The Legend of Renalta (IC)

Nilum

The Wanderer Returned
Benefactor
The World Rumbles

It did not take long for the world to shudder. The King’s Rangers moved, quickly, when the Princess had been awakened, for such a powerful event had left a ripple of magic that spread in every direction for miles. Over the past two weeks, they have been quietly recruiting people in secret for a cause. For theirs was the role of support, to pave the way, to create safe places for her, and to gather intelligence. There were several volunteers at first, who had been brought to a small King’s Rangers camp. Within a week, it had been narrowed down to just a few, and the camp was abandoned. Already, rumours swirled about the Princess returning throughout the world, and thus, time was of the essence.

Two days ago, those who had joined Kouri’s cause from beyond the King’s Rangers arrived at one of their main bases, located in the mountain border between the Renaltan Remnants and the Kingdom of Rheinfeld. The mountains themselves made for a highly defensible position, being filled with dangerous of all sorts—natural, and unnatural. Tall peaks, low valleys, and little in the way of merciful terrain for travel beyond the occasional stream one could follow along.

The base itself was hidden in the side of a mountain, its entrance being able to lift or close on command. There were hints of magic, here and there, but most of it was used to disguise what might otherwise stand out of place. Once inside, the group would find themselves quickly led through a series of tight corridors—sufficiently so that one or two people could hold off several dozen intruders. Torches, lit on the wall but which produced no smoke, told of several minor tricks of magic used to illuminate the area. To help guide the King’s Rangers through, what to most of the group, seemed like an aimless but highly defensible maze. To the especially observant, it seemed almost perfectly designed to give orcs a sense of claustrophobia.

Two floors down, the party is given their own guest chambers to rest for a while. They still had two days left to decide. Two days left to change their minds.

None wavered.

Legends and Myths

Two days passed, surprisingly uneventfully, and the King’s Ranger tasked with watching over them—Marcus—gathers each of them, one by one, from the guest quarters. He is a man with red skin, and red eyes. Reflected within his eyes was little more than a stern expression, ensuring that each person had their wits about them. He wore heavy looking plate armour across most of his body—save for his head—and carried with him a large, two handed blade. It was slung across his back more for convenience’s sake than actual tactical benefit. He seemed largely unconcerned with the group around him. “We are going to meet the Princess. Be on your best behaviour.” A blunt statement, perhaps lacking the reverence that some other King’s Rangers held when they spoke of her.

He leads the group together one floor up, following the lit torches along the walls. There, he reaches a primary chamber—largely empty, save for the small pillars that helped hold the roof up. It was used for numerous activities, from diplomacy, to training. A few training dummies and pieces of equipment were still gathered, leaning against the east and west walls. The entire room was several feet in size, it could house a hundred—perhaps even two hundred men with ease, each engaged with training. Across the middle of the room, three braziers—running from north to south and spaced several feet apart—lit the room up with smokeless flames. The light reached around the room, though the light was dim at the furthest east and west walls of the room.

Standing by the middle brazier, a woman glances over toward them as they enter. The light flickering from the flame does not seem to bother her, and merely appears to show the graceful symmetry of her figure. The way her blue eyes raced across each of them as they entered the room, filled with an intense sort of curiosity, would almost draw the attention away from a rather unusual attribute—her blue hair. Dark blue, that ran to her lower back, and was immaculately maintained. Her dress held the same tone of blue, and was made with a rather exquisite kind of silk that the nobles would recognize as being reserved for the opulently wealthy. It appeared as soft as her skin, and the gentle way that her lips moved into a smile would leave weaker men with shaking knees at the sheer, untouched beauty before them. She truly appeared as though she had stepped out of the dreams of a poet, recounting the greatest love of his life. “Greetings. I am pleased to finally meet those who will be accompanying me.” Her tone was peaceful, though held a hint of uncertainty. Those well versed in the world of politics would recognize her attempting to present herself in manners most pleasant, and while most of it was natural, small things would give away that she was accentuating it into being something more than it really was.

A few feet to the left, another woman leaned against a pillar. She was dressed in a mix of leather and cotton, mostly brown or black in colouration, which contrasted to her sun-kissed skin. Her hair is a pleasant shade of black, her eyes, green like moss. She, too, also glanced over at the newcomers—though her eyes wandered with more interest over the men than the women. A giggle leaves her lips as she stands more at attention. “So here they are, Marcus. I like the looks of some of them, at least...” Marcus shakes his head, but otherwise closes the doors to the main chamber after the last of the group makes it inside. On her waist, two sheathed daggers rested. Undoubtedly, she had more hidden on her person.

Looking around the room, there were a few King’s Rangers. It was doubtless that there were at least a couple more, hidden somewhere, watching them all. Watching, and waiting.

From the darker parts of the room, an odd looking figure steps. His footsteps were heavy enough to echo through room as he stepped around a pillar, coming into sight the brazier closest to them all. Just a few feet from them, they could see his skin was dark, his eyes had a red hue in the iris. Almost akin to that of Marcus’s own eyes, though the dark skinned man’s eyes were a little brighter in hue. His voice was deep, but gentle, as he looked at one particular member of their group. “Kasienka.” He simply nods as he pulls back his hood, revealing his pointed ears—he is a Dark Elf. At his waist hung a pair of throwing axes, made out of a black metal. The same black metal also coated his two handed blade, which was slung on his back. Otherwise, he wore simple cloth and leathers—little in the way of armour, but his intimidating height suggested he knew how to defend himself without it. There was more about him that seemed rather unsettling, but he hid it well.

Furthest from them all, on the other side of the room, a short man leaned against the northern wall. The brazier furthest from the group managed to illuminate some of his features, but that was enough to determine he wasn’t one of the King’s Rangers. Purple robes adorned the man, along with an odd looking, flamboyant hat that sat upon his head. His hair, long and black, was unkempt, and the purple irises in his eyes would draw the attention of mages. Saying nothing as they entered, but watching them nonetheless, he quietly scratches underneath the chin of a crow, which stood on his shoulder and watched the group as well. He seemed to brim with magical power, ready to spring into action at any moment.

“It will be a few minutes more before the leader of the King’s Rangers will join us, with the last member of our traveling group.” The woman in blue spoke softly as she took a step away from the middle brazier, toward the group. Bowing her head respectfully to them, she continues speaking. “I wanted to meet all of you, and give you all a chance to speak with me or the others who will be accompanying you. I am Princess Kouri, I am the one you will all be protecting, and I hope not to disappoint you.”

Mikan steps forward and stretches, intentionally trying to draw attention to herself, and watching for those who look. “I’m Mikan! I know all about the stealthier things, and I will be helping to make sure that we can slip past some places, safe and sound.” Her accent was playful, and thick—revealing her Rheinfelder upbringing almost instantly.

Beside them, the King’s Ranger who had all led them to the chamber, takes a step away from them, turns to face them all, and speaks. Simply, and bluntly. “I am Marcus. I am the King’s Ranger assigned to personally bodyguard the Princess, and advise her in her decisions. I will train as many of you as I can in the ways of combat.”

The Dark Elven man then bows eloquently, and as he stands straight, he smiles—revealing the fangs in his mouth, and his true nature. “I am a Dark Elf, and a Vampire. I hold many years of wisdom and experience in this world, and will be using such things to guide you away from the more dangerous places of this world, wherever possible. As for my name? It is Hanus Wolfblood. Simple to remember.”

Finally, the man at the back of the room smiles, as his voice is heard over each person’s shoulder. Only those immune to magic would not hear his amused tone. “I am James... James the Illusionist, of carnival fame. Upon my shoulder sits my bird—Beatrice. You may have seen me once or twice if you lived in the Renaltan Remnants, or the Kingdom of Liveria. I am here as an expert of magic, and to help hide us all, if our little thief proves inadequate for the job.” Mikan glares at James, and then shudders, obviously unsettled by his magic.

It seemed that, with their introductions out of the way, it was now upon the group of newcomers to introduce themselves. Either to everyone, all at once, or to go for more personal, one on one introductions with specific people... Their choice.

Bright Lights, Dark Hearts

“She has awoken, My Lord.”
“I know this. You know this. Even the mortal world is seeming to become aware of this fact. This is not news to me.”
“I am merely reporting facts, instead of rumours, My Lord. I can confirm that she has awoken.”
“Can you confirm her death for me?”
“No, we have just disc--”
“Then your news is meaningless to me.”
“I have hunted her for a thousand years... I will have her head, one way or another. All I am doing here is telling you that--”
“That you have been a failure for a thousand years. My personal failure, that I uplifted. A personal failure that has resulted in even our own kind wondering whether what I ordered you to do was right, or at the very least, useful.”
“I paid the price for that...”
“You got off lightly for your failure. Killing her will be the only way to redeem yourself, do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand, My Lord.”
“Good. Then get out of my sight, and use your scouts. Use your spies. Use whatever resources we have available to hunt her down and then kill her. One mortal girl should not be much trouble for you, considering how many you have enraptured before.”
“Your resources are limited. I will need more.”
“What did you have in mind, Typhon?”
“An old ally of ours. One that has been useful in the past... Garrett, is what I am asking for.”
“Done. Just be sure to kill him as well when the princess is dead. I would hate to see what imaginative uses he would have for the body that could interfere with our plans.”
“Naturally, My Lord. I will not fail you.”
“See to it that you do not. Hemmungtong has long missed the sounds of your screams, and I would be hard pressed not to give him what he wants if you should fail me again.”
 
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One of the members of the party, clearly not quite human both from appearance and presence, rolled her eyes at the guard's lac k of enthusiasm. Even serving the beloved princess of old was apparently not enough for him. No wonder Renalta couldn't recover. Albeit, the Ranger in question seemed to be of her ilk, which largely absolved other grievances in her mind. A kindred spirit, both in being and in equipment. The scion of Ebonhold would need to keep an eye on him.
She still despised the thought of having some unknown stable-boy looking after her beautiful steed, and was prepared for the chance that some of her belongings 'mysteriously disappeared'. Her future frustrations shifted to the edges of her mind as she began to hear Them again.

The Princess is here. The Princess is here. The Princess is here.

The infernal voices -in their jeering, hushed yet feverish whispers- nearly broke into chanting. They had occasionally done such before, so she dismissed their babbling. When Cerise and the other recruits entered what must have been the location of this meeting, the demon-touched noble quickly scanned her surroundings with curiosity. Her orange eyes briefly rested on each of the figures at the sides of the room. She finally rested her gaze on the woman in blue. First she was amazed, both by the beauty that easily matched the descriptions given to her and by her finery which was of even higher grade than her own, something never before seen by Cerise. She smirked at the odd sort of symmetry she shared with Kouri in terms of attire. While the styles were notably different, particularly that the Renaltan was much more modest, the color scheme -pale skin with sapphire hair and dress- bore a striking similarity to what Cerise bore -maroon skin with ebony hair and clothing- herself.

She lives.

Her train of thought was once again rudely interrupted by itself as the ghostly ramblings returned.

The princess lives. Kouri lives. She's here.

They echoed louder, and louder still. Her forehead began to throb.

the princess lives, kouri lives, she's here, the princess lives kouri lives shes here the princess lives kouri lives shes here theprincessliveskourilivesshesheretheprincessliveskourilivesshesheretheprincessliveskourilivessheshere-

Cerise's knees shook slightly as the voices' babbling only grew louder and faster and ever more numerous, their incessant tones no longer recognizable as speech with each second more deafening than the last. Her skull nearly burned as if being repeatedly split with an axe, only to be fit together in the forge to be split again. Her eyes grew wide as she felt her consciousness slipping away, but then it was gone in an instant: the voices silenced, the pain soothed yet replaced with an uncomfortable chill, and her knees no longer unstable. She shifted uncomfortably, the occasional bead of sweat still clinging to her skin. Once she began to pay attention, the various Rangers seemed to be introducing themselves.

Hopefully, she did not miss much.
 
There was a silent padding of feet as Sisera walked throughout Renalta, carrying a small girl on his back with her arms draped around his shoulders as he reached around with his hands and supported her. His body, built like a horse, could easily support such a light weight.

"I warned you not to climb that high, your mother will certainly throw a fit. We'll have to get the physician to take a look at that ankle. You probably rolled on it when you lost your balance."

The girl moved her lips, but nothing came out and Sisera heard not a word. Still he knew the words she was supposed to say in this instant and continued on with the conversation as it would always go. Like an actor whose partner was not present.

"Yes, I'll make sure to get your books from your chambers and read to you. We still have to finish that chapter."

The castle halls they walked through were eerily silent. It seems they were the only living things this deep in Renalta's belly. Not too surprising, it was designed to keep her safe from harm.

"You should make sure to thank my Father next time you see him, it was very kind of him lending you those books."

Sisera feels her arms wrap tighter around him as she whispers something in his ears. Sisera frowns.

"Well I don't know about that. My magic demonstration is just to a bunch of stuffy diplomats and foreigners. It's nothing too special. Plus I don't know if your Father would like you being so out in public at such a young age."

He could sense her pouting as she simply rest her head on his shoulders. Grumbling something.

"Don't say that dear, I know it seems unfair, being stuck down here. But you'll be out with the others sooner than you know it."

...

"Why? Well.. it's hard to explain. You'll know when your older."

She reached up and petted his hair, it wasn't just black hair, it had a sheen to it. Something was just so majestic about that mane of his.

"Yes sweetpea, I'll be around when your older. No need to worry about me."

He could feel her slump against him and fall asleep. Whispering something faint.

"Indeed. I love you too" he murmured as he walked along, the darkness of the hallway swallowing them whole.
________________________________________________________________________

Sisera didn't bother to step from the crowd to introduce himself. His hood obscured most of his face and he leaned on the walking stick as if he had a limp. A feint to confuse and have people underestimate him. He briefly looked at Kouri, then shifted his eyes towards the floor. He didn't want to make a scene. He was once somebody on the verge of being important. But all-in-all was nothing special, and even less so now.

"I am Sisera" He said, directing his voice to the group; it seemed he was the first one to introduce himself. Better to just get it over with, "A mage and Swordsman." What else could he really say to these people? He had no real connection to them other than their duty to Kouri. To give their lives for her if need be. He didn't look at Kouri as he spoke, he was willing to acknowledge her existence, but he hadn't seen her in... so long. To look at her was almost painful to his soul at this point. Afraid that his eyes were lying to him.
 
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Jaquaar Iqbal-Moineau - The Seeker's story begins!

Jaquaar reminisced about how he’d ended up in the headquarters of the King’s Rangers. Truth be told, it still seemed like a lifetime ago since he’d stumbled into Arian Village. The Seeker of legends had started to ask questions about the nearby lake, and a blue-haired woman. It hadn’t taken long for a member of the Rangers to find the man in a tavern, and threaten his life. After being questioned, and after showing an aptitude to the Ranger by disarming him of his initial weapon through magical means, the man made an offer to the Free Holder; peace, and a chance to assist the ‘Blue-haired woman.’


Ever since arriving at the King’s Ranger base, Jaquaar had been reading whatever tomes and annuls he could get a hold of, in research of the Legend of Kouri. There weren’t exactly an abundance of figures with Blue-hair in legend, and Jaquaar hoped to find at least something he could understand before he was met with…whatever it was he’d be face with soon enough. The stories told of the Princess’ innocence, and her beauty. Nothing much more than that was ever pushed to the fore, meaning that was all he had to go on. Considering how the legends spoke of Typhon’s rage, Jaquaar seemed sure that his strange dream were leading him to help her against the tyrant Archangel, but would they be enough? Could Innocence and Beauty topple archangels? Perhaps there was something else afoot.


When it was time to meet the Princess, Jaquaar was slow to move. He’d made sure to trim his beard close to his face, and he’d finished adjusting his clothes so as to make himself presentable. And yet, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming nervousness that crept up his arms, and down his legs. It felt like his limbs would lock up any second as he followed behind Marcus, and the others gathered for what he could only presume was the first meeting of the Princess and her allies. Had others been guided here by such strange visions? It hardly seemed like chance that dreams would begin to haunt him only weeks before the awakening of a millennia dormant figure of myth.


The large, empty chamber was quickly made tertiary to the woman at the centre of it. Jaquaar found himself staring at the Princess for a few lingering moments; staring at the blue-haired woman’s face, and into her eyes. It wasn’t until her eyes seemed to race across his. He glanced away, feeling a tense moment of embarrassment as he noticed, for the first time, the other figures of import. The black-haired woman, the dark-skinned man, the slight-looking mage, and the devil-touched man who’d guided them through the compound. He kept looking around at the group, in all its diversities. The first man who introduced himself was named Sisera, a scarred individual, who claimed to be both mage and swordsman. He frowned at the strange happenstance that had a man who was named after the Steward of Renalta serving under Kouri.


After Sisera was done speaking, Jaquaar stepped forward, glancing for a moment towards Kouri, and then back to the group at large; clearing his throat. “I am Jaquaar Iqbal-Moineau, son of Emri Iqbal and Evertyl Moineau, child of the Blood Sea and scourge to Slavers. Master of magics most bizarre, and swordsman extraordinaire…” With a flourish, Jaquaar bowed his head towards the group, and towards Kouri, before quickly rising, a charming smile plastered on his face. “...and it will be my honour to travel with you all.” He stepped back into the group, broad smile still on his face as he waited for someone else to fill the silence.
 
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It was cramped and dark down here. Not terribly new for holds of the King's Rangers, but this one was particularly frustrating, mostly because he hated waiting. Kerat had run out of wood the day before and not being able to do something with his hands irked him. At least things were happening now. Showed into the training hall, Kerat eyed his new companions, mildly pleased to see some rather attractive ones among them.

Seeing that this was the time for introductions, the orc spoke up. "The name's Kerat. I'm a mercenary, been workin' with the King's rangers for a bit over a year. I fought with the Grey Griffins before that, left because they turned shit. Before that, I did some freelance work in Rheinfeld, and before that, I fought in the Free Holds." He shrugged, "Not much else to say."
 
(Part written by Nilum)

Butterflies had been dancing in Cináed's stomach since he'd arrived at the King's Ranger's fortress, a blend of nerves and excitement that had all-but kept him from sitting still the entire time, let alone sleeping. He'd stared wide-eyed at everything: despite it's utilitarian, basic aesthetic, the fortress was the first of its kind that the young farmboy had laid eyes on, and he was awestruck by the sheer scale and complexity of it. An impregnable stronghold carved into a mountain, he'd scarcely been gone from home a month and already it was like he was walking through a tale of legend.

It had been all he could do to force himself to respect the quiet of the rest of the party as they passed through the halls on the way to meet the princess. The princess. Kouri, from the legends. The rightful Queen of Renalta. He still had to run over that fact several times every time he thought of it. He was going to meet her. He was actually going to meet her. His excitement had bubbled over into a few excited whispers to whichever of the others had been willing to listen: speculative questions as to which of the stories about her were true, and gleeful repetitions of a few choice 'facts' derived from them.

When they stepped into the room in which she awaited them, and his eyes fell upon her, he didn't cry out or jump for joy, he simply gasped. For the stories had not done her justice. He stepped forwards, and in the same motion, went down on one knee in a reverent bow. When he spoke, despite his deference, his voice was not simpering and nor did it tremble; it carried only joy, and a hint of barely restrained excitement."Your highness, it's truly an honour to meet you. My name is Cináed Therin," he looked up from his bow at her, his golden eyes practically lit up by the beaming smile upon his face. "Thank you for allowing me to serve at your side. I've no accolades or titles to speak of, I'm just a healer from a Renaltan village called Elor, but I promise that I won't let you down - no matter what."

The Princess looks at Cináed as he bowed. There is a momentary hesitation from her as she notices the golden hue in his eyes, but she avoids making a scene of it, instead choosing the more diplomatic route. Her soft smile remains, and she bows her head respectfully to him. "Stand. You need not bow before me."

Her hesitation escaping his notice entirely, Cináed quickly rose to his feet, still grinning even as a slightly embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks. Had that been a faux pas? The others weren't kneeling. Maybe he hadn't been supposed to? He fretted over it only for a moment, before deciding that it didn't matter - he wasn't going to let a little social misstep ruin this moment. "Thank you, Highness," he repeated, before stepping back to allow the others to say their piece.

To the back of the group, a pair of much duller hazel eyes also came to rest upon the princess. Peering around those in front of him, Rin assessed Kouri silently whilst Cináed made his display. That was probably the formally proper thing to do before royalty: kneeling, showing deference, things of that nature... but unless the rest of the party did, Rin certainly wasn't going to put himself forward like that. Instead, he settled for offering a nervous smile when the princess's eyes passed over him, although he held eye contact for only the barest moment before looking down. His time at the citadel had been decidedly less ... bouncy than Cináed's, almost all nerves and no eagerness. He'd spent most of his time in his provided quarters, speaking with the others only at meals or when they sought him out. Even so, it was more time than he'd ever spent around other people back at home. The only ones he'd been actively avoiding were the templars and the amazon. And the pirate, although he'd been less successful there. Bloody over-talkative pirate.

His eyes wandered to each of the princess's companions in turn as they gave their introductions. He was somewhat startled by the voice appearing behind him, trying and failing to hide the jump it caused him, and his eyes came to linger on its obvious source. Rin frowned slightly at the man, and from his shoulder, Nyu - currently in the shape of a rat - shifted uncomfortably. "Not a fan, huh?" he whispered quietly, tearing his eyes away from James. Nyu had a good sense for people, Rin had found, but he decided to reserve judgement on the spellcaster for now. Although it was clear he liked his tricks, which was probably going to get annoying - fast - his presence here, tolerated by the princess and the rangers, meant he was probably fine.

Returning his attention to the princess herself, Rin watched her thoughtfully whilst the rest of the party made their own introductions. There was no mistaking who she was, if by nothing else, her hair was straight out of the legends. She was beautiful in the same way that a fresh painting was; to be appreciated from a distance, but not touched for fear of marring it. Not that Rin would have wanted to touch it. Her.

He quickly decided that line of thought was best left alone.

Appearance aside, her manner... well, it was almost underwhelming, considering the tales. She seemed awfully human. Rin wasn't sure what else he'd been expecting, but now that he looked on her, contemplating the fact that the future of the world was so heavily dependent on this one, fragile-looking girl was ... worrying, to say the least. To an extent, he envied Cináed's apparent blind adulation. It must be nice, he thought, not to have room for doubts.

When the time came for him to speak, he simply offered a slight inclination of his head. "I... I'm Rin. A summoner. I ... I hope I can be of some use."
 
2 Days Ago - Dean

Life had been such a simple matter mere weeks ago. Dean had woken up the same as he always had, and faced that day the same as he had grown accustomed to. There would have been no way to predict the turn of events on that sleepy afternoon and it would have been equally impossible to predict where those events would now lead him to. He gazed around the gloomy cell as he had hundreds of times the day before, and likely would do once again today and sighed. Rumors had reached him of the kind of justice the Rangers set upon criminals, but they hadn't even given Dean a chance to plead his case before throwing him in this make-shift prison.

It occurred to Dean that they likely had other things on their minds and he remained as little more than an afterthought. It stung at first to consider himself as less important than someone else, but after witnessing what he had at the Pond he wasn't entirely sure it was unwarranted. To think he might have actually witnessed a Princess of legend return from the dead. Even the thought brought chills to his spine. The stories that bards would tell of this could very well pave the way for a new golden age for anyone that knew their way around a lute, but Dean's stomach turned at the thought of what state he might be in while they told tales: locked in some damper, darker dungeon, or perhaps worse.

Just then a knock came thudding against the thick wooden door that sealed off his underground cell, and without much delay or hesitation the door swung open, revealing the warm glow of a freshly lit torch carried by some Ranger that Dean was sure he'd never met. The man placed the torch gently in a fixture, leaving little of himself illuminated. "Enjoying your stay, Hansen?" Goaded the deep voice of a face shaded by hood.

Dean tried to force his own face into a normal smile, but the light was searing after having spent so long in the dark. His body screamed as he sat up from the damp ground, stiff from sleeping on rocks, and through bleary red eyes he replied. "I admit I've had worse accommodations. Haven't you Royal Pains ever heard of a bedroll though? Maybe even a pile of hay?"

"Charming." replied the voice, laced with a not insignificant amount of sarcasm. "Perhaps we could have procured one for you had you not burned down the nearest Inn."

Dean offered his hands up apologetically. "In hindsight not doing that may have solved a great many of my problems O' sweet Ranger of Renalta"

"Indeed."

"But unless my keeping of time is mistaken, and bear in mind I have little else to do but count the passing seconds, it's not yet time for my daily bread. So what brings as fine a Ranger as you to my humble keepings? Dean asked eagerly, hoping for the best.

"A deal of sorts..." and though the flame still cast a shadow across the majority of the man's figure, Dean could make out what he would classify as a truly evil grin stretching the length of the man's face flickering in the light.

Present Day - Dean

And that effectively brought Dean's retracing of his steps to an end. Though not ideal the deal put forward by the Rangers was not unfair: Aid the Princess, earn your freedom. While Dean wasn't extremely keen on not making a noticeable profit from the situation he would have been lying to say captivity suited him over work. A shave, a bath and a couple good meals later and there he stood, practically a free man, among a number of other recruits setting out on the same mission. He appreciated the simplicity in the way some of the group spoke, but could hardly limit himself to rolling his eyes only once as the 'extraordinary' Jaquaar stepped forward.

Others made their introductions and Dean took quick measure of them all in turn. he sensed an overwhelming feeling of reverence for the Princess as some spoke, and while she may have been beautiful, Dean remained unconvinced she deserved the praises sung for her yet. he stepped slightly forward with a gentle wave to the group once he felt it was his turn. "Dean here, a pleasure to meet you all."
 
Oswald stood with the rest of what was soon to be his team, the strange lights from the braziers illuminating the intricate inscriptions and inlay. The religious symbols betraying his past. He had tucked his helmet under his right arm, and to his left his heater shield rest on the ground, his hand holding it upright. His eyes darted between the various members of the party as they introduced themselves. He grew steadily more and more uncomfortable as the number of mages among them grew. Though he didn't find this unexpected. The Gods and other nations had done little to endear themselves to the mages of the world since the passing of Renalta, but the dark elf disturbed him greatly. Vampires were dark and evil creatures, and he had no desire to be in his presence.

After the young man who called himself Dean introduced himself, Oswald felt that he should follow suit. "I am Oswald Richter von Heiligen Stuhl." His accent was thick, and firmly Rheinfelder. He looked to the Princess, addressing her directly. "You seek to head deep into the north and bring down the Gods. To this cause, I dedicate my life."
 
Here he stood once more, a new group of Guardians of Kouri, who would most likely die before the end of the story, to help her. He had to, there was no doubt of it. She needed him, someone loyal, dependable, she didn't need half of these people. Their lies, their demonic presensce or even angelic ones for crying out loud! But amidst this group of people he saw other figures as well who shined brightly for his eyes. Sisera, the Steward of Renalta, to have him with the group would greatly help Kouri recover from the trauma she had no doubt experienced and bring her the hope that a smile from another living person could, not someone like Ludvig.

So long as he didn't die. Marcus, Kouri's Bodyguard, someone who could very well be stronger than Ludvig himself, due to his current status of breathing. A Sorcerer, James, who he had personal doubts of, but seemed to be worth it due to his trait of being a Sorcerer. A Pirate, An Half-Orc Knight, a Quiet Summoner. These people brought a new glint for Ludvig to explore, new faces, new personalities. The Demons, Ludvig had thought, would act like many of their other kin did, but decided to give them another chance, after all, the rest of the party were fresh faces.

Once a good part of the group had finished their introductions, he realized that the awkward silence that was enveloping the room rapidly needed to be shunned back by someone, and he decided to take the initiative to do just that. Kouri having shown her presensce ment that he himself needed not to keep his identity hidden for much longer, although he didn't want to gloat about it. He had still died, after all, just like all the other humans would in the end.

He stepped out from the safety-perimter that the group had without a doubt done to avoid his decaying stench, speaking in a voice filled with pride for his old nationality - "Ludvig Larsson. I used to protect people for a living, and since old habits die hard, I'm here to keep on doing just that. You mean Kouri harm, stay out of her way, you mean her well, you can walk with me as a friend." After making his announcement, he backed up to the more secluded corner of the group, trying to get out of the viewpoints of those around him. He may have had pride for his land, but not his current undead state.
 
As they marched into the chamber, the shortest of the gathered people fell in behind Ludvig. Armerza was not disgusted by his presence, as some others were, though she had yet come to trust him. As they came to a rest, she reached up and removed her helm, tucking it under her left arm as she pulled back the lined maille coif, listening to it scritching agianst the back plate of her heavy armour. Honey-wheat blonde hair was plastered to her forehead, and around her cheeks and jaw, where it wasn't in a dense, wet braid at the back, bound together with a supple leather lace, each end terminated in jeweled beads. She kept sideburns long, as they trailed along the edge of her lower jaw, tapering to before her chin in a short frill of hair. Otherwise, she was freshly shaven this morning, opting keep an appearance that didn't invite these others to mistake her for a male Dwarf. The armour she wore was made of jointed plate, of fine steel, lacquered to shades of darker grey or brown, scuffed here and there from use, with more than a few lines of bright steel catching the lights, showing where blades had tried to cut through. She was still breathing with depth, from her exercise and training regimen that she kept up in her time here, but far from winded.

As others introduced themselves, she paid attention, as Ludvig stepped back, Armerza stepped forth herself, "I am Armerza Gilkak of the Dwarven Meritocracy from Edelsteen." Pausing, she pulled a small leather pouch from her belt, opening the leather, she retrieved a single ring. She held it before her, showing it to the guards, so they would understand her purpose, as she walked towards Kouri, "I was part of a company, searching for Renaltan artifacts. The company was destroyed, but I managed to save this, so the Rangers tell me. They also tell me, that it is one of the wedding rings of your parents. I am no thief, thus I return it to its rightful owner."

"Is it?" The Princess asks, curiosity and surprise in the tone of her voice. She reaches out her hand for it, waiting for Armerza to hand it to her.

"I have no reason to believe the Rangers would lie to me. Unless it were a test to determine my character, of what I would do with such a ring. If I didn't see you with my own eyes, I would have kept it as profit from the doomed company. As I said though, I am no thief, and you are the rightful owner of this ring, as far as I am concerned." She placed the priceless artifact into Kouri's outstretched hand, "I am here to see the Gods and their pets, the Angels either destroyed, or removed from influence of this land. None have earned their power, and they abuse it on a whim, like spoiled children...without the innocence." Armerza's voice was normally a somewhat warm alto tone, with a faint rasp to it, as she spoke of her desire and reason to be among them, her voice hardened, flattening in notes.

Though she was hesitant to do so, Kouri takes the wedding band from Armerza and cradles it in her right hand. A somber smile crosses her otherwise pleasant expression, as she curls her fingers around it and simply holds it. She turns her attention back to Armerza, and speaks softly, and quietly. "Thank you. I had never been expected to see this again."

Armerza nods, and returns to the lineup of guests, waiting for the rest to finish their introductions.
 
Kalemn Weller

As Ludvig finished speaking, a short bark of laughter broke out from behind him. "Old habits die hard indeed," Kalemn chuckled, leaning against the wall near the door. "Can't say I've ever seen them outlive the man before." Battered and scarred, Kalemn managed to appear filthy even with regular access to baths. Dirt lined her nails, caked in creases in her leather armour. Splintered wooden shield and fraying pack hung on her back, and the hilt of her sword was rust-speckled.

"Name's Kalemn," she said, conveniently not mentioning her past as a brigand and scratching at the old burn scars across her face with one gloved hand. If pressed, she would simply lie and claim to be a mercenary. To the Princess she gave a short appraising look. Kouri looked much the same as she had when she'd walked out of the lake a fortnight ago, albeit more composed. Personally, Kalemn still wasn't sold that she was truly the Princess of a kingdom a thousand years gone, but evidently enough people did that the difference didn't matter. "Glad to be of service."

Dagra Corden

After Marcus had told them to gather, Dagra had taken a few minutes to put on her armour, and almost as long to make a single decision; whether or not to wear her helmet when she met the Princess. Impulse and experience urged her to wear it. To lower her voice and pass herself off as an unusually large man for as long as possible.

But the whole point of her pledge to help the Princess was to help her create a world where her tainted birth would not condemn her. To see how others reacted to her true face would in turn give her insight into them, let her know who could be trusted to help guide this bright new world into being.

Mind decided, she left her helmet on her cot and left to follow the others, heavy sword hanging from her waist and kite shield slung over her back. Once an opportunity presented itself between others introductions, Dagra's voice rumbled out. "I am Dagra Corden, daughter of a minor noble, and a knight of the Remnants. It is an honour to meet you, Princess, and an even greater one to be given this chance to serve you."
 
Tahlia & Faolan Wether
@Holmishire.

Tahlia felt something soft nudge her elbow, and she tore her gaze from the Princess to see Faolan motioning towards the others.

Lost in thought, she had only been partially aware of the introductions of her companions-to-be. Though most remained strangers to her, there were a few she had had the pleasure of encountering in the Ranger's camp, and a few still she recognized from times past. In the presence of skilled warriors, mages, and healers, she felt ill-suited for the task—but whether the Archdruid had seen something in her that she herself could not, or merely in her grace to offer her the chance at finding a cure for her husband—she was determined to see it through.

Sensing Faolan's impatience, the priestess cleared her throat lightly, looking again to the Princess but making sure not to turn her back on the others. "I am Tahlia, sent to serve you per Kiune's wishes. With me—" At this, she pats the dire-wolf's head gently, smiling with her lips but her eyes downcast. "—is Faolan. Though… trapped, in this wolf's body, his soul is human. I assure you, he is not as fierce as he looks."
 
Rheanna Ágrios Zitón - The Pack's first meeting.

For the days that they had been inside the King’s Ranger’s compound, Rheanna had been on edge. Being stuck inside was not a pleasant experience for the Amazonian, and no one had approached her with any sort of reprieve or release. Much like Zephyr, the large bird that accompanied the woman, Rheanna was used to being able to see the sky. She paced back and forth, she sharpened her axe, she spoke with the Eagle to sooth it, feeding it the occasional scrap of food, and she used the bunk as a weight to lift when all else was exhausted.


When Marcus finally came to pick up the various members of Kouri’s party, Rheanna was quick to move into action. She grabbed her axe and moved near the back of the group; trying to size up her various competitors. A few caught her eye, but none seemed to stand out as exceptional beyond their means.


When the group was presented to Kouri, Rheanna watched the Blue-haired matriarch with a fascination that bordered onto child-like curiosity. Her softness of voice and the ease with which she spoke was so vastly different to her own experience of leaders; and yet she’d heard the stories of the Renaltan Princess and her unique ability to rid the land of the gods’ influence. Her people’s animosity towards the gods meant that she was instantly drawn to the task, and the legacy such a conquest would award her was more satisfying than she would dare admit.


The other members of the party began to introduce themselves, and a few caught her interest. Armerza, Kalemn, and the Undead Ludvig stood out as interesting fighters. Mikan stood out as an interesting partner. Marcus, Hanus, and Oswald looked like they’d offer a decent enough challenge. The rest seemed either reserved or uninteresting to her, though. She had little time to waste on the boring or the fettered. She stepped forward when no one else did. Placing the head of her Axe on the floor before she bowed her head to Kouri. “I am Rheanna Ágrios Zitón of Katafygio. I hate the gods, and I seek glory for my clan, and for myself. My strength is yours, Vasílissa, if you can give me a glorious story to tell.
 
A name, clothes, and the status of "alive." That is all that the former slave had now. Well, that and a decision to follow through on. He was found by a man that offered him a possibility. A possibility where his freedom was secured, and he could spend the rest of his days in peace. It was a foolish and selfish incentive to do anything for, but with so little left, the ex-slave would be a fool anyway to refuse the offer. Soon afterwards, he was brought along with others who had been given similar propositions. They were all diverse in terms of appearance, but aside from that they were just people. They didn't bother him yet, and so he had no mind to bother them.

Eventually, they had been taken to the individual they were to protect. A Princess that had slept for along time. The one that would make their dreams a reality. She, too, was just a person. The ex-slave had bowed enough to so-called "superior people" before, but they had been undeserving. They simply had him because he was their servant. The girl in front of him was supposed to be one that was worthy. He had yet to see if anything about her indicated that it is true.

When it came time to introduce himself. The former slave made a simple introduction.

"I am Sabre. A Spellfencer."
 
Flickering shadows danced in the dim light of the brazier, coaxing them to the promise of what would be a bitter and twisted end for many of them. Death would claim them all, and in the face of the gods the only shred of hope that remained for the success of their downfall lay with a legend long since passed, rumoured to be renewed. There she was, beautiful and soft in the gentle glow of the crackling flames, Kouri the princess of Renalta.

Clad in thick leathers and wool, with a bow strung across his back and quiver of arrows; Bjorn made little effort in the ways of presentation. The journey had been long and his work strenuous, only the broach that held together the cloth of his cloak gave away any sign of his heritage.

A horrid smell filled the air and as time went by, the ranger strayed further to the edge of the group as far away from the undead as possible in hopes of saving his nostrils from the pungent aroma of decay, and watched as many of the strangers stepped forward to offer their names and their purpose. Among them were the cursed versed in the ways of magic, drawn to the folly of its power. Individuals from distant lands, all with foreign titles and more importantly unnatural creatures that wandered the earth. It made him nervous.

One by one they came forth and introduced themselves to her, all stood in admiration of the figure that stood before them. No man in their right mind could deny the figure of the woman that stood before them, it was her words that betrayed Bjorn's confidence in her.

Scanning her companions, he looked across the others with forlorn expectation. He would do wise not to underestimate any of them, nor trust them for what they were worth. Together they were a bunch of mismatched men and women fighting for a cause, forced together to create what would be the group of god slayers. Was this even enough?

Narrowing his eyes, he gave Kouri a cool, hard stare. As one of the last to step forward, he did little to make himself known to her as nobility other than to bow before raising his head "Bjorn. Hope will prove us fools, Princess. Should you fail, we all die." The sorrowful truth betrayed the intention behind his callous etiquette as his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, and then to her friends. Breaking away from the spotlight, the ranger allowed the sombre reality of his words sink in and returned to the shadows. Where he stood watching, waiting for the end of these optimistic introductions.
 
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They had discussed it beforehand. She would be brought with the rest of the new party members despite having been in the compound for a couple months. She met Kouri for the second time, offering her a kind smile. She had been encased in ice for a thousand years and she still had the grace she had been raised with. Kasienka wished she could stand behind the woman and support her, but also that Kouri wouldn't appreciate being coddled while meeting the people who would die for her for the first time.

Her own copper hair caught the warmth and glow of the hearth, drawing out the subtle gold undertones. The light danced across her locks and made them look as alive as the flames themselves. Once it was clear that the introductions were done, mainly that Mikan had put her part in, she walked over to Hanus and rose onto her toes in an attempt to smooth the shoulders of his shirt. "[Noble tongue] An odd lot to be sure, but I have hope. What do you think?"

The tall man manages his best attempt at a soft smile, in spite of his otherwise intimidating and unnerving appearance. The flames from the nearby brazier produce a light that merely seems to be lost against his skin. Though his hands are gloved, it was clear from a simple, gentle caress across Kasienka's cheek that he cared deeply for the person before himself, and made no attempts at hiding it. "[Noble Tongue] A couple of them concern me. Most do not. The King's Rangers have made their choices, quite diverse... You will have your work cut out for you keeping this group together, I think."

She kissed the palm of his gloved hand then giggled quietly and looked over her shoulder at the lot behind her. "[Noble Tongue] I think more work may be involved in keeping this group off of each other." Kasienka gave a subtle nod of her head towards James and Catrin in the corner, each scoping the room. "[Noble Tongue] The first of many I am sure."

"[Noble Tongue] Perhaps." Hanus replies, quietly. He seemed to have more doubts than Kasienka about the likelihood of the group sticking together, leave alone any sort of romance. His hand traces down her cheek, then to her shoulder. He grasps it gently, but firmly. "[Noble Tongue] I will have a few things left to prepare before we can head out tomorrow. I can trust you to keep an eye on the Princess while I instruct the King's Rangers on what we need, right?"

She bobbed her head, her eyes slowly scanning the room. Kasienka smiled up at Hanus and slightly rose onto her toes to brush his cheek with her lips. "[Noble Tongue] Go on then. I can watch her. It is one room with one entrance filled with people sworn to care for her."

Hanus's lips connect with hers, for a brief moment. Then, he steps back, and nods with a large grin. "[Noble Tongue] I will see you soon, my love."



Two demon-touched, perhaps two angel-touched, a damned vampire, two elves (of mixed origin, but it didn't matter much to her), two bulky women of disparaging heights... So many odd pairs and all centered around the largest oddity of all. Princess Kouri in the flesh. She was as beautiful as the bards had sung and Catrin felt truly eclipsed. She couldn't help but adjust the neck of her own own, trying to cover her cleavage before she took a step forward and swept into a deep curtsy worthy of the woman before her. Kouri was so beautiful and so modest. Perhaps she could attempt that method, it may get her farther. She could be the demur waif if it would make Kori more at ease.

For now she would be the person she had been for the past eighteen months, the woman that got her this position with the King's Rangers. Catrin slipped her way around the crowd and the edge of the room to stand beside the man with the most curious eyes out of the lot. "It is nice to see you again, Mr. Moriarty, though I am glad that we are not at such disparate positions now. I do not presume you remember me, Lady Thorngage, but I wish for you to call me Catrin."

"Catrin... Hm... I am afraid the name does not ring a bell." James replies as he continues to look across the room. His eyes were measuring people, one by one: Their weapons, their clothes, their appearances, their attitudes. Catrin knew it well enough from experience what James was doing. "You may simply call me James. I doubt there will be much in the way of formality among these people."

Tch. Of course he didn't.

Catrin kept her disappointment off of her face as she waited for James to come back to ground after slowly seating himself higher and higher than those he looked at. "Agreed. It's a pleasure to meet you again, James... and Beatrice."

The way that Beatrice looked at Lady Catrin is unsettling--there was an intelligence in its black, beady eyes. It was unlike her own, yet, easily her equal--and easily beyond that which any bird should possess. James's lips curl upward at the corners as he wraps his arms over his chest. "She likes you... If you want my advice, watch the elves. They will spy on you every minute they can."

Catrin flicked her eyes towards those whom James warned about, and found them whispering together and constantly touching. It was odd. Then, of course, as she was watching the female one caught her gaze before turning to talk to her companion again. Certainly odd.

"I can see that. Thank you, James." She bowed her head to him then wandered away to mingle with the rest of the group.
 
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“Yes sweetpea, I'll be around when you’re older. No need to worry about me.”
-Sisera, Page 1.

Second Thoughts, or Pure Faith?

With introductions wrapping up, Marcus turns his attention to Cerise. Out of everyone there, she stayed silent, and hadn’t introduced herself. A look of mild irritation could be seen from him before he turns his attention back to general observation of the group as a whole. Mikan, on the other hand, looked a bit sympathetically at Bjorn. It seemed his words had managed to evoke some measure of understanding from her.

As the last introduction finishes, Hanus bows his head and prepares to take his leave. However, before he can reach the door out of the training room, two more arrive to the room. One was an older looking man, with a couple of scars on his face, and greying hair. “Apologies for being late, Princess.” From the way his presence commanded respect from the other King’s Rangers, it was clear he was of great importance to them all.

Beside him, a canine nobly walks in and looks around at the group. He sniffs the air, and a low growl leaves his throat as he glares at James, across the room. James seems rather unimpressed, though Beatrice caws at the dog.

The older man who apologized, finally looks around at the group. He had a hard, unkind expression in his eyes. “I am Gregory Volsmith, leader of the King’s Rangers. Some of you may have met me already, others may not have. Beside me, I bring a final gift from Kiune the Archdruid—her noble hound. His name is Kaiser,” Mikan snickers at the name, though with an annoyed glare from Gregory, she goes quiet. He continues. “... And he is a Rheinfelder Shepherd with unusual qualities. He understands commands both in Rheinfelder, and in the Common tongue. He will defend the Princess with his life, should any of you fail to protect her.”

Kaiser, without prompting, leaves Gregory’s side to go to Kouri’s side. He sits beside her and looks around at the room, seeming a bit more coherent and alert than a typical mutt. The Princess scratches him behind the ears, but otherwise keeps her attention on the leader of the King’s Rangers. She remains silent, appearing rather reserved, and perhaps a bit nervous. Gregory walks over to the brazier closest to the door, and glances at the ceiling. No light from the surface made it inside.

He speaks, with an authoritative tone. “It is presently the mid morning. You should all, already, be aware of why you are each here. You all have one day, the rest of this day and the night that follows, to prepare for your journey. Get to know each other, equip yourselves, train—whatever it is you need to do.” He glances away from the ceiling to look over each person who would be given the task of protecting Kouri. “This is also your last chance to have second thoughts and leave. After this, if you journey with her beyond this safe place, I guarantee you that Typhon and other servants of the Heavens will never cease their pursuit of you, no matter what you do. Many of you will die before you reach the end... Make peace with that fact, and then meet me here, tomorrow morning.”

He remains by the brazier.

Kouri remains silent, her blue eyes falling toward the flames of the brazier she stood beside. There was a troubled expression upon her otherwise gentle looking nature.

Mikan giggles and shakes her head. “I am sure it will not be too hard to make friends.”

Marcus quietly rests his hand on the handle of his blade, as he walks over to the western wall of the room. His footsteps echo through the room as he starts setting up training equipment—his intentions were rather clear.

Hanus, finally, leaves the room. It seemed he had some final, pertinent matters to take care of, rather than engage in social activities... Nonetheless, some could follow him, if they wished.

Finally, James’s eyes wandered across each member of the diverse group, taking in their feature, their equipment, their clothing. He seemed eerily intent on memorizing every single inch of them as he finally stands straight. “I wonder how many have the kind of magical talent I am looking for...” He mutters, openly, for anyone to overhear.
 
Intentions
A collab with @Nalax

Anxiety dulled the sharpened minds of their troupe as they dwindled around one another, some kissing and exchanging pleasantries in the far corners while others shot jagged glares across the room in blatant disapproval for the bizarre gathering of individuals. One however sought a different stance and peered over to Bjorn with a look of what he could only guess to be a sympathy.

Eye to eye he studied her for a moment, as if expecting more, as if he expected her to say something. Nothing came from her. Disinterested in the false empathy of a stranger, Bjorn looked away from the girl to scan his compatriots more appropriately. There were few who he thought might have anything interesting to say, for the most part their strange and long winded introductions were enough to grasp what sort of set up might be needed tactically. Yet, even with that information their true capabilities would remain unknown to him. And, after minutes of brooding over his disdain for his situation, he deemed interaction necessary.

Begrudingly the ranger set aside his ways and sought whom he hoped to be one of the more militaristic minds, an orc with musted green skin and small tuft of black hair, finely adorned in various bones and jewellery that were worn like trophies over thick metal armour. Its face, scattered with various differently shaped piercings thats significance was lost to him.

"Bjorn, right?" Kerat grunted in the Rheinfelder's direction.

"That is correct. And you are Kerat," he returned, politely bowing his head to the stranger "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The orc simply grunted in reply. "So what do you do?"

Bjorn narrowed his eyes for what seemed like a split second before regaining his composure "I hunt, I live, I survive. Yourself?"

"Heh, pretty much the same, I guess." Kerat cracked a smile, making his normally frightful visage a sight worse. "Still, like you said back there, not much surviving to be done working with this lot, considering the odds."

Unnerved by the sheer sight of the orc's unsettling smile, Bjorn shifted a few steps to the side as he crossed his arms and carefully considered Kerat's words, chosing his answer "Whether or not we survive is up to all of us. We are a military unit now and despite our differences our lives may depend upon our co-operation."

"I've been fighting my entire life. I wouldn't be here if I didn't know that. And in my experience, it helps to know what your allies are fighting for."

At that Bjorn hid his uncertainty behind the facade of a trained smile "Then you have answered your own concerns. One would hope any of our goals do not deviate from the Kings Ranger's intentions."

Kerat huffed, annoyed at the apparent density of the man before him. "Yeah, yeah, we all know what the job is. What I wanna know is why are you here?" He asked, point blank. "What's your stake in this?"

"To get it done," the noble replied in short, watching Kerat's impatience with reigned amusement. A military individual that asked a lot of questions was something that was strange to Bjorn and he was surprised by Kerat's lack of focus considering the severity of the information they had just recieved. "Gods are an arrogant bunch," he then said, in an attempt to lighten what he could sense to be a tense mood.

Kerat studied Bjorn for a moment before letting out a chuckle and as friendly a smile as he could muster, "That they are." He placed a large paw on the Bjorn's shoulder before departing, "Be seeing you, Bjorn." His smile turned into a scowl as soon as he was away, noting to himself to keep an eye on the Rheinfelder.
 
Of Decency and Dignitaries
A collab with @LimeyPanda


Once the rangers clearly did not need the party’s attention anymore, Cerise ducked out of the group, still bearing a cold sweat from her previous incident. The travel was likely wearing on her, and the excuses for beds were doing a number on her joints anyway. Not that there was a royal masseuse here to address that, anyway. More than anything, it seemed like the little inconveniences and annoyances of this quest were going to be more harmful than any man or beast.

Hopefully, a visit to that bath house she heard about would be what she needed.

The noble’s expression grew to a smile as she took in the surroundings, utilitarian but clearly of quality: a single large bath, numerous towels and accoutrements, and a faint touch of magic to the room, likely some way to help heat the water. The casually slow pace at which Cerise removed her clothing betrayed just how desperately she wanted to climb into the bath. The demon-touched took care to even remove her jewelry and fold her things into a collected pile before slipping into the hot water, sighing contentedly as the heat rushed to her skin.

Entering from the opposite door to the Devil-touched woman, Rheanna was already ripping off what few garments she wore as she pushed through the door. Cloak, shirt, ragged trousers, and undergarments were tossed aside in a ball of messy fabric, leaving the scarred woman naked with only an axe in her hand as she finally noticed the red-skinned woman already in the baths. “You. The quiet one from the meeting...Not who I expected to meet here.” Rheanna frowned as she walked over to the side, picking out a bar of soap and leaning her axe against the wall. She turned to face the red skinned woman, nodding approvingly at the unknown noble. “You look liked you could hold yourself well in a fight! I like you already.” With that, the Amazon stepped into the bath only a few feet from the Devil-touched, sighing contentedly as she basked in the warmth of the bath. “I am Rheanna, but you probably heard that. What is your name, Sýntrofos?”

“Ah yes, I didn’t say much, did I?” the noble’s nearly-luminous eyes followed every inch of the Amazon’s body appreciatively, before looking back up to meet hers. She chuckled at the quite straightforward compliment, a smirk quickly gliding across her face as Rheanna sat so pointedly close to her. “I’d hope I do, I’ve led troops into battle a few times.” She slid a little closer to the new acquaintance, now only separated by about a foot, her tail landing in her lap as she continued, “I am lady Cerise, of Ebonhold.”

Rheanna frowned for a second, trying to remember if she’d heard of a place called Ebonhold. When no obvious memory came to her, she shrugged it off. “Leading troops, huh? Can’t say I’ve ever led troops.” She shrugged, before she started to actually scrub herself down. “Must be an interesting challenge. My people are more personal in battle. We hunt together, rarely with a defined leader. It is more...fluid that way.” She smiled in the moment of remembrance. Thinking of home, and the many hunts of her youth. “We shall have to test ourselves some time soon; I would see how well a leader of fighters deals with the real thing.” She grinned at the presenting of the thinly-veiled challenge, already eager to try and prove her strength: both in front of the others, and to show off for this new potential companion.

“I would have loved to join the thick of battle more often, though my parents refused such a thing,” Cerise huffed and simply ran some water over herself, having forgotten to take any soap. “If I was first in line for that damned throne they likely wouldn’t let me leave the castle.” Her older brother did little but throw parties and entertain guests from across the land, though such a life wasn’t necessarily a curse.

“Our lands have not been in a true war in my lifetime anyways, only skirmishes and massacres of bandits and undesirables.” She did offer a smirk at the challenge, “We shall. I’ve only met an Amazon once or twice before in my life, and I’ve never had the chance to see one up close,” the last of Cerise’s words dripped with honey.

Whereas before, Rheanna had been only flirtatious and playful, now she was curious. The strange Devil-born had painted such strange tales with so few words, and the amazon felt a need to know more. “So you are like the Princess then. A… a uh...Damn, the word escapes me.” She frowned for a moment, before clicking her finger and thumb together. “A noble! You are a noble also?” She grinned at having remembered her lessons so well. She took to most of common culture poorly, but language was thankfully something she grasped well enough. “And you have even met one of my kin? Where do you hail from then, the walled land in the south? The Religious ones in the middle? Tell me more!” She seemingly ignored the woman’s attempts at flirting in favour of her own insatiable curiosity. Even stopping in the cleansing efforts as she found herself enraptured by the sudden conversation with the curious woman before her.

“I am a noble, yes,” the heiress beamed with amusement at the almost childlike wonder of the Amazon, though she bit her lip when the topic suddenly shifted to what others of her kind she had encountered. She had to choose her words carefully, or risk being torn in half, at least that was what she was always told.

“Ebonhold is one of the Free Holds, far to the east from the Amazon lands, near the ocean. The only of your kind I’ve seen,” she took a deep breath, “were slaves. When I would visit the other holds, they would have several, sometimes in chains,” she shuddered, “It was repulsive.”

Just as quickly as flirtatious and playful became curious, curious became angry. At the mention of the Free Holds, there was a notable tension in the Amazon; a knotting of the shoulders, a clenching of the fists. It wasn’t hard for a warrior to spot the first signs of a creature of battle moving closer into springing. The mention of her people as slaves saw the Amazon stand slowly in the water; loud splashes echoing through the room. The isolated, unbiased room. She took a step forward before Cerise managed to finish her story, but the step found no second by the time she’d finished. The Amazon was looming only a few feet from the devil-born, an imposing six-foot of defined muscles and knotted scars. “So. You are from the Desert. Your kind are the ones who would steal mine for sport, and to fuck like...like thirío.” It was hard to read the Amazon’s face until she spat out the last word. Impossible to discern, but fuelled by the passion and rage of the warrior woman. She glanced down at the woman again, eying her from the standing vantage before letting out a half-smile. “You are brave to admit that. Most would not be honest with me.” Her tense shoulders seemed to slack a little, as she lowered herself back into the bath, a few inches closer now. She seemed to quickly let the tension melt away, as the water washed over her body again. “I like you, Cerise. You are from the land of Vróma, but you are brave. It is a shame the other chieftains of your people are not so brave. Cowards and thieves, the lot of them. Not a wise woman amongst them, it feels like.”

The noble first took offense at such an accusation, though her years of diplomatic teaching warned her of the consequences of letting that show. The Amazon was clearly less than educated, and Cerise needed to keep that in mind. Misunderstandings were going to be frequent. “My kind could not do such things. They conquered and built a kingdom by the eastern mountains. Bravery and honesty are key when your neighbors want your head in the name of their gods.” Many trade routes in and out of Ebonhold had to be originally enforced with steel, as few would willingly associate with the infernally-touched royalty. It was rumored even, that when the hold was first established, they had to declare war on their neighbors and sign treaties just to sell quarried stones.

Cerise wrapped an arm around Rheanna’s shoulder and slid a few inches even closer, her leg and side nearly touching the Amazon, “Many of the others do not even have women leading them,” she offered a light chuckle. “I would be tempted to wage war on them if our own army was strong enough, though that isn’t likely.”

Rheanna listened to the explanation Cerise offered, nodding when it seemed apt. The woman certainly painted a pretty picture of her home land, and Rheanna smiled at the mental image of it all. When Cerise made her move though, wrapping an arm around the Amazon’s shoulder, she paused to glance at the Devil-born, eyebrow rising in curiosity. She responded quickly enough though; wrapping one of her arms around the red-skinned woman’s shoulders and pulling her close, enforcing a more intimate moment as she smiled broadly at the ceiling. “I cannot help you with that, but perhaps a restored Renalta can, no? Seems we both have much to gain from the Princess’ success.” Grinning, she passed the red-skinned woman the block of soap she’d been using, only to then follow it up with a playful kiss to the woman’s cheek. “I am done here, and the day is young.” With that, she suddenly stood up, releasing her hold on the woman’s shoulder and ignoring the almost certainty that she’d splashed the Noble. “I go to seek battle with our companions. Join me when you are done in here! It would be a pleasure to watch you battle.” She smiled at the woman, a more lascivious smirk on her face now that she was more trusting of the red-skinned woman. She stepped out of the bath and used a towel to quickly dry her hair and body. A only a minute later, she was dressed again.

Cerise’s eyes widened slightly at the Amazon’s sudden return to intimacy, even blushing an ever so slightly darker shade of red at the kiss. “I can only hope this will see my lands prosper.” Inwardly she thanked Rheanna for the soap, but began scrubbing her body without voicing her gratitude. “I shall.”

“Say,” Cerise called out before her guest was able to leave, much of her body already scrubbed, “speaking of, would I also be able to join you this evening?” Her grin approached nearly cheshire as she continued cleaning herself, albeit with much less urgency.

With a wry smile, Rheanna grabbed her axe from the corner of the room. Turning back to Cerise, the amazonian blew the devil-born a kiss. “I will leave my door unlocked.” With that, Rheanna pushed open the door and left Cerise to her devices, heading back to the main hall.
 
Beauty and the Beast
A collab with @LimeyPanda

Kerat was getting antsy. Being cooped up underground in such cramped quarters was making him uncomfortable and, lacking any suitable carving materials, his hands itched for something to do, so he was taking advantage of the training dummies in the training hall. Swinging Pestle into the wooden target with a resounding crack, he took a short breather. His attention was soon drawn by the sounds of another training. Leaning against Pestle, he idly watched the Amazon. Soon, though his passive observation became active, watching her every move, studying her fighting style and thoroughly enjoying the view. He made no attempt to hide his leering.

After her meeting with Cerise, Rheanna had made her way to the training hall again. Truth be told, she was glad to have made first contact with someone interesting; despite her questionable motives and her homeland’s slights against her’s. Once she got to the training hall, she singled herself out a wooden training dummy, and made her way over to it. Despite the hefty axe in her hand as she entered, she was soon discarding her weapon of choice in favour of her fists. She stood opposite the dummy, and started to gently jab at the item, getting her body used to gentle strain as she worked towards her next strength goal. She might have the title of fierce, but she wanted more. She wanted the strength that her people lorded. Rumours existed of Amazonians that could punch through steel plate, and she would make those rumours into reality.

As she quickened her pace and the intensity of her brief boxing spar, she felt the chill of eyes upon her. The monstrous Orc in the background. The hideous man-beast seemed to be staring at her as she fought, leering at her like some common whore. At first, she tried to ignore it, and focused on her practice, but after a minute or so her anger reached a boiling point, as she punched clean through the wooden dummy’s head. Swearing in her native tongue, she ripped her hand from the broken dummy, clenching her fist in more annoyance than actual pain. Cracks formed on her already red knuckles, but she didn’t care. The blood did not flow, as she scowled at Kerat. “What are you looking at, Vroma?”

Kerat whistled in amazement at Rheanna’s show of strength, punching through the dummy’s head. He probably could too, but not without much swearing and definitely more pain than the Amazon was showing. “A damn impressive sight,” he replied. From what he’d seen, much of the tales he had heard about the Amazons were turning out not to be exaggerations.

“Let your eyes wander elsewhere, Orc. I am here to train, not to be watched by a carved up stick-swinger.” She turned away from Kerat, working towards punching at the beaten dummy again. She ignored the sharp pangs of pain from her cracked knuckles, trying to zone out the Orc. She was pleased enough to be complimented, but she didn’t have time to waste on his gawking. Unless he made himself useful or interesting, her focus was going to be taken.

Kerat guffawed at her insult, “‘Carved up stick-swinger?’ It sounds as if you’re trying to hurt my feelings.” He knew he was playing a dangerous game by needlessly poking at her, but he didn’t care. He felt compelled to know more about her, and if she wouldn’t open up, he’d push her until she did.

Rheanna did not respond, instead focusing on her jabs. Her pace quickened for a short time, as small dents started to form in the wood where her punches and jabs became more repetitive and frequent. The thunk of fist against wood was not enough to drown out the orc, but it helped. “I was asked not to break anyone helping the Vasílissa. I warned them my patience only stretched so far.”

“And you think you could break me?” Kerat sneered. “You’re strong, I’ll give you that, especially for a woman, but a full blooded orc?” He sniffed dismissively, “I somehow doubt that.”

“For a woman? Hmm, I doubt a mongrel like you has ever met a real woman.” She spat out the words as she made another jab at the dummy; this time fully smashing off the broken top-half of the dummy head. Grabbing it from mid air, she tossed it towards Kerat; letting it bounce on the ground a few inches from his feet. “If you really want to be embarrassed in front of Vasílissa Kouri, and the rest of our travelling companions, find us a referee. Until then, leave me be. I will not be held responsible for breaking you, body and spirit, boy.” With that, she turned her back to the Orc and picked up her axe, moving to walk away towards a more rigid looking target, or to find a more interesting opponent.

Kerat watched her as she walked off, grinning like an idiot. “A real woman?” he murmured to himself. He bent down and picked up the head, admiring her handiwork. “I guess I just met one.” Satisfied, he headed out of the training room, gently tossing the ruined dummy head to himself.
 
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