The Legend of Renalta (IC)

Kerat & Tahlia
The Hunt's Spoils
A collab between @Grothnor and @Holmishire.

With Faolan lying lazily at her feet, Tahlia stirred a large pot of stew over the campfire. She and her husband had recently returned from the wilds with a deer carcass dragged behind them, and while she wasn't making quite a venison feast for her companions, she hoped her stew would at least moderately lighten up the mood around the camp.

There were few individuals seated around the campfire with the meal not yet served, but there was one massive form that couldn't help but stand out: the orcish mercenary, Kerat. Loathe as she was to admit, she had done her best to avoid the man—but she knew that sooner rather than later, she would have to learn to trust him.

If only a little.

Sensing her discomfort, Faolan shook himself to his feet, and much to Tahlia's surprise, lumbered his way around the fire to then sit in front of Kerat. Looking him eye to eye, for a moment, in silence, before turning back to Tahlia expectantly. She balked, pointed a finger at her chest, and mouthed 'me?' to which he responded with a firm nod.

She cleared her throat, and not making eye contact with the orc, spoke up with a slight tremor. "He was wondering whether... whether you might have an interesting tale to tell about the scar." Now she looked up, and lifted a finger to gesture at gap at his left lip. "The uh, the one on your mouth."

Kerat looked up from his idle whittling, which he had paused once Faolan silently interrupted. He patiently watched the barely-verbal exchange between the two. "He wants to know, huh?" He asked skeptically. "Not much to tell, really. Got wounded in a battle, blacked out, woke up missing half my face."

Faolan mimed a yawn, stretching his mouth far wider than necessary to really drive the point across.

Tahlia was no more impressed. "You're a pretty terrible storyteller," she blurted out before meekly adding, "No offense." She looked back at the stew and stirred in some herbs as she spoke. "You're ten feet tall and more gouged out than a wood-chopping block—you could have said just about anything and I'd have believed you."

"Heh, I'm pretty terrible at everything that isn't fighting. Besides, when you've been in as many battles as I have, they all tend to blur together. Still, I suppose my first try was pretty shit." He stabbed his whittling knife into the tree branch he had been shaving and set it aside. "Humm... let's see...." He mumbled, scratching his beard. "It was a fight against Krakenhold, I think. I can't remember cuz back then the details weren't that important to grunts like me. We just went where the masters said to."

Mouthing the word 'master', Tahlia frowned. "I thought you were a mercenary—of the Grey Griffes band, or something of the sort."

"I wasn't always a mercenary. I started as a slave soldier. This was years ago, before I was part of the Grey Griffins or Kinelroy's Company." He paused to recall how many, "Eight? Nine? Sometime around then. Anyway, I was part of a unit of orc berserkers. We'd charge into the enemy, smash their formation, then retreat once the rest of the troops arrive to finish them off. Well, we did that, but the others were slow to arrive. We had to fight it out, outnumbered. Someone got lucky, stabbed me in the gut, and that's when I blacked out. I woke up maybe a day later; I was lucky enough to have a healer take a look at me while I was out. My comrades said lost my lips taking a morning-star to the face and that I single-handedly routed the enemy, but I..." Kerat shrugged. "...I dunno. I think they were trying to make me feel better."

Tahlia stopped stirring and looked at Kerat with a flash of pity to replace the unease she'd previously displayed. "It must have been horrible—fighting, killing, dying with no choice as to for whom or for what." She shook her head. "It's so easy to die; I've never understood how men throw themselves so quickly at each other over petty squabbles and gold. How could you bring yourself back to it, after having been forced to fight your whole life?"

"Back? I never left. I told you, I'm shit at anything that isn't fighting. I can't read, I can't farm, I'm too old to pick up a trade, and I don't know the first thing about magic," he said without bitterness. "Besides, I'm an orc. Fighting's in my blood. I just do it civil-like, and ask for money first," he grinned.

"Well that's… something." Tahlia flicked a finger into her mouth to taste the stew. "Barely," she muttered.

Foalan eyed Kerat skeptically, and then pressed his paw against the orc's hand to get a look at whatever it was he had previously been whittling.

Either not noticing or purposefully ignoring her husband's gesture, Tahlia continued unabated. "I should have expected as much. If there's one thing I pray you learn, Kerat—" At this, her eyes strayed to the haughty demonspawn's tent. "—it's that the more money you have, the less value it has."

"Pray?" The orc scoffed, retrieving his whittling knife before tossing the crudely carved stick for Faolan to fetch. "To who?" He grinned.
 
Lost, But Not Forgotten
(Written by Script and slade)
It wasn't until several nights into the group's journey that Cináed plucked up the courage to approach Sisera. When he'd first heard the name, he'd presumed it mere coincidence that the cloaked swordsman shared a name with another famous figure from Renalta's last histories. Of course, there'd been a shred of doubt - if Kouri had returned, then why not one of her most loyal servants? Responsible for ensuring the Princess' survival, and leading the final defence against Typhon... surely it couldn't be?

Eventually, after hearing whispers that such was indeed the case from overheard conversations between others in the group, he resolved that he would just ask.

And so, the young renaltan sought Sisera out at camp that night, when there was an opportunity to speak to him off to the side. Cináed made his way over to the cloaked man, flashing a slightly nervous smile of greeting. "Ah, Sisera? If it's not too much trouble, might I beg a moment of your time?"

Sisera pushed a log into the lonesome campfire with his walking stick. The flickering flames only barely illuminated his jaw and nose, the rest cloaked under his hood and the darkness of the night. He looked up at the youth, a flash of those dull, brown eyes present for only a moment.

"What do you wish of me?" he said politely before feeding another log into the fire.

"I just wanted to ask ..." Another pause, as Cináed considered his wording. "I know this might sound outlandish, but given the princess' return ... Are you the Sisera, from Kouri's time? The pyromancer who held the city while she escaped?"

Do you remember the smell
Do you remember anything

There was a long, swallowing silence after Cinàed spoke. Sisera merely poked the fire around with his walking stick. Whatever thoughts or emotions were flowing through his head the boy wouldn't be able to read a single expression.

"Yes" he said quietly, but with a stern, sharp voice. "I am that Sisera"

"That's amazing!" Cinàed's eyes widened with awe and his nervous smile broadened into a delighted grin. "Wow, I-" He swallowed, trying his best to compose himself and not come across as a starry-eyed idiot. "It's an honour to meet you," he managed after a breath, keeping as much of the excitement from his tone as he could, though it was written on his face plain as day all the same. "Oh- I'm Cinàed," he offered hurriedly, realising he hadn't introduced himself. "I'm a pyromancer myself, actually... well, healing is more my speciality, but I've been working on my fire magic since I resolved to travel-"

He took another breath, slowing himself. "Ah, sorry. I'm getting carried away," he laughed, cringing slightly. "But truly, that both Kouri and you are still alive... it's amazing." He hesitated, then, for a moment - teetering on the edge of his next question, but in the end curiosity won out over tact, and he forged on. "Is it okay for me to ask how?"

Hidden from the night and his drooping hood, Sisera's eye twitch for a brief moment before applying pressure on one of the logs, forcing it to crack and break into cinders. A flurry of embers plume out amidst the fire and scatter around Sisera. His eyes water from the heat as he began to recall memories he had preferred to be kept at bay. The smoke from the fire suddenly became very still, merely floating above the fire and slowly getting larger as the fire fed it
.
"I'd rather not talk about that" He said slowly "It's not a pleasant subject for me". Before his eyes flashes fire amidst the darkness of the caverns of the deep world, a giant wall of flame surrounding the castle, then it all burning. His ancestral home burning to the ground. Then a peaceful image of a warm bed with the familiar image of red auburn hair with a green streak. Followed by it being swallowed whole by snarling fangs.

"Fire magic is dangerous" he said suddenly, distracting himself. "It more often than not requires a master of willpower, it is a battle between you and the flame." The smoke that had began to amass around the fire quickly dissipated and was blown away by the wind. "And if you lose the injuries can be...severe"

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry," Cinàed nodded hastily when Sisera declined to speak of his survival, suppressing a wince at his misstep. He listened quietly as Sisera went on, nodding his head curiously. "I find that my fire is more ... like something that burns within me, when I call on it. It's less like I'm fighting it, and more like I'm letting it go. It's kind of like an extension of me, rather than something outside me that I'm wrestling into submission, if that makes sense?"

He flashed an awkward smile, self-conscious about sounding like he was disagreeing with such a famous master of pyromancy. He supposed that it made sense that their magics interacted with them differently, considering his was sourced from his angelic heritage rather than arcane prowess.

"Is that so?" Sisera said musingly. He took his finger and scratched a small runic symbol in the dirt, the image having some meaning to him before quickly smudging it away. "Very few mortals speak of fire magic in such a manner." He placed his hands closer to the flame to warm them, careful not to let the heat singed his palms. "Either you have done what took me years to accomplish, or you're a very special person. Tell me. When you stand in a blizzard do you feel any semblance of a shiver? If you put your hand in this fire, would your hand burn?" He wrapped his cloak around himself to keep warm.

"If those answers are no, its no wonder that you command fire the way you do"

"I can't claim to have walked through a blizzard before," Cinàed answered with a smile. "But no, snow and cold don't usually bother me - or flames. My magic comes from my heritage," he gestured vaguely at his golden eyes, "so I suppose it's no surprise that my fire burns differently to that of an arcane pyromancer."

He moved to stand closer to the fire himself, peering into its depths. "I'm not sure my tolerance for heat remains while I'm suppressing my magic," he frowned faintly, before chuckling. "The cold is certainly growing more noticeable, so it's probably best not to check!"

"So your ancestors were Angels. I had a feeling" He said casually, recalling seeing similar eyes on an angel from long ago. "You have a very special gift," he said lifting up his arm "You should take care to foster such abilities" a small stream of smoke crept from his finger and began to swirl around the fire. "When I was eleven my Father bought every book on magic he could get his hands on and gave them all to me. One year later I was scorching my blistering hands as I tried again and again to master and tame the fire"

The smoke than changed color, going from it's lifeless black to a bright vibrant blue and then a deep, royal purple.

"In just a few years I mastered those flames and was called a protege. It was one of the few things that people admired me for, so much so that I would put on a show for foreign diplomats." He stared into the flame as his finger twitched to control the smoke. "Now I have lost my abilities, fire escapes me and it forever will." He opened his mouth and with a flick of his wrist the smoke began to flow into his mouth, until nothing was left.

"But because I once worked hard and took advantage of what I could do, even now I can still be useful when everything has been taken away from me"

He smiled for a brief moment, thinking of Kouri, "Well, almost everything."

A frown claimed Cinàed's smile upon hearing of Sisera's loss, even as he watched the smoke dance to the older man's command. His eyes followed it back to its source, gold glinting in the firelight as he looked up into the shadows of the man's hood. "I think your presence in and of itself must be a comfort to the princess, usefulness aside," he said quietly. "Everything else from the past the two of you share is gone... But you both remain. A connection to that past, however frayed, is something I think she would cherish."

He paused, turning back to the fire and letting its crackling punctuate the brief silence before he went on. "I haven't seen you speak with her much, since we set off. It must be difficult, to know where to pick up again after so long."

Sisera stood up and grabbed another log and haphazardly chucked it in campfire, taking in the sound of the old logs disintegrating under the weight of the new one.

"I haven't really spoken to her since she was a little girl." He said plainly. "Merely curt nods or a bow of respect, a polite word here or there. She outgrew me." He moved the log around with his walking stick, making sure that it all of it would roast "I was once her caretaker, now I am merely her servant. There is nothing more to say". His eyes soften for a brief moment as he recalled her as a toddler roaming about the depths of the castle.

"Any connection we had was diminished long before our world was shattered. All that there is is my duty, which will more than suffice" Whether he meant those words or not was difficult to know. Sisera always made sure anything about himself was hidden as much as possible.

Cinàed stayed quiet for a few long moments after Sisera spoke, wearing an uncharacteristically pensive expression. "I don't know that Kouri needs more servants right now," he said carefully, not wishing to offend the old hero. "Whether or not the two of you were still close back then, you share something with her that none of the rest of us can. A past- no, an era. In this world that must be so alien to her, you're a memory that's solid. You're someone with whom she can remember what's now lost, and who will understand what it means. Who can put faces to the names, relate stories of your own..."

He sighed, shaking his head quietly before looking back at Sisera with an encouraging smile, gesturing to the fire. "You've proven it yourself, with your fire and smoke. What is lost does not have to be forgotten. The connection you had with Kouri can be remade into something new and different, but just as valuable. Bridges can be rebuilt. I don't wish to overstep, but perhaps the way you can best serve her now is not as a servant doing his duty, nor as a caretaker. Perhaps it is as a friend."

"I've enjoyed this conversation with you" Sisera said quietly. "But I'd like to be alone for now."

"Oh, of course," Cinàed nodded, his brow furrowing slightly with worry that he'd overstepped in his advice. He wasn't sure that he regretted it even if he had, though. "I'll leave you to your thoughts. Goodnight, and thank you for hearing me out."

With that, the youth turned and walked away, casting only one brief glance back at the older man. He let out an ever so slightly sad sigh, hoping that he'd been right, and that the friendship between Sisera and Kouri was something that could be rekindled more easily than Sisera's flames. Cinàed had a feeling that the princess would need people she could feel close to in the coming days, and who better for that than her old guardian? Even if he was a changed man, surely he was right that the two of them had a bond in their shared past.

He supposed that at this point, all he could do was keep hoping.
 
Scout's Honour
(Feat. @HerziQuerzi as Kalemn, @Orion as Dean, @Otomos the Crazy as Sabre@Nilum as Mikan and the mysterious vampire, and @LimeyPanda as Rheanna)

Rheanna did not much react to the strangeness of the village. She didn't know if perhaps she had missed some circumstance which might welcome such a friendly greeting - a celebration day, perhaps. It wasn't until Mikan voiced her concern that Rheanna started to feel a anxious tension. She shrugged to feel the comforting weight of the axe on her back, but resisted the urge to unsheathe it for now. She let Mikan take the lead and enter the church, noting the strange murmerings but not quite connecting them to anything meaningful.

It wasn't until Mikan's hasty retreat from the Church that Rheanna sprung to life again. With the approach of the Guard Captain, the Amazon drew her Axe and readied it for combat. When the man spoke and disarmed Mikan with words, Rheanna's grip on her blade only tightened. She held no love for these strangers. She would cut this man down the moment he presented himself a threat. Instead, he just talked. Words exchanged that made little sense, but revealed there was a brigand, a slave, and a 'Green Fox' amongst them. Judging by how the puppet spoke to Mikan, she was the Green Fox, whatever that meant. With the man backing up, Rheanna spoke out to break the silence that was starting to filter into the tense setting. "You come to us. We gain nothing from coming to see a phantom mage. It is you who wants something from us, clearly; so make the damn effort. I personally don't care how many meat-puppets you throw at us. Any threat to me and mine is as good as dead."

The past half week saw little activity. After being placed in the scouting party Dean had done his best to help any way he could, and through their efforts they had successfully managed to avoid any trouble through the mountains. During the nights after the camp had been made Dean would approach Marcus as planned, and spend whatever time remained in the evening to train. It made for long days, and tiring travels but it was at least what he was accustomed to.

The latest development in their travels found them in a most disconcerting town. In all his travels Dean had never experienced a reception like this. Everyone seemed too decent, too pleased to see strangers and too content. They made their way to the Church and the true colors of the town came to light. The possessed Guard Captain spoke and ultimately revealed very lititle of whatever was happening. The Amazon leapt at the opportunity to make threats, and Dean felt it necessary to voice reason. "Stow the axe Rheanna. At best we slaughter a village of innocents, or end up killed ourselves. Neither outcome would serve our purpose. End of the day we need to know what this Phantom knows, and that means humoring his request."

"They seem more body puppet than innocents to me," Kalemn chimed in, "though we're still disgustingly outnumbered. So I agree, 'Green Fox' here should head on down, while the rest of us wait inside the church." She shrugged. "It's cold, apparently, but we'd be less likely to get swarmed."

"They are body puppets."

Sabre spoke where he stood. His hands seemed slack, and hung by his sides, but he was actually prepared to draw his blade for a fight. He felt the magic that surrounded the villagers. The kind of magic that enthralled every townsperson there. It made the Ex-Slave wary of it. Especially when it came up to thyme, and revealed that it knew what they were.

"They are being controlled by a being of great power. One that we should be careful interacting with."

Sabre meant for that to be towards the whole group, but the timing made it seem as if it was made in response to Rheanna's words. It didn't matter much at the moment. Not to Sabre, anyway. He was more concerned with the coarse of action they should take.

"Going alone is foolish, no matter what...Some of us should go with her."

"Which is why this puppet shaman should come to us. Out in the open, where I can plunge an axe in his skull if he tries to hurt one of my hunting party." Turning to Dean, the Amazonian's gaze burned down at the man. "I would kill One hundred of these people before I let them hurt one of mine." With that, she turned towards the Militia Guard captain, snarling like an angered bear. "What I don't understand is how this one has avoided detection from the Templars. Our entire group is cowed by the thought of using magic, and this swine does so to an entire village? It makes no sense to me."

"Maybe everyone should be a touch more careful about saying anything about the rest of the group," Kalemn muttered under her breath.

Dean stood stiff as Rheanna looked down upon him, but he did his best to stand his ground. The woman was imposing by any description and Dean wasn't sure he was up to the challenge she would surely be. "Enthralment doesn't justify putting then all to the sword when another way exists and lucky for us all Amazon, this being does not wish to hurt any of us, let's see we keep it that way by not threatening to split its head open."

"My, but that your pets argue." The Militia Captain replies, as he looks at the Amazonian with a quirked eyebrow. Mikan, however, simply looks confused, and somewhat intimidated. "What? Look, just... Answer their questions, okay?" The Militia Captain shrugs, and glances over the other members of the scouting group. "The Templar are on their way here, as are Silver Shields. I have been biding my time here, waiting until someone of interest would pass by. Someone I could speak with, someone who could give me what I want."

The Militia Captain steps back as the church doors swing open. Out steps a tall man, his black plate armour marked with a strange symbol upon the chest that none of them recognized: A knife, twisted circular around a fist, with a drop of blood underneath it. His skin is bright and pale, and at his waist is a long sword. Though he wears a helmet that obscures much of his face, through the visor, his eyes can still be seen: Silver. They glare straight through the scouting party, almost as though they aren't there, straight at Mikan--whose eyes widen in sheer terror. "Green Fox," the vampire starts. "You remember me. You stole something for me, and it was of great use... Great value. I mean you and your petty playmates no real harm, but I need you all to come with me, into the church. Resistance is not an option."

"Then it's settled, then."

Sabre walked toward Mikan, stopping behind her. He had no reason to trust the undead being, but with him having the advantage with all these people, following along wouldn't really change their situation. Besides, If what they said was true, then a few more questions may have to be answered.

"No, it is not settled." Rheanna stepped forward, all but fearless in the face of the vampire and the bright blue sky above. "What did she take for you? Why did you demand we conclude this business in your cursed church? I am no one's pet, and I will not be left in the dark while strangers and silent allies gamble with our lives."

In Dean's tenure as whatever kind of mercenary he was, he had learned that you could tell much of a person just by looking them square in the eye. "It's hardly silence when you choose not to listen Rheanna. Look what lies around you, Gods only knows how many possessed innocents signaling every passing Templar and Silver Shield near enough to notice that something is happening here."

Dean points to the menacing figure that sprung from the church. "And he stands at the center of that signal. Look at HIM, look at his fucking eyes. He's no mere stranger and he's made it clear we aren't escaping without killing the villagers and if you're even willing to do that is another discussion, but how long do you have to kill them before Templar arrive? Can you kill all the Templar then?" Dean tried his best at a reassuring face. "You're right not to trust him, but standing in the open at the foot of the Church asking these questions does nothing to protect us. The truth is we'd be dead already if he wished it."

The vampire smiles and claps his hands slowly. Mikan finally gathers enough of her wits to speak, though her voice shook. "You put on quite a show, I do not know why." He shrugs, without much care, and looks at the Amazon. He leans over her, sneering in disgust. "You should listen to your peasant compatriot. If you were not ready to go on a journey, then you should have become some fool's house pet and at least been useful for prolonging their legacy of mediocrity. I shall tell you nothing of her deals with me."

Mikan steps between them and looks up at the vampire. "Look, I still do not really know you. I guess I ran a job for you once through an employer, but nothing else. Why do you insist on the church?"

The vampire tilts his head and licks his teeth. "We are being watched. Come inside, I will explain... Or, continue with your futile blathering. I could always just kill you all and move on, but it's not every day I find a King's Ranger enraptured by my nets."
Sabre never said that he liked the idea of playing along with a vampire, but ultimately it was up to the leader of this scouting group for the decision. He had fought vampires before in the arena, but they were normally starved and weakened so that they could be more easily locked up. By his words and tone, he seemed to hold himself in high regard. That usually meant that he had full confidence in whatever he was planning. He had every right to. He had hostages, some unknown enemies were on their way, the magic that had the townspeople under his control linked back to him, and he definitely seemed less-starved than the ones Sabre had fought.

The Ex-Slave kept quiet. He kept his focus on everything around him, looking for some sort of change.
For a hot moment, Rheanna saw the vampire's neck as he tried to loom over her threateningly and felt the red haze gently filter down. Her axe grip tightened as he made his attack on her, only to loosen at the mention of the group being watched. "Impossible, Zephyr observes above. She would spot any incoming threat and... unless..." For a moment the cogs turned, before the Amazonian just stepped back with a broad, cocky smirk on her face. "Fine. I will consent to this if Mikan does."

Mikan glances at Rheanna sympathetically, and then looks at the Vampire. "What did I steal for you, exactly? What did Frederick order me to retrieve for you?"

The Vampire simply grins, exposing his fangs as he looks her over. She shudders, but, this seems to satisfy him enough to finally convince him to answer. "A book of secrets, bound in black. It gave me all the secrets I needed to start with my plans. This would be... Perhaps, two, or three years ago for you? Time is such a fickle thing for mortals."

Mikan blinks, and then curses under her breath in Rheinfelder. Dean picks up on it--something vague, about illiteracy. Finally, she nods and motions toward the church doors. "Go ahead. Take us inside... But know that if you hurt any of my allies, the last thing I will do as a living woman is take your head off." She looks at Rheanna, and nods once more. Mikan was still clearly scared, but was reassured by Rheanna's protectiveness.

Kalemn gave a sigh of relief as Mikan finished speaking, and immediately began making her way towards the church. "Thank the gods. I was worried the threats and posturing would keep circling around until we all starved to death."
 
Wary Warriors Watch the Woods
A collab with @Potatocat

The scouting party had been gone for quite some time, though Kerat wasn't sure if it was longer than expected or not. He didn't like waiting, and had taken to pacing the area. Wandering near Oswald, he audibly grumbled, “Always the waiting. Always the fucking waiting....”

Oswald sat atop his horse, lance raised to the sky. His eyes scanning the woods. "You're right. Its taking far too long." He grumbled back. "And I feel something out there. Horrible, twisted magic. Keep your eyes to the woods, Orc. We might not have to wait much longer."

"Huh? Right you're a Templar." Kerat shrugged Pestle from off his shoulder. "So what kinda magic-y shit are we looking at?" He scanned the treeline, debating if he wanted to string his bow.

"A magical disease of sorts. Starts like an illness. People start acting tired and drained." Oswald shifted around in his saddle. "Harmless enough if you get it treated. Well, until the late stages. Turns folks feral. They'll attack just about anyone on sight. Try and kill eat them. And well, at that point." He adjusted his grip on his lance. "About the only thing you can do for the poor bastards his put them out of their misery."

"So you just kill them, nothing magic-y you gotta do to make sure they stay dead or nothing?"

"Not much to it, but if something strange does happen don't blame me. These sorts of curses are diverse and with the evil shit mages get to, eventually one will figure out how to turn the poor masses into an undying army marching to their fucked up drums."

Kerat shrugged. "Eh, just means more work for me." He decided whatever was out there wasn't worth stringing his bow for, and visibly relaxed.

"Just stay alert, and be prepared. We should be fine." Oswald trotted off to watch another part of the woods.
 
Cerise and Kalemn - Riches n Rags
(Feat @glmstr as Cerise)
(A few days before, during the journey)


Hours passed, and Cerise still remained lethargic. The only things that had changed were her removal of the cloak and hood, and her pike -Ebonhold standard attached- leaned against the tree she used for shade.

As the company settled in for the night, the last of the mountains lingering around them, the scouting party returned from their daily journey, and Kalemn found herself absently wandering the camp. Between Sabre’s aggressive passiveness, Mikan’s aggressive flirting, and Rheanne’s aggressive aggressiveness, she was hungry for some ordinary conversation. And to her luck, the eye catching tiefling was off on her own.

“Evening, m’lady,” the bandit said cheerfully, giving a mock curtsey. “Is the mud and grime of travel to your liking?”

“No worse than the mud and grime in the Rangers’ stronghold,” Cerise looked up at the scarred ruffian, “you think they’d at least clean the damn place, given who they were housing,” the princess nodded her head in the general direction of Kouri.

Kalemn grinned. “I find it fitting, in a way. What’s left of her kingdom but dirt, anyway? Of her crown but rust?” She shrugged, “every noble should be taught some humility at some point.”

“With how much they worship her, you’d think they would try a little harder, even if for a queen of dirt and rust,” orange eyes swiveled back to meet Kalemn’s. “You would be surprised just how much humility you learn when your actions directly decide whether countless subjects live or die, and when their blood will stain your hands if you make a mistake. Of course, most of the other nobility in our ranks aren’t important enough to carry that burden.” Her tone, especially towards the end, carried a rather playful, almost teasing undertone to an otherwise grim response.

Kalemn waved a dismissive hand, her grin sitting comfortably somewhere between friendly and mocking. “Countless men and women willing to die just when you say to seems more empowering than humiliating.” She reached out and grabbed the tiefling’s pike and began bouncing it from hand to hand. “Or are you telling me that holding this high while armies marched to do your bidding never made your blood sing or ego soar?”

“Oh, believe me, it does,” Cerise stretched and yawned, her tone betraying her body language. “Yet it also comes with the knowledge that if those brave men and women die for me, their mothers, fathers, spouses and children will know that their demise was by my orders,” her normally piercing gaze softened, and she cast her eyes to the ground. “Have you seen the face of a mother whose son you just marched to his death?”

“Of course, that’s why we try to populate our armies with criminals and slaves. Nobody truly cares if they die,” the princess’s statement lacked the confidence that normally oozed from her every pore. “They’re willing to lay down their lives for me, which is a glorious sight to behold, but they’re still my people.”

“Do I look like I’ve marched anyone anywhere?” Kalemn asked, amused. “I’ve seen the faces of grieving mothers, though. The mothers of fallen comrades and the mothers of men I’ve killed both. Hasn’t bothered me since I was a little lass.” She let go of the pike and let it fall back against the tree before pulling some food from her pack. “Care for an apple?” Without waiting for an answer, she tossed one to Cerise before pulling out another for herself. Taking a bite, her next words were spoken around a mouthful of apple chunks. “Maybe the trick is that I don’t have ‘my’ people. There’s my ma and da, but I’m hardly responsible for what they do. Life’s easier when you can count on yourself to watch your own back, instead of distracting yourself by watching someone else’s for them.”

“I guess that’s the price for having faithful subjects,” Cerise caught the apple and took a bite out of it, but unlike Kalemn she waited to speak until she had swallowed her food, “More often than not, that burden is worth it. Living in a mighty castle with knights and peasants and suitors seeking to court you? It’s a glamorous lifestyle if you can forget what it is you’re protecting.” The demon-touched took another bite of the apple. Apples weren’t supremely easy to acquire in the Free Holds, the climate was not ideal to grow them in most places, requiring them to be shipped from elsewhere.

“Prices and burdens,” Kalemn scoffed. “Fine, have it your way.” She turned to leave, raising a hand in farewell. “Best of luck on hiding from the curse of wealth and power.”

“This is as good a place as any to do that, the assassins won’t find me here,” Cerise was only half-joking, her tone was light-hearted while her face twisted into a brief scowl. So far, Kerat’s friendliness seemed to be the exception to her thoughts on bandits, not the rule.
 
Monsters Meet
a collab with @West

Kerat had kept his distance from Ludvig for the past week, eyeing the undead warily. However, he knew that if they were to work together, he'd better get to know him... or if it even was someone. “So,” he approached Ludvig with a degree of uncharacteristic reservation, “You're dead. Care to explain that one to me?” Pestle was rested casually on his shoulder, but ready to swing down on the zombie's head at a moment's notice, if needed.

He turned his eye to the side, looking at the Orc standing infront of him Definently a powerful orc, albeit he looked more like a savage than an actual orc. He grunted quietly once he had come upon this realization, giving him an aggressive tone in return: "Yeah, I can explain it to you, if you can explain where your kind went wrong in the past centuries." Ludvig turned to face the character that had approached him. "Even better, don't you have better things to do than talking to the dead? They usually don't reply."

"Normally, yeah, but you're replying. So, what's up with that?" Kerat's grimace made his unease apparent, but his continuing presence suggested curiosity and wariness, rather than aggression.

Ludvig looked at him with a dull expression, feeling a sense of uneasiness himself due to Kerat still attempting to converse with him. He glanced to the sides, trying to see if he was causing something reminescent of a scene for no good reason. After failing to come up with anything else that would deterr the orc from interacting with him any further, he barked out: "Fine then! But I have no food to offer you whilst we converse that isn't spoiled, so supply your own." Ludvig quickly fell flat on his ass by pure will, sitting cross-legged. He raised his left hand up lazily to the orc and in the next second pointed it downwards to the ground. He gave Kerat a few seconds to do this, before proceeding.

"Tell me personally, Orc. What's your biggest life failure so far? A failed sparring match? Failure to protect your owner? Missed opportunity of freedom?" His tone didn't suggest that he was expecting an actual answer to the questions, albeit he still gave the orc time to give him one.

Kerat eased himself to the ground, still cautious, but relaxed by the casual setting. He pursed his lips in introspective discomfort at Ludvig's question. He took a deep breath and sighed before meeting the undead's eyes and answering cryptically, "I wanted to play the game."

A hint of mystery, Ludvig thought. Perhaps the Orc infront of him wasn't as much of a savage as he had thought. Ludvig leaned forward, eyeing his face's muscles slowly for any sudden twitch that'd suggest it being a lie, before proceeding. "Very well. Your failure was that you wanted to play the game. My failures were numerous in my life, as likely as yours will be full of them too. Even in death, mistakes occure." He gave Kerat a few moments to think, and later spoke up once more:

"I came back because of another man's failure. His complete idiocy and failure in his life was so great, that my life was returned, in which I stole his. The gods beneath in that hell I was don't want one of their souls wandering free without replacement. And that idiot was an evil one, so sending him down there did him no wrong." After finishing his monologue, the Undead looked at Kerat. "Tell me. Why are you here? Your kind don't usually stick to defending high royalty." His tone seemed to lighten up, his harshness turning into a more... Neutral, tone. A dull one as well, almost like a butter-knife.

"You're a real grim bastard, ain't ya?" Kerat murmured after listening to Ludvig's tale, mildly perturbed. He answered his question with, "My kind? My kind'd defend a bowl of porridge if it paid them, and Royalty tend to be pretty wealthy."

Ludvig's mindset had been that of annoyance over the length of the conversation. But even he himself was growing tired of talking, and to keep the tone forever to someone who listens instead of talking or refuting what he says. He decided to let himself slip up on some of the more, personal, secrets. "Mm. Your kind did once stand up for the same values as we humans did. Not like those piss in the woods elves, or the dwarves who often hid in their mountains. Believe it or not, your kind wasn't always considered the beasts they are today. Your kind was once considered the best guardians one could get their money's worth. Most loyal ones, too." Ludvig leaned forward, whispering to him. "That's why a few of them found their way into the Royal Guard."

Ludvig retreated backwards, looking at Kerat. "So, Kerat, was it? How do you plan on spending your life once you're finished with aiding Kouri? She will without a doubt try to grant you your freedom. But old dogs don't learn new tricks. Think you could handle it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kerat rolled his eyes, "I know all about that King's Rangers' 'better world' crap. You can keep all that shit to yerself. We keep talking about 'my kind', and I don't think we're talking about the same thing, so I'll make myself clear: I'm a mercenary, not a slave. I am not an animal, and I don't like being compared to them." He stood up to leave, scowling.
 
((Note: “Impatient Veterans” is a collab between myself and @Becca while the other two sections are my own work.))

“I will try not to fail you, and everyone else.”
-Princess Kouri of Renalta, Page 2.​

Impatient Veterans

It had been a long ride to get to where they were. Kasienka had taken a few minutes to discretely massage her behind and seat areas every time they dismounted, even if it was only to let their mounts drink from a stream. She was not used to riding such far distances. She preferred to be on her own two feet, but that wasn't sensible for this journey. She was grateful that this mare was placid and gentle with her otherwise she would never recover from being in the saddle for so long.

When they stopped outside of a village she was hopeful to see some novel faces. She certainly wasn't tired of the group she was with, but she was tired of hearing the same voices. Of course, silence was far more upsetting than voices. If only they had other things to talk about or songs to share. Kasienka had attempted to share an elven tune, but James's scowl had squashed that effort.

Now she was drawn out of her thoughts by James speaking to her and Hanus. She had her head bowed against his chest while they murmured in waves of different tongues, typically gliding between noble and elvish depending on the word choice. The auburn-haired elf lifted her head to match her glade-colored eyes to the purple which stared back at her. Kasienka nodded her head when James described the feeling after the rumbling of Hanus's voice had finished.

“Yes, but I am... slightly accustomed to it. It is not novel to me. It is something I have experienced in similar lands before. I am... anxious in regards to our search party. They should be back by now, but they are not and this feeling has surfaced.” She stood up straighter, taking all of her weight off of Hanus, and began to dig her toes into the dirt and rubbed her wrists slowly. “If I can gather a large enough group, perhaps two or three others in addition to myself, I will go after them. I do not like such young ones being alone.”

“What?! Really?” James's tone is mixed with surprise and irritation. “Truly?! No. Mikan and her scouting party were five people, you propose to go rescue them with less instead of more? Assuming they are even in trouble, and not simply delayed by the peasants they have to navigate through?” Beatrice caws as she flies overhead of them all--she was aiding in keeping watching. James's contribution to things, it seemed.

Hanus on the other hand raises an eyebrow, and taps his throwing axes. “Kasienka and I are more than most of you. We could move in to investigate.”

“Truly. I believe we will be able to retrieve them if we must. I am not limited to my magical capabilities; I am skilled with my bow and hunting knife if I must use them. Hopefully we will be able to simply pick them out of a pub or some-such and return. I know Hanus will be more than capable in defending me and a companion if he also accompanies us.” She smiled shyly at Hanus then let her face fall blank again as she turns to look at James again.

“And ultimately we should bring it to Princess Kouri to decide. We are her followers and should respect her wishes and ask her guidance.” Before James could rebut Kasienka's statement with some witty quip the elf walked over to Kouri and gave a brief bow, as she was wearing her patched riding pants and not a skirt, before speaking.

“I wish to go to the village from which the scouts should have returned. Furthermore I would like to take Hanus with me, and perhaps one other. I am concerned for their safety.”

James opens his mouth to give a retort, only to watch her leave. Hanus shakes his head with an amused grin as he passes the Illusionist, and leaves James to stand in frustration. He mutters something under his voice and whistles for Beatrice to return to him.

As Kasienka approaches, the Princess turns and faces Kasienka. “No,” Kouri replies softly as she motions her horse over to herself. As the horse reaches her side, she slowly pets him, her tone changing from its typically gentle nature to something more stately. “If they do not return in the next few minutes, we will all go together. I will not leave them behind.” She looks over at Kasienka, and smiles a little. “I said I will try not to disappoint all of you. Give me a chance to prove it.”

“Princess please do not fear that you will disappoint me. The only thing which could disappoint me is having to attend your funeral before I have shown a gray hair. I beg you, allow Hanus and myself to go ahead. If nothing else we should scout for our scout party as odd as it may sound. We have both lived centuries, we will not fall if we move in secrecy not even a mile from our compatriots.” Though she did her best to hide it, Kasienka was definitely growing slightly more anxious. She did not know if Kouri had any skills beyond her magic. It didn't help that the feeling of worms across her skin grew slightly.

Hanus glances between them, and allows his hands to slip off of his throwing axes. There's a hint of his nobleman's past as he mixes body language--most prominently, his hands--with his words. “Princess, we have vowed ourselves to your cause, worry not for how we feel of you. We will travel just to the edge of the village, to see if we cannot spot our comrades. You can deny us this if you wish, but the two of us will arouse far less suspicion and anger than if we brought all of you.”

The Princess simply stands quietly, and lowers her blue eyes to the ground. She mumbles a reply. “Go, then.”

Hanus looks to Kasienka and nods. “Gather your horse, I shall get Krasnyy. We will not have long if they are in trouble.”

Kasienka felt a twinge of guilt as Kouri wilted, but knew it was for the best. She wished to grab the princess into a hug, but knew she would only be pushed away. Instead she spun and moved to sprint over to Dirge and swing herself onto her without any perceivable effort. She gently nudged her bare heels against the mare's flanks and trotted over to Krasnyy, waiting for Hanus to lead them.

By the time Dirge and Kasienka reach Krasnyy, Hanus was already atop it. Before the two can leave, however, Beatrice lands beside them and caws at them. It seemed they were going to be followed. Hanus shakes his head, but looks at Kasienka and motions toward the village. “[Dark Elven] With due haste! Move, Red!” Krasnyy jumps to life and starts moving as fast as he can--still somewhat slower than the maximum speed of a horse, but with his head held high.

Kasienka urged her horse after Krasnyy, not caring that Beatrice followed them. She rode with a practiced expertise that betrayed her fitness, but for now she had no reason to hide it. Even with the grave circumstances she wanted to giggle at Krasnyy's expression. The lizard already held a special place in her heart she never thought a reptile would take.

They rode until the reached the outskirts of the village, then they slowed to quiet their entrance. It was at this point Kasienka would motion to dismount and continue on foot. It was easier to hide a cloaked man and barefoot woman than it would be to convince Krasnyy to be discrete. She could only hope Krasnyy wouldn't take Dirge as a snack during their excursion.

“Krasnyy.” Hanus points at Dirge, Krasnyy's eyes follow it. They continue to follow his hand as he lowers it and taps the throwing axe at his waist. “Yesh', i ty umirayesh'. (Eat, and you're dying.)” His Dark Elven sounded guttural and authoritarian as the lizard lays down on the grass underneath it, appearing to understand and wilt away from his tone. He pats Krasnyy on the head, then turns and nods to Kasienka. “I will follow your lead, Krasivyy.”

An Old Flame; Unquenchable

Mikan’s group is quietly led into the church of the Vampire, who continues to walk—though every step sounds like it echoes somewhat. The doors behind them creak as they move, the militia commander behind them all staring at them with an empty look as he shuts them inside. The air was cold and unsettling. Cold enough, that they could see their own breath when they exhaled, and upon looking around at the darkened interior, there were hints of ice forming upon the walls and pillars. The vampire lifts a hand, and moves a wooden alter aside. Underneath is a basement, likely built into the Church—a reliquary. A place to store all manner of holy things, though it was heavily refurbished, implying that the Vampire had been doing his work for at least a few weeks now.

He descends the steps, one by one. As the scout group follows, they find themselves in a small room—only a few feet in width and length, and only about six feet from floor to ceiling. The Vampire himself, imposing in stature, has to lean down so he can fit in the space. Within the room was a table, and upon that table, a few documents—though one thing stood out beyond all else: A black-leather tomb, which looked blasted by flame. The pages were yellow from extraordinary age, and it hummed with an undisturbed magic that seemed positively ancient.

The Vampire walks around the table, then kneels in front of it. He appears rather almost like he worships the book from the way he looks upon it, though his silver eyes are quickly pulled away to look up at the group who has travelled with him into the basement of the church. “Your trust is appreciated.” Mikan glares at him, but quietly sits down. She looked rather uncomfortable being there, and her eyes constantly darted around the room, as though she was looking for something—anything—that could lead out to safety. She speaks after a few moments of silence pass between them.

“So, uh... What’s your name?”
“I have gone by many names. You however, may simply call me... Valedroma. I was once a Baron, but that title holds no meaning when I am lord of no land, does it?”

Mikan’s eyes seem to finally light up with recognition, though she makes no remark on it—almost as though she would rather keep that secret to herself.

“So, we have gone along with your plans. Why have you brought us down here?”
“To offer you a deal, of course.”
“What could we possibly offer you? We are just--”
“You can drop the charade. I know you travel with the Princess of Renaltan Fables. Secrets like that do not tend to remain as such for long... Especially when one learns it from a King’s Ranger.”
“... Where is the King’s Ranger?”
“Safe.”
“That’s not a good enough answer!”
“It’s the answer you will have to live with, Green Fox. I do not really wish to harm him, or you. You should know that.”

Valedroma’s voice grew momentarily gentle, as Mikan’s green eyes simply stare straight at the floor underneath her. Though she refused to look at him, he continued to stare directly at her. He speaks first, after an uncomfortable moment of silence between them.

“... The offer is still there for you, if you wish to take it when all is said and done.”
“How can I take an offer from a beast that takes an entire village hostage?”
“Because I seek no harm upon them, either. I have done no permanent harm to them, and can cure them with ease before I leave. I merely needed a bargaining chip. Something to convince you and your compatriots to come down here, for, if you had looked upon me, and seen what I am, would you have even given me a chance to explain myself?”
“Maybe... The Princess probably would have.”
“She is far more open minded than I had originally could have hoped for, then.”
“Look, I... We do not have all day. Templar are surely approaching now that you have shown such obvious power and control over an entire village. We have hours, at the most—stop wasting our time! What do you want?”
“Aside from you?”

There is a certain, odd sincerity to his voice. Finally, however, his eyes relent from staring upon her, and glance over her compatriots. They seem to momentarily pause on Dean, though, move on sure enough.

“It is rather simple then... I want to create an alliance with your Princess. In exchange for guaranteed land in her reborn Kingdom, I will swear fealty to her as one of her nobles. I will return your King’s Ranger unharmed, and where possible, give you aid in your journey. I have resources at my disposal, and I can make them yours. Though I will not travel with you, I can bestow gifts upon you all... All I wish is a return to what I once was. To what my kind once were. I no longer wish to scurry in the dark and threaten vagrants simply to survive. We have similar enemies—Templar, Silver Shields—I am no enemy to you. If anything, I am an ally, and I will gladly release all of these people.”

Mikan blinks, and looks up at him with disbelief. “... Do you really think the Princess is going to make a deal with you if you hold this entire town hostage?”

The Vampire mulls that over for a moment, and raises his eyebrows. “I will let them all go, save for the King’s Ranger, in exchange for simply being allowed an audience with her... As a gesture of good will. To prove that I am not so evil, and that we are not so different. I am simply more desperate than you are. After all, would you not take prisoners if it enhanced your position, Green Fox?” His eyes look upon the group once more. “If you have further questions, I will now answer them, now that we are no longer being watched by our enemies.”

The Enemy of my Enemy...

A few minutes had passed since Kasienka and Hanus had left the group. It seemed Kouri was about to gather the group to action, when Beatrice descends from the skies and lands in front of the Princess. The bird looks up at her and squawks, getting her attention as Kouri grabs the reigns of her horse. James runs over to her and points to the east. “There is a patrol of Silver Shields on their way here! They are maybe one hour away at the most, Princess. We should cut our losses and run.” Marcus glances toward James and raises an eyebrow. “We are going nowhere without the guidance of the King’s Ranger in town. At the very least we need to enter the village and recover him, wherever he may be.”

As they speak their words, Kouri mounts her horse. She looks down at the pair, and then points toward the town. “We are moving out, together, right now. We are going in to find our people, and then we are leaving. James, keep Beatrice spying on the Silver Shields. If we have to, we will set up an ambush in the town. We have waited long enough, we cannot just stand by and do nothing.” Momentarily, her eyes wander toward Jaquaar. Their conversation had seemed to reassure her somewhat, in spite of Kasienka and Hanus choosing to leave her when she needed them most. “Kaiser will stay by my side and keep me safe, so I want everyone focused on finding our people. Understand?” Kaiser stands ever ready by her side, his ears twitching as he listens for any sort of trouble nearby.

Marcus walks around the group, ushering them to their horses, while James immediately goes for his own horse, sending Beatrice to the skies to keep an eye on the approaching Silver Shields. It seems that they were finally going to act as a group, and move in toward the oncoming danger.
 
Keeping Up

As the group made their hurried way about mounting up to ride into the village, Rin hastily scurried across to where he'd left his horse, nerves flaring. It was one thing to ride along through Rheinfeld with the expectation of avoiding conflict, another entirely to be saddling up with the intent of barrelling into probable conflict when he had no practical means of self defence that wouldn't bring the templar down on his head. Without even the vigilant presence of Nyu to watch his back for him, he would be all but useless until they reached the next stage of their journey, and magic was usable again.

His horse sensed his nerves as he clambered into the saddle, whinnying discontentedly. "Not now," he mumbled, trying to comfort her with a few pats. "If we can't be useful in a fight, the least we should aim for is not being a liability before then."

By calming his own heart with a few deep breaths, Rin was able to coax Piper into setting off, though the horse remained uncomfortable, threatening to slow him by swerving - until for the second time in the journey, Cinàed drew alongside him and carefully reached over from his own horse's back to settle the mare with a touch.

"Don't worry," the farmboy said with a smile. Wait. Was that a flower crown on his head? "I've got your back."

"Th-thanks," Rin murmured, tearing his eyes away from the unusual headgear and grimacing to himself as they continued. Hopefully, that would be the only time he needed bailing out of something today.
 
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