The Legend of Renalta (IC)

Trial and Error
Written by Script and Grothnor

Earlier in the week, shortly after departing...

Rin, as he had discovered in the hour leading up to the group's departure, hated riding. It was as though from the moment he laid eyes on her, his mount - a mare by the name of Piper - had been able tell how nervous he was, and that in turn made her nervous, which made him even more nervous. It had gradually (and repeatedly) turned into a vicious cycle that usually ended in one of the more experienced riders having to intervene to make sure he didn't fall off. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

It wasn't that he didn't like animals. On the contrary, he liked them a lot, as long as they weren't the kind that had too many teeth. But he'd never ridden before, and there was a significant difference between being fond of horses from the ground, and entrusting his neck to one from the saddle.

And so, it was hardly unexpected when, as they were riding along, one of Piper's equal-parts disobedient and confused moments of straying led him to bump her against one of his companions: Kerat.

"A-ah..." Rin went wide eyed, hurriedly pulling on the reins to direct the mare back to walking straight as best he could while inwardly praying that the orc didn't pluck him from her back and turn him inside out, or something equally dire (and unrealistic). "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean- this is the first time I've ridden ... Ah, s-sorry."

Kerat grimaced, "Grown fucking man and he doesn't know how to ride...." He grumbled audibly. "Hells, what's with all the Gods-damned fresh meat here?" The orc turned his scarred face in Rin's direction, suggesting he wanted an answer.

"I'm- I'm from the city," Rin muttered defensively. "There's n-never been much cause for me to learn, till now." The young mage withered slightly under Kerat's gaze, looking away and down at his horse. "And I may not be much use on my own, but my- my summons are m-more than capable of making up for it."

"Magic, huh? You ever kill anyone with yer magic?"

Rin frowned. "I ... once. Although arguably..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Cinder - ah, that's my fire elemental - killed one of the witch hunters that was pursuing me when I fled Liveria. I didn't even really see it happen. So I- I suppose it was technically my magic, but..."

"Liveria, huh? Hmm." Kerat looked away and nodded thoughtfully. "I guess you're not completely fresh then," he said. "Who knows, you might even be useful." He shrugged non-noncommittally.

"... I suppose stranger things have happened," Rin replied after a moment, the slightest touch of defensiveness to his tone.

Kerat scratched his beard for a moment before snorting in amusement. "Like joining a thousand year old princess to tell the Gods to fuck off?"

There was a pause, before Rin's face cracked a faint smile. "Yes, like that. It, ah, does sound absurd when you put it into those words." He chuckled nervously, turning to glance at the Princess. "So, ah, why did you? J-join her, that is."

"Why does a mercenary do anything?"

The mage raised an eyebrow. "M-money? You're- you're taking on the gods for money?" He stared at the orc with bemusement. "Well, I suppose that at least speaks of your confidence."

"Well, fighting's the one thing I know and I know it like the back of my hand." Kerat wore a pleased expression. "How long have you been doing magic?"

Rin took a few moments to consider, thinking back to the days when he'd first begun dabbling with books he hadn't been supposed to. "A little over ten years, I think," he replied, smiling faintly. "Less than that s-since I started summoning. I think it was, ah, eight years ago that I first performed a summoning ritual successfully. Before that, there were... er, mishaps. Minor mishaps. Th-thankfully relatively easily fixable mishaps." He coughed. "I, ah, put a lot of safeguards in place. Just in case."

"Yeah, I've been fighting for longer than that. Didn't have anybody teaching me either, just learned from my mistakes."

"We have that in common, then," Rin replied, smiling faintly. "Trial and error, where there was a lot of room for error. I suppose it's a good thing neither of us made too dramatic a mistake, at any point."

"Mmm..." Kerat agreed, getting lost in thought comparing the similarities between magic and fighting

Rin let his eyes linger on Kerat for a few moments more, before determining that the conversation was over and turning his focus back to not falling off of his mount.



Alleviating Doubts

"You just need to relax," Rin looked up from his intense focus on guiding his horse’s steps as someone addressed him from close by. As he did, Cináed was drawing his horse alongside him like it was the easiest thing in the world, laying a gentle and comforting hand onto Piper's flank. The reaction was immediate, as she settled into a far more comfortable walk than the unsettled, zig-zagging path she'd been taking under Rin's lead. "There you go, girl. It's alright."

"How are you doing that?" Rin stared at the blonde boy with an incredulous frown.

Cináed smiled, laughing lightly. "Ah, I suppose it's not entirely fair. Animals tend to be more at ease around me... Thanks to my heritage, I imagine."

"Right..." Rin looked down and away from the angelic teen, biting his lip. "W-well, thanks, I guess. But relaxing is- it's easier said than done. I've never done this before, you know."

"If you trust Piper, she'll trust you," Cináed said. "Horses are very empathetic creatures. They can tell if their rider doesn't feel confident, and that makes them uneasy."

"...y-yeah, right. I know. I'm just ah, not very good at that." He flashed a nervous smile. "I'll get the hang of it eventually ... probably."

"Well, how about we talk while we ride, so you aren't so focused on worrying about it?" Cináed offered. "We've not had a chance to talk all that much yet. Sound good?"

Rin hesitated, eyeing Piper warily. He wasn't sure he wanted to take his focus off of her in order to engage in conversation, but he did want to get to know his new companions, and Cináed was definitely one of the more approachable of them. Besides, if he did screw up, the other boy could do his angel-touched thing, and calm her down. After a moment, he looked up, tentatively nodding. "Ah, sure. That would be n-nice, I think."

"Great!" Cináed beamed with an almost disconcerting level of enthusiasm. "So, whereabouts are you from?"

"Liveria," Rin answered after a moment. "The city. Ah..." That didn't seem like much an answer. "I used to live and work around the Great Library."

"The Library? Oh, wow. That must have been wonderful, having so many books at your fingertips." Sighing wistfully, Cináed gazed off at the horizon. "I had to make do with whatever books we could get from the traders who passed through town. Some of them started to bring them along just for us, since not many of the other villagers were particularly well read." He chuckled at the thought. "I'm from a little village in Renalta, called Elor. Nothing so impressive as Liveria itself, but, well, I like it there."

Rin nodded with a faint smile. "It sounds nice. I- I suppose it was good, having all those books. B-but I didn't... I didn't see a lot of other people, really. It would have been nice to- to be somewhere more friendly, like a village."

Cináed turned to look at him with a sympathetic frown, that quickly morphed into a smile again. "Well, hey, you get to see a lot of other people now, right?" He gestured around at the group broadly with a sweep of one arm.

"Ah, yes, I suppose." Rin gave their companions an uncertain glance over. Some of them seemed like the sorts of people he wouldn't want to disturb. "Wh-what sort of books, did you read?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from a direction that might lead to him having to try and make idle chit-chat with a templar.

"Oh, all sorts," Cináed answered, grinning. "But my favourites were the histories, and the legends. All the stories about Renalta before it fell." His eyes wandered over to where Kouri was riding a short ways ahead of them. "So this has kind of been like meeting one of my favourite book characters in the flesh, you know?"

Rin laughed, then caught himself a moment later, cutting himself off to avoid seeming like he was mocking the other boy. "Ah, no- I mean, yes. I understand what you mean. I've read about the princess, before, as well. Probably more, er, dry and academic texts, I suppose. But to a similar effect.” A pause, as he recalled Cináed’s display of obeisance the previous day. “You ah, hold her in very high regard.”

The other youth gave a slightly sheepish smile, nodding his head. “Well, she’s the princess of my homeland, and soon to be Queen! It’s only right. She doesn’t seem to appreciate all the bowing and other formalities that I’d thought would be proper, though, so I’m trying to cut back on that.”

Smiling wryly, Rin allowed himself another small chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be travelling and fighting alongside us for a long time. It ah, might get a bit awkward after a while. Not to mention impractical.” He hesitated, then, glancing across at where the princess was riding and mulling over his next words for a few moments before he went on. “She’s ... not quite what I expected.”

Cináed raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Just … she seems a lot more…” He frowned, trying to find the right words. “Vulnerable, and fragile, than I th-thought she would. Ah… not that I think she’s a bad l-leader, I just… the histories all painted her as, w-well, I suppose they painted her as more than just … human. It’s hard t-to see her standing up to an angel, let- let alone the gods.”

Frowning, Cináed looked across the princess himself for a few moments before shaking his head and turning back to face him. “I don’t think it’s so hard to see, myself,” he said, smiling confidently. “Just look at all the people that have gravitated to her, and the respect that she commands from people like Gregory and Marcus. All of the final decisions are hers, and they respect them, even when they have years of experience. I’m sure there’s a lot we haven’t seen of her. In any case, I have faith in her, and so should you.”

“I- I do, I do,” Rin hurriedly insisted. “I just worry, is all. It’s, ah, what I’m best at, apparently. I still wonder why- why it is they brought me along.” He shook his head, glancing around at the rest of their companions. “Everyone has so much more experience than I do.”

Cináed shrugged. “They have more experience than me, too,” he pointed out with a reassuring smile. “But I’m confident we can both make a difference, all the same. We wouldn’t have been allowed to come along if they thought we would drag everyone down. Beside, you’re like a four-in-one package deal, right?” His smile broadened into a grin. “Speaking of, you should introduce me to your summons, sometime!”

Rin blinked. “You… really?” he questioned, surprised that Cináed was taking an interest.

“Yeah! I’ve always been interested in stuff from other realms. What... it’s planes, right? What planes are all your summons from?”

“Ah, they’re elementals, so they’re from their respective elemental planes. Nyu is from the shadow, Cinder is from the fire, and Lumos is from the light. Nyu and Cinder are the ones that can actually hold a conversation, n-not that Nyu does very often. Lumos is more like… I suppose a dragon-puppy would be an apt analogy.”

“Cute!” Cináed laughed delightedly. “A dragon puppy? That’s amazing!”

“Heh.” Rin smiled, shaking his head bemusedly. “Y-you’re quite easily impressed, aren’t you?” His smile abruptly faded as soon as the words left his mouth. “Ah- that- that came out wrong, I’m-”

“Nah,” Cináed interjected, shrugging. “It’s fine, you’re right. I am! There’s so much out in the world that I haven’t seen, whenever I hear about or see something new… it usually seems impressive. I want to see as much of the world as I can, someday. Maybe after all the things I see while doing that I’ll be able to take more in my stride, but till then, I reserve the right to get excited over dumb things!”

Rin gave a little relieved sigh, his smile returning. “I don’t think it’s dumb. I’m sure there’s a lot out there I don’t know anything about, too.”

“Less, though,” Cináed grinned. “You had that library, after all. You should show me around there sometime after all this! All of those books, someone will probably have to remind me to eat.”

“Mm…” Rin frowned and hesitated, thinking back to the terms on which he’d departed his home. “That might not be possible, depending. I don’t think my mother, or my city for that matter, want me back any time soon. My magic…”

Cináed’s smile faded slightly. “Oh, that’s right. I guess summoning magic probably falls under the umbrella of ‘bad’ by Liveria’s laws, right?” Rin nodded, and he went on. “Well, it’s no matter. By the time all this is over, we’ll be heroes, and we can go there with a royal writ. Let them dare try and stop you then!”

Rin laughed, and once more found a smile returning to his face. Cináed seemed to make it difficult to be downcast around him for very long, something that he could greatly appreciate. “Maybe you’re right,” he said softly. “And ah, thank you. For, well, alleviating some of my doubts.”

The younger boy beamed at him. “It’s my pleasure! We won’t get anywhere if we’re too hung up on doubts and worries to push ourselves forwards. And hey,” he reached out and gently nudged Rin, gesturing down at Piper. “We’ve been talking for a good ten minutes, and you’ve not steered wrong once.”

Rin blinked, looking down at the horse. Cináed was right. He hadn’t even noticed.

“I told you it was all about not worrying.” Cináed noted.

“Ah, so you did,” Rin laughed nervously, trying not to let himself become too self-conscious of the mount again. “Thank you for that too, I suppose.”

“In return,” Cináed began with a grin. “Tell me more about Liveria! I’ve read about it, but what was it like to actually live there, for you?”

Rin raised an eyebrow at his insatiable curiosity. “Well…”

The two continued to talk for quite some time, as every time Rin thought that the conversation was dwindling, Cináed would produce another question or push the topic further. It was almost exhausting after a while, but in a pleasant way.

If nothing else, it kept his mind from worrying.
 
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Rheanna Solo Post - Precautions before the hunt.

Prior to leaving with the scout group
Rheanna did not much like riding, and throughout the week of travel she would often make excuses for why she would walk alongside her steed as opposed to with it. Her considerable strength and stamina made it easy for her to keep up with the hard march, even off of horse back, but occasionally she found herself forced into the uncomfortable position of novice rider. She refused aid in teaching her, but was mostly grumpy throughout the week because of it.

With the uneventful nature of the week leading up to the scouting mission, Rheanna had been thrilled by the call to action made by Mikan. She could have kissed the woman right then, and hearing that she'd gotten preferential treatment just amped that immediate attraction up to a ten. With a shrill whistle, Rheanna called out to her partner in crime, and suddenly the broad wingspan of Zephyr descended, landing on the outstretched arm of the woman and positing an imposing form. "Paratiríste aftá ta prósopa (Observe these faces)" She looked deep into the birds eyes before nodding towards Kouri, and towards the others who were to be left behind. "Vreíte tous an boró na sfyríxei dýo forés. (Find them if I whistle twice.)" The bird acknowledges the woman by leaning its head in towards hers. There is a tender moment where the pair touch foreheads, before Rheanna throws her arm into the air. The Over-large eagle launched itself into the air, with the Amazon turning to the group. "If she flies towards you, that means we have found trouble. It was a common tactic on the hunt." Turning back towards Mikan and the rest of the scout group, Rheanna clapped her hands. "Let's go! I have been kept on the leash for too long." She beamed with excitement as she moved towards Mikan, ready for the small Rheinfelder to lead the way.​
 
It was nice to have gotten her way, but now it was upsettingly real. They were leaving into the unknown and wouldn't be sheltered by the wonderful burrow the King's Rangers had formed for them. Kasienka was slow to pick her things up and pack it back into her small satchel. She didn't own much and it didn't take long even though she took her time, but it still didn't last long enough for her.

Ultimately she spent the last few minutes in the room she had called her own sliding on thicker, dark brown leggings that would hold up to days in the saddle and a long dark grey tunic that would keep her safe from the sun from the neck down. The collar pooled nicely around the front of her neck and could be used to pull over her face during a rainstorm. Both items had clearly seen more wear than they were meant for. The inner thighs of the leggings had been patched with four different fabrics so far and it looked as if one of the fabrics was about to be patched over at that. The clothing was comfortable and it was hers. She didn't need anything else.

The elf wandered down to the library and asked permission to keep the small book on Renalta's history. She hugged the man and gave him a kiss on the cheek before heading to the stables. Given how terrible Typhon was, one of the few memories she retained from her millennium of life, he would be dead within a week or two. He would find this safe haven.

She walked up to the plain, grey mare that had been assigned to her when she first arrived at the stronghold. Kasienka had spent some time grooming Dirge and getting used to her. When she did swing up onto the horse she moved it closer to Hanus and his unique mount. She reached out in an attempt to push some stray hairs back into place as he glanced around the room.

"Esque ad relinquo? (Are you ready to leave?)" It was barely a whisper, her own reluctance pulling her eyebrows down and her smile only a mockery of the joy it was supposed to express.

As Kasienka grew closer to Hanus, his lizard mount looks over to Dirge, and he slowly opens his mouth... Only to be slapped upside the head by Hanus. He speaks with a deep, authoritative voice, in his native tongue. "Krasnyy! Net. Plokho. (Red! No. Bad.)" Krasnyy shakes his head, and then licks his eyes with his tongue. Hanus sighs, then glances over at Kasienka. He was wearing black clothing, of a fine make. His shirt showed hints of red patterns on it, underneath the thick brown cloak he had thrown on to protect his skin and face from the sun. His white hair was kept out of his eyes, and behind his ears, though hints of it flowed freely out from the hood of his robes. His eyes, silver once more, look over to Kasienka. "Paratus sum. (I'm ready.)" He whispers this back in the noble tongue, then smiles a little. He notices her distress, and he lets go of the reigns of Krasnyy to swing himself to face her while remaining on his saddle. "You worry, Krasivyy. Why

Kasienka giggled watching Krasnyy. She knew the lizard had misbehaved, but she couldn't help but find the creature endearing. She reached down to stroke the creature's head as best she could, murmuring soft reassurances in her own native language before meeting Hanus's eyes again.

"[Noble tongue] I worry for the younger members of our party. The more frail. I had meant to watch them practice, but ran out of time. We were safe here, but I know that safety is quickly running out. It will run out in a spectacular fashion, I am sure of it. I do not know why I am so sure, but... something tells me that Typhon will give me another permanent memory within a fortnight." She tried to keep her voice soft so it would not be overheard, though she doubted many knew this language anymore.

She had suspicions of James knowing it, he had spent enough time in courts to pick it up, but otherwise she hoped it was only Kouri and Catrin who were well out of earshot. James never seemed to be out of earshot no matter where he was.

"I worry, beau, because I wish for this adventure to be as smooth as my own, but I know it will not be. I worry because I am who I am."

"It is why you have won my affections so easily." Hanus replies with a gentle tone, as he leans forward so he is only a couple feet away from Kasienka. "[Noble] I have no doubt that at least half of the people you see here will be dead, or will have abandoned the Princess's side, before we reach the Free Holds. It is the way this world is, and I would gladly be among the dead if it would change it for you."

Kasienka scowled then reached forward then gently tapped the tip of Hanus's nose with a fingertip. "[Noble tongue]You cannot try to woo me and then speak of your death in the same moment. You ruin the wooing and make me think I should already be preparing [progenitor color of mourning] clothing within the fortnight. I would rather try to change the world by your side instead of in your memory." She huffed softly then let her face soften and a small smile curl at the corners of her lips.

"But hopefully mine own talents will keep our group intact by more than half. I should think you see more of my skills than a fifty percent loss."

It is not your skills I doubt, my love, but whether there will be anything left behind for those skills to work upon," Hanus's eyes wander across the room, over some of the more magic-resistant members of the group, "[Noble] or, whether they even can." He slips off of Krasnyy, and grasps one of Kasienka's hands in his own, gloved hands. They are cold to the touch, though strong and gentle. "You worry over their health, I will worry over getting them to the other side. We will see if your optimism will defeat my pessimism."

With her free hand Kaisenka patted the small sachet tied to her belt. It contained a small collection of herbs that could be used to reduce fever, pain, and swelling. Even if her patient wasn't prepared to accept her magical healing she would find a way to ease their discomfort. She smiled at Hanus's mostly-hidden face then slid her fingers in his hand along his palm and up his wrist until she found bare skin to give a small caress.

"I think that is a marvelous compromise. Of course, I will never let myself or you forget this moment if I happen to be right." She gave a quick wink then slowly moved her hand back to Dirge's reins and squared her shoulders. "I think I feel far more ready to set out now."
---
Well dammit. She was going to be stuck in the countryside. Devoid of comforts. Populated with muck-filled peasants that would expect handouts as soon as they saw her appearance. Even her riding clothes were more ornate than the usual set. Compared to the barefoot elf Catrin looked positively regal. Catrin sniffed on her own dark stallion, gently nudging it forward to be closer to the Princess. She couldn't get quite as close as she would like as she didn't wish to get on the bad side of those who would be better at protecting the young queen.

While she was busy considering how to get closer to the monarch her horse was jostled by another. She snapped her gaze to lock onto the idiot who couldn't control their mount and felt a pang of sympathy for the poor girl struggling with the horse. "Mikan, hold on. Let me help." She sighed afterwards, as if it was a hardship. Catrin adjusted herself on her horse to try and take the reins from Mikan. "If you are panicked you will panic your horse. Take a few deep breaths, you will not go anywhere while I hold onto you."

"No! I got this!" Mikan pulls the reigns away from Catrin, only for the horse to interpret that as to mean to turn, thus causing her slip a little. The horse then rises up onto its back legs, sending her falling off of the saddle and onto the floor of the stable with a loud thud. She groans, and rubs the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Okay, maybe I do not. Dummes Pferd. (Stupid Horse)." She rolls herself up onto her feet, and looks up at Catrin. "Okay, fine, what do you suggest? What do you mean that it knows I am panicking? How does it know that? It can't speak Rheinfelder... Can it?"

Catrin winced as Mikan crashed into the dusty floor, worried that she should dismount and assist the young woman. She seemed to get up easily enough, even though she fell fairly hard, and it gave Catrin a reason to release the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Horses aren't quite so stupid as other animals. Surely they cannot talk like we are, but they are very emotional. They know if you are tense and anxious or if you are loose and relaxed. They're not unlike other humans who can read emotions. These animals were raised to serve humans and so they have a certain level of understanding with us.

Perhaps this horse even knows Rheinfelder, I do not know. I know my own mount understands not only Common, but two other tongues which I was raised with. He cannot follow conversations, but he knows when I tell him to stop in any of the three. Ultimately we talk through these." Catrin raised the reins a little then smiled down at Mikan. "They are your connection to the horse. It goes to a bar in his mouth, so if you jerk it you will turn his head. It is rather a... an unkind way to get them to turn when we are only slowly going, but in an emergency it can save your life.

Ultimately, Mikan, dear, I would use your uncanny observation skills to watch how some of us ride. Look back at the elves who have been riding for generations, or at the Princess who was raised to be regal on an animal. Marcus knows how to efficiently ride, how to save an animal's energy so that he can travel as far as he needs to go without ruining the creature." Catrin took a deep breath, not realizing just how much she had been lecturing Mikan. "And if you managed to follow all of that, I think you will be fine. If you treat your horse like a sentient creature I have no doubt you will end up on the ground far less often."

"[Rheinfelder] Really? I guess..." She slowly brushes herself off, and pulls herself up onto her horse once more. The horse seems momentarily anxious as Mikan takes an unsteady breath. "[Rheinfelder] I do not like being off my feet. It is... Unsettling."
Catrin's Rheinfelder was rusty at best. She thought she caught the basics of Mikan's words, but... "I believe you will soon be grateful to have your feet in the air instead of on the ground." She moved closer and tried to soothe Mikan's mount with a few shushes and clicks of her tongue

Mikan giggles and smiles appreciatively at Catrin's help in keeping her horse calm. "[Rheinfelder] There is no friction in the air, and arrows catch birds in flight. I would much rather be a rat, unnoticed, and darting between places that monsters cannot reach." She pats her horse on the neck, and nods--this time, a little more certain, though still uncomfortable. "Thanks, beautiful. If you ever want me to repay your riding lessons with some of my own, let me know." She winks, completely shameless in her playful tone and lack of care for its lack of subtly.

Catrin rolled her eyes at the obvious invitation then giggled and adjusted her riding hat. It was a hunter's green, perfect for the journey, she thought. She smoothed the vanes of the hawk feather stuck in its side then smiled at Mikan. "While we may not be meant for the sky, we can hope. We can let our hopes soar and perhaps we will rise alongside them. Have hope... but keep in mind that the hope of me entering your bedchambers with a mission in mind ought to be sorrowfully low." She gently nudged her horse's flank with a spur and moved forward to let her face get used to the warmth of the sun. She had a long day ahead of her.
 
Pre-Journey.

And so it was. The Country-side had been picked. Perhaps it was out of fear that they decided to do it, Ludvig knew that the only thing that he had agreed upon that made him tremble with terror were the god forsaken angels. The rest, he scoffed off as the living themselves being scared. Could he even call himself alive? He himself had seen death, it had taken him away, but then must've dropped his soul out of it's carriage a few hundred years later, causing him to return into this plane of existance. Had he ever truely come over the fact he had died? Or had he simply pushed the mere thought of his failure at life out of his own skull, in place of another failure that he atleast could fix now. Kouri, and making sure she ascended the throne to where her mom and dad once were. Whatever would come upon their journey, Ludvig would at the very leastfix this one mistake that he knew he could. The rest of the mistakes, he simply had to try and forget through the means that only he himself knew.

Ludvig pulled away from the people that had assembled, through the simplest means he knew would he prepare himself, by not preparing any equipment aside from a few stale bread loafs, his sword, tied the chain kept in his most hidden core, and his sword. The only true things that Ludvig would need. A simple change of leather strips around the handle of the buckler, sharpening the edges of it just enough, a quick sharpening on the edge of his blade, and simple prayers that the chain would hold it's own strength. Only praying directly to something would be the best way to fix anything religious. No gods, no angels, no demons. Only direct hope and skill, with a smidget of outright luck to ensure everything would run. That's what he'd need for the journey. Perhaps one for the road wouldn't be too awful either.

But, none the less, it was now time to test his merits. The following weeks, months, years, would without a doubt test himself, but he would face it.

A week into the Journey.

It had been a week. Precisely, a week. Ludvig had been able to ride on a horse that accepted his presensce, whilst listening in on the rest's conversations. He got a few names stuck in his skull, but their faces. That's what mattered to him. Their round, flesh filled faces, was what he would remember out of them. And perhaps their first name. Only those whom he himself had a personal connection to, such as Kouri, would be remembered by more than just their face and first name. However, a problem had arisen. A troublesome one. Ludvig knew it couldn't end well, not one bit. The youth would run in to try and 'save' the Scouts, since they were obviously having difficulties. Anyone with an actual brain could've thought of the possibility of something going wrong, and realized when to pull off and keep going, without them.

"We're wasting time waiting for those fools. We should keep going. They knew the risks, they got caught out, and they shouldn't expect us to come in riding. Anyone, even with a horse's head, could figure that out." Ludvig said aloud, not necessarily to anyone one being, or to anyone in general, but more as a loud thought. He had hopped off his horse and maintained some distance between him and the majority of the group, yet kept himself as close to Kouri as possible. Her safety mattered the most. She couldn't afford to die for some filthy god-worshipper and her followers. He hoped Kouri would know he spoke of the truth.
 
Mikan & Tahlia
Soothsayer
A collab between @Nilum and @Holmishire.

Mikan would hear a pair of footsteps rapidly pattering towards her, leading up to Tahlia's appearance at the stables entrance.

"Mikan," She lifted a finger—'wait'—apologetically while she caught her breath, before continuing. "I know it isn't any of my business, but you looked upset back there, and... I guess I'm just here to check up on you." In what might be an attempt at making a good impression, Tahlia smiled—but it was stuck halfway between comforting and worried.

Mikan was on her knees, her head bowed, as she held a small symbol of The Father in her hands. She glances back over her shoulder and lowers her hands, maintaining a friendly if somewhat surprised demeanor. "I am fine, I just do not like the path chosen. That is all." There was more to it than that, but she wasn't saying it as her eyes quietly fall toward the floor in front of her.

"Somehow I doubt that." Tahlia approached Mikan slowly and kneeled beside her. She glanced down at the figure of the Father in her hands—a symbol of loyalty, among other things. "You seemed… eager, to return to the city. Was there someone you were hoping to see, or perhaps someone you hoped we might be able to help?"

"No." Mikan replied quickly. She buries the symbol of the Father between her thighs, and sighs, continuing hesitantly. "No, that is not it, at all. I just know how to hide there. There are... People who are looking for me, for various reasons. If we went to the capital, I could rely on old friends. Instead, I have to rely on total strangers. Strangers like you." Her tone changes to one of curiosity, and slight distrust. "[Rheinfelder] You are one of my countrymen, are you not? Why are you here?"

Tahlia was quick to respond in their shared native tongue. "I am here to seek forgiveness, because there was none to be found back home." Tahlia sat up and looked Mikan intently in the eyes. "I was once called a priestess of the Mother—also healer, daughter, friend." She broke eye contact and now looked only to her knees. "Now I am known only by the title of witch."

Mikan pauses, and looks to the floor. "[Rheinfelder] ... I know that not all mages are evil, but why practice magic in Rheinfeld? You could have been many other things than a witch... You chose this. You were a priestess, and you chose this. I chose nothing, Tahlia, so don't pretend to understand me, or the way that I think. I am nobody's friend. I don't have any friends."

"No, I don't understand you, and I won't pretend to—but I want to." Tahlia clasped her hands on her knees, her robe crumpling up beneath them. Raising her gaze from her knees, she looked into the distance with eyes unfocused. "You can't choose your life, but you can choose your friends."

Tahlia pushed herself up from her knees and made to leave. "Though you may learn that trust goes a long way in that regard." She smiled. "My apologies for disturbing you; I'll leave you to your prayer."

"[Rheinfelder] We'll see about trust, won't we?" Mikan replies, softly. "[Rheinfelder] By the way, for a witch, you're pretty cute." A giggle leaves her lips as she pulls the symbol of The Father back out, and closes her eyes to pray to it once more.
 
Cerise - Much Needed Rest

Where many of her companions had difficulty riding, the demon-touched could ride her horse with ease. Where the princess before wore opulent jewelry and nearly lascivious finery, she was nearly unrecognizable in a long black cloak and scarf pulled over all but her eyes. The only even remotely valuable thing she bore was the pike, and without its standard it was only slightly eye-catching. Even more uncharacteristic was how little the normally chatty woman spoke, often remaining completely silent for hours on end. The spirit of travel was no stranger, nevermind that the infernal had more than enough company within her own head. Much of their drivel was worthless, though occasional bits were at the very least interesting, if not slightly useful. At least a few thorny branches and agitated snakes were avoided thanks to one of them warning her, so she owed it to them to at least listen.

Once camp was set up, Cerise almost immediately unpacked her things and organized them into a neat little pile to remove the horse's burden. She even had a patch of canvas to roll out so she could lay on the ground without actually touching the dirt. That was where she spent much of her time, unless strictly necessary to do something else, that or maintaining her weapons.
 
Angels and Demons
Written by Script and glmstr, set earlier in the week during travel
It was on the second day of travel that Cináed found himself riding alongside the black-cloaked and imposing figure of Cerise for a time, as the morning wore on into afternoon and the group had settled into a comfortable riding pace. The young angel-touched cast a glance over in the stoic demon-touched's direction, curiosity plain upon his face. Of all the others in the group, he knew the least of this woman - for even if he had not spoken to many of them at length, they had all at the very least introduced themselves to the Princess.

Deciding that, if nothing else, he ought learn the woman's name in the interests of communication in battle, Cináed turned his head to face her more fully. "Hello!" he offered cheerfully, with a bright and sunny smile to accompany the greeting. "I don't think we've had a chance to speak before now. I'm Cináed, and I don't think I've caught your name?"

Cináed's infernal counterpart had noticed the airy boy's approach long before she could see him. As he was about to open his mouth and begin his greeting, her head swiveled to look at him, orange eyes like daggers. Her expression softened upon his politeness, but it was still far from neutral. "We have not spoken, child of the sky," an esoteric but derogatory term for those like Cináed, one he may have heard at least once before in his life. "I am Cerise, of the house Blackstone, ruling house of Ebonhold."

She shifted the pike around in her grasp, now looped in her other arm with the tip pointing away from the boy.

Sheltered in an isolated and sleepy village in Renalta as he had been for his whole life, the exact meaning of Cerise's slur escaped Cináed's understanding - but the intent behinds its intonation did not. The boy's smile faltered but for a moment with surprise at the apparent hostility, but although taken aback, he was not deterred. "Oh, I had thought you were a noble of some kind by your dress and composure around the stronghold," he said, inclining his head in respect. "You must forgive me, for I've not heard of your homeland before now, but, well, there are a lot of places in the world I haven't heard of. I'm from a little village in Renalta, called Elor. It's not often we hear much of the world beyond the next town."

His smile was briefly apologetic, but he continued all the same. "I take it from the name, though, that it's one of the Free Holds?

"Don't worry, I understand your ignorance," the princess held up an outstretched palm to Cináed, "some of my more far-flung subjects would have difficulty telling you the name of their own king. Geographical knowledge doesn't help them till the fields," she shrugged noncommittally. "You're right though, it is a Free Hold. One of the few that looks down on slavery, in fact." While Ebonhold had its fair share of slaves, they were almost entirely prisoners of war or convicted criminals. Many served in the vast mines of the northern territories, or in the penal legion, tasked with patrolling the countryside and dispatching small threats to earn their freedom.

"You said you're a Renaltan? How is life there?" She had only met a few nobles from what was once the jewel of the world, and quite a few of the ones she knew had disappeared into knighthood for Rheinfeld, the Free Holds, or whatever micro-state existed in Renalta now.

"Quiet," Cináed answered with a chuckle. "There's occasional trouble from bandits and raiders, but Elor normally flies under the notice of even them. I'm sure it would be intolerably boring for most of the people here. Even I grew weary of how limited my horizons were to be if I stayed there. I had bold, and probably foolish plans to forge out on my own even before I caught word of the princess' return, but then... well, here I am."

He smiled off in Kouri's direction. "I think that this is a more worthwhile endeavour than anything I might have achieved on my own, so I suppose it's a good thing in the end that it took me so long to decide to leave!"

"That's true," her lips curled to a smile, though the scarf over her nose and mouth prevented anyone from seeing it, aside from the slight softening of her eyes. She expected him to be more intolerable than this, but that wasn't the case. At least, not yet. "It's a noble goal, you know. More common folk should aspire to better themselves the way you do. Just imagine how much better the world could be," a hint of admiration seeped out, though Cerise realized what she was saying and quickly policed her tone.

"The Rangers simply arrived at our castle, and I went with them. My elder brother is going to get the throne, I am going on this little adventure, and when I get back I shall take the throne from him," the demon-touched's words were sharp as she finished her statement, "and for his sake, I only hope he is willing to cooperate."

Cináed blinked, mildly surprised at the intensity of Cerise's statement - but he was getting the impression that 'intense' was a good word to describe her in general. "More fool him if he doesn't," he remarked with a grin. "I'm getting the idea that I at the very least wouldn't want to be the person standing in your way. Are you and your brother not close, then?"

"Oh please, I'm not cruel," Cerise chuckled and looked back to Cináed, "I just know what I want."

"My brother? He's fine enough, just not very, er, dutiful," Such was an understatement. He rarely took himself away from whores and drinking long enough to pay attention in court, and showed up late when he actually did arrive. "I see myself as a much better candidate for the throne, and we weren't raised very closely, that is all. I see him more as a cousin than a brother." That being said, the demonic princess was curious just how many other courtiers would support her claim. Directly challenging him, while the most honorable way, would be risky.

Perhaps this trip would give her insight on what to do next.

"My da always said that it's a fool who stands between a driven woman and what she wants," Cináed said. "More so the case when she's carrying a greatsword that's almost as tall as you are."

There was a pause, before he smirked, and shrugged. "Okay, I added that last part myself, but it seemed fitting all the same. Humour aside, I can understand the sentiment... to an extent, at least. I wasn't all that close with my brothers on the farm. My mother raised me to learn healing and medicine from her, instead of helping them with their work, and they never really saw that as fair..." He paused, laughing and shaking his head. "I suppose the two situations aren't really all that comparable, in hindsight."

"Your father was right," Cerise smirked behind the scarf and chuckled again. "It's similar enough, come to think of it. At least, more similar than most of the other people here." She left it at that. There was no point in flattering the boy unnecessarily.

"I'm curious if we'll visit my home along the way."

"Do you think they would welcome us? Or more specifically, the Princess?" Cináed asked. "I'm not all that familiar with how the Free Holds view old Renalta. I suppose either way, our passing could bring danger to your home, if the gods' agents were to track us there."

"You folk? Maybe. If I'm with you? We'd be treated like, well, royalty. Have you ever seen inside of a castle?" The princess raised an eyebrow. He was likely to say no, but one never knew where someone else had been. "As for the agents, they may try to come to my home, if they dared. Uninvited Templars are already arrested and often hung if caught in our lands."

Cináed raised an eyebrow at the mention of hanging, but made no remark. It was hard to muster too much sympathy for an order that murdered magic-users on sight, even those that had done no wrong - although turning that brutality back on them wouldn't have been his first choice for an answer. "That's good to know, for if we do end up going that way," he answered instead, smiling. "I'd like to experience the royal treatment at least once in my life," he added with a laugh. "Although I expect that my standards for what would count are somewhat lower than some's."

He paused, glancing up at the sky thoughtfully. "I worry that the gods agents might be a fair bit more formidable than templars, though. I've only heard stories of what the angels can do, but... I fear that many of them must be true, given Renalta's fate."

"Then they will learn to fear us," Cerise crossed her arms with a smug grin painted across her face.

"Hah!" Cináed couldn't help but grin in response, nodding. "You're right - we're on our way to kill the gods, what do we care for some paltry angels?" he joked, laughing to himself as they continued to ride on.

Despite her initial hostility, Cináed was glad to have taken the time to speak with the Lady Cerise in the end. If nothing else, her confidence was inspiring, to say the least.


 
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Legacy and Reward
Written by Script and Limeypanda, set on one of the previous nights of travel
It was late in the day during the week of travel following the party's departure from the King's Ranger stronghold, and most of the party had spread out amongst the camp either alone or in clusters as the evening wound down into the approaching night. Cináed had spent most of the evening since they had stopped penning some extra notes into his journal and chatting with a few of the group who he had already become acquainted with, but as the sounds of sparring and louder conversation started to die down, he glanced up to spy Jaquaar off to the side with a book.

Deciding that now was as good a time as any to take the opportunity to speak with the (apparently illustrious and well-storied) sailor, the angel-touched boy stowed his journal in a pocket and rose from his seat, making his way over to where Jaquaar was perched.

"Apologies for interrupting your reading," he said, offering an apologetic but warm smile of greeting. "But do you mind if I join you? I don't think we've had a chance to speak at length," the smile widened slightly into a brief grin. "And it wouldn't do for me to go too long without properly introducing myself to the 'child of the Blood Sea, scourge of slavers' and... 'swordsman extraordinaire', was it?" He laughed - not a laugh of mockery or skepticism, but seemingly one of genuine appreciation for the lofty and unlikely list of titles.

Jaquaar was leafing through one of his many old tomes when he heard Cináed approach, and thought little of it until the Renaltan lad spoke up. He glanced up from his page about an old mythical weapon of some description and smiled at the warmth of the Angel-born. "Oh, someone actually listened to that? Glad that all the bluster wasn't just for me." With a resounding 'thunk' he shut the tome and rose to his feet, dusting himself off with one hand before reaching it out to offer Cináed a handshake. "As I recall it was 'Child of the Blood sea, scourge to slavers, master of magics most bizarre, and Swordsman extraordinaire.' You caught most of it." His smile was broad as he looked at the boy, enjoying the moment to relax and talk. "Well, consider yourself introduced, Cináed Therin." With his flourish done, he sat back down on the grass, and nodded at a spot next to himself. "So what can this oh-so-humble soul help you with?"

Cináed chuckled again, taking Jaquaar's hand and shaking it. "How could I forget the magics most bizarre?" he joked, tutting as though chiding himself. He happily took the offered spot, settling down cross-legged at the other man's side. "I should admit that there's nothing specific I seek help with, so much as I'd like to get to know someone who I'm to be travelling with for some time a little better," he replied, smiling slightly bashfully. "If it's no trouble, that is." He paused, nodding towards Jaquaar's tome. "I hope I didn't interrupt at a poor time?"

Jaquaar shakes his head, putting the book away in his bag. "No, no. I've probably read the thing a dozen times already. It's just a personal interest of mine. Helps me keep my head busy, especially when I'm trying to repress my magic. Truth be told, I'm not very good at it." He laughed a little as he leaned backwards, lying on the ground as he looked up at the evening skyline. "There's an awful lot of things I'll have to get better at, before I'm getting any tomes written about me. We have master swordsman and scary monsters for the hitting. We have magical savants of several different shades. It's almost daunting really, being a lesser than most people at something or other." He felt his smile lessen for a moment, before he shrugged his shoulders. "But blast if I'll be focusing on that! You wanted to get to know me, did you not? Ask your questions. I shall try to be an open book."

Cináed offered Jaquaar a comforting smile. "It's the first time I've ever had to hold my magic in like this," he admitted. "And at least you're still a swordsman extraordinaire without yours. Without magic the best I have to offer the group is knowledge of medicine, and Lady Kasienka far outstrips me both on that front, and probably when it comes to healing with magic, too, for that matter. So we can be outshone together, if that offers you any comfort?"

He laughed, and shook his head. "But we're young, right? We can't fairly compare ourselves to people with decades - or centuries, for that matter - more experience, except as something to strive for. And besides, I wouldn't worry to much," he grinned, and pulled his journal out from his pocket to wave it triumphantly. "After all this, there'll be plenty of tomes with both of our names in - I might even write one myself!"

"Bah, anyone can learn to swing a sword around if they're willing to put practice in. I'm only anything above average with my magic, and that is currently under lock and key. Hell, I'd probably be able to show you the basics, or Marcus; if you're willing to put the time in." He shrugged away the Angel-touched boy's trepidation and kept his cock-sure smile as he carried on speaking, almost seamlessly. "For a quest like this, age isn't an excuse. I don't want to settle for being the side-character in another person's story, and I sure as hell don't want to be using age or experience as an excuse. Do you think any of the people here have experience fighting Gods, or Angels?"

"As for the tomes, I consent as long as I get to be one of the main characters...and only if I survive. I'd rather not have a legacy of getting my head caved in by a constipated Templar." He laughed, nudging the younger man's arm. "So, is that the end goal Cináed? To be the subject matter of tomes and tales? Perhaps trying to impress a special someone?" His smile remained broad as he probed the young one for information.

Cináed nodded thoughtfully as Jaquaar made his points regarding experience. He was right, of course. Excuses like that were meaningless when it came to their quest. They would succeed or fail, and if they failed, then nobody would care for any excuse as to why they had been lacking. He couldn't help but feel a little foolish for the comment, now, but he didn't let it bother him, instead continuing to listen as the other man went on.

He laughed at Jaquaar's remark on a constipated templar, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it, before blinking in surprise at his final question. "Me? No..." he gave a bashful smile, looking down at his journal. "I don't have anyone like that, I don't think. I've just always... I've spent so much of my life reading stories of the great moments in history," Cináed leaned back, propping himself up on his hands and looking up at the night sky. "Now I have a chance to be a part of one, and make a difference to something that matters. My end goal is the Princess' goal. I want to see Renalta returned to the way it was in the histories. If I get to be part of a few stories of my own as a result? That's just a bonus."

He paused, running a hand through his hair and blushing slightly. "It sounds hopelessly romanticised, when I say it out loud."

"Let's be honest, friend. Most of the people here are romantics or dreamers in one form or another. You want something noble, and if we pull this off you'll be deserving of that bonus and more." He shrugged again, ignoring the man's blush as he kept staring up at the ever-darkening sky. "Still, you're a handsome lad. I'm sure you'll find a special someone to shower affections on some day soon. Heroes are in high demand, after all. Women and men alike will flock to a handsome lad like you, once the world is saved."

Cináed's blush only deepened at that remark, and he laughed, grinning nervously down at his lap. "Oh, y-you think so? Well, that's something else to look forward to, I guess." He paused, tentatively glancing across at Jaquaar. "I ah, suppose it's something you must be used to, right?"

Jaquaar shrugged off the comment, trying his best to hide the slight involuntary smirk. "Not as much as many people expect when I am painted with the brush of pirate and Free Holder. I've certainly had opportunities, and I cherish the memories, but never anything real if that makes sense. Dalliances and the like, nothing more."

Nodding, Cináed looked away again, letting out a small chuckle. "There's little opportunity for either in a village the size of the one I'm from. You know next to everyone, and if you don't like your options, well, you can either settle, leave, or resign yourself to loneliness." He paused, smiling faintly. "It's not that there weren't, ah, some offers, I suppose." There were some benefits to angelic heritage, after all. "But none that, well, none that I felt anything for."

"Still plenty of time, lad. Just focus on staying alive, and something will come along." He smiled, before taking a moment to quickly lean up and look around the camp. "Anyhow, the evening is still young. I plan to seek out Marcus for a bit more getting-beaten-up. Do you have anything else you wish to know of me?"

"I was rather hoping you might regale me with some tales of your adventures," Cináed answered with a grin. "But maybe tomorrow? I won't keep you from your training. I might even join you; I've been trying to get better with a sword too. The only training I've had before now was from my da, who swapped his sword for a plough a good three decades ago." He pulled a face, rubbing at a bruise on his arm from one of the previous day's sparring sessions. "Marcus is a little harder to keep up with..."

"Marcus might be a little harder to keep up with, but you'll be thankful when you're facing down a bigger, nastier foe than your da' prepped you for." He smiled, lifting himself onto his feet at last. "Tomorrow then, I can tell you stories, and you can provide drinks or something." Walking towards Marcus, practice sword hefted onto his shoulder, he lifted a hand in departure. "Until next time."

"Sure thing!" Cináed waved after Jaquaar, content to sit for a while longer before he made to join the sparring. Wait. Drinks? Where was he going to get drinks from? Were people carrying drinks?

The young angel-touched's smile faded into a slightly confused frown, as he mused on whether any of their travelling companions were likely to be carrying drinks that they wouldn't mind him having.

Somehow, he doubted it.

 
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Dagra and Quirin - Lost In Fiction
(Feat @Script as Quirin)
(A few days before, during the journey)


As the company settled into another night of rest, and tents rose around her, Dagra found herself drawn towards a small, frail figure. She had spent much of the past few days in silence, old habits causing her to keep her distance from others. In Quirin she saw someone else who felt out of place. Someone else who treated themself as an outcast even among outcasts.

She cleared her throat when she was still several feet away, hoping to avoid startling her. With her armour off and stowed away, she wasn't as bulky and inscrutable as she would be otherwise, but at nearly seven feet, she was still an intimidating figure. "How is the journey treating you?" she asked. "I mean no insult, but you strike me as inexperienced in this kind of travel."

Rin was sat a short distance from the main cluster of the group, with Lumos perched on his shoulder. The luminescent white dragonling was glowing with the light of a small lamp, casting it down upon the pages of a book propped in the young mage's lap to provide the light necessary for him to read. He looked up sharply from the pages when Dagra cleared her throat, jolted from his focus. It took him a moment to fix his attention onto her, uncertainty plain in his eyes as he took in the looming half-orc before him. Lumos followed suit, peering up at Dagra with a curious chirrup.

"A-ah, you aren't wrong," he replied, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm more used to spending my days in a library than on the road. But I- I'm managing. It's been better since I got used to riding. The first few days were... d-difficult." Grimacing at the memory, Rin shook his head. He was sure he'd received more than his fair share of disapproving looks while he was still getting the hang of controlling Piper. He couldn't blame them.

"Horses can be fickle creatures," Dagra agreed, sitting down across from Quirin. "I earned myself a great wealth of bruises when I was first learning." There was a few moments of silence before Dagra motioned to the book in Quirin's lap. Awkwardly caught between knowing she should make an effort to be friendly, and feeling as if she was imposing herself on someone who would rather be left to their own mind. "If you don't mind my asking, what is it that you're reading?"

Rin glanced down at the book. "It's a book on recent Rheinfelder history," he explained. "I've read it before, but I felt it might be pertinent to, ah, read up, in case I came across anything relevant. I- I'm not sure I will, honestly, especially given some of the others are actually from Rheinfeld, but..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's something, I suppose. Better the off-chance of being useful than, well, none at all."

"Is it Clarten's?" Dagra asked, curious. "I've always found his work thorough, albeit biased and often narrow-minded."

Rin's eyes snapped up from his book again in obvious surprise, although he made a pitiful attempt to disguise it a moment later when he realised how obvious it had been. "Ah... no, not Clarten's. Although ... I agree with your assessment of him. Much as I agree with a l-lot of his points, the level of vitriol he has for the templar order skews too many of his accounts. I actually have my suspicions that he was a mage himself, especially given his disappearance..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "But that's just a theory of mine, ah, this is one of Hague's later works. I don't know if you're familiar with him? A nobleman-turned-friar. His works have a lot more insight into the lives of common folk than most, although at times it reads to me as questionably anecdotal."

Dagra shook her head. "I haven't. What historical texts I've read were to prepare me for life as a noble, so those works more focused on the lives of common folk were left out of my studies." She grimaced, "though it always struck me as hollow, to prepare me for the court; I would hardly be accepted by my peers, no matter my knowledge. It's why I've always spent most of my reading focused on stories and ballads. At least they offered me dreams and ways to escape, if only for a short while."

"Ah." Rin nodded slowly, frowning with sympathy. He'd been surprised himself that the half-orc woman was learned enough to be able to engage him in discussion on the works of historians, so he could only imagine the attitudes that a noble court would have. "I've read plenty of those myself," he said, opting to change the subject rather than address the heavier topic of discrimination. "Plenty of most things, at that. I did little else but read for most of my life, to learn of places I thought I could never go, and knowledge I would never apply. And, well," he looked around, laughing humourlessly. "I guess I was wrong, although this is a far sight from what I imagined."

"Honesty permitting, I'm afraid I must agree." Dagra looked out across the camp, contemplative. "I imagined something akin to this would be... not grander, but nobler. Men and women of strong hearts and dutiful loyalty. And while there are some, many strike me as less than reputable. I worry, that such people surround the princess."

Frowning, Rin turned to look upon the others that still remained by the fireside at this hour. "I must admit to a certain level of , ah, surprise, that so many here m-might be said to be more loyal to coin than to our cause." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I fear that I myself am not ... exactly one to be described as 'strong of heart'. To describe me as strong of anything - except perhaps the retention of largely irrelevant knowledge - would be a stretch."

Upon his shoulder, Lumos chirruped again, nuzzling his face against the side of Rin's head. The summoner laughed softly, nudging the dragonling away. "Stop it, Lumos, that tickles. I'm t-trying to talk," he mumbled.

"Strong of ideals," Dagra began to list, "strong of intention. Strong of intellect." She nodded towards the elemental. "Strong of invoking. There are many kinds of strength; not all heroes need be proud knights or charming prodigies."

Giving a faint smile, Rin lightly shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you're right. I should hope, at least, that I can be more help to us than hindrance. I suppose I shall continue to trust in the judgement of those who brought me here. I know that my friends will be of use, once I am able to use my magic. Until then, I suppose I shall have to hope it becomes abruptly important that we recall the exact dates of the coronation of each Liverian monarch, or recite Aurel's 'Ode to the Iron-Bound' verbatim."
 
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Surf and Turf
a collab with @LimeyPanda
Waiting was not something Kerat did well, and since he didn't want to leave any clues for possible pursuers by whittling, he turned to conversation, and Jaquaar seemed to have that in ample supply. “So,” he approached the Free-Holder, “I think I heard 'pirate' and your name together. That true?” He asked friendily.

"I mean, probably? I try not to make it too obvious, but apparently it is a very exciting thing to have once been. Rumours will spread, I suppose." Jaquaar turned to face the Orc as he sat upon the grass, looking at the practice sword resting upon his lap. He'd had very little time to actually practice, considering the hard march they'd rode upon. Truth be told, half of his concentration was focused on the act of suppressing his magic. It was such an odd thing for him, to suddenly be robbed of a key part of himself...Like losing an arm. "But to answer the question you actually wanted to ask, yes. I am a pirate, or I was one. Jaquaar Iqbal-Moineau, son of Emri Iqbal. You are...?" He only mentioned his father because he briefly remembered the Orc describing himself to the Princess, and mentioning his journey began in the Free Holds.

"Kerat." the orc replied, unimpressed by the fancy title. "Never heard of you. Then again, I don't think I was near the Blood Sea often." He shrugged.

"Huh, well; there's plenty of time. My exploits may not be legend yet, but apparently I'm going to be helping dethrone gods or something. Should be worth a bard's tale or two." Jaquaar shrugged, before pausing a moment. He looked up at the Orc, waiting...and waiting...and waiting..."Sorry, can I...help you in some way?" He was more confused than anything, and certainly wasn't angry as he question the orc's strange motive for approaching him.

"Eh, I'm just bored." Kerat shrugged again. "Kinda wanted to now what it was like being a pirate."

"Oh, well. Where do I start? I suppose..." He paused for a moment, before indicating for the big orc to sit himself down. "...I suppose I should start with a tiny preface. I'm not your usual pirate. My father and my mother were on the run for a few years, and took to the sea as a means of escaping the people who wanted to capture them. They had a small group of allies, and they stole a boat, and started to be a thorn in the side of the Warlords. Attacking ships, stealing food and wealth, freeing slaves, and the like. I was born into that life, and it soon enough became mine. I think I spent 90% of my youth on a boat, sailing and learning and fighting...It was a fun way to grow up; certainly better than slavery, or mediocrity." He grinned as he felt the pride of his circumstances well up his chest. "It sounds very glamorous, but mostly it's learning to tie knots, and not falling off the boat."

Kerat nodded. "Most things aren't up close, I suppose." He waited for the talkative man to continue his life story; normally he'd have walked away, but he was in the mood to listen.

Jaquaar frowned at the pitiful handwave of an answer and sighed at the orc. "What about your life? As much as I love being the center of attention I can't help but feel a sense of disconnect here. I'd rather not simply play your distraction when you're bored. Tell me more about your life: Your time with the Griffins perhaps? That was what you called your mercenary band, no?"

"Yeah, the Grey Griffins." He paused briefly to recall the details, idly scratching his beard. "When I joined, we had maybe 400 or so guys, back when Samuel led us. I didn't know much about him, I think he was some noble's third son or bastard or somethin', but he was a fair boss and he knew what he was doing. He got us a pretty nice job working as extra troops for some lord's militia. Besides driving off the occasional bandit raid, mostly we sat on our asses and got paid to do it. Things were pretty sweet until some other lord tried to take some mill from our employer. Samuel took half our boys to take it back. His horse tripped in the middle of the fight and sent him flying. I wasn't there, but I heard he landed badly and broke his neck." He sucked his teeth with a rueful expression, "Things just got worse after that."

"Things often do in organisations like that. Without the charismatic leader, mercenary groups often lose that bond of brotherhood that binds them. You see that sort of things of the seas as well: Take out the captain, and a lot of times the enemy will just sorta...crumble." He shrugs, lifting the practice sword off of his knees for a moment as he points it towards a tree, just sort of...accepting the weight. It was probably strange seeing his ritual, especially considering the actual saber that still lay strapped to his resting horse. "But hey, the important one survived I suppose. What's your plan once we get through our mad mission? Settle down in Renalta? Form your own band with the reputation?"

"I never really gave it any thought. Leading my own crew sounds nice, but I'm not sure I'd be a good leader. Settling down seems nice too, but I honestly don't know how to do much else than fight. Besides, sitting on my ass for the rest of my life seems kinda boring." The orc shrugged, "I don't really think it matters much, I guess. When we're done, I'll have enough gold and renown that I could do pretty much anything I wanted. I'd be set for life...."

"Being set for life is all well and good, but sometimes it's nice to have a vision, you know? If you like fighting, and the idea of settling down, and you're attracted to the idea of having a crew, without the fuss of leading, perhaps you should consider opening up a combat school or some such? People would surely line up to see and learn from one of the great warriors who banished the gods, no? It'd give your people something to respect as well, if you're into that sort of thing."

"Hmm, not much of teacher either. Still...." Kerat considered the proposed option. "Well, it certainly sounds better than shuffling dirt for the rest of my life. Who knows? I got plenty of time to decide. How 'bout you?"

"Oh, Gods only know...Or I suppose they won't if we get that far. I've got a few avenues to pursue, but most of them would take me away from Renalta. I could attempt to petition for my family title to be restored in Liveria, I could try and change the Free Holds for the better; or hell, maybe I'll just go and seek out some more Legends. If I can find the lost princess of Renalta, who knows what else I might find?"

"Hmpf, sounds like some big plans you got lines up." Kerat smirked, "Plans that might need a sword-for-hire."

"Ha, business savvy you are, Kerat. Perhaps you should look into opening up a shop instead when we're done!" He laughed a little at his own joke, smiling broadly as he eventually settled. "But you're right, perhaps I will need a sword-for-hire, or a first mate, or just a big bloody Orc to scare people. I'll be sure to keep you in mind."

"That's all I ask." Kerat grinned and patted the pirate on the shoulder before heading off in a good mood.
 
Patience is Overrated
Written by Script and Grothnor
While the scouting party was gone, Kerat had taken to pacing the area, looking for something or someone to occupy his mind from waiting. Cináed was writing in a small book, something Kerat hadn't paid much attention at first, but now that he was eager for something to do, he approached. “Whatcha writing?” He opened.

Cináed looked up at Kerat with momentary surprise at being disturbed. "Oh, this is just my journal," he answered after a short hesitation, flashing a slightly bashful smile. "I've been writing about our travels when I get the chance, so after this is all over, I can write the story of how Kouri brought down the gods. After all, there's stories and legends about all the greatest moments in history, so I figured someone has to document this one!"

He tapped his pen on the paper, eyes wandering the group and lingering on James' obvious discomfort as he spoke with Hanus and Kasienka. "I'm starting to realise why so many of the stories are light on detail, though. Unless I start eavesdropping on everyone, I'm going to be missing a lot of context..."

"Eh, I just wish they'd stop talking and tell us to do something already." The orc rolled his shoulders to try to flex some of his tension out, to little avail. "I hate waiting."

"The others did say they would be back by now," Cináed said, frowning and looking off in the direction of the slope that obscured their view of the village. "I hope everything's alright." It was hard to imagine the group that had ventured down there falling afoul of simple villagers, but there was always the chance of some unexpected threat having found them there.

"No point in worrying about it, I just wish I had something to do." He huffed. "If only we had a campfire going...."

"Well, that's something to do, right?" Cináed suggested with a smile. "I would offer my fire to help, but I think now is probably ... one of the single worst times that I could think of to be using magic for trivial things. Short of maybe if we'd gone through the city itself." He laughed, shaking his head and glancing over to where Kouri and Marcus were waiting. "Although, you might get your wish as far as having something to do goes soon. If the others aren't back soon, I'm sure the princess will have at least some of us go after them, to make sure that they're okay."

"Soon isn't now. And there's no point in making a fire if we're gonna get moving soon." Kerat sighed. "Looks like I might have to get a pouch just for holding wood shavings. I like to whittle," he explained, "but I don't want to leave a trail for anyone to follow us, so I can only do it whenever we have a campfire going." He grimaced. "This is just aggravating."

Cináed offered Kerat a tentatively sympathetic smile. "I know what you mean," he said, nodding. "What sort of things do you carve?" he asked, curious. Woodwork wasn't an art he would have normally associated with an orc. But then, a week or two ago, he wouldn't have expected to be within eyesight of an orc without being in danger, let alone discussing crafting with one. "Do you make sculptures, or engravings, or..?"

"I make wood shavings." The orc said flatly before he snorted at his joke. "It's just something I do in my spare time. Every now and then I'll try to make something, but it usually ends up in the fire anyway. I tried making griffins when working with the Grey Griffins. Stopped, once things started turning sour with them."

"The Grey Griffins... you mentioned them at the stronghold, right? Were they a mercenary band?" Cináed asked. "What happened, that drove you to you leave?"

"Just about everything that can. First boss died, then we lost half our guys because the second boss was shit, then the third boss took over and stopped picking contracts but didn't stop picking fights. By the time I left, the Grey Griffins were just bandits, and being an orc, well, some people are just looking for a reason to lynch my ass. Didn't want to give them one, so I left."

"That sounds ..." Cináed grimaced. "...well, I'm sure you know what it sounds like. It's good that you got out, though. Did you leave any friends behind?" He asked tentatively, cautious of it being a potentially sensitive subject.

Kerat shrugged. "Some of the boys were fun to be with, but I wasn't really close to any of 'em. Besides, fun ain't worth risking your life over."

"No," Cináed shook his head in agreement. There was a brief lull in the conversation before he piped up again. "So how did you end up with the King's Rangers, after that?"

"We got into a pointless fight with a Silver Shields patrol. The Boss always had to prove he had the biggest sword and the biggest dick, so he ordered us to attack them. Turns out, they had a King's Ranger with them in irons. Boss wanted to ransom him back to the Shields, but I let him go in the night and helped him get back to his people. All I asked is that they let me stick around with them for a while, and they did."

"I never understood that sort of attitude," Cináed sighed. "Risking lives and killing just to prove a point. But I'm glad it worked out for you - and for the ranger, for that matter - in the end. I trust life with the rangers has been better, at least?"

"The pay's shit, and the food's not much better, but it's nice working with people who know what they're doing. Plus it helped me find this job. So, how about you? What'd you do before this?"

"Me? Nothing so exciting," Cináed smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "I was apprenticed to my mother, training to become a healer for our village - though in terms of magical healing, I surpassed her a few years back. I lived on a farm with her, my da, three half-brothers and a half-sister. Life was good, but quiet. A far sight from fulfilling. I always sort of knew that I wouldn't stick around and be a village doctor my whole life, but I never would've thought I'd be part of something as big as this."

He laughed, and gave a small, disbelieving shake of his head. "Fate has a funny way of throwing you into the deep end, apparently, since I'd not left home a week before I came across the rangers and they brought me to see the princess. I hadn't even run out of the rations I packed from the pantry."

Kerat snorted, "Just stepped out the door and got caught up in this world-changing bullshit? Ha! To tell the truth though, I didn't expect the Rangers' magical princess to be real, much less half as pretty as the legends said." He gazed in Kouri's direction. "It's kinda weird."

"I never dreamed that she would still be alive, after all these years," Cináed nodded, following Kerat's gaze. "Some of the legends said she would, but I thought they were just stories... And you're right," he laughed. "I always thought all those lengthy, winding descriptions of her beauty that the bards put in their tales were kind of unnecessary, but I'm starting to realise that they just had trouble putting it into words."

"Hmm..." Kerat considered Cináed's words. "I mean, she's hot as all hells and I'd jump that in a second if I could, but the longer I look... well, if bards have a hard time describing her, I ain't got a chance." He sighed. "I dunno...."

Cináed coughed, his cheeks tinting ever so slightly red at the ... if not
vulgar way of describing the princess, then certainly inappropriate. It wasn't as though the villagers back home had spoken with much more restraint, of course, but this was a princess they were talking about! It wasn't proper, right?

"Well..." the young angel-touched cleared his throat and shrugged awkwardly. "I can't say I have much input on that front. I couldn't presume to speak for the princess' ..." he hesitated,
glancing across at Kerat "...tastes?"

"What, me and her? Pfft, I'd bet five silver and my left nut that she ain't interested. Nah, that's not what I meant, I just mean..." Kerat trailed off, not quite aware of what his subconscious was trying to tell him about the Princess. "...there's something... bah! Forget it." He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

"Something?" Cináed raised an eyebrow. "Forget what?"

"I dunno, something seems... I dunno, weird about her or something. Probably just the blue hair or something." Kerat shrugged. "Or maybe just my nerves." He huffed again. "Kinda wish I went with the scouts."

Cináed gave a faintly puzzled frown before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean. Maybe you're right, and it'll pass?" he shrugged, turning his attention back to the direction the scouts had gone. "I just hope they get back soon, or if not, we go after them."

Kerat sighed. "Soon isn't now...."




 
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Flowers, Bone, Brass and Gold
a collab with @Becca
Bored with waiting for news, Kerat tried looking for something to occupy his attention. Fortunately for him, gazing at some of his companions was a welcome distraction. Lady Catrin in particular had caught his attention for the moment, and he decided to approach her. “So, how is it we've never spoken yet, Lady Catrin?”

Catrin looked up from braiding a series of wild flowers into a tiara, something she had done in her youth. So long as they weren't busy moving she was happy to waste time. She tucked in the last stem then looked at her work before setting it aside into a pile that was slowly growing. She brushed her hands against her skirts before slowly rising and offering a slender hand to Kerat.

"Perhaps because I wait to be approached by a man rather than approaching him myself. I was taught that it was uncouth to do so. Only ladies may approach ladies. I am pleased you have graced me with your presence." She flashed a smile at Kerat then tilted her head to the side, her smile still curling her lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Kerat blinked at being offered a hand, and he took it awkwardly, but not ungratefully. "I figured I'd ask how life on the road was treating you." He smirked, "I also wanted a closer look, cuz, I gotta say, you are really pretty."

"It is absolutely wretched. I may enjoy riding, but not like this. I which I had my carriage or even a litter." She sighed before standing up with her pile of flower tiaras now around her arm instead of on the ground. Catrin offered one of the tiaras to the huge orc in front of her.

When they had left the compound she was terrified of him and gave him a wide bearth while they travelled. Over time she realized that of course he couldn't harm her. This... man may be huge, but she doubted he could fell both the dark elf and the demon-touched man. This was without the women of the group reacting, which by the look of some of them this would happen without a doubt.

"I appreciate he compliment, Kerat," she smiled again with a small blush (brought about by thinking of something else entirely), "you look quite mighty and fierce. I am sure you have felled many opponents in your days."

Kerat took the flower tiara, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do with it. "Uhh, thanks," he murmured before she returned his compliment. He beamed with self-assured pride, "Yup. I've lost count of how many I've killed, but each of these..." he gestured to his crude piercings and cheap jewelry, "...is a battle trophy. Each one was earned on the battlefield."

"It goes on your head, silly man. A little something to show my gratitude for the strength you offer the party." Her eyes flicked to his gnarled lips as he gestured to the jewelry. She suppressed a grimace then looked down to the thin, gold band around her wrist. Adjusting the flower tiaras to her other arm she slid it off and offered it to the larger man. "Although I suppose you would prefer this. You may not have wont his bracelet on the battlefield, but I have no doubt you have earned something similar to its worth over your years."

Kerat took the proffered bracelet, "Eh, maybe once or twice. Bosses usually get all the good loot." He inspected it, "It's nice, but I can't take it. Well, not unless you'd like me to do something for you."

Catrin shrugged before sliding the bracelet back on her arm. "No, your duty is to the Princess. If I was to distract you from that I would never forgive myself."

"Hmm, I guess you're right. You are quite distracting," He said with a wink before turning and heading off, idly twirling the flower tiara around a finger.

Catrin watched Kerat walk away before sinking back onto the ground and letting out a deep breath. She suppressed the accompanying shudder then resumed working on her flower tiaras. While she knew Kerat wouldn't hurt her... bah. He was an orc. It would take her far longer than a week to get past that.
 
Unlikely Heroes
Written by Script and Nilum
The party had not long since stopped for the night a few days into the trip, and Cináed was tending to his horse, when he noticed Mikan not far away getting her own mount settled. The young angel-touched smiled warmly across at her, nodding towards the animal. "I noticed you've been getting a bit more comfortable with her," he remarked. "It's Mikan, right? How is the saddle treating you so far?"

Mikan jumps in surprise and then looks back at the man--no, more aptly, boy. She takes a deep breath, then giggles. "It has been treating me fine, handsome, though I still like to be on my own two feet." She kicks at the dirt underneath her feet, sending a small cloud of dust up into the air. "What about you? Has the Princess been all you imagined her to be?" It seemed she wasn't shy of noticing some of his earlier actions, and interpreting them her own way.

A little surprised by Mikan's choice of address, Cináed blinked, then laughed - flashing a warm smile. "Well, she's yet to ride in on the back of a dragon and lift the ruins of Renalta from their rest with a smile, so I suppose not all the stories were true," he joked. "But that aside, yes - more, in all honesty. Of course, the legends paint all kinds of different pictures of her, but so many of them forget that she's only human. Having seen that for myself, it only makes her more admirable, I think - if that makes sense."

It would appear that the young angel-touched remained as oblivious to Mikan's thoughts as to the nature of his adulation as he had been before.

Mikan mutters something under her breath in Rheinfelder and rolls her eyes, then leans tepidly against her horse. "Only human, huh? I suppose normal folks throw ice out of their hands and have blue hair, sure." The sarcasm in her voice was playful, laid on perhaps a bit thicker than her earlier flirtations to see if he would finally pick up on things. "So you're really just here to make the world a better place? No greed, no eye for lovely ladies?" With that said, she tries stretching her arms out across the horse--which causes it take a step to the side. She falls backward onto the dirt, and simply stares at the underside of the horse with a look of blank disappointment.

Cináed gave an amused smirk at Mikan's sarcasm, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow as though to say 'You know what I meant'.

After a moment of surprised concern that quickly faded when he realised that she was fine, he couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter at Mikan's fall, and her subsequent expression of defeat. Still trying to suppress giggles, he walked over to offer her a hand to help her to her feet. "I suppose?" he answered as he did, shrugging. "I wouldn't say I'm here wholly for selfless motives, though. I want to see Renalta rise again, for me as much as for anyone else. I want to live in a time like the histories speak of, and I suppose I wouldn't mind the renown that comes with having been one of the ones to bring it about..."

A small grin played across his face as he recalled his conversation with Jaquaar on the subject. "But that second part is less important. I'd be happy to be a nobody again as long it was in that world. What about you?"

"Oh yeah?" Mikan replies as she grabs his hand and pulls herself up. Intentionally, she pulls herself up fast enough to lean against him for a moment, and whisper in his ear. "I'm just along for the ride. Maybe pull a couple tricks, help someone get rich, and have some fun along the way... If you're interested." She takes a step back and giggles, finally giving him his private space back.

Startled by Mikan's proximity, Cináed went slightly red at the young woman's whispers in his ear. "Oh. Oh." The angel-touched boy was wide-eyed by the time she stepped away, flush with embarrassment. "I'm flattered, Mikan, but..." he laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "I think I'll have to say no to that particular brand of fun, but not through any fault on your part - you're very pretty! But I'm just not really interested in, ah... girls," he finished, offering an apologetic smile.

"Oh. Oh my." Mikan giggles and smiles as she takes another step back and grabs her horse by the reigns, to try and keep him under control. "I'm not upset, I just feel a little pity for you. You won't find very many men willing to sacrifice the soft touch of a woman for you. If anything, I think that is rather charming and refreshing--a man who sees the value in men." She pats her horse on his head awkwardly, and the horse snorts and shakes his head.

Cináed's smile faltered ever so slightly at Mikan's statement of pity - well meant or not, it stung a little. "Ah... well, I'm glad to provide you with so quaint a sight to behold, then," he replied, some of the genuine cheer sapped from his words despite him managing to keep the smile. "I suppose it hardly matters, under the circumstances." The youth turned back to his own horse, trailing a hand through her mane as he spoke. "A life-threatening quest to change the world is really not the time to be worrying over romance, eh?"

As Cináed turns away, Mikan lets go of the reigns of her horse. His speech was more than enough to cover up the sounds of her near-silent approach, and before he can turn back, she slips beside him, leans in, and pecks him on the cheek. Her bright green eyes stare straight into his, and though there's her typically flirty nature on the surface in the way she moved, her eyes told of terrible sorrow and empathy. She whispers to him, gently. "I didn't mean it that way. You're a farmhand, and I'm a street rat--neither of us are supposed to be heroes. I really do think a boy as nice as you will find someone eventually, if you try hard enough, and I won't let anyone stop you. If they try, I'll distract them with my charms while you run off with the man of your dreams, okay?" A giggle follows, and a flirty wink.

Momentarily left speechless, Cináed's expression shifted rapidly from shock, to confusion, to a soft and appreciative smile. At her wink, he let out a laugh warm with newly renewed high spirits. "I could hardly ask for more assurance of romantic success," he replied, winking back at her playfully. "Thank you, Mikan - though I do assure you, I'm not so heartsick that you've cause to worry for me. I'm quite content with adventure and purpose, for the time being. Love, I think, can wait its turn. And until then, we two can both proudly defy the world's expectations." He smiled brightly, nodding his head. "We'll both be heroes before this is all done, whether we're supposed to be or not."

"Well, you will be." Mikan's words were equally chipper as she smiles, and swivels on her feet. She walks back to her horse, and waves back to Cináed. It seemed she was done with the conversation.

"Don't sell yourself short," Cináed's reply was soft, but just loud enough for Mikan to hear it. "Us unlikely heroes have got to stick together, eh?"

He flashed her one last grin, and returned her wave, before turning to make his way over to lend a hand where the others were beginning to set up the camp.
 
Distractions
Written by Script and Becca
It was only a short time after the group had arrived at the outskirts of the village, and the scouting party had split off to head into the village itself just shy of ten minutes ago. Cináed had spent a few minutes fussing over his horse, Bella, after their departure, but had since left her to graze and wandered over to where the others were waiting.

As he did, he spied Catrin - one of those in the party who he'd yet to speak to at length - perched off to the side, picking flowers with what seemed to be some purpose. Curious, the young angel-touched made his way over to her, smiling warmly as he did. "Lady Catrin?" he offered her a respectful inclination of his head out of deference for her status before he continued. "Might I ask what the flowers are for?"

"A worthless distraction while we wait." Catrin didn't adjust to make eye contact with the new speaker just yet. She knew who he was by his voice and wanted a few more moments to compose herself before looking back at that pretty face.

She straightened herself slowly, holding a cluster of flowers in one hand while the other held a single bloom. Catrin slowly twirled the stem between her fingers then lifted her eyes just enough to meet Cinaed's. "It's a pleasure to meet you..." she blushed and giggled, looking to the side then back to him. "Oh dear. I appear to have forgotten your name."

"If it serves as a pleasant distraction, surely that makes it not worthless," Cináed pointed out with a playful grin before he answered. "It's Cináed, my lady. And likewise to meet you." After a moment's hesitation, he knelt down to sit across from her, picking one of the small flowers from the ground and twirling it between his thumb and forefinger with a soft smile. "You know, my mother used to take me to the woods to collect flowers when I was young. It was how she first started to introduce me to herbalism, by making a game of identifying them as we walked."

Catrin smiled as Cinaed joined her. This was closer to how a day at court should go. This was closer to what she was comfortable with. She picked a few more flowers, getting as much of the stem as she could. Instead of holding all of the blooms in her hand she laid them down so Cinaed could contribute to the pile.

"I do not know much about herbalism and the plants involved. I simply know what is pleasing to the eye and how to fashion it into something wearable." Her smile never wavered as she began to select flowers from the pile and weave and braid their stems together into a circlet. Every so often she would look up from her fingers to look critically at Cinaed then resumed her work.

"I know I have heard the elf talking about plants beyond their beauty, so if you wish for that level of nostalgia I am sure she would happily talk your ear off about it." She giggled and flicked her eyes towards where Kasienka and Hanus were whispering together before adjusting a few stems then offering it to Cinaed. "This should be your size."

Cináed grinned, taking the circlet and placing it daintily upon his head. "How do I look? A rival to Kouri for her title, maybe?" He laughed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and shaking his head. "Ah, I'm sure there is much that Kasienka can teach me of medicine and herbs, but I think for now I'm content to appreciate these flowers as a distraction, rather than anything else."

As he spoke, he finished weaving his own circlet, holding it briefly up to the light for inspection before handing it to Catrin. "I can't claim to be an expert on the sizing of flower crowns, but hopefully I won't have missed the mark too badly," he said with a chuckle.

Catrin couldn't manage to hide the blush this time. She took the circlet from Cinaed then delicately placed it on her head, but tilted it so it did not encircle her entire head. Instead the angle allowed it drop slightly down the back of her head, just enough so it was clear she was not wearing it as a crown. Even in the middle of nowhere she would not commit such treason.

"An amazing fit, Sir Cinaed." She giggled and adjusted so she was on all fours across the flower pile, just long enough to put a soft kiss on his cheek before moving to sit like a lady again. "Perhaps after this adventure we should move to make headwear together. We would dominate the market through skill alone."

Startled by the kiss to his cheek - the second of its kind in as many days - Cináed blinked, surprise briefly clear upon his face as he went a shade red himself. "Ah, Lady Catrin..?" he questioned, his smile turning bashful and uncertain.

Catrin began laughing. A good, belly laugh she had to hide with her mouth to preserve some sort of dignity. She knew Cinaed was some sort of new naive she had never experienced at court before... but even a peck on the cheek was enough to turn him into a beet!

After a moment she composed herself again and took a deep breath to steady herself. Her laughing had been shaking her a little as her hands were clapped over her mouth and her eyes shone. "I... I am sorry, Cinaed. I just haven't had... well." She giggled a little and moved to delicately wipe the corners of her eyes with her fingertips.

"I haven't had such a refreshingly genuine reaction to my affections for so long. You are a breath of fresh air. For that I cannot thank you enough." Feeling playful she darted in to kiss his other cheek before collecting the remaining pile of flowers and moving to where she had left her mount. She would let Cinaed have his peace after that.

The young angel-touched's blush deepened slightly at Catrin's laughter, but he couldn't help but smile and give a laugh of his own in response. "Ah, you're we- Oh!" His attempted response was interrupted by the second kiss, though his reaction to it was slightly less flustered, as he let out another laugh at the playful tease. "... you're welcome?" he finally finished as Catrin was walking away, a bewildered smile upon his face.

Whether his inclinations lay in their direction or not, Cináed was fairly sure that he would never understand women.
 
No Brotherhood Between Devils
glmstr and Nilum​

For as otherwise low-profile and relaxed the infernal princess looked, the pike and standard above her was anything but subtle. The pole and flag stood guard over her, clearly displaying her family’s coat of arms to the rest of the encampment.

The coat of arms drew the attention of some, and as Marcus passed by, he momentarily stopped to examine it himself. His red eyes fall from the banner, to the sultry looking woman who lazed underneath it. He simply stares at her in silence, the campfire behind him casting a shadow over most of his face, though the irritation in his eyes was clearly visible. Something bothered him about her, though he did well to show not what it was in particular, she was able to see through him otherwise.

Cerise glanced up at the ranger, noting his scowl but not changing her own expression or visibly reacting to it. Such dirty looks were something she knew her entire life, as did her father, and his father, and beyond. She covered her mouth while letting out a yawn, before checking her nails and looking back up at Marcus.

“Come to bask in my glory? The fire’s light was getting in my eyes, anyways.”

“Your glory is unearned.” Marcus replies, bluntly. He remains silent for another moment, then stares straight into her eyes with a hardened look. “You are one of my kind, yet I feel drawn to you in ways that I am certain affect others more than I. Why?”

“I have led brave men to countless victories, untold thousands of bandits, brigands and criminals lie dead thanks to me. My realm has been protected, and they sing to my praise in taverns throughout the Holds. Can you say the same, Ranger?” Her tone was nowhere near as cutting as her words, if anything more amused than frustrated. “Perhaps you’re simply attracted to greatness. Though, my mother did say something about having a gift beyond simple beauty, if you so choose to believe her.”

“I see.” Marcus replies. The irritation in his red eyes softens to simple disappointment as his eyebrows relax, the tension in him fading away into nothingness. The fire crackles behind him as he takes a step out of the way, to let the light shine upon her while he kept his expression in shadows. He flips his hood back up, and pats the sheath of his blade. “I need no more confirmation of my prowess than to live another day. I thought you could have been more than bluster, but I see, you are little more than the political nonsense of your contemporaries in the holds. A waste of my time to even ask the question. Enjoy your rest, ma’am.”

“Not even going to challenge me, or request a spar?” Cerise crossed her arms and smirked, “And you accuse me of bluster!” A chuckle spills from her lips, no, full-on laughter from the princess, something she hadn’t done around the party yet. “I would have expected one of the famous King’s Rangers to stand up to a little banter, but very well.”

“I do not challenge students, I wait for them to grow sufficiently to challenge me.” He leaves his remark at that, his tone severe and humourless. He then turns and starts to leave.

“I would be insulted if I considered myself your student.” The infernal scoffed, and returned to her lounging about.
 
Strong Hearts
Written by Script and Holmishire
It was after the party had stopped for the night a few days into the journey, camp had been set and some had already begun to retire, that Cináed found himself watching a conversation unfold between Tahlia and Faolan - if the largely one-sided exchange could be called that. For all the lack of verbal reply on the wolf's part, it did seem that there was a level of understanding passing between them that went deeper than that which necessitated words. He'd been shocked, and more than a little incredulous, when he'd first heard Tahlia speak of Faolan's... condition, but watching the wolf's behaviour over the course of their travel thus far had caused his doubts to fade.

Tentatively, the young angel-touched stepped across the camp to approach the pair, offering a gentle smile as he did. "Forgive me if I intrude, miss Tahlia-" a pause, as he turned the smile towards the wolf, "and sir Faolan. But I fear we haven't spoken much since we all came to meet the princess. I'd like to get to know as many of my new companions as possible, so do you mind if I join you?"

The great wolf lifted his head from his paws, appraising Cináed silently before shrugging. Tahlia, who was leaning comfortably against Faolan's side, returned the boy's smile politely. "Not at all—though there's nothing to fear, we shall have plenty of opportunities to chat in the weeks to come." She scooted over and patted the ground by Faolan's shoulder. "I'm inclined to recommend against referring to that lout as 'sir'; in all but fantasy he is of common birth. Any insinuation to the contrary can only feed his already voracious ego."

Cináed laughed, smiling as he knelt down to sit where Tahlia had gestured. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm still figuring out who exactly I'm supposed to afford such titles to, not that I imagine it matters all that much out here. Even the princess seems to prefer that I address her simply as Kouri, although I'll admit, I've been finding that a little difficult." He cast a brief glance in the direction of Kouri's tent. "May I ask what brings the two of you into her service?

Faolan nods, and a moment of silence follows before Tahlia realizes that she would have to be the one to explain. "Yes, ah… I'm afraid my reasons are not quite as noble as the rest of our companions." She looked down at her hands, and balled them into fists. "Faolan's state is unstable. There is an ever-increasing chance that the wolf will take over, and the man will be lost to us." Now she looked up to the sky, to the side, anywhere but where Faolan's eyes watched her with a gentle intensity. "I cannot cure him. Neither could Kiune, the archdruid who took us in. But she told me there was still hope out there, and that maybe I'd find it sooner in the Princess's service than in hers."

Finally, Faolan kicked his hind leg, forcing Tahlia forward to distract her from her thoughts—and her smile returned. "He'd like me to assure you that you need not worry, however; if he does go wild, he promises to eat you last." As if to contradict this fact, the wolf playfully nibbled on Cináed's sleeve, though not hard enough to damage the fabric.

Cináed's smile faded to a frown of pained sympathy as Tahlia explained the predicament that she and Faolan were in. The emotions behind the words were written plainly on the woman's face, and the young angel-touched could not help but feel for her frustration and sorrow. It took a moment or two for him to recall his smile once Tahlia recovered her own, but when Faolan made the playful nip at his sleeve, he couldn't help but laugh - habitually reaching out to pet the big wolf before realising himself and retracting his hand with an embarrassed start. "Oh, I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking..." he gave another - slightly more embarrassed laugh. It was a strange thought, that petting the wolf was all but akin to scratching another human being behind the ears, but one he would do well to remember.

"But I'm sure that Kiune was right," he went on after a moment, looking back across to smile at Tahlia. "If the legends are to be believed, there is no better place to find a miracle than at the side of someone who's changing the world. Even if we don't find an answer as we travel, once the princess reclaims her throne, there won't be a corner of the world she won't be able to help you search."

Faolan harrumphed at Cináed's close call then plopped his head back into his paws—clearly making a point of looking grumpy, but the creeping grin bespoke a different tale.

"And it can't hurt to help a few people along the way, either," Tahlia added. "I hope your reasons for coming weren't quite so…" She paused and scrunched up her face, as if trying to find a word less dramatic—failing that, she sighed. "Well, tragic."

Cináed shook his head. "Ah, no. In all honesty, I'm here for no reason other than that I believe in what the princess is trying to achieve. I've dreamed of seeing the Renalta that my ancestors called home all my life, and with Kouri's return, that dream could become a reality. Being able to be a part of making it happen, and do something truly meaningful with my life, that's why I wanted to come." He smiled wistfully, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. "Just a few weeks ago, I never would have imagined I would have the opportunity to be part of something like this. I'd have been sat outside on the farm, looking up at this same sky and wondering if I might find purpose in the next town over, or if I was feeling particularly ambitious, the nearest city." Laughing, he looked back down and shrugged his shoulders. "And now, here I am, in the same camp as a legendary princess and a party of warriors and spellcasters to make the very gods themselves tremble. If anyone had told me this would happen back then, I would have thought they were mad."

"I think any of us would have thought the same. There may be a legend or two in our midst, but I can assure you most of us are no more skilled or powerful than you." As she spoke, she waved her hand out towards other members of their group—Catrin, Kalemn, and herself. "If the Gods do tremble, they tremble in rage, not fear. The Princess too is as human as the rest of us, legends or no—though it is perhaps fair to note that the legends we tell of her in my homeland are not quite as favourable as those you've no doubt heard."

Tahlia shook her head lightly. "I'm sorry, I'm not saying this scare you. I just want us all to come out of this as heroes," she said, sinking further into Faolan's fur before continuing in a near murmur, "and not martyrs."

Cináed nodded his head, his smile softening somewhat to become more subdued. "I understand. And I know that the task set out before us is one that most would deem impossible. But..." he shook his head. "I have faith in the princess, and in all of us - human or otherwise. I know there will be sacrifice and hardship, but that's what we all signed up for. And I believe that we'll make it through to see a future free of the tyranny of gods and angels."

His smile broadened again slightly, as he went on. "Besides, if the gods did not think we had a chance of success, then they wouldn't be so enraged - they would just laugh, and leave us to our folly. That they're angry, and seek to have us all killed? That means that at least some small, doubting part of them is afraid. It's up to us to prove those doubts to be right."

Tahlia put on a clearly mock-serious expression. "Perhaps, but I think I would much prefer they think us fools than threats." She sits up straight again, and in response Faolan shifts his large frame to a more comfortable position.

Faolan then lifts his head up from his paws and looks across Cináed to his wife, and mimes licking her face.

"Mmm, yes, I'll cheer up shortly, don't you worry." She glanced sidelong at Cináed, a playful smile lighting up her face. "You always seem so chipper. What's your secret?"

The boy gave a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "I'm honestly not sure there's a trick to it, it's just the way I've always been. Annoyed my brothers to no end after a while. They said it was because my head was so filled with fantasies and silly dreams that reality had a hard time getting through. Maybe they're half right? When things look bleak, I treat it as I would climbing a steep hill. A hard slog, to be sure, but I know once it's crested there'll be a view that was worth climbing for."

He paused, then smirked again. "They always hated that analogy too. Said it was exactly what they were talking about. Ah well."

Faolan chuckled, tapped the top of his head with a paw, and then winked.

"He thinks he'd get along well with your brothers; don't tell him I told you, but I bet he's envious. Only ever had a bossy sister himself." Faolan snorted indignantly, but she ignored him. Tahlia then turns over to look at Cináed head-on. "You did tell your family you were leaving and all, didn't you? I mean, not the details, of course, but…" Her voice trailed off, as if worried she'd be disappointed.

Cináed nodded. "Of course," he answered with a reassuring smile. "They've known I wanted to travel for months now. My mother has never been pleased by the idea, but I think she realised my mind wasn't going to be changed. My da started teaching me the sword because of it, I think he was proud - not that he'd have ever said it, for fear of mother thinking he was encouraging me." He laughed, smiling fondly at the memory. "He used to travel a lot himself, you see - he was a mercenary for a while when he was younger. But they knew, yes - they saw me off. Of course, none of us had any clue I'd end up here. Mother would probably faint, if she did."

"Well, I promise not to tattle." She closed her eyes lightly and relaxed deeper into Faolan's fur. "You're a good kid, Cináed, and the Princess is blessed to have you at her side. We've a lot of strong minds," She stifled a yawn. "And not nearly enough strong hearts."

Smiling brightly, Cináed gave a bashful laugh and shook his head. "I just hope that I'm able to keep up with those strong minds - and strong arms! But thank you for the kind words, I'm sure that the princess is lucky to have the two of you, as well." His smile softened slightly as he noticed Tahlia stifle her yawn, and he glanced back towards the rest of the camp. "But I'll leave you to your rest, for now. I look forward to speaking with the both of you more over the journey."

Rising to his feet, he offered them a slight bow of his head, before moving off in the direction of his own rest.

Tahlia briefly opened an eye to see Cináed off. "Sleep well."

Were he to look back, he would see Faolan pull a blanket out of the pack and drag it across Tahlia with his teeth; it seemed they planned on sleeping out, this night.
 
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Jaquaar and Kouri - Stories and Subjects
(Feat. @Nilum as Kouri)

It had been a week since the group had left, and an awkward hour of waiting for the normally quite consistent scout group to return. There was a steadily growing tension around the remainder of the party, and Jaquaar found himself glancing towards its leader. The Princess was mulling over the decision of what to do next, an ever unenviable decision. He frowned, before making his way over to her; undaunted by his past mediocre performance and the enormity of her task.

"I fear we'll have to make a decision one way or the other. What does your gut say, Kouri?"

"That we will follow after them soon," Kouri replies, though her tone was filled with uncertainty. "In a few minutes, I would imagine. Give them a little more time to return." Her blue eyes fall toward the ground, as she simply considers the situation at hand. "Kasienka and Hanus plan on going after them before that."

"I'd stop them, by order if you have to. Our merry band must be pledged to you, after all; and we can't have anyone wandering off on their own because of a differing of opinions." He frowned, glancing towards the two elves with a certain nervousness. He understood some of what the two could do, and certainly didn't want to suggest that the group turn against them, but the idea of the two challenging the Princess' authority - even for the best of reasons - was troubling. "At least, that's what I'd do. Sorry, I shouldn't presume to offer my advice."

"Your advice is welcome, but I would rather not rule with an iron hand. They chose to follow me of their own will, and they may choose to act independently of me of their own will." Kouri's idealism shined on through, though, her tone implied that she was starting to question some of it. Quietly, she looks up from the ground at Jaquaar. "Is there something I can help you with, specifically?"

"Not specifically. Call me curious, I suppose. You are stuck at the forefront of a legend yet unraveling, and I thought it might be nice if I got to stand near you at what might be our first great challenge." He sighed in whimsy, mostly at and to himself. "Call me a romantic, I guess. It is deeply humbling to be so close to what might be the legends of tomorrow; and Nine Hells, if I might offer you a word of advice, or even just an ear, then I might offer you at least something useful. Not that I can grant you much more than that right now..." He smiled a little at that, ignoring the pent up frustration of being left all-but useless in this magic-limiting space. "That is, unless you wish to see my journeyman juggling technique."

"I do not think that will be necessary." Kouri smiles nonetheless. Perhaps to be polite, or perhaps because he genuinely struck her fancy at the moment. There is the hint of a blush at his words concerning being near her, and she averts his gaze and clasps her hands behind her back as she turns away and looks toward the sky. "My, but that I am a legend?... Perhaps you could tell me your story. I have heard my own told to me many times, I would like to hear someone else tell theirs, for once."

"My story? Well, let's see. I've told you about the part where I went crazy, and started seeing visions, so let’s go for the part before that. I was born to two very loving, if not very bizarre and mismatched parents. I lived a life of criminality from a very early age, as mine was the stock of a pirate; but not as most would paint us to be. We raided the Warlords' ships, of the Free Holds. We stole whatever food and valuables we could to sustain ourselves and live comfortably, but we also made an effort to free every slave on the ships. It was easy enough to set them in a free port with food and coin, and I learned to enjoy that lot. Every so often, on the rare occasions we'd send a few people to port with the goods to sell, we'd glimpse tales of our exploits and about the bounties that various Warlords set on our heads. Thankfully, the bounties rarely stuck. Warlords come and go, and when they lose valuable shipments of goods, they tend to go a bit quicker." He laughed at that last part, almost proud of the uncertain truth that perhaps he and his family had been the bane of a few Warlords in their travels. "Still, I always longed for more. I read books and tomes about heroes, and relics, and legends. They fascinated me enough, and I did not want to live in my parents' shadow forever. Then, the kooky visions came, and before I knew it I was the twice-mad man who follows barely understood visions and god-slayers alike." He paused for a moment, before adding some shaking hands and a quick "Ta-da." Bowing to an invisible audience, the Free Holder looked up and made a sideways look at the tree line ahead of them. "Still, there are many chapters yet to write in the book of my life; and many more in yours. I’m hoping it might be fun to share a few chapters together with you, while we change the world a bit.”

"A pirate, huh? Did you steal from the rich and give to the poor as well, I wonder?" Kouri smiles inwardly at her joke, referencing something likely long since made obscure by the passage of time. Nonetheless, she speaks as softly as ever, looking at Jaquaar as she does. "It sounds like a rough life. I am sorry it was such. I hope I am able to help you make your life better when all of this is over, Jaquaar."

"The life was not the easiest, but it was a life worth living. We made some lives better, and my parents are genuinely good people. Once this is all over, I doubt I will return to my previous life but I'd like to do something important. I have a few ideas, but it is early days." He smiled, looking back to the Princess now. "Still, if I stack up to the likes of the emerald-hooded hero, I'm doing alright I suppose."

"Perhaps." Kouri replies, though she looks a little surprised at his recognition of who she was referencing. "Another time, when there are less immediately concerning matters, we should speak again. For now, however, I would like time to think alone... If, you would not mind."

"Of course, of course. You have bigger things to concern yourself with than the past." He nodded his head to her, before stepping away. "Although I'll hold you to that promise, and Jaquaar Iqbal-Moineau does not forget a promise owed." He smiles at Kouri for a moment, before realising he was lingering. Turning and walking, he raises a hand in farewell. "Until then, Kouri."
 
Ploughshares to Swords
Written by Script and Nilum
On the first night of the journey, Cináed had just finished his portion of helping with the camp's setup, when he caught sight of Marcus across the bustle of the rest of the party. After only a moment's hesitation, the young angel-touched made his way across the camp to where the King's Ranger was overseeing things and approached him with a slightly nervous smile.

"Ah, Marcus, sir?" he ventured as a greeting. "Sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if I might make a request?"

Marcus ceases what he is doing for the moment, and turns to look at Cináed. "Make your request."

Cináed nodded hastily. "I saw that you've been helping some of the others train with swordplay, and I was wondering - if it isn't too much trouble - if I might be able to join you as well?" He smiled faintly. "I'm not very experienced, but my da taught me the basics back home. Since I won't be able to rely on my magic once we're in Rheinfeld, I thought I ought get some practice in over the journey, if you'd have me?"

For once, the red skinned man smiled as he pulled back his hood. "A fine request. This will not take too long." He motions for Cináed to follow him, then walks over to a bag. He pulls out two training blades--dulled, though made of metal, and still able to cause harm if they hit hard enough. He holds one out to Cináed. "How much experience do you have with a blade, boy?"

Cináed gave an inward sigh of relief at Marcus' smile, glad that the ranger was willing to spare him the time - and at the back of his mind, a little proud of even this simple and minor praise from the experienced warrior.

"Just shy of a year of on-and-off training," he answered after a moment's thought, taking the training blade in his hand and testing its weight. "My da fit it in around farmwork, and only on the days when he was up to it, so it was hardly a strict schedule. By the time I left he said I'd like as not be able to hold my own against most brigands and the like, but not anyone with ah... proper training, like a soldier or a decent mercenary." The boy flashed a nervous smile. "I've yet to actually test that theory, mind."

"We shall see if you pass the test then." He walks a few feet away, to stand within the light of the nearby campfire--but not so close as to have it pose a threat to either of them. He motions to a place a few feet away. "Stand there."

Nodding, Cináed took his place where indicated and held his practice sword at the ready in a guarded plough stance. His face was set into a mask of focus, determined not to make too great a fool of himself as he waited for Marcus' next instruction.

"Come toward me, and give me your best swing. You will not harm me," Marcus brushes aside his cloak to reveal his plate armour underneath it, "so swing with full intent."

After only a moment's hesitation, Cináed nodded again. Tightening his grip on the sword, he rushed forwards, sword rising briefly upwards and then arcing down for a swing at Marcus' flank. Whilst it wasn't a clumsy strike, it was telegraphed and textbook; it was the swing of a swordsman who'd never seen battle outside of a sparring lesson.

Marcus raises his blade and with a single solid swing, the trained King's Ranger knocks the arcing blade out of the farm boy's hand. A second swing from the King's Ranger immediately follows, his armoured fist slamming into the boy's forehead and sending him sprawling onto the dirt. Before he can get up, Marcus's metal boot plants itself squarely on his chest, his dulled blade glimmering with the red of the nearby campfire's open flame. His red eyes stare straight down at Cináed, who could feel a small trickle of blood running down to his nose--the metallic fist that struck him was, by no means, reserved.

"Do you fear death?"

Cináed's vision flashed with pain at the impact of the armoured fist, leaving him stunned as he sprawled. By the time he had recovered, Marcus was already stood over him. Speechless, he just stared up at Marcus for a long moment, pain throbbing from the cut on his forehead.

The question hung in the ever for several long seconds before the young angel-touched bit his lip and nodded. There was no sense lying. He feared death, of course he did. But that didn't mean he wasn't willing to face it for their cause. He met Marcus' eyes, hoping that some measure of his conviction was visible behind his otherwise cowed expression.

"Then why charge someone who is more experienced and heavier than you are? Why be so blind to your own weakness?" Marcus moves the blade in close to Cináed's eyes. Close enough that he could see the blood on his head within the reflection of the blade. "Think with your mind. You have one life to spend, do not waste it on a blind charge against something that will swat you away." He moves his blade away, and offers the hand that struck the farm boy in an open fashion, to help him to his feet. "I think I shall teach you how to feint--to deceive your opponent. Are you ready to learn?"

Halfway to opening his mouth and saying 'because you told me to', Cináed stopped himself. He supposed that he'd interpreted the instruction simplistically. His 'best swing' was open to interpretation, and if he'd thought about it, he probably could have determined the likely result of an open charge. Sighing softly, the boy nodded and took the ranger's hand with a faint smile.

Once he as on his feet, he brought a hand up and wiped the blood from his face, ignoring the stinging. He could heal it later, given that they had yet to reach Rheinfeld, but there was no point wasting energy and time taking care of it now. At Marcus' question, he gave another nod. "Yes, sir. Ready when you are."

"Good. Then follow my lead..." Marcus starts to show him the motions, allowing Cináed to follow at his own pace.

Two or so hours later, Cináed flopped down onto his bedroll with a heavy sigh, nursing a few bruises and scrapes from the evening's exertions. His sword-arm ached, but he found it didn't bother him all that much, as he knew that it had been worthwhile. Even in just these short hours he'd spent with Marcus, he'd learned a lot - not enough to close the gap between him and most of the more experienced swordsmen in the party by much, but enough that the difference in his sparring at the start and end of their session had been noticeable. The boy smiled, leaning back and gazing up at the night sky. He would just have to keep at it for the rest of the journey, and he might even be worth something in a fight without his magic!

Still, best not to get ahead of yourself, he warned himself internally. One week of lessons did not a swordsman make. But it was progress, and that was enough to satisfy him. He'd get to that point eventually, and until then, every lesson made him more likely to survive the trip to it.
 
The Creeping Sickness
Written by Script, Nilum and Potatocat
"Ah, M-Marcus?" A timid voice piped up from a short distance away from Marcus' vigil, as Rin tentatively made his way over to where the ranger and the princess were waiting. "I'm not sure if this is important, but, I can sense magic coming from the village. Not that of any of our companions, either. S-something else, that I haven't encountered before. And since this- this is templar territory, I would imagine they can sense it too. D-depending on how long it's been happening for, they could already be on their way."

"I would imagine that they are, assuming they have not been lured elsewhere." Marcus replies, bluntly. "We do not have long to search for our contact."

Oswald had been passing by riding along when he heard the mage mention that he felt the magic in the village. He stopped and pulled the pins from helm and took off the visor. "Its not just in the village." His eyes carefully scanned the woods around them. "Feels like some form of the Creeping Sickness."

"Indeed." Marcus replies. It seemed he had little more to add, and simply glances at Rin as he waited for the stuttering mage to add anything further.

Rin grimaced, eyeing the surrounding area with even greater wariness than before. "The name sounds familiar. But I've only read about it as something referenced in accounts of other events, n-never in any detail. What exactly is it?" He directed the question towards Oswald, tentatively. "Is it contagious?"

"A family of curses. Starts like any minor illness, and is often treatable as such. At least the early stages are. Unfortunately poor village folk out near the mountains can't really get treatment, and it progresses. Eventually they lose themselves to it and become like beasts. Attacking people on sight. At that stage of the curse, the only thing you can do is put them out of their misery." Oswald let out a mild sigh, his thoughts on the poor innocent villagers who found themselves being twisted to some mage's horrible will. "As far as it being contagious? It can be. So after we make it through here, feel free to bother our healers if you start feeling ill. Our mission is far too important to have one of our party members going feral in a month."

Stiffening slightly at the idea of putting a village full of innocents 'out of their misery', Rin's frown only deepened. "I see," he replied. Surely there had to be some alternative to slaughter. If it was a magical affliction, there must be some means of magically reversing it - perhaps just one yet to be discovered. It was no surprise that a templar would think otherwise, though - any study that could have been put into a magical cure would have been made impossible by Rheinfeld's anti-magic rhetoric.

None of those thoughts made their way into words, however. "I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, before nodding to the two other men, and retreating from the conversation.

 
A Lesson in Veracity
a collab with @Nilum
“So, why are you here?” Kerat approached James without prelude and simply began speaking his mind. “You said something about looking for magic, right? Back in the Rangers' cave-fort.”

"I am here for my own purposes," James replies with an amused tone. "Who do you think you are to question my motives, mercenary? They are more pure than yours."

Kerat folded his arms, annoyed. "I'm the guy covering your magic-less ass out here. Now you gonna answer my question or should I just act surprised when you betray us?"

James raises an eyebrow and smirks. "What a cutting retort from the illiterate who takes life for false gold and dead prophets on behalf of a stagnant civilization. Nonetheless, I suppose it would be unfair to characterize you as a failure like the rest of your race without even having gotten to know you." He whistles for Beatrice, who returns to his shoulder a few seconds later. She watches him as James continues his reply. "I'm looking to fix the broken world delivered to us by callous Gods. I have no intention of betraying any of you. Out of anyone here, outside of perhaps the Princess, I should have an even greater loathing of them than you." He scratches at his arms--something was bothering him, keeping him on edge.

Kerat's brow furrowed. "What did you mean, 'false gold'?

"You want gold because it has value, yes? Why?" James replies, finally seeming to give the orc some measure of his genuine attention, rather than simply talking to himself. "Why gold? It is a metal with few interesting properties. It shines. I can make gold, with magic." He snaps his fingers and a gold coin appears between his fingers. At least, it seemed to--it could, just as easily, be an illusion. "Oh, you are going to make it tamper proof you say? Well let me just put a face on it then." The gold coin slips between his fingers as he makes a fist, then a moment later, he opens his hand again. James takes a deep breath, and shows the gold coin once more--it had Kerat's face on it, though, he was smoking a pipe, likely filled with tobacco.

"You have spent your whole life killing for something that a mage can invent in a pot. It is as false as the smile of a whore."

"Nice trick." Kerat, said, unimpressed. "Sure, a mage can make gold, but I ain't a mage, so I gotta use my own kind of 'alchemy'." He casually swung his club forward to motion to it. "My Pestle may not make as much as a mage might, but I sure as hells can, and do, turn blood into gold, gold that ain't some fancy trick either," he said, pointing to the coin with his face on it.

James tilts his head with a terrible smile. "Is it a trick?" He flips the coin toward Kerat, and it bounces off of him, falling to the ground. It wasn't an illusion. "Or is your meagre perception of it a trick... The greatest we have ever known?"

Kerat bent down to pick up the coin, examining it. He flipped it in the air, caught it, then bit it to make sure it wasn't counterfeit. Satisfied it was, in fact, real, he asked, "How did you-" before realizing that James would never give him an answer. His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Huh."

"Ah, now you're getting it. Ask a question, get an answer, but the answer could be useless. Or is it? Perhaps the answer is to get you to think of a better question." He crosses his arms. Beatrice then nuzzles into his cheek--seemingly to comfort him. "One should wonder, if gold has permanent value, why we are not all mages who do nothing but make gold? Gold is just a means to an end... Like this adventure that we are on. I am here, for the same reason you are here... Power. Uprooted establishment. We're not satisfied with our place on the social ladder so here we are... Reaching for power by dethroning those who have it already. The difference is, I understand that this," he motions to the gold coin that Kerat held, "is merely a deception of value. One that the intelligent use to cow the fools who think nothing of it. If everyone tomorrow decided it had no value, how would slavers or warlords rule anymore? Peculiar, isn't it?"

He glances up at the sky, and Beatrice takes off from his shoulder to keep watch once again. His eyes then fall down onto the large orc once more. "Does that finally answer your question, Kerat?"

Kerat scratched his beard, struggling to make sense of everything James explained, "Nope. Just more questions." Kerat waved the tooth-marked coin with his face. "Like how you did this, or why yer such a wordy bastard," he grinned to show his jocular intent. He turned to leave, parting with a, "Thanks for the gold."
 
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