The Bonds That Tie Us

"Alright then. Relax as much as you can and do not be afraid, or push back, or fight against what is about to happen. It will make it more difficult for both of us." Vidar then began to wade forward, up through the stream of the instant past and into her personal present. Her personal being. In other words, the outer fringes of her soul. Without a doubt, she would know he was there. To Vidar himself, the trek in would only be draining if she didn't lash out. If she did, well, it could be quite painful. From Vidar's experiences, the more the creature accepted his presence, the less strain both he and it suffered. In fact, Vidar had noticed that some of his old pack could even enjoy the experience. At least, he assumed a human soul would be similar to the animals and...beasts Vidar had encountered. He almost stopped to contemplate the sheer intimacy it would be to remain like this, two souls mixing together and wonder at what the differences between humans and animals, then shook his head. Regardless of any of this, Vidar needed his focus to find the center.

Outside, Vidar's body began to almost steam, releasing thin wisps of the same blue mist that came from underneath his palm. His right eye itself had gone strangely blank, although it seemed to glow with a flickering light the same hue as the mist. As if light blue flames danced behind them as he worked his magic.

Inside, Vidar had isolated the sets of blended emotion. Where the contradiction lay behind her forced desires and her intentions. Where one set called out with mixed hope and despair, and the other blended terror and hostility. But it was difficult to keep the scent. Any emotional motion Ara made, even the slightest twinge, would send a wave of emotion that washed over the scent. And with the river ever changing, the sets of twisted emotions would move. It forced Vidar to stop and seek the trail again and again, tiring him further and burning precious time. This. Is. Much. More. Difficult. Than a wolf, he thought as he pushed forward step by step.

However, there was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, an alien element. Something that did not belong to Ara. Something that had been added to her. A taint that contaminated the waters of her emotions and that, further downstream, became more and more blended until it matched almost seamlessly. Vidar continued, tracking, face just above the water, as a wolf scenting out prey, stalking forward until he stopped short. Upon the cusp of the beginning of her inner self from which all emotions, desires, thoughts, dreams, and so much more flowed was a net. A red net. A red net so like her tattoo that it made Vidar almost sick. Or that could be the fatigue from trekking the river and how much time he had spent in here.

Vidar approached it, watching as the water flowed through the net, tugging at it and taking something with it. It wasn't wearing down the net. No, it was more that the net was releasing a dye into the stream, coloring it into a shade that it desired. Those tainted feelings were ones that he had been feeling on his way up. Old news. No, what was left was to interact with it in some way as he couldn’t tell if it had a smell, he saw it well enough, tasting it would be a strange course of action, and it made no sound. So he reached out with a single finger.

For a second, Vidar was certain his heart had stopped. Yanking his hand back, Vidar staggered as his heart ground back into action. A hollow mind. Barren as a forest that had been purged by a fire so intense that not even charcoal had been left behind. Only ash. Unbidden and again rose the image of a man wearing an elk’s skull rose to Vidar’s mind. Again he quashed it, but the fear that came with it and the hollow mind remained. What the hell is this? He thought, scrabbling for answers that wouldn’t come. Even more was how deep and how far those tendril spread. Farther beyond this entrance to Ara’s inner being. How far and how deep? He didn’t know, but it was evident that this was more than merely influencing her. Vidar suddenly realized that the finger that had touched the tendril tingled, no, it felt singed. In fact, in merely touching it, he felt even more fatigued. Did it? Did that...thing drain some of my energy?

He had to get out. Had to talk to Ara. Had to get more information. He had no idea how to begin to deal with this, let alone a way to treat it. There was only one lead for that. The mill. He turned around and began to trek back down the river.

Vidar finally reached a point where it was safe to clamber out, back fully into himself. With his return, his body unfroze, suddenly gasping and heaving. Composing himself, Vidar sat up, relaxing his tense body. He told her of what he found, about the net, how it tainted her emotions, how it had drained a part of his energy when he touched it, how it spread far farther into her soul than he could see with his limited vision, and lastly about the strange, hollow mind he had encountered. He also told her of his idea of going to the mill to try and find any information that could further service unraveling the net and helping her Isaac in the long run. “Because,” he said, “the more we know about it, the more likely we can begin to work against it. Until we know more, there’s not much I can do. Not until I’m ready to make the trek again, and that won’t be for...at least a day.” He then turned to talking about how to approach the mill situation.

"Naturally," he said, "we'll be waiting in ambush, to see if we can determine their intentions first before deciding to engage with them or turn back towards the city. If we get there second, we’ll try observing from afar and be ready to run." Vidar stood with noticeable strain, but still with an almost easy grace. He was, however, far more strained than he was letting out. Spending so much time in the river of her emotions before even making the trek up to the fringes of her soul had taken a toll. The trek itself was at least twice as bad. Not to mention, the shock and further drain However, he both needed more information had promised to be Ara’s legs. Vidar would pursue the former and fulfill the latter until the day was done. So he buried the strain and pushed himself to act normally. A physical deception he had used many times before.

"Now, shall we continue on our way?"

@AJPhips
 
Elise had been quiet. All she wanted was Ara, and right now, that seemed to mean following these Mage Hunters. The youth had been outside, practically pouting in anger at the situation. She almost smirked, as he seemed about as bothered as she felt with having to work with the enemy. Maybe Stavros was right and she had to see that things weren't as simple as mages versus mage hunters. The man had spilled blood and somehow she felt it had been from his brethren. Elise got up on a dark brown horse that had a streak of white fur around its right eye, turning the orb blue. She found it a fitting mount, normal, but not quite. Wasn't that the essence of all mages?

The woman's riding skills were solely based on her agility. She had had absolutely no classes, no one to teach her, but she had to teach it to herself when returning to Braedon in search of Ara so many years ago. She had blamed herself to be late, even if she had only been a short time away from the city letting the chase after her cool down. Now Elise blamed herself for giving up too quickly, but guilt had made her do it and she would not let Ara be the victim of her guilt again. Gritting her teeth she put it away. This wasn't about her, this was about her baby sister, out in the world, Goddess knows with whom, where...

Lis ran her hands through her glossy black hair to bring it around her neck, falling over her shoulders and cleavage, trying her best to keep the obvious burn from the collar from the view from the incoming Mage Hunters, not that she found the customs officers to be particularly dedicated to their task, but she didn't know the ripples caused by Stavros or if Mama Kerr had gotten her message in time, though judging by the fact they came this way unimpeded, the shrewd Halfling woman was at work. Thankfully, the men were much too impressed with Stavros' holiness and much too curious about the Elven Maiden's beauty to pay her a second glance. Part of her felt a little insulted, but she was no longer a very youthful beauty and how could one compete with the exotic beauty of Valerie anyway?

Out of the gates, Elise felt unleashed, a rush of adrenaline as Stavros spurred forward and she did her best to keep with the three far superior riders. I'm coming Ara! She almost wished her baby sister could hear it. Would she take any solace from it? She hoped she would... beyond her anger and stubbornness... Lis hoped Ara still knew how much she loved her. Her thoughts were soon broken as not too far from the gates they spotted riders. As they stopped a little ways away, her honeyed eyes studied the present with a poorly concealed sneer. More Mage Hunters... Hands grasped firmly onto the reigns as she felt the rushing energy wanting to seep into her flesh, fuel muscles, tendons and bones, make her more than she seemed. She held it at bay. For a second her eye caught the scrawny youth chained and collared on one of the horses. A frown crossed her features... a captured apostate. Bastards! Elise felt it harder and harder to keep cool, the boy was no older than Ara, the same feeling that spurred her to help Valerie rising within. It almost made her miss his wide-eyed look at her... he was not just looking at her. He was seeing her... like one would a familiar person. Her eyes narrowed, fixed on his...

@MJK2431 @Scalerender @inkdragon
 
Last edited:
"Why else, but to bring holy words back to my people. Certainly, no clan would allow me to deprive them of one, and I have no interest in doing so. What I merely hope to do is bring some guidance to my clan. It is in the same spirit of collecting news from the south."

The quiet that followed her answer was disturbing. All four seemed to be measuring her and mincing her words in their own way. Bass bristled like she had somehow spoken something which injured his pride somehow. The corded neck seemed to stiffen and the aura he exuded turned more menacing. Terus frowned, but his opinions were veiled in well practiced manner, his clan's shrewdness was certainly concentrated on the pleasant, charming tall Nordman. Erund crossed his arms, mulling over her request as if it was a hard meat he had to chew on. His cold eyes seemed to travel miles in all directions that it might lead.

The most stark reaction was unexpectedly Deirdre's. The quiet woman raised her chin and looked down her nose to Alfhild. Something in her grey eyes gave her the idea that the woman had latched onto something that Alfhild said, or didn't say, and seemed not to approve. It was a look Alfhild tragically would never know. The look a mother would give a child who was heading a wrong path. It could be interpreted as patronizing, but clearly not ill-intentioned.

"Child, you know not what you speak. Our Shamans are revered and precious few have remained out of the Orc's clutches for any one Nord to risk taking a stranger, much less a thrall-born, into their presence. I imagine you have been given the very same answer to anyone you asked and I am afraid if you reached the south to get this, that you wasted your time. If we, that embrace our thrall-born, won't indulge you, no one will." With that very final response, Erund made a gesture with his spade-like hand and they all got up. All but Deirdre. The men gazed at her a little surprised. Her eyes had never left Alfhild.

"I need to speak to her." They looked between each other and Erund gave a grunt that one could take as a permission, making the motion to sit back down. "Alone" she added. His gaze turned a tad stony. "Please..." she added more meekly. Displeased, but respecting the wish of the Shield-Maiden to stay, they moved around. Bass gave her no second look, apparently confident in his companion's capabilities to defend herself. Terus nodded politely, and she almost felt the man seemed to be a bit apologetic. Erund gave a more warning look, almost over-protective over the woman, despite the fact Deirdre belonged to a different clan. It certainly was demonstrative of how deeply the clan connections seemed to be running, at least within this group. One by one they left, and Alfhild was left with the otherworldly presence of Alfhild.

Deirdre's grey eyes nearly seemed to glaze over as the woman spoke. Her voice was feminine, but grave, making her seem older than her youthful looks indicated. "I am not the one you seek, Child of Two Peoples. I am not a Shaman, I am not our Shaman, I am but a weak Seer, not even acknowledged as such by my people due to my unreliable gift." There was no bitterness in the statement, only shame. "For some reason the ancestors saw fit to give me a glimpse of your intentions and some snippets of knowledge. You are heading down a right path with the wrong intentions. The item you seek will forever elude your grasp until you seek it for the right reasons. You will never be the wanted child by earning the glory of recovery and bestowing the spoils to another. It is not the Nord way, no one will see the honor in it."

Her brow creased and her face hardened as if weighed by a mix of grief, anger and disapproval as she continued. "All you'll accomplish is to throw our people into war among each other once again. You must seek the one who visits you in your dreams, your other half, of the white and the green, the wolf." She set a little fragile figurine of woven hay, assuming that is what she had been fidgeting with all this time, it couldn't possibly be something she had just started making upon seeing Alfhild for the first time. "He is in the lands of your other People, to the South, finding a new pack. He will be much more than he is then. Much more than any Shaman of our people has ever been, as well as less... but maybe that can be changed if you are once again joined. Find him and together you can find what you seek. Bring it to our people, and let our people bring their champions in the ways of old. Battle for the Honor of carrying the item. Join under the strength of our ancestors and the strength of those who endured. Then we'll unite. Then you'll have a name. You'll have a home. You'll have your place..." With the meaningful words hanging in the air, Deirdre returned to her quiet, her grey eyes grown less intense by several degrees, as if something surged, was released and she was again at peace.

@Shadras
 
Alfhild waited patiently until Erund spoke. Their physical responses meaning little to her beyond being ready for retaliation. She didn't know what to think of Deirdre's look, and didn't much care. All that mattered was Erund's response. What he said drained her of what hope she had built through the night. But that mattered little as she had long been used to disappointment and even more used to being spurned for her heritage. It mattered little to her cold core. She would continue on, as she always had, until she succeeded or failed. That was all there was and all there would ever be until she earned her honor. She'd wait until they left, then rest, then continue on her way. Then Deidre spoke and, for the first time since she was a child, shook her world.

All that she said turned Alfhild's insides cold. Her initial response was cold anger. How can she know if I'm heading down a wrong path. She knows nothing. Nothing! I will be accepted when I return in triumph. I will bring unification, not destruction. But it changed, growing towards fear. She knows about my dreams? How? Does that mean that she knows about my other... she cut off her train of thought, hoping that it wouldn't come. But it did. She rarely had the mental power to resist her own mind and the vision of her returning home with the sword came to her mind. But she was not presenting it to her father, but instead, raising it above her head in triumph as the Fenrir hailed her as High Queen. I need to sharpen my sword again, she thought as she finally mastered herself. And what does she mean by, "other half." I have no other half. No shield brother nor sister, nor either of blood for that matter, who would claim to be such. The only other possibility would be...but no...he's been dead since I was born. Deirdre must be mad. That was it. However, Alfhild would be foolish not to head where she directed. If only because this was the only lead she had obtained in the last month. Deidre's closing statements called out to her, but the wall around her heart had been used the empty promises she made to herself. Single words from a stranger made no impact, but may have planted seeds that time and learning would see bloom. If it did, Alfhild took no notice of it. She simply sat for now, reeling in some of what Deidre said and dismissing the rest and only barely noticed the woven figure.

@Maeriel
 
It wasn't painful, as the man entered into her, but it was stranger than Ara could possible describe. She was no longer alone within her own self. A space that should only be occupied by one. The small girl barely noticed the change in the large body in front of her; the experience inside was overwhelming, blinding her to the world around. It felt as though a wild animal had been let loose inside; a feral presence. She would have feared it, if it weren't coupled with a sense of peace and calm. This bazaar blend of warring ideas; chaos and serenity was like nothing she had ever experienced.

She sat, flooded with this strange presence for several minutes until a blinding pain caused her to cry out and for a moment, the fog was back stronger than ever and she felt her magic surge in ferocity. Then, all at once, it was gone again. Ara opened her eyes, once she was sure the pain wasn't returning. There, surrounding her, a metre in radius, was a burnt ring of dead foliage. Ara's breath hitched. For a moment, her power had found freedom, the ground was still hot from its touch. She couldn't stop herself from shaking as she searched within herself. The magic, she could still feel it sitting safely behind a barrier. It must have been something Vidar had done. Her breath left her, relaxing slightly. The monster was still safely withheld.

It was several minutes after that, that the body before her animated once more. Vidar swiftly explained what he had seen and felt within her, though it answered less than she would have liked. There was something within her though, and it made her want to vomit. Something inside her, could change the way she felt, change what she wanted. Had it always been there or was it a new addition?
Vidar was now also intent on a journey to the mill and though most of her mind rejoiced that they'd be continuing , she also felt betrayed. He should be taking her to Braedon, against the will of this thing inside her. The feeling was smothered so entirely by the need for the mill, she could not even speak it. Instead she pulled herself to her feet, keen to get to their destination, still shaking in disgust of whatever was within her.

Truthfully, she was feeling much better after a rest on Vidar's back; now able to support herself on two feet, but they would get there quicker on his back. The quicker they got there, the quicker she could get this burning need out of her.
"Let's go."

@Shadras
 
After Ara climbed onto his back, Vidar took off, miming his previous grace. To take his mind of his draining reserves, he thought more about what he had found. It has to be getting energy somehow. Judging how it drained me when I touched it, it's probably draining her own energy. But to keep that spell running, even when its mainly sitting there, she must have at least solid magical power. Then there's was that burnt area when I got out. When did that happen? He kept quiet about it because he didn't want to worry her any more than needed, but there were only two people who could have caused it. Him or her. Vidar's intuition told him that it was likely to be Ara. However, if she could burn things, then he'd have to be more careful when he went in next time. Furthermore, he would have to search farther in next time. Cross the border where her emotions flowed out from.

What lay in there, Vidar had no idea. Given how each person seemed to be unique, he expected that the inner soul would follow that trend. Again, he had no real proof with humans, but, in his short experience, they did tend to stand out from each other. Perhaps they're endlessly unique with endlessly differing souls. If true, he'd have to adapt to each soul to even learn his way around. Even then, the landscape could change as the person did. He knew his did.

Then, he saw it. Or at least, he assumed he was looking at the mill. It came into view as they crested a roll in the plain and was the only building around. Vidar crouched down into the tall grass and quietly asked, "Ara, is that the mill?" At the same time, he scanned the surrounding land for any signs of life. Caution would be his friend now. Again, he blessed the tall grass, but it also meant that someone else could be hiding in it. Stealthily, shifted some meters to his left. If someone had seen them, he didn't want to remain in the same place.

@AJPhips
 
Ara's heart soared as she saw the mill not too far off. Finally, she was where she needed to be and all at once that happy feeling evaporated. She had followed what ever it was inside her that lured her here like a little obedient puppy and suddenly the need was gone and the thoughts of Isaac rushed back into her head. Her eyes widened as she realised what she had done. She had left him once more, all for a stupid whim inside her. She should have fought it harder, she should have... But Vidar knew and he had brought her here anyway. Hastily, she slid off his back, retreating several steps and glaring at the large man. Not at all heeding what stealth he had tried to conduct.

"You- I didn't want to come here," She growled at him accusingly, "and you brought me here!"
She took a brave step towards him, determined to release her frustration on something.
"You knew there's something controlling me, and you still took me here!" Her voice was growing louder and angrier as tears threatened their escape.
"Isaac is alone and in danger and I need to to help him, I have to go to Braedon!" She paced for a moment before turning angry eyes back on him.
"He's probably hurt, scared, bleeding, trapped, condemned to years in that blasted tower, if not already dead, Goddess forbid, and it is entirely your fault!!" She could not stop the tears from flowing as she screamed and though she knew the fault rested strongly with her, it felt easier to pin the blame on someone else.

@Shadras
 
@Scalerender @Maeriel @inkdragon

Despite his calm exterior, Valerie could notice the brisk, cautionary behaviour that Stavros was displaying. She could see some of the signs of distress up close, with his eye darting in all directions as if searching for an enemy in the shadows and his forced composure as he intentionally slowed his steps. All of these seemed wise to Val, the female’s emerald hues flicking up and down as she tried to pick up on any other gestures that might indicate what had happened while he had been gone through the motions he displayed. However, she knew by the timbre of his voice when he had spoken that he was in a rush and she didn’t intend to slow him down.

She joined the rest of their party outside, noticing the immediate brooding and angry look on the halflings face. She knew the sudden secrecy shown by his mentor must trouble him, and could only imagine how she would be feeling if it had been her and Atylis in Illian and Stavros’ place. She would be questioning her mentor, despite the respect and trust she had placed in him over the years. Val watched as Elise mounted, the girl seeing the confidence in her actions but the slight, barely visible twinge of uncertainty in her eyes. She couldn’t discern whether it was from the thought of needing to ride or the distress of wanting her sister, but the elf knew that their leaving of this place must bring some sort of relief to Elise.

Valerie’s soft steps strode widely towards the last horse left, a tall beast with a dappled grey coat and ashen coloured mane. She found the lanky yet strong build of the animal to be to her liking, the structure reminding her of the elven steeds bred for some of the nobility. She had been taught to ride, as all elven children were, and thus flung herself onto the horse as easily as one would fling flowers onto a grave. She placed her feet in the stirrups and took the reins with a practiced motion. The elven girl felt comfortable astride the horse, that much was obvious as she adjusted her sword belt where the elven blade hung loosely before looking to Stavros for direction. She could see the tension in him as he had to hold back from letting his steed gallop, knowing that just like running from the inn it would draw unnecessary attention.

As they approached the mage hunters, Valerie felt a sudden very and anxiety grip her, making her shuffle her feet in stirrups nervously and her hands sweat. The reins felt slippery in her grip, the female almost holding her breath as the men let them past with a raised hand from Stavros. She knew that they noticed her, the elf shrinking slightly in the saddle as their eyes brought a prickling sensation to her skin and a shiver run down her spine. The memory of the incident that morning came to mind, the female just thankful that this time she would be able to pass through without stopping. Their stares followed her back all the way until she was lost from sight, the lingering stone that had dropped into the pit of her stomach serving as a reminder that she was a foreigner in a strange land to everyone who saw her.

Stavros finally urged his mount into a full speed gallop, the elf giving her horse freedom to keep up as it pleased. She kept her hold on it loose and forth-giving, the dapple-grey animal lunging forward with instinctive strides at the opportunity given it after years of repressed riding in the populated city. This was familiar to Valerie after the sudden explosion of uncertainty attempting to drown her thoughts, the repetitive gait of the horse settling her nerves and putting her at ease. She kept a watch on Stavros and Illian in front of her and Elise behind her, letting the speckled bits of shade and sunlight filtering through from the leafy canopy overhead put her in a calming trance as it streaked over their unusual group of people like a moving blanket.

She was enjoying this moment of reprieve as they increased the distance between them and Braedon, but it seemed it was not to last as they were halted by yet another group of Mage Hunters. Her fear and anxiety returned.

As they halted, sending small clouds of dust floating into the air, she found herself being stared at once again. Her hands itched to pull up the hood of her cloak so that she could hide from the prying eyes, but she found that one of the stares was....different. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar crowd, coming to the young man sitting like a cornered deer with one of the other mage hunters. She gulped quietly, seeing a familiar ring of metal gracing his neck like a necklace forged in hellfire by the God of Pain himself. Val couldn't help but have pity for the male, searching for any way to perhaps free him. She had come close to receiving such treatment and hated seeing it being thrust upon him as it had been thrust onto Elise.

Her hands tightened their grip on the leathery reins, making her knuckles white and her teeth grind together at the realization that taking any action against the men to try and free the boy would jeopardize their already risky position. I wonder who the real 'animals' are...the ones who are chained, or the ones who do the chaining... She dragged in a deep breath, her aura itching and her skin prickling uncomfortably with the magic ebbing just below the surface. She smelled trouble coming and wasn't happy about it.
 
Last edited:
Vidar allowed Ara to finish ranting before he responded. Throughout it, he kept a calm, relaxed expression upon his face. He was, however, running ever lower on his energy reserves and didn't really want to deal with her outburst. But deal with it he must, if she was to actually go along with his plan.
"You're quite right," he said, "I did bring you here, but not despite the fact you are being controlled. It's because you are being controlled. I have no way of countering it as of yet, and have only a minimal idea as to where to start. That start being that I don't have enough information and need to get more. You yourself know next to nothing about what propels these desires. Tell me, do you think you would be able to resist the forced urges in your soul? Is there anything to prevent you from turning your Isaac right back to the tower after freeing him? What is to prevent you yourself from killing him where he stands, if the urge to do so came through?" Vidar suddenly realized his voice was rising, drifting towards shouting. He sighed and brought his emotions back under control with two deep breaths. "I apologize," he said, "I shouldn't have gotten angry. What's happening to you isn't your fault. But in any event, my point remains. We need more information, else neither one of us will be able to help your Isaac. Yes, you are probably right. He's likely suffering and perhaps even dead, but it would not serve him if we failed in attempting to rescue him. Now, let us return to the task at hand in preparing for whatever is, or will be, at the mill."

@AJPhips
 
Stavros had already slowed into a gallop as he saw the riders approach down the down the road and mouthed a curse to himself once he saw the colors of his order, he wondered if he was to late. He slowed the pace of his steed into a slow trot and waited for the others to catch up, eying each of them as he addressed the group.

"Let me speak to them and keep silent, do not undertake any action unless they leave us no choice..."

Illian could not believe his ears, again. This was beginning to tire him and it was beginning to show. The angered frown on his face and clenched jaw suggested the inner turmoil was beginning to break down the walls of his already questionable composure. He sighed deeply in an attempt to find his center, the way he twisted the leather reigns of his horse suggested he was far from balancing his emotions. As the riders came close Illian was more then a little conflicted. Stavros was treating these Mage Hunters like the enemy and Illian had always followed his Mentor's guidance.... And yet this felt wrong, two apostates sat on stolen horses behind him and it made him want to warn them... The tension of Magic in the air, coiling and twisting...bubbling as the witches were instinctively beckoning it into his world was working on his nerves.

As the Mage Hunter spoke his demand for identification Stavros raised his chin and nudged his horse to approach them. The posture of the noble and commander returning to him easily, a role he had taken for a large portion of his life. He rose his hand, showing the signet rings on his hand once more as he spoke.

"I am Lord Inquisitor Stavros of House Enkilli, veteran of the War of Bones, former Commander of the 23rd cavalry regiment, The Witchunters, in his majesty's army and sworn Knight to the Order of the Silver flame..."

He lowered his arm with a hint of irritation, funneling his tension into a mask of annoyance.

" Will that do? "Seeker"?..." He addressed the man with his rank, allowing some manner of disdain trickle through his tone.

He nodded his head towards the young man flung over the back of a horse like some poached game taken down for supper.

" What is "that"?"

Stavros pulled attention towards him easily, the act of entitled nobleman and commander bringing back memories that fought for his acknowledgement. He had come a long way from the insufferable bigoted Mage Hunter he once was... Part of him felt more comfortable in the act than he dared admit, at least this gave the theatre more credibility.

@inkdragon @Maeriel @MJK2431
 
Last edited:
The trio of Hunters shared a look. Stavros far outranked any of them, that was clear, but the situation didn't add up. Despite his impressive bluffing, they didn't seem entirely convinced. They were in a difficult position. Should they guess incorrectly, the consequences would be severe. Even simply questioning a Lord Inquisitor's motives or actions could be seen as insubordination in the Braedon chapter, but by allowing the party to pass, they became complicit in whatever it was Stavros and Illian were truly doing.

Marcus, the Head Seeker of the party, was not a brave man. There was a reason he had taken a position that required him to hunt down the scared, weak, and alone. It gave him the illusion of control, as opposed to situations like this. Although he saw the burns on Elise's neck and suspected Stavros wasn't telling the entire truth, he wasn't about to risk his title in the sake of actually doing his job.

"Will that do? Seeker?"

Know your place, was implied, and Marcus flinched at the reminder. He seemed to deflate some, his horse sensing his hesitance and taking a step back before he could give the tug on the reins to stop it. Before he could stammer out an apology, Stavros was speaking again.

"What is 'that?'"

Here, he drew himself up again. Marcus was not eager to butt heads with a High Inquisitor, but he was eager to claim the credit for capturing an unregistered mage, especially one with crimes to his record. "Isaac Castman, my Lord. A powerful sorcerer with his own father's blood on his hands. His brother put out a search for him two days ago, we captured him out on the plains beyond the city." He grinned, showing crooked and yellowed teeth, clearly pleased with himself. "They're waiting for us back at the Tower. Wretch gave us a bit of a scrap, but we managed nicely once we got the collar on, haven't had no problems since." Marcus and his men were simple people, interested only in that which directly and immediately served them. Though Isaac had not managed to hold them off for long, he had a death to his name, and they would play up their capture as much as they reasonably could in hopes of earning a larger reward.

---

Isaac saw the human woman's eyes narrow as she studied him and he quickly looked away, though he could feel her gaze linger. Being spoken about as though he wasn't there was humiliating, but he forced himself to stay still and quiet. He currently had no power to change his situation, so his best option was to keep his head down and draw as little trouble as possible. He had a feeling enough of it would be heading his way anyway, soon enough.
 
On the back of the brown horse, Elise was having a hard time holding her own. It was like the Mage Hunters of Braedon were carefully selected among the most cruel, stupid and cowardly men available. Where do they find these people? Her magic was almost whirling around her, she was keeping it at bay, she had learned it early on. It was not something she learned out of her own understanding that it would be a valuable tool. No... Ara had always worried mother with her magic surges. Elise didn't want her mother to know she possessed magic too and be even more frazzled. She didn't want to give anyone trouble... and she was older, more aware of the threat Mage Hunters posed. Which was why she had abandoned her friends and become focused on making sure Ara wouldn't be caught, would remain calm. She tried giving her advice, but Ara's power was of a different nature from Elise's altogether. Outward, not inward. Destructive rather than enhancing.

Even so... she could feel a strange... electrifying feeling in the magic weave. It was something she had experienced with Ara once... like a certain... Synchronicity. It was energizing and scintillating. Her eyes moved from Valerie to the bound boy. Was it something either of them was doing? Giving off? Eyeing the boy again Elise could see injuries... and his legs. His legs dangled and didn't look... right. Are these idiots bragging about taking a man, almost still a boy, who can't even run? Accused of killing his father... Lis had been accused of causing her mother's death too. The boy looked like a cripple and by his defeated look, Elise didn't quite have the impression that he were any sort of killer. The frustration grew and with it her unwillingness to tolerate Stavros' arrogant dealings. His pomp and superiority clearly cowed the trio, but he had referred to the boy as a thing and Lis was just... not in the mood.

A scoff left her lips and she shook her head. "Cowards..." her voice sounded low, the leather reigns of her horse bundled around her right hand, so tightly they crackled loudly, the magic slowly seeping into her body as she could hardly contain herself from breaking a few teeth of that yellow-smiling idiot. Her left hand, not at all subtly, laid on the handle of one of her swords.

All at once eyes that hadn't been interested in her turned her way and Marcus scrunched up his face, bristling. "What did you just say?"

"Oh... I'm sorry. Was I mumbling? I said... Stupid cowards. Though I might have just added the stupid... redundant as it is." Her honey eyes stared at Marcus with more boldness than she felt. Elise had had one of those days... and if she must ride with the men who collared her like a beast and burned her, Goddess knows where and bring her sister into the mess... maybe she could release her anger on someone else. But hell if she was riding off and letting those fools bring that boy into the tower of torture.

@Scalerender @inkdragon @MJK2431
 
Last edited:
Alfhild... just sat there. Her face was again as unreadable as when she had worn the helm she set aside. Deirdre remained quiet for a few minutes, studying her. It was strange, the shield-maiden hadn't had that many visions in her life and rarely had they been of this magnitude, but still the other Nord reacted with a multitude of questions she couldn't answer and tried to heed her words, at the very least. She wasn't really a shaman, but her people were too fervent in their belief in the Ancestors to turn their backs on those who heard even occasional mutterings of the departed.

Not Alfhild, it seemed. It caught Deirdre quite unprepared. Grey eyes glanced around a bit uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Maybe she would follow her words. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she'd not even find what she was looking for, there was no way of telling for sure. This was a stupid idea. Deirdre pushed back from the table, deciding rejoining her current group might be a better course of action in the current situation. "I do hope you take that into consideration... and don't start another civil war that wipes what little is left of us." With those direct words, the woman got to her feet, about half a head taller than Alfhild herself, and started to the door.

@Shadras
 
Last edited:
Marcus snarled like a wild beast, drawing his sword and leveling it at Elise. Behind him, the other Mage Hunters did the same, the one behind Isaac being none to careful not to hit his prisoner as he did so, though Isaac managed to duck out of the way in time. Was the woman mad? Who went out of their way to anger Mage Hunters when they had the ability to escape? If Isaac had had any doubt that the stranger was Ara's sister, it was long gone. It took the same sort of insanity to challenge a full party of Seekers as it did to go on the run with an unregistered fugitive mage you hardly knew. He had only ever met two people who fell into that category.

Coward he might have been, but Marcus had a temper. "Careful what you say, bitch," he hissed. "There's a telling red ring 'round your neck says I could catch a fair price for you as well. The Tower's no place for a woman, I'll tell you that, but I have no problem slapping you in irons anyway. So if I were you, I'd keep my pretty head down and pray not to be noticed."

Without taking his eyes from Lis or lowering his weapon, Marcus once again addressed Stavros. But this time, his tone was surer, the apology gone. His suspicions had been confirmed by Elise's rash words. "I think, Lord Inquisitor, that for the moment I may be justified in demanding explanation. Where are you traveling, and why is it one of your companions bears the burns of a Mage Bane collar and yet rides free? You may have rank, but no amount of gold or status can excuse treason. For your sake, I would hope you have a damn good answer. You may be used to letting criminals walk free, but here in Braedon, we are not."

@Scalerender @Maeriel @MJK2431
 
The clenched jaw was quite real in Stavros' expression when Elise spoke and Marcus was instantly goaded into action, the drawing of blades was not a good sign and Stavros' mind raced for a moment. Years of experience in the field and in the courts of royalty had at least made him a capable conversationalist and skilled at bluffing. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if confronted with a great deal of frustration... it wasn't an act really. He counted his blessings that Elise at least had the caution not to attack outright, he capitalized on this and forced himself into the bluff of a lifetime, basing his "lies" on as much fact as possible.

As Marcus waited for an answer, a good one, Stavros spoke to himself in an almost incredulous tone.

"I bloody knew it...." What followed next was a short barking laugh devoid of any mirth and amusement. He clapped his hands sarcastically and nicked his horse to turn towards the three Seekers.

"I take it by your outright breach of form and complete disregard for composure in presence of a superior that you are completely ignorant on the meaning of my Order.... " His facial expression became completely stern and unamused, speaking with every bit of condescending superiority he could muster, but then again he felt far more of a man and Mage Hunter then these thugs. He'd had enough of Braedon and they'd take the brunt of his frustration now. "Allow me to enlighten you... Seeker"

"The order of The Silver Flame was founded with the blessing Of Prince Tybor of Lorr, The crown Prince to our great Kingdom. Its founding members consisting of the Nobility among the Mage Hunter Ranks with the sole purpose of benefiting the relationship between the people and those burdened by the gift of Magic. Specifically the treatment of Mages in the kingdom by the Mage Hunter's that are tasked with regulating them. I have come to Braedon following rumors of abuse and questionable acts, concerns voiced by both citizenry and members of your very own chapter. I have been to the Tower and made my preliminary reports which I was on my to deliver, my opinion had been more or less made until I came across...well, you

Apart from your complete disregard for your prisoner, a "powerful" sorcerer in the skin of a crippled boy... you show outright aggression, contempt and dare I say malevolence towards a member of my group who happens to be a Mage... No place for women .. was it?! Tell me Seeker Marcus, why exactly is the Mage tower not a place for women? What events transpire there that you speak of with such gleeful cruelty ... Hmmm?!"

Stavros guided his horse to ride alongside the Seeker, eyes locked upon him and all but ignoring the pointed blades towards his person.

"I've just about had it with you Braedon SCUM, power-hungry thugs that believe themselves to be above the law, hounding those weaker then themselves, taking pleasure in every bit of cruelty you can afford... If you were even half a man I'd ask you if you felt any shame... But all I see is a husk, filled with greed and cruelty.... I will give you 5 seconds to stand down and then surrender your prisoner to my Squire, I have absolutely NO faith that this BOY will face fair judgement or even arrive to the Tower alive. I will investigate his crimes and have him trialed in a place that is not crawling with corruption, pray that I forget you by the time I report my findings to the King's court...

Stavros stood on the stirrups of his saddle and leaned over to Marcus, the contempt and disgust in his eyes quite genuine, the act having shifted to pure truth midway.

"How's THAT for a reason... Seeker.... Marcus... " He practically spat out the last words like the name itself left a bitter taste on his tongue.

================

Illian had neither the experience or composure of his mentor and had been obviously angry with the entire situation. His understanding of the reasons of Stavros's apparent treachery had completely escaped him and when they came across the Mage Hunters he had feared for the worst. Illian was however, not blind. The poor condition in which the young man was transported was distastefull and outright negligent, even if the apostate did what he did... It wasn't right. Isaac didn't look like a murderer, in fact...he looked as far from it as one would imagine. Perhaps it's the magic, the magic makes him do more then he appears. The thought bit him like a venomous serpent and again the venom of contempt and hatred spoiled his thoughts. Mages were wrong, they broke the rules of nature and corrupted reality. He clenched his fists around the reigns of his mount when suddenly blades were drawn and pointed at Elise, had he missed something?..Had he wandered of in thought once again, Stavros's act was less of a theater then the others might suspect. Illian had grown to know his Mentor and seeing his spit such bile and contempt towards others was surprising...but he knew it was quite sincere. Is this the reason? His Order's beliefs conflicting with Braedon's chapter? He clung to that thought for dear life and tried to push his immature pride go for a moment... He wasn't about to leave Stavros now, but he still expected an explanation.

When Stavros made his demand the young Halfblood urged his horse to approach the Mage Hunter carrying Isaac, the prickling of Magic around the cretin made his skin crawl and his nostrils flair as if he caught the smell of rot. His verdant eyes locked on the man, what he lacked in composure he certainly made up for with sheer intensity and decisiveness.
 
And just like that, Alfhild's last lead and cryptic messenger was walking towards the exit. The annoying whisper of what remained of her conscience told her that she was driving away a potential ally. Again. Usually it was a voice that was easily quashed. She didn't need companionship, had never needed it. Not when everyone was bound to turn against her anyway. This time, however, the whisper persisted. Perhaps it was it was the similarities between the woman and the person she dreamed of. Perhaps it was in the warnings the woman said. Perhaps it was in that, in some deep part of her that Alhild refused to admit would exist, she wanted what Deidre said to be true. Or perhaps it was simply that traveling across the land had opened her defenses a crack. Perhaps it was some mixture of them all. Regardless of the reasons, Alfhild felt her mouth moving, forming the four letter word she knew she'd regret. In fact, she was already regretting it, even as the spoke it allowed.

"Wait."

But even with the regret, the word was out there and more followed. "How would my...actions, cause a civil war that would wipe out our people? They would help bring unification, not destruction." She turned to Deidre, eyes no longer blank, but now icy spikes of anger that drove at Deidre, trying to detect any falsehood that she may show. Alfhild's mouth was a quill-thin line. It was time for answers, not riddles and vague poetry. Even if it did come from a seer, which may well be a false claim. Ah, the little whisper said, but you didn't detect a lie in her now did you? She quashed down on it. It had had its say, now it could kindly suffocate for all the good it never did her.

@Maeriel
 
Valerie could feel the spark hit the gunpowder she had smelled being laid out as soon as they found themselves facing this hostile group of men. Elise’s words had been the only trigger they needed and the elven maiden inwardly cringed and gritted her teeth when the woman broke her silence with cutting words. Those words had incited a rather messy reaction, one which made this whole situation all the more unfavourable for their group.

She loosened her tight grip on the reins at the sound of swords being drawn, her emerald eyes sharp and focused as her hand fell to her own sword, unsheathing it slightly with a sound like slick water running over river stones. She knew Elise should have held back the words she said, but the man’s response to her was downright shameful, only cementing further her belief that she had wrongfully hoped for goodness in Braedon when it was filled with half-men like those who stood before her. Some stories of humans she had been told made them out to be easily manipulated by elvish tricks and rather foolish in their actions and thoughts…both of those descriptions she had seen more of in person than she would have liked. Elise might have been brash, but at least she was honourable.

At Marcus’ biting words she spat out some of her own, saying with simple clarity “A man’s choice of words can say more about his character than his actions ever could. Red ring or not, dragging a female through the mud and slandering her character without reason is enough to have a fingernail removed in a fair trial where I hail from. Pretty heads can still swing sharp swords better than a man can.”

Stavros reacted, the man taking on this persona that Valerie found he slipped into all too comfortably for it to be a complete act. His response rang truthfully, his words assured in their meaning and strength before they even passed his lips. It comes naturally, becausein the past it must have has been his character rather than a role he keeps to get what he wants…Valerie came to realize, her perception of the older man changing so that it became less rose-tinted. This was a side to him she had not yet experienced, the superiority dripping like poisoned honey all too real for her liking.

He asked for the boy though, an action she found brought some relief to her. She hoped his shredding and fouling of their characters and pride would bring some more cooperation, but from the prickly way the man’s temper had flared just from Elise’s simple words she felt that perhaps Stavros’ approach may have been the incorrect one. Instead of being shamed into action, Val feared that Stavros’ words may just goad the man’s anger further like an angry bear being poked inside the cage he had been put in. Illian was positively fuming, Stavros was as tense as a stone statue and Elise was already up in arms about letting these men know exactly how she felt about them. Valerie knew that she had to keep a cool head, despite her own anger and aggression fighting to cloud her judgement.

Her horse could feel the tension in the air, ears flicking back just as the elf’s did as the stallion pawed at the ground. The air was electric and the response from the seeker could determine whether or not the elf would be needing to clean her sword and gain extra rest this evening after the fighting and magic that might ensue.

Her magic was heating, making her fingers tingle and her eyes narrow. It would not be visible because of the long sleeves, but the marking on her arm would appear to be almost alive, twisting and writhing on her tanned skin as she prepared herself. Her increase in magical aura made the buzzing that had been in the back of her head since she met Elise and Illian intensify, some unknown part of her creating a sort of hum in her chest and head. She knew she was sensing the magic of Illian, Elise and the subdued one of the chained male, their energies forcing her to make herself focus once more. She had never been around more than one other magic-user at a time during her training, so this sense of kinship she suddenly experienced almost seemed to enhance and heighten the pulsing of magic that made her personalized blade as well as the odd pieces of forged elven jewelry glow with a faintly iridescent hue.
 
Marcus's glare began to falter somewhere towards the middle of Stavros's speech. The genuine disgust behind the words carried through, and their weight was decidedly felt as the truth of the emotions masked the minor lies. The Seeker's sword hand shook slightly as Stavros urged his steed closer, and he finally dropped it altogether, sliding the blade back into its scabbard reluctantly.

"Stand down
," Marcus gave his men the quiet order, eyes fixed only on Stavros. "Sheath your weapons. Let them take the boy." Truth be told, he had heard of the Order, but only so much as to realize just how badly he was outranked. Stavros could very well have been traveling to the King's Court, as far as he knew, and Marcus did not want his name coming up. The tortures endured by the prisoners of the Braedon Tower were a source of amusement for him, but not something he wanted his name signed on with in any sort of record. He would report Stavros as soon as they reached the city, of course, and have a formal investigation launched. Better to make it someone else's problem than deal with it himself and risk unpleasant consequences for being wrong.

The other two Mage Hunters were all too eager to put their blades down. Neither of them wanted to test their combat skills against an opponent who could actually fight back. Stavros looked like a skilled warrior, as did his young charge, and they were in no hurry to put their own meager training to the test. "Take him," the Mage Hunter carrying Isaac conceded, holding up his hands in a surrender. "It can be your problem now."

---

Isaac truly didn't know what to make of the strange Mage Hunter who easily took command of the situation. He didn't trust the Lord Inquisitor by any means, and surely it was worse for him to be transferred to someone of a higher rank, was it not?

But the man spoke of justice and fair trials, of the "gift" of magic. What a joke. Isaac had wanted nothing more than to help people and here he had landed himself in chains. Some gift. Maybe, just maybe, this Lord Stavros was from a land where mages were viewed differently. It could be possible, he had never traveled far beyond the farm. Though he knew it was unwise, Isaac allowed himself to hope as Stavros demanded his custody. At the very least, he would get to meet the woman who reminded him so much of Ara. Though he could do nothing more to help his friend, a thought that filled him with remorse, he would at least be able to get some answers.

As the squire rode up to take him, though, Isaac flinched. The boy was around Isaac's age, maybe a bit younger, but the disgust in his eyes made Isaac uneasy. The glare he was currently receiving felt too much like one of Carson's for comfort, like Isaac was some sort of disgusting bug, or a horse dropping clinging to a boot. If this was Stavros's ward, maybe the Inquisitor would not be the fair man Isaac had hoped he would be after all. But it was too late now, not that Isaac had a choice to begin with. And anything had to be better than he nightmare of the Mage Tower.

Isaac eyed the gap between the horses apprehensively. He could probably manage it with his powers, but he knew he couldn't without. No one made a move to help him, and his first act in front of this new party would not be begging for help, he decided firmly in his head. He would salvage as much dignity as he could from the situation. With a grunt of effort, he managed to pull both legs to one side of the horse without even calling on the magic. The move set him off balance, though, and rather than steady him, the Mage Hunter who had been carrying him kicked the horse just enough that it jerked. Before he could do anything to stop it from happening, Isaac went crashing to the ground.

It was infuriating. The power was right there, humming in the air like a living thing, but should he even reach out to try and touch it, the collar would burn him once again. Luckily, he hadn't been hurt, but as Isaac struggled to get air back in his lungs and make it to a sitting position on the dusty ground, he felt his face burning red with anger and humiliation. He was gettting sick of being tossed about like a sack of potatoes.

"Apologies,"
the Mage Hunter said coolly, none too convincingly apologetic. He hadn't been able to resist one last jab at Stavros, it appeared. By losing their prisoner, the group was losing something they truly did care about- their monetary reward.
 
There had been many ways this could have gone, in Elise's mind. She was aware after all that she had poked the beehive. They predictably drew swords and the ringing noise of metal on metal was heard as fluidly Elise drew her blades, internally grateful that the horse under her didn't startle. It was a fair fight if everyone was armed, in her point of view. Let them come. In all the scenarios that had flashed through her head when she took the shot at the Mage Seeker, Lis hadn't anticipated Stavros' booming voiced reaction. She was still deciding what to think about the things he proclaimed with such authority and passion. Burdened with the gift of magic... True as the statement was, it irked a little to hear it from someone wearing the colors of a Mage Hunter.

That's when Valerie's words sounded, and they made her smile. The Elven maiden had fire and Elise enjoyed it. She liked it even more the ease and grace with which the Elf held that queer looking blade of hers. Even the grumpy youngster seemed to make a stand, and a little part of Elise was glad that Illian could draw a line when members of his order made such dark implications about women. Unfortunately, Mage Hunters weren't a brash glory-hungry sort and outnumbered and clearly outclassed, they gave in, so Elise didn't get to vent some of her accumulated rage.

Telling herself that they had already wasted enough time away from the search of her sister, Elise was the first in her group to sheathe the weapons and she clicked her heels gently on her horse's flanks to approach the Mage. Better he ride with her than with Illian, who almost made her teeth hurt with whatever it was that he had to cancel out magic, and well, the way he looked at the boy was none too friendly either. Her teeth gritted in anger when the prisoner hit the ground. A last pathetic show of contempt to her kind, a cowardly one at that, from a turncoat, no less. Elise came down from her horse, she wished she'd have done it in one fluid motion, but she wasn't used to the damn things. At least she made it to the ground with some dignity, which was more than she could see in the boy's angered face as he sat on the dusty ground.

Elise crouched in front of him, shaking her head softly at the audacity of the idiot on the horse 'apologizing' to Stavros. She had it. "Well, let me give you a little better mobility here..." Lis grabbed onto the manacle on the boy's wrist and as if it were a piece of dried bread she tore it in half in her hands. Freeing both wrists with the weird noise of metal breaking and then bending as she balled the thing between her hands, Lis told him in a lower tone. "Sorry, I'm gonna help you up and we both pretend it didn't happen." She tossed the ball of contorted metal that used to be the manacles back over her shoulder and it 'accidentally' hit the mage on his temple, breaking into pieces and hitting the ground. She'd have done the same to the damn collar, but she thought it would cause issues with Stavros' story and she didn't know if her strength would set off a burn on the boy's neck, she'd be willing to risk her own, but not another's.

"Oops. Apologies..." Said Elise to the Hunter hit as she raised the collared mage like he weighed nothing onto her brown horse, telling him to hold onto the reigns. Elise wish she could have done worse, but even maintaining this strength in her musculature was costing her with the proximity to Illian. Her mount shook its head and complained with a snicker, but Elise miraculously managed to get back on top of it with the extra rider, putting her arms around the boy's waist to hold onto the reigns and move to the other side of Stavros. The Lord Inquisitor had to at least admire her from refraining from saying and doing a lot worse, as anyone there could see the anger rippling underneath her skin. At least, Lis thought he had to...

@Scalerender @inkdragon @MJK2431
 
"Wait."

But even with the regret, the word was out there and more followed. "How would my...actions, cause a civil war that would wipe out our people? They would help bring unification, not destruction." She turned to Deidre, eyes no longer blank, but now icy spikes of anger that drove at Deidre, trying to detect any falsehood that she may show.

Before reaching the door the Seer was called to wait, and halted her advance. She looked over the grey furs around her shoulders at the blonde woman shooting daggers from her eyes. Deirdre wasn't cowed. She was pissed, though. Her face changed from impassivity to a more annoyed tone, a crease forming between her eyebrows and after a recomposing deep inhale, she spoke. "Do you think that the loyalty of our people is won through some sort of Finders/Keepers game? You find what you are looking for and you will offend your Jarl for gifting it to him like it is a horn or cask of ale. The other clans discover it and see the same symbology you think, but will only follow someone who has proven worthy of being their leader. That is neither you or him, for neither has prevailed over the other clans and earned the right like the few who have lead us all in the past. Each clan will try to gain access to the relic, infighting becomes a focus again, the Orcs once more take advantage of it and then we either are enslaved or die."

Deirdre took a moment to breathe, her jaw setting angrily at the woman's aggressive gaze. "That is how you incite war. And that is a foolish path to take that will only mortar your position as a foreigner, not one of the blood. The only way you can possibly bring unity is through the old customs. A tournament. Clan champions pitted against each other, Jarls or not, and the one who prevails earns the right to own it and lead us all. That is a leader we can respect. That is a leader we can die for." The seer narrowed her grey eyes looking at Alfhild and added. "There is only one relic that comes to mind that would fit such a description..." And now she knew what the half-blood was looking for and why she needed a shaman.

@Shadras
 
Back
Top