Active &nbsp; [Western Ryke Near the Fae See - The Silk Road, Part 1]

Into this bucolic scene strode a pair of figures, emerging from the dark woods into the winter sunlight. One of the pair was a tall figure dressed in a faded and worn carmine redingote, tricorn hat, gloves and pants such that not a bit of their person was exposed to sunlight. The shorter of the two was fae; a svelte Elfmaid of long platinum hair--currently tied back in a long braid--and fair skin. She wore a green travelling cloak and long slitted skirt with a kickpleat that swung before her with every step. The elfmaid held the lead of a donkey that--though looking long of tooth and hair--had a sleek and shiny coat which attested to the care with which the animal’s owners kept it. The donkey was loaded down with a rather large trunk.

The village children, first to espy the newcomers, shrieked with delighted terror. ”THE WITCH!! THE WEAVER WITCH!! Enmasse, they gathered up rocks and sticks and swarmed toward the travellers. The dirtiest, and bravest of the children--A girl by the name of Ella--led the charge, leaping upon the stump of a long-felled tree and taking aim at the Elfmaid and her escort. She fingered the stone in her hand and judged whether stinging the witch’s ass, or the witch herself, with the pebble was more likely to grant more delightful chaos in the little caravan and less toad-ification of her own person.

“No, Robespierre.” The Elfmaid reached a hand out to still the arm of her escort, where they had placed gloved hand upon the pommel of their rapier. “They are only children; no real threat to us.” She said in a cool clear voice.

Ella, where she had shrank back at spying hand upon sword, now decided to take umbrage at the Elfmaid’s dismissal. She was about to show this witch the error of her ways, when the Elfmaid unwound a colorful rough-knit scarf from about her neck, and tossed it in the girl’s general direction. “YEEEK!!” The child shrieked and covered her head, sure she was about to be transformed into a slug. When all that transpired was the falling of the colorful scarf to the ground near her stump, she cracked one eye and looked, first, to the other children--who had scattered in the high grass--and, then, to the scrap of homespun fabric.

“IT’S MINE!!! She screamed, prompting a mad rush by the other wildlings to contest her claim. Rocks and sticks, feet, fists, and teeth were turned upon the former allies as the swarm of children dissolved into a mad scrum over the scarf the Elfmaid had tossed them.

Thus did the two strangers and their pack animal enter the village of Hunt’s End unmolested by the most feral and viscous of its defenders.

Hunt’s End Guard ”Eh now! Who goes there? State ‘cher bizness ‘ere, strangers!” As the pair neared the outbildings of the hamlet, a old guardsman, stiff-limbed with age, rousted himself from the shack that served as erstwhile fortification along with the split-plank fence which stood in for a palisade. The aged guard was as creaky as his rusted and piecemeal armor, and--despite the short sword he carried at his side--was likely less of a threat than a child armed with a pebble. Still, the arrival of armed strangers necessitated a response, and he hobbled to the middle of the path that led through the fence gate and into town, blocking their way.

“Hello, Ivan.” The elfmaid quietly greeted the old soldier. “It’s me, Faan. Do you remember me?”

The old man’s hand left his sword hilt and struck the rim of his helm in disbelief. ”By all the saints and sinners! Faan!! Lass, is it truly you?!!” He squinted as he leaned forward and peered at the elfmaid, who simply smiled in answer. ”But sure yew must be ‘er granddaughter! Why, yew haven’t aged a day or I’m a weel kint liar!” His shocked expression was replaced with a rather snaggle-toothed smile. “Ach! Lassie, I do remember ye, but it’s been forever and a day--yer more like a beautiful dream than a memory.”

“Maybe it has.” Faan conceded, looking demurely away from the old man’s watery gaze. “But I see you’ve lost none of your charm, you scoundrel.”

“HA! Haven’t been called that in a dog’s age, lass!” The guardsman laughed and slapped his knee. Chuckling to himself, he ushered Faan and her escort into town. ”Lass, I’ve a lifetime of yarns, and I’d be much obliged if’n I could join ye at the Inn later ta buy ye a pint and spin yeh one or two, if’n yer stayin’ the night, Weaver Witch’s Daughter.”

Faan placed a delicate-fingered hand on the tarnished shoulder guard of the old soldier, feeling how it quivered with palsy. “I’d like that, very much, Ivan,” she said, before pressing on into the village.

The elfmaid nodded and offered up a wave to the guardsman’s “Later, then!” as she walked on. With the crook of her finger, she brushed at the corner of her eye. It was nice to be greeted by a friendly face.

And melancholy.

Almost. She had almost accepted the last offer Ivan had made her; to take her away with him on the grand adventures he had planned in the wide worlde beyond Hunt’s End and the forest. Seeing what such an ever-so-slight passing of time had done to the dashing young man he’d once been pained--No, it’s not pain. Faan thought. He’s a reminder, inspiration to cherish these ephemeral connections to the world of men. For they would not--could not--last.

Later, with her donkey stabled, a room hired, her wares stowed in it, and her escort tucked safely away somewhere, Faan was glad of Ivan and his memories. The old soldier spun her the promised tales, and they seemed like those of a life well-lived. Faan found herself regretting only that she had not lived them with the man.

“Oh-ho! Cherry’d be spinnin’ in ‘er grave ta hear ye say that, Lass!” Ivan chuckled. “Such a sharp and jealous thing my pretty girl was, God rest ‘er soul.”

“I’m sorry I never met her,” faan said.

“I’m not! God’s be praised ye didn’t!” Ivan wiped his brow. “Oi never told ‘er about yeh, Faan--never told anyone about yeh.” the old soldier grew serious for a moment. “Jus like yeh asked--and I’ll take yer secret with me when I goes ta join her, and Billy, and me lil’ Jeanie…”

The elfmaid gently patted the liver-spotted hand as Ivan quieted and stared into his empty glass. “Thank you, Ivan.”

“Well, tha’s enuff uv me troublin’ ye! This alt man’s up past ‘is bedtime.” Ivan gingerly left his perch on the barstool. “Yew’ll be carryin’ yer wares off ta market--like yer mother did, I’m guessin’.” The old man postulated and the elfmaid nodded. ”Well, if the Good Lord don’ take me afore yeh leave, I’d ‘preciate another goodbye when ya go. I’d offer ta escort yeh m’self, but yew don’ need these rusty old bones slowin’ ya down.” He scratched his head a moment, recalling a more recent memory. ”I did hear tell there’s a band of adventurers hangin’ about, and they sound like good, trustworthy folk. If I see ‘em, an’ they are, I’ll steer ‘em yer way, lass.” Ivan said.

“Thank you, Ivan.” Faan leaned over and gave the old man a peck on the cheek. “Goodnight.”

After the aged guardsman left, the elfmaid would remain at the Inn’s little bar for a while, nursing her pint and reflecting on the journey ahead. She’d made some of her preparations, but--Ivan was correct--she had not yet found an escort for herself and her goods. It was getting late, and the sawmill would be closed down. Tomorrow maybe she would inquire, there, about joining the lumber wagon on its weekly run out of the forest to the great highway.

revior · Dec 5, 2024

Lucianus

Location: Hunt's End, near the path into the town.

It was the aftermath of a scuffle- Nay! A battle for the ages, one might even say. There they lay amongst the grass and tree stumps, warriors who fought for a prize most grand. Wailed did the fallen, lamenting the folly of violence and greed, but such were the whines of the losers of war.

But what of the winners? Do they bask in the glory of victory? Do they enjoy their spoils won through glorious battle?

Nay! For this bloodshed had tainted even the price which it was fought for. There it lay, the once colorful scarf, torn, trampled, and drenched in mud. How vibrant it must have once been, how soft to the touch it used to be. Now, all lost.

"In the end, perhaps there are no winners in war," spoke a young man in lament as he gazed melancholically into the distance.

"Sorry to disrupt your 'fun,' Lucianus, but are you treating the children or not?" one of the young man's companions came up to him, looking rather annoyed.

In response, the young man, Lucianus, gave a shrugged and opted to speak in a less dramatic tone. "Eh, most of them will be fine. Kids are tough, they can walk off a few cuts and bruises. Just bring me the ones with a broken nose or something."

As his friends checked on the children, Lucianus walked about the 'battlefield,' searching, scanning for anything of interest. He had rushed out here when he saw one of the rascals run into town, crying something about a witch. Once he heard that, his curiosity was piqued and he hardly spared a thought before heading straight for this place. His friends, naturally, tried to stop him to no avail. He was much faster than they were and they could do nothing but follow behind.

In the end, the only clues left behind was the tarnished scarf and the testimony of one 'Ella,' a young girl who claimed that the so-called witch had cast a charm on them and made them fight amongst themselves.

"Ah, yes, an interesting story," said Lucianus as he listened to the testimony given. Of course, he hardly took it at face value. This wasn't the first day he arrived in town and he knew of the rascals' reputation. Rather, he had experienced it first hand when he came down this very road just days prior. "Well, thanks for talking to us. As gratitude, how about I fix that nose of yours?"

As it so happened, Ella had a broken nose. She had a black eye as well, but that'll sort itself out in due time.

From behind, one of Lucianus's friends, a member of his Caravan Troupe, grabbed onto Ella. The young girl struggled but she was no match for a grownup's strength.

"Hold still now~"

With a hand reached out, Lucianus lightly touched the young girl's nose. A faint glow could be seen upon contact and gradually, the nose began to bend back into shape, creaking and cracking as it went. Ella cried out loud when she experienced what felt like getting her already broken nose broken a second time, but Lucianus kept a smile on his face the whole time. After all, he was but a kindly traveler treating the injuries of a hurt child. There was no wrongs being committed here and any extra agony caused was only due to it being part of the treatment.

Once the children were dealt with, Lucianus went and picked up the tarnished scarf off the ground. With the scarf in hand and a smile on his face, he gladly announced this: "Now then, I think it's time for a witch hunt!"

"You what?" Some of the Caravan Troupe members were flabbergasted by his statement, though there were also others who were just used to it. "Listen, if there's a wit- Aaaaaand there he goes..."

Before they could stop him, Lucianus was already on the move.

***
Location: Hunt's End, Inn
Mentions:

Irihi

It wasn't difficult to learn where the 'witch' had went. Lucianus knew that she would be a traveler, that much was obvious. Once he got to ask around, it wasn't long before he heard of an Elfmaid accompanied by a tall woman and a donkey. He was told this by an elder guardsman, who was all too glad to point him to where the Elfmaid was staying. Lucianus thanked him by giving him a rub on the back, using his powers of healing to ease the old guard's aches from standing guard all day.

Upon arriving at the inn where the Elfmaid was said to be staying, Lucianus quickly found someone who matched her description at the bar. With a smile, he boldly made his approach despite the warnings from his friends.

"A fine day, no?" Lucianus greeted the Elfmaid(

Irihi ). "You don't look like you're around here. A traveler perhaps? A kindred spirit? I too am a traveler you see, an adventurer you might even call me. May I take a seat by you? I'd love to hear the tales of your travels. Or perhaps you would like to hear mine?"

Behind Lucianus, one could see his friends watching from a distance. There was one who had his palm on his face, his brows furrowed in frustration. There was another who was hiding behind a one of their friends, looking rather scared. There was one watching with a smile on his face, amused by the situation. And finally, there was the one who was staring into the distance, indifferent to what was going on.

Irihi · Dec 5, 2024

So I’ll try to reconcile the incongruities of the timing. If you don’t mind, let’s assume that Faan made a few stops after stabling her donkey and renting a room for the night. Lucianus and crew were precluded from talking to Faan earlier by Ivan. Hand-wavy.

Hunt’s End Denizens The children’s pitched battle came to its expected conclusion and most of the kids were too worn-out or battered to give the second band of newcomers much trouble. Neither were they particularly appreciative of the ministrations of Lucianus and his company. No, they accepted the healing touches and help with the typical birthright expectation of rowdy children everywhere, and were soon back at ~~fight~~play in various places around the village.

The guardsman was a bit more appreciative of the healer’s touch, though he was put off a bit by Lucianus asking after his old flame, until he found out that they’d been informed of her presence by the half-feral town children. ”Ach, Faan’s got a magic about ‘er ta be sure, but don’ go puttin’ too much stock in the fairy tales of children, stranger. The Weaver Witch an’ ‘er daughter are friends o’ mine, an I’ll nawt tolerate yew troublin’ ‘er.” The old soldier settled down a bit after being reassured that Lucianus pursued Faan only out of curiosity and had no ill intent. “Well, tha’s aright then. She’ll be stayin’ in the Inn once she’s finished her day’s business, I reckon.” He informed the man and his troupe.

At the Inn Ivan noted the presence of the one with the healing touch, and his group, as he left. He thought about putting in further word about them with Faan, but decided to let this youngster try his own luck.

Wu’Faan Liewuun
Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf
Mentions:

revior

“Don’t I?” Faan looked up at the man who had come to take a place at the bar beside her. “Odd. I, and my family, have lived here for many of your generations, good sir.” She said, cooly rebuffing the man’s assumptions.

Neither Faan nor her mother had been born in these woods, but they had lived--and plied their trade--in their secluded cottage, less than a day’s walk from Hunt’s End, for nearly all of her eighty years of existence. Despite their proximity, Faan knew she had never been, and would never be, accepted as one of the human inhabitants of Hunt’s End. She had learned that lesson early on, but at least the human children who had taught it to her had been honest and upfront in their innocent cruelty.

Faan found herself fighting with the little smile that tried to manifest at Lucianus’s reaction to her words. He seemed to have an honest face, one that displayed his emotions like a ~~handsome~~ signboard.

Stop it. Faan told herself. Just because you haven’t seen a new face in five years, doesn’t mean you have to flirt with the first ~~pretty~~ guy who lays lines on you. To distract herself from the ~~losing~~ argument she was having with herself, Faan relented a bit. “I don’t often come to Hunt’s End; that much is true,” she said. ”The welcome can sometimes be a bit thin, and quickly worn out.” for my kind, at least. she added silently. ”But if you are a kindred spirit, as you say, then you are welcome to sit a while with me.”

If Lucianus were to take her up on her offer, Faan would sip at her ale while he seated himself, and consider him with a thoughtful bi-colored gaze. The man might not have noticed until he drew closer, but he would have a hard time missing that the elfmaid’s eyes were heterochromic, with one a deep forest green and the other a light chestnut brown.

Faan noted his companions--she assumed, from the attention and sidelong glances they were giving this man--hanging around in the background. She wondered if they were the band of which Ivan had spoken--it seemed likely, considering how few visitors came to Hunt’s End. The elfmaid also wondered if they had, perhaps, put this bespectacled gentleman up to approaching her as some sort of dare. It would not be the first such encounter Faan had had with humans, and that consideration kept her mein guarded even as she introduced herself.

”My name is Wu’Faan, Liewuun. Some here call me the “Daughter of the Weaver Witch”, and those with good intentions sometimes call me simply: “Faan”.” The elfmaid said. ”As for the tale of my travels; well, sir, I walked in the woods for a while. Then I arrived here in town.” An impish smile tugged again at her lips. Goddamit, stop that! she again counseled herself. “The end.” Epilogue; then ~~an easy-on-the-eyes~~ some weird guy came and tried chatting me up. She stifled a giggle at her unspoken postscript. Flushing a little and hoping Lucianus had not noticed, Faan looked away from him and pretended to study her drink intently. Was this her second? Maybe she ought to slow down.

revior · Dec 6, 2024

Yeah, I should have thought about the timing myself. Sorry about that.

Lucianus

Location: Hunt's End, Inn
Mentions:

Irihi

Lucianus was surprised to hear that the Elfmaid was no stranger to this town. For as far as he could tell, this was very much a Human town. How embarrassing, not only did he guessed wrong, his prejudice was showing. What a blunder.

However, when the Elfmaid mentioned that she did not come to Hunt's End often, Lucianus realized that his was not as big a blunder as he had though. He was still embarrassed, but at least he did not feel like crawling into a hole and die.

"Ah, I get it now. You don't live in Hunt's End, but you *are* a denizen of this land. I see, I see. I suppose I presumed too much."

With his misunderstanding sorted, Lucian gladly took the invitation to sit with the Elfmaid, taking a seat right across her so that they may speak face-to-face. She was no traveler, but surely there were stories to tell. Lucianus had heard from the mouth of the dear old guardsman himself, "The Weaver Witch an’ ‘er daughter," as he put it. With a name like that, surely there was some history.

Lucianus waved a bar wench over and ordered a drink. He was in a mood for chatting, though he was rarely otherwise.

As the Elfmaid introduced herself to him, Lucianus listened attentively, not wanting to miss a single thing, maintaining eye-contact as she spoke as per common etiquette. He noted her dual-colored eyes, a rarity amongst Humans, though not unheard of. He wondered if that was the same for Fae or if it were more common. As her all-too-short tale of her 'travels' ended, Lucianus couldn't help but laugh in self-mockery. He didn't think she'd humor him to this degree.

"It sounds like you've had quite a smooth journey, Miss Faan," he said with a smile, trying to cover up for his mounting embarrassment. "Me and my friends had done quite some walking ourselves. Walking, at times running, sometimes from bandits sometimes from monsters. We're no fighters, but we can sure get ourselves out of trouble in a pinch."

It was around this time, one of Lucianus's friends walked up to him and whispered into his ear, causing Lucianus to open his eyes wide in realization.

"Well, well, where were my manners. Looks like I've gotten ahead of myself."

Lucanus then proceeded to sit up straight and gazed firmly into the Elfmaid's eyes.

"My name is Lucianus. Miss Faan, it was a pleasure to meet you, a little too much perhaps," said Lucianus in jest, trying to cover up his social blunder with a joke and a smile.

Irihi · Dec 6, 2024

Wu’Faan Liewuun
Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf
Mentions:

revior

“Thus far.” Faan agreed. She was still considering just how much of her business she wanted to share with Lucianus when one of his companions dropped him the hint to introduce himself. Ooh, very smooth, mister. the corner of Faan’s mouth quirked upward as the man implied his faux pas had been because he was so enthralled with her.

“I have farther to go, I’m afraid, so your guess at my business was correct, after a fashion.” She admitted. “I’m glad to hear that you prefer to stay out of trouble, Lucianus; that is another want that we share.” The elfmaid’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, I am not so well-versed in running from bandits or dodging monsters,” she admitted. “Perhaps you could give me some pointers?”

The Elfmaid’s smile returned, indicating that Lucianus was off-the-hook. Faan really did want to hear whatever tale he was willing to share, and she said as much to the man, deciding that, with her business in town settled, for the evening at least, why shouldn’t she have just one more top up of her ale?

Innkeeper and Staff It was fairly good business at the rather unimaginatively-named Hunt’s End Inn. Besides the regulars--lumberjacks in from the woods, workers from the mill, and the usual townies--there was a troup of rovers, a few other travellers, and even the (locally) fabled Weaver Witch’s daughter.

The elves rarely made appearances in town, and they were so seldom seen that a bit of local mythos had grown up around them. Neither the weaver nor her daughter ever came in the presence of the other, and they were said to be similar in appearance, though that could have been simply because all elves looked alike to humans, and the memories of men fade in the multi-year spans between their visits.

Whatever the reason, the presence of one of the elves of the forest had garnered the innkeeper’s attention, and he hung about nearby--conveniently available to take Faan’s order, and perhaps less-conveniently apt to eavesdrop on some juicy scuttlebutt or rumor he could spread around.

Marcy, the Inn’s only server, was running her feet off, even with the help of the Innkeeper.

“Kin I getchew anythin’, loves?” She’d stop at the table occupied by the rest of Lucianus’s troupe to take their orders.

Renny · Dec 7, 2024

Connor Erland

revior

“Yes, thank you! Thank you! Haha!”

Connor’s voice, bright and filled with delight, echoed through the relatively quiet alleys of the town as he faced the audience he had gathered while playing his violin. He sheathes his katana first, before offering a graceful bow. Seeing that the impromptu performance was over, the crowd started to disperse

“Crowd”, huh? There’s only two of them, but that’s okay. People are probably always busy in a small place like this.

Connor waved goodbye to the couple as they went about their day, and started stowing away his violin. He has already spent a few days in this area, doing odd jobs here and there, and working on his music. It was… an okay resting point. The settlement was situated deep inside a forest, but other than that, he thought there was nothing much to say. He truly didn’t mind it, as it also helped him find new inspiration for his music. Having been quite satisfied with what he was able to compose here, it might be time to move to another place. He can’t do much adventurer work here.

“Time to go back to my room…”

===

A few minutes later, Connor arrived at the inn that he was staying in. Upon entering…

???

…He was greeted to a surprising sight.

Fae? Hm, I don’t recall seeing them around here the past few days…

Connor approaches one of the tables, where Lucianus’s companions were just getting settled in. Finding an empty seat, Connor nods towards the rest of the group at the table.

“Greetings. Hope you don’t mind me here, I’m trying to practice performing you see.” He gestures towards his violin. “I can take requests if you’d like? Ah, ale please.” He briefly addressed the woman serving the table, whom he was already familiar with, given that he doesn’t have much to do here other than walk outside or stay at the inn.

Connor glances towards the elfmaid, having a conversation a little distance away.

“I'm curious, is there something important going on?”

Irihi · Dec 7, 2024

Marcy the Tavern Wench The woman waiting tables turned at Conner’s question. “Oh, no jus’ a busy day is all.” She smiled. The tavern wench wasn’t the type to let a backlog of orders fluster her. Conner was a familiar face, since he’d been in town a little while, and she could tell the man was a little more cultured than the usual woodland bumpkins she served. That was enough to win Marcy’s favor. “Mayhaps its the ‘holiday rush’.” She joked. “Yew want yer ‘usual’, luv?” She asked. Having been in town such a short while, what Marcy had pegged as Conner’s “usual” order might end up being more of a surprise than a usual.

revior · Dec 7, 2024

Lucianus

Location: Hunt's End, Inn
Mentions:

Renny

"Oh, I wouldn't say there's much of a trick to it," Lucianus answered without reserved about him and his friend's ability to get out of trouble. "It's just that one of my buddies have a particular sixth sense; let's them see the auras of sentient creatures and whatnot. Makes for a convenient tool to catch an ambush before it catches us."

Lucianus then took a swig of his drink as he thought back on his journey thus far, on how him and his companions adapted to each encounter by putting together what measly skills they have.

"And there's me, I suppose. I'm rather perceptive and fast to boot. I spot trouble before they spot me and get out before they stick, which usually means that I get stuck at the front of the formation whenever we move. Not that I mind, I suppose. On the occasions when I do run into sticky situations, however, I always have my friends backing me up. 'Reinforcement,' I believe that's what they called it: It's a combination of the bolstering of one's vitality and a barrier for added protection. They used that on me whenever things get a bit too close for comfort. Honestly, they saved my neck more times than I can count, you didn't hear that from me though."

With a grin and a playful wink, Lucianus placed a finger on his lips. That last part would be their little secret.

***

At the other table, Lucianus's companions were joined by an unexpected company. The newcomer (

Renny ) appeared to be a bard and upon noting this fact, one of the companions cracked open a smile most mischievous.

"Fine bard! How about you go over there and play my friend and the Elfmaid a tune?" he said as he slipped the bard a coin.

Renny · Dec 10, 2024

Connor Erland

revior

Connor smiles as he gets handed a coin which he quickly stows away.

“Ah, so all of you are together? I didn’t realize! All right then.”

He nods at Marcy as he moved to stand up from the table. Whatever should work, right now he has got to focus first on performing for those at the inn. Looking back at the table with the Elfmaid, he can see that she was busy having a conversation with someone. Their friend, presumably. Aha!

“Pardon me.”

Connor once again held his violin, and with the brief warning, unsheathes his katana in one swift motion. After a moment’s pause, he starts playing. Something like... this should do the trick.

Irihi · Dec 10, 2024

Wu’Faan Liewuun
Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf
Mentions:

“They sound like a handy person to have around.” Faan said, of the companion with a sixth sense. Like Lucianus, she also took a sip of her ale, considering how much of her business and herself she wanted to reveal straightaway. You’re never going to make any friends if you are too cagey. She reminded herself. Faan was reluctant to share that she was an empath because it tended to unsettle the locals. Being fae and weaving magic cloth already marked them as “trouble” in some locals’ books. She had to be cautious about whom she told she was a brain scraper.

And yet, Lucianus and his companions were not locals. They were travellers, and Faan has the beginnings of a notion that she might see if they wanted to travel together. She was certainly in no hurry to leave the bespectacled man’s company. Better to start out honest and upfront--as he seemed to be. “I have a similar power; I am an empath, though I usually need to touch someone in order to read their thoughts. It would be very useful if I could read intentions from a distance.” She tilted her head to the side. “Well, read intentions more than one can just by looking, that is.”

Faan wasn’t sure if Lucianus’s claims were braggadocious or not. Not. He’s just making conversation. She decided. Besides, the man was humble enough to acknowledge his friends pulling him out of the fire. “Well, I’m glad you can so benefit your companions.” She said, then raised an eyebrow at the approach of Conner--apparently a bard. A bard who seemed to have been put up to playing for Lucianus and herself by his companions. Faan did not miss their attention or their mischievous smiles.

She gave Lucianus a hooded, somewhat skeptical look. “And are you now at the front of the formation, Lucianus?” She would watch the man closely and smile a little if his friends’ antics seemed to embarrass him. Faan found that she did not hate the implication that the two of them were a couple to be serenaded. It was, after all, all in fun, and she found herself a little charmed by the ~~man~~ playfulness of it.

The bard, himself, was also interesting. He possessed silvered hair a shade or two paler than her own, and he played his instrument with the dull edge of a curved sword. Faan had no extensive experience with musicians, but she was fairly certain this was a unique way to make music. When he finished his song, she applauded and smiled. “That was lovely, thank you, sir.” Faan found herself seized by a mischievous urge. “Won’t you come and sit with us a while?” She asked Conner.

Then Faan moved one seat away from Lucianus, making a space for the bard. “It seems your friends have saved your neck once again.” She said to the taller man with a playful wink, as bard became barrier.

The elfmaid introduced herself to Conner as “Wu’Faan Liewuun”, “Faan for short, if it pleases you, and if it does, might we know your name?” she asked. “Are you also a traveler?” The elfmaid did not often come to Hunt’s End, it was true, but new outsiders taking up residence in the village was an even rarer occurrence than her visits. Though she seldom came, and did not stay long when she did, she knew nearly every denizen of the hamlet--by face if not by name. Connor was a young human, but not so young that Faan would not have seen him as a teenager or child on a previous visit.

revior · Dec 11, 2024

Lucianus

Location: Hunt's End, Inn
Mentions:

Renny

"An empath you say? That certainly sounds like a useful power to have."

Lucianus didn't have much of an opinion on someone who could read his thoughts. After all, he was someone who wore his feelings on his sleeves... Most of it, at least. It was true that he though it useful though, be it in selecting companions or doing business.

Out of curiosity, Lucianus was about to ask Faan to try out her powers on him, only for a bard enter the scene playing what Lucianus would describe as a bright tune. Yet, it was not the music that caught his attention, wonderful as it was. No, what caught Lucianus's eyes was the way he played, using a curved blade in place of a bow for the violin.

(What an eccentric fellow...)

It was around this time that Faan made a comment about him being at the front of the formation. This caused Lucianus to wonder if he had missed something while his attention was on the performance.

"Hm? Front of the formation?" Eyes wide in confusion, Lucianus grasped at the phrase to no avail.

(Why would I be in formation? Is this a formation somehow?)

Before he could figure it out, Faan had seemingly moved on from the topic, inviting the bard to sit with them. However, just as Lucianus thought that the moment of mystery had passed him by, Faan dropped another line about him being saved by his friends. Turning to look, he found them grinning at him, apparently finding his situation quite hilarious.

(I see how it is. No wonder the bard started playing out of nowhere... Well, it's not entirely unwelcomed. Might as well go with the flow, I suppose.)

"As Miss Faan says, come join us. We were just sharing a few tales you see. You don't seem like a run-of-the-mill bard, why not sit down with us and share a few tales of your own?"

Renny · Dec 13, 2024

Connor Erland

revior

The performance immediately drew attention to Connor, as both Wu’Faan and Lucianus noticed his spontaneous playing. Once the song has been brought to a close, Connor was met with applause from the Fae, who promptly invited him over to join them at their table. He again bowed in response, and took the offer as Lucianus encouraged him to do so.

“It is nice to meet you, Faan. I’m Connor Erland, just Connor is fine.”

It seems that the elfmaid indeed was a new arrival, as he had assumed. Connor took a seat in the space that Faan created, silently apologizing to Lucianus in his head. The man seemed to take note of Connor’s… unorthodox equipment, prompting him to spread out his arms slightly to provide a better view.

“Yes, as you might have been able to tell, I love both music and adventuring equally. Can be quite exciting and dangerous, though it does provide an endless source of inspiration for me. I have been staying here for a few days to work on my playing, but I plan on getting back on the road again soon.”

Chuckling, he faces Lucianus who he noticed has been glancing at his friends every so often.

“If it’s tales to tell, yes, I have experienced quite a bit in this line of work. But ah, can I ask for your name as well? Are you an adventurer too?”

Irihi · Dec 14, 2024

Wu’Faan Liewuun

Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf

Mentions:

revior

“Welcome, Conner.” Faan said, smiling. “It seems we are travellers, all. I was just telling Lucianus here that I, too, am bound for the road--in the company of my escort, and bearing a load of my wares.” Faan took another sip of her drink. With the addition of another friendly face, she felt more at ease revealing her business. “I am travelling to Celenmar, on the shores of the continental lake. The first leg of my journey will be on the road to Woodbrook--with my wares aboard the weekly lumber wagon that departs tomorrow.” Faan set her drink down and regarded the two men. “Prithy, won’t you tell me where your travels will take you, gentlemen?”

Faan would listen with rapt attention if either man detailed past or future travel plans. To any who said they had no set destination, or who mentioned they would be going in the same direction, she would pay particular attention. There really was only one true road out of town, so it would be no surprise if anyone else were also headed to Woodbrook. Other tracks through the woods existed, but they were mostly game trails, paths to outflung dwellings, or tracks hewed by lumberjacks to particular stands of valuable trees.

Faan would make small talk with the two men while nursing her drink. Partially because of the friendly company, and partly because of the alcohol, she would give them some details about her life in the forest near Hunt’s End as well as her business. The elfmaid explained that her mother was known to the locals as “the Weaver Witch of the Forest” for her ability to knit and weave magic into fabrics. Faan, herself, was a fair hand at weaving, but her true knack lay in fashion couture. She created comfortable and attractive warlock wear without diminishing any of the magic imbued into the threads she cut and sewed.

“Thus my load of wares.” The elfmaid said. “Most of them are orders placed by magicians, wizards, and witches. I will be shipping them from Celenmar--except for a few that I will personally deliver.” After chatting a bit more with those she was keeping company--and after finishing her ale--Faan felt comfortable enough to reveal that her mother had made many of these journeys to market, but that this was her first time travelling beyond Hunt’s End. Her drinking companions would likely be unable to help but notice how the elfmaids bi-colored eyes sparkled when she talked about Celenmar and the greater cities of the world. “I have had my fill of long and lonely sojourns, and I’m excited to see what lies beyond the borders of the forest.” Faan said, rather emphatically.

After a bit more conversation, Faan decided to ask the questions that had been floating near the top of her mind since she first met Lucianus--and Conner shortly thereafter. Though she felt she was adequately protected; caravaning with the lumber wagon and its guard, in the company of her escort, the elfmaid wanted to make more connections on the journey, ~~and especially with Mister tall and charm--~~ Stop it. No more drinks for me, tonight. Faan found she was having a hard time keeping eye contact with Lucianus. Back to business, Faan, before you do something silly ~~like make a pass at swordfiddl--~~. The elfmaid took a fortifying breath, blinked once or twice as she ~~cleared her mind~~ forced her thoughts back on track so she could speak of matters of some real import.

“I am travelling in the company of my sword arm, Robespierre--who is resting in our room--but I have been informed that journeying in larger groups with experienced travellers is safer.” She said, smiling at Lucianus and nodding to his troupe. “If our destinations align, would you--and your companions--consider accompanying me?”

She turned her attention to the musician seated closer to her. “And I’d extend the same invitation to you, Mister Erland.” She said to Conner. “ ‘The more the merrier.’ --isn’t that how the saying goes?”

revior · Dec 15, 2024

Lucianus

Location: Hunt's End, Inn
Mentions:

Renny

"Well met, Connor. The name's Lucianus and I fancy myself an adventurer, though perhaps not as seasoned as one such as yourself."

Lucianus was quite excited to meet another adventurer. The man was about as enthusiastic about tales of adventures as he was adventuring itself. To tell the truth, it was the stories that got him interested in adventuring in the first place, stories told by bards and played out in theaters. That this newcomer was a bard only made him all the more welcoming.

"The Continental Lake you say?" Lucianus's eye lit up when he heard the name mentioned by Faan. "I've been meaning to visit myself. Is it truth that there are cities beneath the waters there? If so, how did they manage to build it? I can't imagined that it'd be anything like how we do it above ground, considering all the, well, you know, water."

Lucianus was almost child-like as he asked about the place. He had long heard tales of the continental Lake, of the domes cities underwater, of the grand performances upon its aquatic stages. For the longest time as a child, Lucianus had thought it all a lie, tall tales to entertain children. It was not until he was much older did he realize that much of it was the truth. Still, he had to see it with his own eyes. Knowing that such a place was out there, what kind of adventurer would not want to witness it at least once?

"Oh, pardon me. It appears that I've lost myself a little there," said Lucianus, his face a little red. Whether it be caused by the alcohol, excitement, or simply embarrassment was unclear. "Yes, let us go together! Being on the road is always more fun with company!"

"What she said, Conner," Lucianus added, more than agreeing with Faan's statement. "The aquatic stages awaits! What do you say?"

RavenSong · Dec 15, 2024

Equipped Titles: [Human] [Class:Anchor]

Having spent what seemed like an eternity making her way through the haunted Forbidden Forest. A small town known as Hunts End crept into view. The young templar, bruised, battered and weary from cutting down undead and running from untouchable horrors almost couldn't believe her eyes. I thank you merciful Dala for saving me. She muttered in prayer as the sight of a gate and an old guard came into view. It seemed like he had lived through many winters. His eyes spoke tomes and infinite stories of a generation long past.

They exchanged greetings, yet it didn't take a youngling to notice that the knight was dragging her sword and had a bit of a limp. Her face was cut and her armor was beaten. It was then that, with the help of a villager she was taken to the upper floors of a tavern inn. Where she slept for what yet seemed like another eternity. Surprisingly, she had some coins left from when she left Ruaan, the holy city, to pay for the stay.

--

The knight would startle awake, but then lay back down in relief before taking her things and making her way down the stairs, clad in heavy Armor. The sounds of community and even music could be heard echoing through the oiled and creaky oak floorboards.

It was here that the sight of it all came into view. Joanne wouldn't stall however, she would go straight to the bar area to request something to ease the tension in her body. After receiving her bubbly brown drink Joanne would bow her head in thanks and place a coin on the bar table.

Taking a long hearty draft and then a high pitched little burp she shook her head some at the bitterness in her mouth before sitting down on a stool by a table full of heartier folk.

It seemed there was a sort of wooing ceremony taking place to which Joannes mouth cracked with a rare smile. It felt like ages since she left Ruaan.

Joanne joined the others in applause as the musician ended his melodic tune. Then she ordered a loaf of bread with cured meat and ate. She kept her eyes on her task mostly, reminiscing about the dragon attack, then to the betrayal in the forest. How her companions one by one were lost to whatever darkness remained undiscovered in that dreadful place.

It was then than she overheard an elven woman speaking of needing some sort of escort through the woods to deliver her wares. Joanne would rise and approach the small group forming. "Excuse me." She began, "I'm sorry but I couldn't help but overhear you're forming a group to the outskirts of this forest?" The templar glanced at the others. "I too would like to accompany you. My name is Joanne Vallenhart, of the church of Dala. I believe I can assist your group as an [Anchor], that's if you'll have me of course."

Joanne Valenhart Character Sheet

CrackCauldron · Dec 15, 2024

Cass garret

Moment of truth. In front of Cass was a diorama of the foolhardy and excessive encapsulated into a single filled cup, also known as cheap beer. Here he was, an oddly stiff stranger in a corner staring off with his warm drink ignoring all bustle around him. There was no better than a drink after a hard day's labour(or walking in his case), now if only he could confidently say that it would go down easy; which was how he'd find himself in an trance with the mediocre pint in front of him: Would it pass straight through him? Fry whatever gears he was composed of? Was this thirst real or an phantom beset for the physiological need to breath? Were the breathes he taking even real?

With bated breath he heaved it to his lips and took the first forbidden sip-And nothing happened: No frying, no existential crisis or ego death, it was just a drink after all. Cool liquor passing down his throat smoothly as an unfinished one could, dripping out where the skin was replaced by bandage until they were stained but still(mostly) landing in his 'gut.' good stuff and now he felt like a bleeding idiot.

Cass finally looking up from his anxious stupor to see the Inn had gotten busy since he'd gotten in( time once again vanished from his mind.), taking another sip while unintentionally eavesdropping on some interesting words: 'Wares', 'magicians', 'Caravans', 'elves' and 'the more the merrier' being the most interesting words from the most interesting table. Certainly the idea of hitching a ride sounded a heap better his current plan of just walking until he hit the next town.

Even if they seemed a trading caravan in every sense of the words, why if he were a conspiring sort-no, best get errant thoughts out if he wanted to keep straight. Half the words they said seemed to go over his head. Now he'd need to start with a cool introduction, slowly introduce himself maybe start with a drink, the musical Lad probably likes that fancy stuff like all those musicians do while the rest seemed to favour- "Son of a bitch." Grumbled to himself when he saw some sorta crusader lady get in there, a sign if any he needed to hasten himself instead of pondering-But not before downing the liquor down, drops unwittingly still staining his bandages.

His rusty limbs creaking his whole way up off his seat and following the lady knights footsteps if with an extra amount of stumbles, shuffling his way to stand next to the other candidate and interrupt then introduce himself as the disgruntled ragged bandage robot he was.

"And I'm Cass Garret, latest and greatest of my name." Cass taking a moment to affix his hat respectfully off his head and behind his back with one hand, the other glove outstretched for a handshake. "Couldn't help but overhear you lot and since I'm headed the same way as you lot anyhow, I thought I may as well shoot my shot as well as dear Joann here to becoming one of your blessed compatriots. If you'd be so obliged, I can assist you as a-" His robotic voice faltering for a moment, was 'anchor' like a team role sorta thing or a boat role naming scheme thing? Best he make something up that sounds sorta right- "Gunner, I got a gun that shoots with experience of firing it, legs that take awhile to fatigue and gumption. All I ask in return is some company on these oh so dearly loathsome, dangerous roads, anything could happen. "

Irihi · Dec 16, 2024

Wu’Faan Liewuun

Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf
Mentions:

CrackCauldron

RavenSong

Faan smiled indulgently at Lucianus’s enthusiasm. “I’ve only read about the submarine cities. I’m afraid I would be less qualified than most to speak as to their construction.” As the musician was leaning back a bit, Faan reached across where Conner sat and patted Lucianus’s hand. “Lets go and see for ourselves,” the elfmaid suggested.

While she waited for the musician’s reply, Faan found herself beset with other offers for help. It seemed she’d been speaking her business a bit too loudly, and two other patrons had overheard her plans. Well, that’s alright. She told herself. There was little chance that such a motley crew were all working together to deceive and rob merchants. Hunt’s end was such a tiny, poor, and remote berg that bandits and highwaymen seldom troubled themselves with its comings and goings. The forest itself was a different story, but the little town was safe enough, so long as one did not run afoul of its residents.

The Elfmaid looked up at the heavily armored knight as Joanne made her introduction. Faan gave her an inscrutable look as she considered the woman’s offer. The templar was far more force than Faan needed. The elfmaid decided to give voice to her thoughts, so Joanne wouldn’t think her coolness to the offer to be borne of rudeness or racism. “Your offer is appreciated, Dame Joanne, but I fear you may be more escort than I require. Hiring such a heavy force of arms is probably beyond my means, and might give highwaymen the wrong idea--that my wares have some worth far greater than they do.”

Truth be told, Faan was not sure if Joanne was volunteering for a job interview, or simply just offering to travel together. She wanted to leave the door open to both (with emphasis on free escort) so Faan continued: “Even so, I would be most pleased for your company--and I could help you secure space on the wagon for your equipment, if you have such need. Faan assumed that the knight would likely not walk through the woods for days with heavy arms, armor, and supplies. Perhaps she had her own entourage with beasts of burden and squires to help with her equipment for making war. If she didn’t, Faan would be happy to pay for transport of her gear. Despite the Elfmaid’s initial protests, she expected that Joanne would frighten off more ne’er-do-wells than she would attract.

“I’m afraid I do not know the language of war, so what role an “[anchor]” plays escapes me,” Faan said apologetically. “Perhaps you could tell me more?”

Faan reacted to the approach of a… construct? a bit more favorably. It did not hurt that Cass had stated his company would come only at the cost of companionship. Further, Faan was familiar with magically-motivated automatons. Her family employed more than one at her homestead, though none of them had the power of speech or the sentience that Cass seemed to evidence. “Mister Garret, I--for one--would be glad of your company.” Faan decided she had better stand if there were handshakes to be given. She was a bit perturbed by the way Cass’s fingers creaked rustily within his gloves, but his grip was firm and unyielding. She wondered what Robespierre would make of another person who wrapped himself almost wholly in clothing and bandages.

Getting a closer look at Cass was giving Faan second thoughts. The staggering construct smelled faintly of booze, and a yellowish stain seemed to be spreading through the bandages around his midsection. The elfmaid was not so put-off as to try to dissuade him, but she decided that, if the person ever engaged in gunplay, she’d do well to stand behind him, and well away from any firing line.

Well, maybe not glad, but tolerant? She amended her earlier statement, silently. It wasn’t as though Faan did not enjoy a drink (or three) now and again (and again), and perhaps those stains on his wrappings were from oil or some other lubricant. “Have you met with misfortune on the road before, Mister Garret?” She asked. Faan had a general idea of what dangers she would face in the forest and on the highway, but her information came from her mother’s experiences during a journey that had occurred years ago. If Cass had more recent experience--or if he just wanted to make conversation--Faan was all ears.

Renny · Dec 18, 2024

Connor Erland

RavenSong

CrackCauldron

Faan explains the reasoning for her being in the village, which became good news for Connor. Seems like that the elfmaid is off to sell some goods. Connor nods along as he tries to match the route that the elfmaid was planning on taking to the general mental map he had of the area. Hm, Celenmar could be his next destination then. What Lucianus mentioned as well piqued Connor’s interest. Underwater cities? That sounded unbelievable. But all the more reason to just go and see for himself whether it was true or not. Fortunately, Faan wasted no time at all at extending an offer for them to accompany her on the journey.

“Haha, what a great coincidence then! I don’t particularly have any plans, so the destination would not matter too much. I’d gladly accompany you. Ah, I understand that this is unplanned, so I wouldn’t ask for much. Having some company on my travels would be much appreciated.”

Connor showed Faan and Lucianus an expression of mock disappointment.

“Trust me, the local fauna has been a very tough crowd to please…”

It was at this moment that a few other newcomers approached their table. A female knight, and an interesting looking fellow. It appears they had plans to join in as well. They were an intriguing pair of individuals, but of course, as Faan would technically be leading this slowly growing caravan, Connor wait and see what she ultimately decides to do.

“Hah, guess we’ve formed a party right now huh, Lucianus?”

RavenSong · Dec 19, 2024

Joannes visage was hopeful, and almost radiant until Faan mentioned she would be a bit much, she clouded a bit,"I understand." She replied. yet within the same sentence the elven woman mentioned a detail, or more of an assumption. Joanne would shake her head in disagreement. "No, I'm not asking for work. You see, Im looking to leave this forest myself. I have an important message to deliver in Ruaan. Consider me.. a free escort if you will." She then glanced at the others. "If my appearance is of inconvenience, I could travel without the heavy armor." She was beginning to sound desperate. But how does a knight that barely escaped a haunted forest explain that she'd be doing her a favor?

"Certainly." Joanne continued when inquired about the role of Anchor. "Within our ranks in battle were all assigned a role. My role as [Anchor] is to be the first in battle, however, we support others by protecting against attacks with our swords, shields, or our very lives. I for one don't have a shield just yet its-" She then opened her mouth to continue her explanation before blinking a bit as her face contorted.

As the crusader brought a hand to her nose, she looked over towards the one Cass Garret. His introduction reeked of something very strong, he seemed to have leaned over close enough to hear and smell every drop of liquor. His appearance was rather, disturbing, this would be the first time Joanne had met a Construct. Her eyes widened with worry and when it mentioned Joanne she tensed further. Then his bit about traveling the dangerous roads. "I assume you're not that afraid." She chuckled nervously as Joanne tapped him on the shoulder. "Hm. Curious. You're.. solid." Joanne said with surprise. Examining him a bit as her eyes scanned this Cass Garret. "Do you.. feel?"

The knight would suddenly recompose herself as Cass and Faan shook hands. "If my request is accepted, I will be.. honored.. to travel with you if not only to the end of this forest." Her hands entwined at her waist. The knight had her reservations, elves usually weren't very fond of humans and well, humans weren't very fond of constructs. But this wasn't an issue for Joanne, the message she carried to Ruaan could change the course of the future. Perhaps it was Dala who asked of the knight to see beyond the pettiness of classist society.

CrackCauldron · Dec 20, 2024

Cass Garret

The lass's grip was a lass's grip, nothing more than flesh. Shame. He'd harbored some remiss mystical impression of the daughter of the 'Weaver Witch.' Alas, Cass would only have to contend with the thickness of his gloves this day, letting go shortly thereafter and replacing his hat upon his brow- then adjusting it when he missed center. Cass not noticing the stains and stench of liquor about himself for now, presuming nothing was outta scratch with himself. He'd gotten used to the rust, creaks but never the awkwardness. She- no all of the entourage seemed a colorful bunch(quite literally) to say the least.

"Aye, I have met with some misfortune or heard of such but alas I think it save those tales for the road we travel. No point fraying on a pre-determined journey..." Cass's friendly response to Faan's question, giving a twitchy wink before hearing the crusader's chuckle as to his fear and answered with bravado: "Aye as well to that Lass. For a man with no earthly processions or attachments misfortune is sometimes a pathway but for honorable caravan- H-hey!"

Interrupted when the paladin tapped his shoulder with her armored heavy hand, strong enough to make his gears strain and him to step aside her. Done as if he really wasn't 'solid' and scanning him with her eyes. Suddenly Joanne's offer to forfeit her armor seemed a lot more preferable to him. Her sword looking awfully large and impressive as if looking for his answer to a rather metaphorical question of 'feel'. A interrogative display, one that Cass as always had a slurred verbose, hands to hip answer for- or maybe it was the liquor talking. "Mostly- I can physically feel most of the time, I'd say two thirds to a quarter on a bad day: Right now I can feel the gear's creaks, joints strain, voicebox emitting and the drink dripping down in run-offs from my skin into the bandages that block the wind from whistling through me- That's enough for me. But most importantly, I have to determine whether I get after-morning sickness or I can simply get drunk! " Spoken frustration fallen to a optimistic remark by the end, well whatever a imitative voice can sound like cheerful.

"Though if your speaking about my mind..." With that Cass quickly went back to his isolated table and nabbed the apparently only two empty tools for the both of them sit at the table with, speaking as he went and arrived. "I am stalwart- as I have always been, always will be... Now who's I gotta call to get another drink round here?" Whether or not Joanne was successful in her negotiations (the former Cass's bet.) he'd at least want a drink with a crusader.

For a brief moment (of clarity perhaps) Cass looked down on himself finally, at the probable smell of alcohol, dirtied, sodden bandages which looked even dirtier next to the lad's opposite and laughed. Remarking half to himself and to the table: "Ha! Don't worry, I'll replace and wash em before we go, I ain't a dirty drunk or dirty anything for that matter but special occasion and all. Ain't often to meet a witch's daughter, crusader and- " His joke left half said as he realized he'd either forgotten or didn't hear the others. Cass squinting at them with his glassy eyes before gesturing towards them. "Whatever you lot are?"

Irihi · Saturday at 12:46 PM

Wu’Faan Liewuun

Equipped Titles: Fae, Elf

Mentions:

CrackCauldron

RavenSong

The responses she was receiving were setting Faan’s mind at ease. She was surprised at her luck--running into so many friendly travellers in Hunt’s End just as she was starting her journey.

Faan was not sure if the knight stood on ceremony, so she decided to play it safe and continue to address her by her formal title. “Dame Joanne, I would be glad to have you along as a companion. I only wished to ensure you were not insulted by the limited pay I could offer, if you are seeking employment.” Still standing after having shaken Cass’s hand, Faan gave a little curtsey and then watched the friendly interaction between knight and gunslinger construct. She wasn’t any more reassured by Cass’s explanation, but nor was she overly put-off by his words.

Faan’s mother had encouraged her to hire an escort, and not just rely on the kindness of strangers, so that was the address she made to those who had made some mention of employment. Straightening and stepping to the fore of the group, Faan spoke to the party that was forming. “Lucianus, Conner, Dame Joanne, Mister Garret, I would like to hire at least one of you as an escort, but I want to be clear; if you are under my employ, you will work for me and carry out my requests to the best of your ability. I’m not going to ask you to do anything illegal, and I will try not to overwork you or put you in unnecessary danger, but I will rely on you to help me on my journey and to protect me and my cargo.” The elfmaid’s tone was serious as her gaze moved from person to person. “I will need proof of your qualifications and what you think is a fair price for your services, before I decide.” She smiled and softened her businesslike tone. “And, of course, as I’ve said, I’d be quite pleased to travel together with any and all of you, as companions.”

Faan took a breath, steeling herself for what she needed to say next. Lucianus had barely batted the proverbial eye at her claim of thought-reading abilities. She hoped the others would be as open-minded. “I am an empath. I can read thoughts through touch.” Faan’s hand unconsciously drifted to a spot near the base of her neck, where she touched something hidden beneath her blouse. “I will not read an unwilling mind, but I’d ask anyone who wants to work for me to let me read your surface thoughts. I promise not to pry into thoughts or memories you don’t want to share.” She said, knowing how touchy the subject of brain-scraping could be for some. She spread her hands and smiled apologetically. “If you trust me to do this, then I’ll know I can trust you as well.” The elfmaid’s lips thinned as her smile tightened. “I know that this is a big ask, coming from someone you have just met. I will think no less of anyone who declines, and I’ll still be happy to travel in your company, but these are the terms of working for me.” she said with finality.

The elfmaid did not have much recent experience in dealing with groups. She found that her confidence in revealing her ability was boosted by Lucianus’s friendly reaction. Thinking on this, her gaze caught that of the bespectacled man and a little smile returned to her lips. She hoped Lucianus would be the first to volunteer. Even though he might not be the strongest fighter present, his troupe and his humbleness had impressed her. ~~He’s also quite easy on the--~~ Oh hush. This is a job interview! Faan told that mischievous inner voice that was trying to put a tiny bit of twinkle in her eye.

Faan would take any applicants for the position of paid escort to another nearby table where they could have a somewhat-private conversation. She would do her best to treat them all the same. “This will go like a conversation.” She explained. “I’ll touch you on the shoulder, and I will be able to speak into your mind. I won’t look or listen to anything other than what you choose to show me. I’ll ask you a few questions and then I’ll need you to think of memories that prove you are as qualified as you say.” The elfmaid grinned impishly at her applicant. “So, you know, please don’t try to lie; I can tell the difference between real memories and made-up fantasies.”

Oh fiddle! Should have used different language. Faan bit her lip and looked down at the table feeling a blush coloring her cheeks. And now I have to say the same thing about fantasies to every one of them! But had it really been accidental? Faan knew--from experience--that words could trigger unbidden thoughts. It was scandalous to think that perhaps that slip of the tongue had not been entirely unintentional--but perhaps not incorrect.

For the interviewees who were still willing, Faan would reach out and touch their hand, arm, or shoulder. Hello. The elfmaid’s voice would ring quietly in her subject’s mind. It would have the same tone and tenor as her audible voice, but it would be in their native tongue, for it was not really words, but ideas that felt like words. As I promised, I won’t read anything but what you send me by thinking hard on it. It helps if you close your eyes and focus on picturing single words, ideas, or memories.

The elfmaid was well-practiced at the subtle art of sending thoughts and reading minds, but she was true to her word and would not read anything but what her subject broadcast. Mindspeaking with the uninitiated was something of a challenge. Some people were better at it than others; some people’s thoughts came across like shouts into her mind, others required intense concentration for her to pull from a muddled stream of consciousness of many different trains of thought going every which way. Faan kept her own eyes open and watched her subject’s brows for signs of distress even as she sometimes winced with concentration or flinched with surprise at the softness or sharpness of their mindspeech.

Faan’s list of questions was short. What she asked was simple and clear. The subtext she gained from unspoken answers filled in all the details she needed, to know the truth between the lines of the ideas, her interviewees thought. Do you want this job? Do you think you can do this job? Can I trust you? Will you trust me? Will working with me make you happy? The last question sometimes made her subjects open their eyes. She would offer a little smile and shrug that was more just a hunch of her shoulders. “Happiness is important,” she said. Faan would break contact then and give verbal instructions. “Think of a memory that you believe qualifies you as an escort. Focus on that, tell me when you are ready, and I’ll touch you again and we’ll experience it t-together.”

When each interview was done, Faan would offer heartfelt thanks, and then she would pay for their meal and drinks. Forming a telepathic connection was a very personal act. People reacted to it in different ways; for some the experience was intense and intimate, for others it was barely different from a casual conversation. The elfmaid really did feel honored by each of her interviewee’s trust, and comping their refreshments was the least she felt she could do to express her gratitude.

If there were any in the party who did not want the job, but were simply curious about the experience, Faan would happily mindspeak to them in the same manner, but she would only ask casual questions such as “Where are you going?” and “Do you have a memory you want to share--maybe one of travelling?”

Everyone is welcome to use this as an opportunity to give some of your OC’s background or do some character and relationship development, even if your OC wouldn’t want the job. Feel free to craft your own responses to whatever depth you want.

Six pages of memories/backstory, oversharing, unearthing buried childhood trauma, and breaking down in tears / vomiting is great.

“Character X went through the process. It was weird.” is, likewise, a great response.

Character Y: “I don’t want the job, but I do want to try telepathy.” Is also fine.

Character Z: “**** no, stay TF out of my brain!” Also a yes.

Have fun! This isn’t a real interview. Who Faan hires (assuming multiple applicants) will be (more-or-less) unrelated to anything you write here. We’ll probably work it out in the Discord chat.

revior · Sunday at 3:12 AM

Lucianus

Location: Hunt's End, Inn
Mentions:

RavenSong

CrackCauldron

Could it be that the wheels of fate are turning? Before Lucianus realized it, the table was surrounded by more individuals of peculiar appearances. Joining them were a woman in armor, carrying herself in a knightly fashion. The other appeared to be a construct, smelling of alcohols and with more personality than the ones Lucianus were used to have displayed. Perhaps he was in to place to say this, but it would appear that Faan has a strange ability to attract odd individuals.

"So it would seem, Conner, so it would seem."

Lucianus smiled at his newfound friend's sharing in his wonder at this situation.

With the newcomers introducing themselves, it feel like things were truly being set in motion as Faan addressed the rest of the group. Amongst them, she asked for an escort, one that she would hire to guard her and carry out her requests during the journey. Here, Lucianus felt a little disappointed that it was not something brought up when he first approached Faan but soon brushed it off as he was never much of a fighter in the first place. One could even argue that she was wise not to. After all, you never know if Lucianus would get distracted by something and run off elsewhere in the middle of the journey. The person in question has no intention to, of course, but you never know.
When Faan asked to do an interview through her empath abilities, Lucianus's eyes lit up for a moment. He never had his mind read before, at least, not that he was aware of. He wondered what that would feel like, he wondered if he had any thoughts that even he was unaware of, not that Faan would know either as she stated that she would only read surface thoughts.

Without much hesitation, Lucianus raised his hand.

"I'm not exactly looking to be hired, but considering that we'll be traveling together, perhaps it's best if you know me better," he said, smiling and willing, eager even.

***

Lucianus's thoughts were straightforward, at least at first, sharing his memories of his travels with his companions. Though he called himself an adventurer, though his memories, it quickly became clear that he was more of a tourist going around sightseeing. Of course, they had encounters with troubles plenty, at times due to forces beyond their control, at times due to Lucianus poking his nose where it did not belong.

As his memories went further into his history, however, this became more vague. Faan would be able to tell that he came from a wealthy family, but his time spent in the household was more of a blur. Lucianus was trying to give her his history as he was suggested to do, but subconcsiouly, he was keeping much of it from her. Strage enough, memories of theatrical plays were clear and so were that of singings bards and story books, but his upbringing, his time within the household, it would feel as if they were going by at fastforward, at times skipping. It would be hard to tell what it was like, but Faan could feel lingering resentment uncharacteristic of what Lucianus had shown of himself so far.

By the time the "interview" was over, Lucianus was still all smiles, musing on the experience he just had. By his demeanor, it was unknown if he was fully aware of what he had just shown.

RavenSong · Sunday at 3:26 AM

Joanne looked on at Cass, she crossed her arms with an impressed expression as she nodded along to his mumbling. "Fascinating. You certainly have a personality all of your own sir Garret." She didn't have much else to say, crossing too many words with someone who drank as heavily as this wouldn't end well. "May I suggest a drink of water?" She muttered sheepishly, so as to not offend. Whatever the gun slinger did was his business, but she assumed if they were to work together, then perhaps his aim would be truer with less intoxication in his body or.. gears.

It was then that Faan would get to the more business like part of the conversation. Joanne was glad to be considered, and followed after the others when prompted to move tables. Her steps clinked and clanked with chainmail against plates.

Initially, Joanne didn't have the intention to agree to Faans initiation terms. Mental tampering didn't feel exactly the most comfortable. She wondered if it would open her to some sort of mind control spell. Yet, if there was ill intention, certainly it would have happened by now. The crusader had little in the form of money or anything of material value for that matter.

Ultimately, Joanne agreed, "My vows disallow me to lie. You can trust me." When it was her turn to open the connection between the elf and her mind she warned. "I'm.. not quite sure what you will see. This quest has been.. a burden." A glance of worry in her face before bowing her head some and closing her eyes.

The elf's touch was cold, and it was this very feeling that emminated through her psyche. Suddenly, Joanne heard a greeting as if it was her own inner voice. It was strange. But before she could respond the memory of Ruaan after the dragon attack took hold.

Flashes of first person visions of Joanne pulling people out of rubble. Some smashed by buildings or charred beyond recognition. In the vision, the crusader felt tired, she'd been doing this repetitive act for what seemed like days on end.

The memory then dissipated to Joanne frantically bringing bandages to the victims of the catastrophe. Visions of torn arteries, convulsions, people succumbing to blood loss, amputations, broken bones and of those afflicted family members who would be beyond consolation all flooded the vision. They flashed before her mind slowly at first and then much more quickly and gruesome until suddenly, it all stopped.

Then the memory of standing in an abandoned alley, bringing up her habit to her crying eyes. Dragging her shoulder against the alabaster wall down slowly as the exhausted nun broke down in tears. Joanne herself in person would audibly attempt to contain a soft sob. A memory seared into her soul, the thought that so many had died, and how she was spared by merely hours before her arrival to Ruaan. Then the rumors, the talk in the streets of the City of Faith that the dragon had stolen a sacred artifact, known to the common folk as merely, The Chalice.

She remembered the hatred, the desire for vengeance the immeasurable loathing for the creature that left so much destruction in its wake. How ceaselessly she prayed before taking a vow at the Chapel of Dala, a vow made in blood from the very hand that held her sword. The words of the bishop came to mind, his orders to find the Chalices whereabouts as a private agent of the church reverberated through the chapel as she was given a sealed letter containing permission and authority.

The memories then, seemed to turn to fog, the landscape changed, it was a deep forest. Then the sudden feeling of fear as the knight ran, gazing back at a group of undead riders atop rotted corpses of horses. The adrenaline in her veins as her trained tactics miraculously managed to dismount the riders one by one with her sword. Yet, she wouldn't do so unscathed as for every one slain it seemed five or more took their place, and her wounds grew in number. The cold feeling of hopelessness engulfed her senses, but she ran until the wizard Rothgar suddenly appeared to her rescue. Suddenly a loud thunder clap. Then.. nothing.

The knight would then open her eyes, squinting at first as the vivid recollection made it feel like she was dreaming. Salty and dried trail of tears on her cheeks. She bowed her head, and let Faan continue with the others who would agree to her terms.

Renny · Tuesday at 1:18 AM

Connor Erland