure - the once famed temple. While it still stood, it was clear that the lack of proper maintenance had waned its fortitude and appearance. Innumerable cracks and chips were spread throughout the temple, as dust accumulated onto the carvings in its midst. A multitude of vines and branches swarmed its surfaces, with numerous roots that burst forth from beneath the earth. Nature appeared to be slowly reclaiming what was once hallowed ground.

However, compared to any other plausible resting ground, the temple was by far the best option. It covered a fair amount of ground, and while its structure has been weathered, it appeared to be sturdy enough to last for a while. Granted, its doors were still shut and its contents are yet to be revealed.

Sunset is coming closer every passing moment. It would be best for the group to come to a decision, though there appears to be enough time to scour the town for any possible alternatives, should the temple's doors be unwelcoming. If there are any alternatives left, that is.

Tags: Aelfweard ( Birdsie ), Byakuren ( Sinful Sorcerer ), Lupa ( Silver Wolf ), Sennen ( Cauldhill ), Vivienne ( AnonyMouse )

 

[Silver Wolf]

Spoiler: Appearance

Lupa
Location: Holheim Outside Temple
Interactions: AnonyMouse (Vivienne), Reinhardt (Khur)
Nearby/Mentioned: Birdsie (Aelfweard), Sinful Sorcerer (Byakuren), Ramjammer (Brand'lur), Cauldhill (Sennen)
​

Before the Storm, Lupa had visited Holheim, on account of it being a light pilgrimage. Seeing it now, she felt emotion crawl into her throat, threatening to burst forth. After some uneasy swallows to force it back down, she looked at the Temple, still standing albeit worse for wear. She quietly fondled the charm on her neck, silently praying for those who lost their homes. She had made the pilgrimage with Sophia, and she remembered how wonderful it was. Now, a ruin with a temple overrun with vegetation was all that remained. It didn't help that she could name some of the families that lived in these long abandoned or destroyed houses. It took Lupa a good while to return to her senses. Once she did, she released her grip on the pendant; she had a job to do.

"Khur, scout around. Look for signs of activity, particularly people. Vivienne, you and I will see if we can open up the temple. If not, I guess Brand'lur or Sennen will have to use other means," Lupa said with a surprisingly somber voice. Once the wagon reached the temple, Lupa hopped off and approached the doors. Rust and wood rot would probably make it difficult to open at first, but it might be possible. Lupa approached the door and gripped the handle. First, a light jerk, the handle didn't budge. A second stronger one, and the handle moved a little. After several strong jerks, it became clear the doors were locked.

"Well, this might be an issue. I'm going to bring the wagon and horse around. Maybe one of the other entrances is open," she said casually. She looked back over to Vivienne and the others to say, "By the way, try not to tear it down. We still want to be able to at least barricade it if need be. Vivienne, you stay to make sure Brand'lur doesn't break it. Anyone else is free to join me in looking at the other entrances."

Lupa lead the horse and carriage around the side. There, more doors were found. All of them, locked. Further down was a small gate just barely large enough to fit the wagon through. As to why, it became clear once on the other side. A large fenced off yard with several weathered stone slabs sticking out of the ground. Many overgrown with moss, and some dug up by scavengers that had long ago used the flight as pretense to raid the fresh graves. A few snapped bones jutted out of the earth where the dig sites were. One large stone stood out above the rest, some holes littered around it. It was oddly fresh, the most recent one.

The young aspiring knight cautiously walked up to the slab and dusted off the words. What she read only confirmed her suspicion.

"Here lie.......many.....taken by the Storm: ..............may Aestara Have Mercy On Their Souls and Thiestro Bring Justice unto........"

A mass grave, hastily set up when the storm first hit. Looking down into some of the holes, Lupa clenched her fists and turned away. Clothes long faded away, but enough still there showed the stories. Some were clergy, others locals, and still more probably with various stories. Lupa even recognized some of the items on the corpses. After walking away a little, she turned back and knelt in prayer. Quietly reciting under her breath. A name could occasionally be heard among the prayers as she offered what rites she could for the long deceased she recognized.

 

[Ramjammer]

The rules of Nature were myriad and diverse. Too many to count. Far too many to commit to mortal memory. But where the mind fell short in that regard, instinct made up for it. The rules of Nature need not be written in ink, they were written in the blood flowing through one's veins. Bone and sinew housed these unspoken truths, and so those unwritten words urged muscle to move as of their own accord.

Band'lur knew the rules of nature well. They didn't always align well with the rules of civilization, but they were never forgotten. In his lifetime, the Lizardman had committed those rules to memory, each only rearing its head when the need arose and never a second later.

It was for that reason that their arrival into Holheim caused every muscle in the Beastman's body to tense unconsciously. Band'lur's tongue flicked rapidly at the air, almost nervously as he tried, and failed to catch the scent of anything other than himself and his companions. The civilized part of him, the man knew logically that Holheim was abandoned long before they'd even left. It stood to reason that the little town would be unnaturally still and quiet. A gaping hole in existence that should have been filled with life.

But the impotent logic of a civilized man could not calm the Beast of which he could never part with. The man made structures, long overtaken by dust and disrepair huddled under a steadily darkening sky. Their long shadows covering almost every square inch of ground. The overgrowth slowly creeping into the dead town afforded no visibility wherever it chose to lay down roots. Normally, something would skitter there in the tall grass, frightened off by hoofbeats and the sounds of their voices. Birds would have taken flight, calling out loudly in a blatant display of their displeasure at the group's sudden arrival. But there was nothing to be found in the tall grass. No birds perched in the trees overhead. Even the wind, a near constant reminder of Fimbulstormr's encroaching wrath had yet to show itself. It was quiet. It was still.

The rules of nature were myriad, and they were always clear. Silence, was death.

Perhaps, no predator lurked in the overgrowth, waiting for a chance to pounce on them. Wild animals were growing ever scarcer the longer that the Storm roiled overhead. But these thoughts, Logical and plain did nothing to soothe either the Beast or Man within Band'lur. There were few things that could taint the land so deeply that life would flee the area completely, leaving only an oppressive silence to mark its passing.

The carriage eventually ground to a halt, and Band'lur climbed out gingerly, a stark contrast to his boisterous nature. One would be forgiven for thinking that he'd have flung himself out of it headfirst before it even came to a stop, screaming all the while. But Band'lur was in the wilderness, and the rules were different in the wilds. The decaying structures looming all around them didn't matter. The wilds always claimed what had once belonged to it. The creations of man could not halt such an inevitability.

Casting his gaze around the desolate area in a feeble attempt to spot any breathing life besides them, the Lizardman was further displeased to see none. His scales itched, a physical response to his growing discomfort. His companions had yet to respond in the same manner, opting instead to scouting for an area to set up a passable camp.

The Temple's once grand form hunched over them all like a man left forgotten in the cold. It too had once been filled with the life of the Town. But with no sound to fill it, the Temple's stone walls had begun their slow march to rubble, and then to dust.

How fortunate they were however, that the walls would not be rubble for a while yet. At least not until sunrise anyhow.

Lupa's attempts to prise open a heavily weathered door were futile, and it didn't take long for her to foist the job onto someone else. Not that Band'lur minded being volunteered for the task. He was big and strong, of course people would want him to do big and strong guy things. But the Wolf's suggestion only caused a frown to mar the Lizardman's face. Breaking the door down had been his initial and obvious choice, but that had been dashed immediately. The door had to stay intact, and the Beastman wasn't sure if he could keep it that way.

Still, Band'lur approached the door, almost cautiously, as if it might spring to life and attack him. He attempted to do the same as Lupa, but once again the door did not budge, standing as a mute sentry barring the way inside. The Lizardman huffed lowly, his tail flicking in mild irritation. He turned back to his remaining companions and jerked his head towards the door.

"Any of you lot know how to pick a lock? We can't just kick the damn door down, even though 's what I'm good at. We'll need to keep the damn thing in once piece."


Birdsie Sinful Sorcerer AnonyMouse Silver Wolf Cauldhill Reinhardt

 

[Cauldhill]

Sennen Heydari
Location: Holheim with Team 1​

Sennen got off the carriage into the ruins of the once prosperous town. Vegetation was slowly spreading over the remains of Holheim. The quiet was deafening.

The group made its way to the central building, an ancestral temple which once was a fairly popular pilgrimage destination was now a shadow of its former self. For Sennen, however, it looked as though the holy site had regained its sacred tranquility. He stopped to look at the top of the structure, pondering about the wills of the divine. Looking at this reposeful image, he had to wonder if Aestara was not bestowing an unorthodox gift upon the world, rather than the divine judgment Thiestro was believed to have brought upon Valheim. Sennen felt the weight of his pendant hanging by his neck and, after a quick moment of religious introspection, shook the thought to focus on the matter at hand. For him, no location was holier than another, this temple was simply a spot priest decided to operate in, and Sennen did not have the best opinion of priests. Nevertheless, he had no choice but to respect the edifice in front of him, proof of effort, faith, devotion, and selflessness on the behalf of its builders.

After his teammates interventions, Sennen inspected the building. "I dunno how to pick locks, but I can check 'round the building, see if there's any backdoor." He looked for approval from the group, mainly Lupa, before making his way around the side of the building.

 

[Sinful Sorcerer]

Byakuren Hijiri

Location: Holheim

Interacting with: Cauldhill {Sennen} AnonyMouse {Vivienne}, Silver Wolf {Lupa}, Ramjammer {Band'lur}, Birdsie {Aelfweard} Reinhardt {Khur}​

The group had finally arrived at Holheim, the first step on their journey. To call Holheim a town would be to lie, it was no more than a collection of ruins now, cold and unwelcoming. Even so, the temple would provide shelter from the storm. It had been strangely silent as of late, but there was no telling when it might strike once more. Holheim should also be an adequate place for the horses to rest, and although most of the group had been lounging in the carriage, Vivienne had been pulling the thing the whole way. Actually, thinking back Khur had done quite a bit of flying, and Band'lur had apparently done some running of his own. Even Aelfweard had put in some work, summoning a cloud out of thin air and soaring through the skies on top of it.

Now that they reached their destination Lupa once more took on the leadership role and began issuing commands. It was quite comforting having someone in the group who seemed comfortable making the decisions, but something felt off to Byakuren. She heard the names of her squad mates called one after the other, each assigned a specific task, but two were strangely absent. Only Aelfweard and Byakuren herself remained with no clear orders. Byakuren glanced over at Aelfweard, the scrawny man had introduced himself in a rather hostile and sarcastic way back then and she could recall Lupa's disdain for his choice of words. The two were clearly not on the best of terms and understandably so, but did Lupa have some issue with her as well? This wasn't the first time she had felt excluded, back when the group had just formed the same thing had happened and Byakuren had been left without any task as well.

Lupa had been very friendly back at the feast and she did help Byakuren find something to eat, but ever since then she had felt rather distant. Maybe she just had a lot on her mind, or perhaps she truly did have some beef with her. Or maybe she just didn't see any way that Byakuren could be of help, her talents weren't obvious at first glance unlike with some of the others, and now even she had began to doubt that she had much to offer. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all, what purpose could she possibly serve in the grand scheme of things? She was not a fighter, nor a healer. She had no knack for adventuring either, having only recently left the safety of her tiny island. All the deep knowledge she had all came from the same place and seemed narrow as a result. She really wasn't that exceptional at anything...

But even so, she had to push on. For her brother, and for everyone else whose lives were lost. Those who would have wanted to live another day but whose lives were cut short. For their sake she had to do whatever she could. Even if she couldn't carry this burden on her own shoulders, even if she couldn't make a real impact, she would do her best to support the others so that they could reach their full potential. They were a team now and she wouldn't abandon them. If Lupa couldn't see a way for her to help, she'd have to find her own way to make herself useful.

"Any of you lot know how to pick a lock? We can't just kick the damn door down, even though 's what I'm good at. We'll need to keep the damn thing in once piece."

Band'lur's sharp voice brought her back to reality, the lizardman was motioning towards the temple. She had barely noticed its presence until now, too lost in her own thoughts. It was a sad sight to behold, a place of worship reduced to this... At least it was still standing. They were planning to rest in there, but if the doors were all locked that did indeed present a rather big problem. True, Band'lur could probably burst the doors down in a quick manner, but like Lupa said it would be unwise. They might need to barricade the place up, not to mention how some might feel about them breaking into a religious temple like that... Picking the locks might be a better choice, but no one in the group gave off the vibe of a thief or rogue. Perhaps, Khur or Aelfweard might know something in the area, they were both convicted criminals but to make such assumptions seemed rude to her. The place had been long abandoned so whatever safety measures were in place had surely began to rust by now.

That gave her an idea. Iron would naturally go through a process of corrosion if left untreated for a long time, this "rust" as it's known turns the material flakey and brittle. In other words, if the lock was rusty enough it should be easy to get through it without having to burst down the entire door. All they'd need to do is speed up the process, and luckily Byakuren specialized in magic of just that nature. As long as there weren't any anti-magical measures in place she should be able to assist the group in this "lock-picking" endeavor.

"Only one way to find out, I suppose" , she said to herself, as she stepped forward to the door and laid her hands on the door's handle. What she was attempting to do might be seen as a form of heresy, but to her a house unable to hold people is no house at all, be it god's house or whoever's. Besides, she had done worse things before. Whatever god ruled over this land was not hers, and although she did not wish to make new enemies, she did not seek this Aestara's approval either. She was here to serve the people, not the gods.

She turned her head, still channeling the magic, and gave a quick smile. "Give me a moment, I will try to weaken the lock. Hopefully we can enter before long!"

 

[AnonyMouse]

Vivienne Yvarra
Arriving at Holheim​

Holheim's sad state was, more or less, exactly what Vivienne had expected. Its once familar structures were now buried under tangled roots and overgrown vines. As she stepped carefully through its mossy avenues, she noted how the vegetation had feasted well on the storm's bounty of rain and wind. This town had always been under threat of being reclaimed by the forest in which it stood. That is part of what gave Holheim its rustic charm. But now, the forest was clearly winning.

Although she hadn't seen the town since the storm's first rumblings, Vivienne knew it quite well from her travels and had visited this place many times over the years. Holheim had the unique distinction of being situated between a handful of somewhat important towns and cities, but not on any major roads. Arriving here meant going off the beaten trail. As such, many travelers passed by it, in a purely geographic sense, but very few passed through it, unless they had specific reasons for doing so. While she was not deeply religious by any means, this temple had given her shelter many times. She knew its streets. She knew its homes and gardens. And she knew the priests and priestesses of this temple.

Which meant she also knew they were long gone.

The centaur woman's constant chatter dwindled as they approached Holheim. By the time the town was within view, she had been utterly silent for nearly an hour and remained that way as the group passed through its gates. When they arrived at the temple, Lupa took charge, doling out tasks. Viv simply stared up at the temple's main entrance, as if in a trance.

This was your idea, she thought. She had been repeating that same thought over and over in her head for many minutes now. This was your idea, Viv. Don't let them see you waver. And it was a good idea... right? It was tactically sound. She plotted it on her map, she ran the numbers, she double-checked and triple-checked the itinerary and factored in all sorts of potential issues that might arrive. She had a 'Plan B,' a 'Plan C,' and even the beginnings of a 'Plan D,' just in case, but she wouldn't need those. Because this was a good idea.

As the conversation about breaking down the door shifted to lockpicking and, finally, to weakening the lock via Byakuren's magic, Viv's face became stone. Her resolve became iron. She found strength in them she didn't have alone. How many 'good ideas' had been swept away in this storm? How many good people lost their lives on this very doorstep?

"Sennen!" Viv said, catching up to him alarmingly fast. She hadn't meant to call his name so forcefully, a tad too much like a mother chastising a child. She knew it was merely her nerves and her protective tendencies, yet couldn't help but feel ashamed of this minor outburst. He didn't deserve that. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she lightly cleared her throat before continuing in a slightly kinder tone, "No one goes alone, dear. I'm coming with you. Let's survey the perimeter together and gather Lupa on our way 'round."


Interaction(s): Band'lur ( Ramjammer ), Aelfweard ( Birdsie ), Byakuren ( Sinful Sorcerer ), Sennen ( Cauldhill ), Khur ( Reinhardt ), Lupa ( Silver Wolf )

 

[Birdsie]

Aelfweard Māragas
Holheim

When he faced the ledges and shattered inclinations of Holheim, Aelfweard maintained a stoic mask. It was but another tragedy to lump onto the large pile that he'd seen or seen to.

After he flew to the skies on a vapor-spun puff of cloud, he managed to retain air for a good time, before suddenly, he felt a throbbing in his eyes. It was an unwelcome indicator of pushing his ability to the limits; Aelfweard prudently chose to land soon afterward, rejoining with the team.

"What a shame," the Reckoner said, one of Aelfweard's myriad delusions, the pallid gray reflection of a man he once used to know. The man was a one-eyed, one-armed cripple dressed in almost nightmarish black armor, with a half-broken sword clipped to his belt with no scabbard. "It reminds me of home."

"It does," Aelfweard agreed saliently, in earshot of his teammates. "Would you scout the area with us, to make sure it's safe?"

"Like I used to check under your bed for monsters? Of course, Lord Māragas." The Reckoner set off into the city streets, intent on patrolling. It was a curious thing that he no longer had to focus on directing or thinking about their responses; his 'friends' were regaining their foothold and independent thought. It wasn't really a sign that his grandiose powers were coming back; it was only a sign that he was not going to enjoy himself.

He turned around, moving in the direction of another entrance; intent on checking it as Lupa had suggested. "I'll go check over the right side of the building," he informed the others curtly.

There was something unsettling about Holheim, like a deep wrongness seeping through the cracks beneath the crust of reality. The abandonment of the place seemed almost spiritual like the place was devoid of something; like amissing a critical element. It couldn't have simply been the absence of real people that unsettled him, because that was how Aelfweard lived for most of his life. Maybe it was due to the resemblance of some of the buildings, to his own home. As a child, he used to enter a small tent-fortress made from blankets and pillows and, inspired by his mother's tales of their ancestors, imagined himself to be a small prince on a throne, in a grand lofty palace over a river. The world he imagined was pure beyond possibility or reality; a place where no pain or misery existed.

It was hard to imagine such a thing right now. The world in his eyes was still, dark, and brutal; a sharp reflection of the real. He couldn't divorce one from the other. Did that mean he was more grounded than the average Māragas would have been, or did it make him even worse?

If he hadn't cared about the reclamation and cared only about himself, perhaps he never would have waged such a brutal war against perceived oppressors. For once, being a selfish person would have been a boon to the world.

When he didn't find anything of note, Aelfweard went back to where Byakuren was weakening the lock with her magic.

"Alas, I did not find an entry to any vestry, basement, or chamber. Let's hope the others have more luck," he commented, before adding, "If need be, we can break the door down, and then I'll repair it."

He could've offered to break down the door entirely, or even conjure a barricade, but Aelfweard didn't want to.

His eyes already felt dry and throbbed as if he'd stared right into a campfire for an hour straight. Stacking more usage of the Māragagan on top of that was sure to fuck his sight in the short-term. Aelfweard was scared of the prospect; his training included the ability to fight without seeing, but he was scared of losing his eyesight again like he had when imprisoned, to the point where it almost made him shudder. He wanted to forget, to hope, but there was no such thing for him without his eyesight.

"It should not be too difficult for me," he finished his previous thought lamely.

Interactions: Ramjammer Sinful Sorcerer
others in the Area: AnonyMouse Cauldhill Reinhardt Silver Wolf

 

[Reinhardt]

Khur Yshta​

Location: Holheim​

Following the words of the beastfolk that assumed command, Khur took flight at a moment's notice. A strong burst of wind came forth from him as his wings stretched to their full capacity and flung him up to the skies, allowing him to get a bird's eye view of the town in mere seconds. Though his eyesight is not necessarily as keen as an eagle's the Kharsai's adaption to his natural habitat was more than enough to give him a decent capability of probing the area. Swiftly, like a zooming arrow that had gained sentience, he flew from one part of the town to another, occasionally stopping on a few spots.

After a while of flying across Holheim, Khur returned to the assembled group, with numerous souvenirs in tow - which he casually dropped to the ground.

"I got some stuff.", he said. "Some of them belonged to people...I think? Some I just grabbed 'cause, uh - well, you never know what's gonna be of use right?"

Mixed among the pile of random objects Khur had acquired were a few that some of the group might see interest or value in:

A small stash of freshly picked edible berries and leaves
A few stalks of Viskrainn loosely bundled together
Three rusty yet workable knives
Some old, tattered clothes
A small insignia covered in soot and dust, depicting some kind of feathered wing
A charred notebook sealed by some strange, solidified adhesive​

"Anyway.", he said as his dark brown wings retracted. "Did I miss anything?"

Interaction/s: Band'lur ( Ramjammer ), Aelfweard ( Birdsie ), Byakuren ( Sinful Sorcerer ), Sennen ( Cauldhill ), Vivienne ( AnonyMouse )