Remnant- A Dice-Roll Adventure Story

[Ippotis]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxHelerid Vygilis



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


xxxxxxHelerid smiled, happy that the conflict was resolved, and took a seat beside Zhetta. A bowl of stew was brought to her by Ymir as well, but she just stared at it and made no effort to eat it. The host was only half-orc, if her observations were correct, but she was still reluctant to eat anything prepared by him. The others appeared to be perfectly fine with him, but... he was part orc. Speaking of orcs, there was another who seemed to have hidden himself in the shadows of the room, away from everyone else. He would need to be watched carefully.

xxxxxx'What a strange traveling party.'

xxxxxxShe did feel a little bad about Amara leaving, more so because she didn't have a chance to apologize for striking her; although it was in self defense, it had also been a misunderstanding, and they shared a common interest.

xxxxxxHelerid listened attentively to the plan being discussed by her new companions. Apparently they needed to sneak into Redvale, and everyone pitched their ideas, except for Helerid. She would've liked give her own input, but she wasn't sure what the reason was for going there in the first place, and so she was determined to ask later.

xxxxxxShe heard them speak of a mask and saw the golden artifact in Eliria's hands as it was passed into Zhetta's. Her eyes went wide. "A mask of Kadesh. You all slew a demon?" she said with astonishment and envy. In her thoughts she assured herself that, by joining them, she would surely find other opportunities to serve the gods in such a fashion.

xxxxxxA young boy sat next to her at the table. Helerid remembered seeing him earlier, and wondered if he was also part of the group. He was so tiny that his feet couldn't touch the floor even when seated, and his manners seemed to her just as innocent as his appearance. He introduced himself as Taymur and sneaked a compliment to her in the same breath.

xxxxxx'Ah, so he's a fairy. I should've guessed.'

xxxxxxHelerid was immediately taken by him. "Why, hello there, Taymur. I'm Helerid," she said to him with a big, smitten smile. "Aren't you just the cutest thing?" She pinched Taymur's cheek with her gloved fingers, giggling at their softness and at the fairy's childlike face. "Yes, I am going to help, and we're going to travel together. Would you like to be my little brother?"

xxxxxxShe couldn't give him her full attention for long, unfortunately, as the Redvale soldiers entered the tavern and made themselves at home. This didn't trouble Helerid very much, and as she continued to play with Taymur's cheeks she leaned closer to Zhetta and whispered:

xxxxxx"If these men are going to be a problem, perhaps we can pose as missionaries come to pray for the afflicted in this village. We can gather the people in the center and I could give a sermon. Come to think of it, maybe that could get us into Redvale."




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



⚜ Health: Good

⚜ Disposition: Cheek pinching intensifies

⚜ Active Effects: n/a

⚜ Inventory:

xxxxxxxWeapons: Longsword, dagger

xxxxxxxArmor: Steel plate

xxxxxxxItems: Misc. gear

[Overlord Gizmo]

||| Rorgath |||

The bone amulet was dwarfed in the orc’s large, clawed hand as he frowned down at the thing, the black cord hanging down from his open palm. He did not like this… didn’t want to stay with these strangers, but wasn’t about to complain like some spoiled sprog when his offer to help Amara was turned down. Ror gave her a short nod, the closest thing approaching a goodbye he would offer, and watched her go. "The fishtark had better find her shauk,” he grumbled quietly, looking down at the rune carved bone again. With a grimace, as though the magic object could somehow poison him, he tied the cord around his thick neck, letting the amulet fall against his chest. ”Sha-! I shouldn’t have to hide,” he growled, picking up the the bone and twisting it between clawed fingers as he glowered at the offending object.

He only looked up from the item when a mug of some brew was set before him by Ymir, the balaak. Rorgath glanced up at him as he passed, curious and cautious and still unsure what to make of him. Sniffing the mead before taking a drink, he decided it wasn’t half bad. It was still weaker than the grog he remembered, but he supposed the rest of the patrons were too soft and sensitive for a real orc grog. Still, it was better than nothing. He would only take small sips though, not trusting his comrades enough to have anything but a clear head around them. It was still likely that they were just waiting for a chance to be rid of him, and honestly, he’d be fine with that if it didn’t leave him stranded in this ******** place.

Eyeing Zhetta as she pulled the hood over her horns, he supposed it was a good thing he wasn’t the only one who had to hide. It was a strange thing to take comfort in. 'Comfort' probably wasn't the right word... Satisfaction. It was bitterly satisfying that he wasn't the only one forced to play this game. He had questions about this impossible mission of theirs. Maybe they’d deem to answer him. Maybe not. The orc looked down into his mug, watching the liquid swirl before raising his gaze again, this time solidly on the elf. ”How long is this doomed quest of yours supposed to go on?” There was a lot he didn’t know, but one thing that he did was that he did not have much time. He needed to be back. He needed to be away from this place. Amara wasn’t the only one missing a shauk.

As tark soldiers started filing into the inn, the orc went stiff in his chair. He glared at them over his mug, a quiet growl rumbling in his throat. The amulet almost seemed to itch against his skin. Part of him honestly hoped it wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to be taken for a tark like the rest. He’d rather be seen for himself, and fight if that was what was required. Instead however, none of the newcomers paid him any mind. Just another human shadow at the table with some other patrons. Tapping the rim of the mug with a claw, he continued to watch the soldiers. Rorgath didn’t have a lot of experience with tark soldiers, but this was the closest he’d ever been to any that weren’t actively trying to kill him. It was all too ******** strange to wrap his head around, which only more firmly rooted the belief that he didn’t like it.







Status xxxxxxxxxxx
Health: Healthy / Fatigued

Rollsxxxxxxx[/color

N/A
Inventory xxxxxxxx
Weapons: N/A
Armor/Clothing: Toughened Hide
Warpaint
Potions: Empty
Other:
Concealing Charm

[PhantasmicRose]

◇
◇☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾◇
◇

The sun was fully beneath the horizon now and the air grew quite chilly almost instantly. Zhetta was used to the warm nights of the forest, the dense wall of trees protecting her clan from the frost-cooled air blowing across Aurelia from the Whitewall. The guardian pulled the fur blanket closer, disappearing comically in the silky black strands. She hated the cold. She hated not having anyone by her side to wrap their arms around her, to share the warmth of their core. Zhetta remembered her red-haired bedmate and how the woman would kiss her gently before wrapping them both in rabbit and stoat skin. They could fall asleep out in the open like that, beneath the starry sky and gaze of the gods. Her brothel was little more than ash now, crumbled beneath the old foundations of her home. Zhetta’s fingers tightened into a fist, knuckles white. It did not do to dwell on such things now.

“You should eat,” Zhetta said softly without looking at Helerid. “We have a long way to go from here. We’re not usually so lucky when it comes to a hot meal and a place to enjoy it.”

The elf brought her own bowl to her lips and drank deeply of the broth. It was rich with vegetables, paying testament to the bounties of autumn. The carrots were a rainbow of colors, some of them purple, red, and even white. The broth itself had few spices, but Zhetta’s palette wasn’t a terribly refined one and she didn’t notice. Her only qualm was the meat, as she found beef to be unpleasantly chewy. After gnashing on a particularly large piece with little progress, Zhetta spit the entire glob back into the bowl and pushed what was left of it toward Shennga.

“You can have the rest of this halfling,” she offered helpfully, assuming dwarves liked their meat as tough as...well, anything else. They were a hardy people, afterall. “Ymir, another round for my friends.”

The greyish half-orc made a strong brew, she’d give him that. Zhetta’s cheeks were flushed, a flowery pink against her strangely pale skin. She felt she owed these people something for all that they sacrificed to join her on this journey, even if most of them were only in it for the money. She fetched a few gold pieces from her pouch and set them on the table, then paused as she got an idea. The knights across the room were already setting into their own drinks, the volume of their voices raising considerably after the first few sips of mead hit their empty stomachs. The two groups hadn’t paid each other much mind since the knight’s arrival, but the fiery booze in her gut made Zhetta brave. She forgot all about their plans to get into Redvale. Something else was weighing on her mind.

“It… it just doesn’t make any sense,” she said softly to the others gathered around, particularly Helerid to her left and Eliria to her right. Her gaze was drifting in and out of focus, making anyone further away hard to see. “How would news of Highshore reach Redvale so quickly. There is no faster travel in all of Aurelia than a Highshore-made boat. We left Highshore immediately, with the wind at our backs. How would Redvale foot soldiers meet us here at the halfway point at the same time. I just… this is impossible. Unless they… I don’t know, unless they somehow knew something was going to happen.”

Dread creeped into Zhetta tickling her spine, but her hard-headed determination and dangerous curiosity were triumphant. She had to know what was happening. The elf fetched another fistfull of coins and slapped them on the table.

“And a round for the fine knights of Redvale!” She shouted, making herself sound much drunker than she truly was. This caught their attention, and the soldiers went quiet, turning to look at the people in the corner of the room for the first time. Zhetta raised her mead into the air, face split in two by her smile. She blew what she hoped was a sultry kiss, but she’d never had to seduce anyone before and she came off looking more sloppy than anything.

“Praise Aboreas, and long live the King!” That was what people said, right? An eruption of cheers and clinking glasses said she’d done the right thing.

“Aye, Praise be! Long live the king!” The soldiers shouted, and Ymir hurried to go fill the many orders suddenly thrust upon him, but not before throwing Zhetta a look of warning. She ignored it, downing her mead in a few gulps. She burped loudly, covering her mouth hastily.

“Helerid, you’re a- uhg- a beautiful woman. How good are you at the...at the art of seduction?” Her hand slipped beneath the table, gripping Eliria’s thigh playfully. She glanced over at her friend with a devious grin. “We get them drunk. Then we get them talking. Aye? I’d ask Eli, but her personality might scare them off.”

◇
◇☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾◇
◇

◇☽☼☾◇Inventory◇☽☼☾◇
Items:
(2) Canteens of Spirit Water
(2) Leather Gloves
(1) Bearskin
(1) Book of Remnants
(1) Large sack of gold and gems
(1) Mask of the demon Kadesh
Potions: (1) Life potion.
Weapons: Hunting knife.
Doth'rak Bow- (11) Arrows
Wearing: Hardened Leather Armor

Status:
Healthy
Tipsy

Bonus:
+3 Survivalism (Forest Elf)
Penalty:

[K33LA]

ıllıllı ѕcнolar мavι ıllıllı

Eliria's ears twitched in annoyance. There was something about all this that rubbed her wrong. She felt exposed, out in the open... She wanted to be hiding right now. Gathering intelligence on the soldiers' purposes wasn't a bad idea, just risky. Very risky. On the off chance they were somehow looking for their party it could lead to dire consequences. They had gotten out of tougher scrapes before (what were soldier's compared to huge, man-eating Krakens?) yet the idea of needlessly tempting fate seemed foolhardy.

Sighing, the scholar gripped her mug with tired strength, knuckles whitening. She threw back her head and let the grog pass her lips. The drink was strong, far too strong for one of her size - she drank it all anyway. In the event she was to be skewered or decapitated tonight, Eliria intended to feel none of it (preferably the alcohol poisoning would get her first). Her face now aflame, the scholar leaped from her seat and belched quite merrily.

"I'll show you how it's done, Missy," Eliria said, somewhat shrilly, pointing at Helerid. "Dibs on the nerd." Scoffing, Eliria sauntered over to a bookish looking lad alone in the corner, maps and things all spread out across his table. The boy - for he certainly wasn't a man - looked sheepishly at her over his glasses as she arrived; even before she spoke did the lad blush. "Oh my," she sang, her slender fingers tickling across her jawline. "Look at all these... these lines and numbers. I'm getting confused just looking at them!"

The scholar tittered sweetly behind her hand, her tone saccharine and hollow. She sat sweepingly across from him, walking her fingers over to his mug of ale and pulling it into her reach. Eliria kept her eyes intensely on him as she drank deeply from his glass. When she slammed the cup down, the boy jumped in his seat.

"You have a Redvale look about you. You must be a very important man in the King's army," she chirped, her face almost as red as his.

"M-m-me? No! I'm not... I'm not anybody," he answered, wildly skeptical. She felt as if he would bolt any moment. She slide her chair around the side of the table in order to close the gap between them, pinning him between her seat and the wall - any attempt to flee would be near impossible. He smiled at her awkwardly and began moving his things around to make room. He began stuttering and trying his best to act natural. "I-I mean, I play a vital role in the military. I... I'm a strategist! A c-cartographer! Without people like m-me, it's likely the army could not function at all."

"Mmm," Eliria moaned playfully, softly. She took on a bashful role, then. "I feel so foolish. I... I can't say I know what a cartographer is," she began, knowing full-well what a cartographer was. "Does it involve carts?" The young man laughed, perhaps a little too heartily. Eliria could practically see his ego grow before her eyes. Whatever it was the common man found so appealing about dumb women she would never understand.

"No, no, sweetheart. That's actually a common misconception made by the womenfolk. Cartography is all about maps. You know, those drawings you see on a piece of parchment that tell you which road to take?"

"Oh," Eliria responded, her smile verging on a sneer. "That is interesting. You learn something new everyday..." The scholar took another swig of hot ale, her head slowly clouding over. "Is it maps you're making, then? Is that why you lads are passing through?" He smiled at her and scratched his head.

"No, ah, not at all. Actually..."


Forsake fear
And instead
Seek knowledge
There is no other option

[Angst Werewolf]

Shennga Broadstone

Warrior | Weapon/Shield
Rolls: 12 (yay beer!)


Shennga's plan had been to sit on the bench, be quiet, and drink. She felt like she deserved a good drinking session and her level of espionage was... low. Zero. Less than zero. She was the muscle, not the brains.

She watched Eliria sauntered away and finished off her third (maybe fourth? it was small change compared to her usual) mug of ale. She ran her tongue over her teeth and made eye contact with one of the soldiers. He was just a grunt, and he was staring at her like she'd sprouted a second head. "...What?" she snapped after her attempt to stare him down failed.

The soldier started in surprise; apparently he hadn't expected a confrontation. "Didn't know dwarves came in woman," he drawled.

Shennga bristled. Someone behind her was hissing at her to be quiet, don't start a fight, but she was committed. "And I didn't know humans came in horse-s**t ugly, but here you are!" she snapped back. The soldier and the one sitting next to him blinked in surprise. Shennga wasn't sure what they had been expecting her to do in response. Stupid humans.

"What're you even doing out here? Get exiled from your backwater village for lookin' like that?"

The soldier's face went red. "No! I'm here on business for- ow!" He cut off abruptly when the second soldier elbowed him roughly. Apparently he wasn't as far into his cups as the first one. The two men stared each other down, then the first glowered down at his hands. "It's important," he muttered sulkily.

"Doubt it." Shennga's comment got her another glare and rude gesture. Worth it.


Health: Beer
Weapons: Jalla's Bulwark + Shield of the Dark
Potions: 1 Health Potion, 1 Life Potion
Armor: Headscarf + Guard Helmet + Scale Chestplate (+2 chest def.)
Other: Pouch of Herbs + Payment + Abysmal Teeth (6)

[Ippotis]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxHelerid Vygilis



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


xxxxxxWhen Helerid first stopped at the village that morning, she would never have imagined several things to happen to her: that she would receive a divine prophecy telling her of a great destiny beyond what she'd set out for; that she would very nearly get into a tavern brawl with an orc, an elf, two dwarves, and a horned woman whose race she wasn't too sure about; and that she was now being urged by the same people to seduce information out of a bunch of drunken soldiers. But most surprising of all was that she was about to go through with the last part.

xxxxxxMaybe she was still disoriented from the holy, illuminating voice of Aboreas, or she desired to take up Eliria's challenge, or maybe it was the pint-and-a-half of alcohol she'd drank, but Helerid was feeling... ready. Although she was too embarrassed to show it like Eliria and Zhetta were, she was suddenly feeling confident in her feminine wiles, which was something that didn't often happen.

xxxxxxRed in the face and swallowing a mouthful of ale, she nodded and turned to Zhetta. "Alright. I promised to aid you on this journey, so I will play at 'the art of seduction.' But... but please wish me luck." Helerid stood up and took a moment to plan her next move. Eliria had already staked who appeared to be the cartographer as her claim, and even from where she sat she could tell the elf had him. She made it look so easy. Helerid could join Shengga with the rest of the soldiers, but she didn't want to risk "throwing off her groove." Perhaps she could go bigger?

xxxxxxThe commander may have been sitting with his officers, but in Helerid's eye he was certainly detached in that he wasn't carousing with them. She knew his type: the surly commanding officer who had been in the army longer than many of his knights combined, and regardless of what he was like in his younger days, he was now as no-nonsense as they came. He must only be here, not because he wanted a refreshing drink, but because he was aware of how much it benefited the morale of the men. The man probably expected treachery at every turn, so getting anything out of him would be tricky, and doing so just by flirting would be especially hard.

xxxxxxBut he was going to be Helerid's target tonight. She walked over as steadily as she could to where he sat. The officers sitting beside him looked at her like she interrupted something important, but the commander himself only gave her a cursory glance. "I beg your pardon, sir," she said, and made a short bow to the commander. "I am Lady Vygilis, from Xeria. His Majesty Marix the Second sent me to investigate the calamity of Highshore, and as a fellow knight I was hoping you could tell me anything you have discovered anything relating to this."




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



⚜ Health: Good

⚜ Disposition: Tipsy, determined, dusting off her charm skills. (Nat 20 on Charm check, here I come)

⚜ Active Effects: n/a

⚜ Inventory:

xxxxxxxWeapons: Longsword, dagger

xxxxxxxArmor: Steel plate

xxxxxxxItems: Misc. gear

[Kibo no Yoru]

-Health-
Full
-Dice Rolls-
None
-Effects-
+3 to healing during combat
+4 to turning into an animal

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Taymur smiled from ear to ear when Helerid asked if he wanted to be her little brother. For one reason or another ever since the Fall it had become rare for two fairies to have more than one child, so as such, he had been an only child. The prospect of having an older sister was both new and exciting.

"That would be suuuper awesome! I’ve always wanted an older sister.” He giggled, nodding his head eagerly as Helerid played with his cheeks. "We’ll have so much fun together! Battling monsters, braving the wilds and saving the innocents!” As he explained what all they’d do together he got up off the chair and began acting it all out. Jumping up and down, slashing invisible monsters with an invisible sword and so forth.

Eventually things began to get lively once everyone had started getting affected by the ale. Eliria was the first to make a move to find out some information. It was a rather comical scene to watch, the Drunken Scholar versus the Nerdy Cartographer. As Eliria fought her battle against the flustered lad Shennga did what she did best. Drink and be belligerent. Hopefully the two would manage to find out something useful with their two completely opposite strategies. Taymur’s new big sister also went up to bat, surprisingly, going after the big fish. Sweeping his gaze across the inn he watched as the three did their best to learn what they could without being too suspicious, however, his eyes landed on the orc in the corner. He had almost forgotten an orc had kind of joined their party. The orc had more or less faded into the shadows now, maybe because of his new amulet, but because Taymur had known the orc existed he managed to spot him out. At least that’s how he figured it worked.

Taymur left Zhetta to do whatever she planned to do and skipped his way over to the orc. The others had been tense around him, which made sense since they had all started this journey being imprisoned by his kind. But maybe this orc wasn’t the same as the orcs that had ravaged his village and tried to turn him into a slave. Every race had their mean people, even Taymur had met a mean fairy or two before. He took a seat at the orcs table and just grinned up at him. Sitting down his head just crested above the table, which was a sizeable difference compared to Rorgath.

"Hiya! I’m Taymur. I know you’ve been with us since High-“ He caught himself before he continued, it probably wasn’t a good idea to just blab out the fact they had been to Highshore in case someone was listening in on them. "For a while now but I haven’t introduced myself yet. The others are a little wary of you, you know? We’ve got a… bad past with orcs. But just cause some other guys did something bad doesn’t mean you’re bad, right?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-Weapon(s)-
Inner Flame Staff
-Armour-
Mer clothing
-Items-
Health Potion(2)
Life Potion(2)

[PhantasmicRose]

◇
◇☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾◇
◇

“We’ve been sent on a rescue mission,” the cartographer said proudly as he pushed aside his papers to reveal a beautifully painted aerial map of the gates to Belcoast. He ran his hands over the fine canvas, up to the blood-red seal of the Council of Redvale in the top right corner. He polished the waxy surface with a drunk smile, cheeks hot from pride and mead.

“Our gracious Council is sending aid to Belcoast in the form of an army. They’ve been attacked- orcs, I’m told. Amazing that the creatures could gather such a force- and we’re going to surround and defend the city until they’ve recovered.”

There were clumps of different colored dots along the wall of Belcoast and speckled around the main road leading to the gate of the sunken Highshore. These obviously indicated different units of soldiers and their commanders.

“We’ve sent more than half the army. Our Council is as wise as they are gracious. The enemy of one kingdom is the enemy of all Aurelia. We have always been a little… tense with King Irastes.Perhaps this will finally bind us as allies.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Commander finally looked up when Helerid introduced herself, his eyes scanning her armor, weapon, and the insignia of the King she represented. He shot to his feet and bowed curtly, shooting a look at his inferiors to do the same. After they’d all risen and bowed, the Commander barked at them to sit down just as quickly, before beckoning Helerid into a secluded corner a few feet away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you, m’lady,” he said sincerely, shaking his head. He looked tired and weathered, like they’d marched without rest all the way to Dor’heaven. “I wasn’t expecting to meet someone on your stature here. Long live the Kingdoms of Man, and may Aboreas shine his Light on us all.”

The Commander shook Helerid’s hand with a strong but respectful grip, then put his fist to his chest before settling down at a new, unoccupied table.

“And my apologies for dragging you over here, but-” he gestured over at the drunk knights laughing and hitting each other, “This is not a conversation for anyone else to hear.”

“I won’t ask how your King knows of Highshore already, and you won’t ask how we do either. Aboreas has truly blessed our Kingdoms, that is all that matters. The Council was given word that Highshore was going to be attacked by rebel forces, and that it would end in Belcoast’s sinking. Highshore would be left virtually defenceless against whoever wished to take them. I think The Council is more afraid of someone taking over Belcoast’s wealth and power than of the poor people left in a ruined kingdom, but I’m not here to ask questions.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shennga was making little progress in seducing anyone at all. Not surprising. Zhetta looked to Eliria, pleased to find that her friend was hanging off the arm of some scrawny little human. A perfect match. Maybe she’d even ******** him and relax a bit. Unlikely, she thought with a little scoff. Finally the guardian looked around for Helerid, who had disappeared with a Commander. Her searching gaze landed instead on a lone Officer sitting at the bar, his face tilted downward toward the full pitcher of mead she’d bought for him like all the others. He hadn’t drank any of it, instead looking into it like a mirror, only it was too frothy to really see into. He must’ve been seeing something behind his eyes. Zhetta knew that feeling well, recognized the haunted look at once. She was drawn to him, and found herself on her feet stumbling his way.

She was very drunk, she realized after the first few steps. Some of the soldiers clapped her on the shoulder and side in thanks and she muttered her blessings to them as she focused on crossing the room. The elf’s fingers gripped at every surface she passed, be it a chair, counter, or man. Finally she reached the lone soldier and, face set in determination, she slumped down into the chair at his side.

“I’m not interested” he said quietly at her approach, finally lifting the mead to his lips like he just remembered it was there. He didn’t look at her.

“I’m not offering anything,” Zhetta murmured, and she was quiet for a long time. She’d never drank mead like this, and it was putting her in a strange mood. Her mind was clear but her movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. She felt...sad. Terribly sad. Perhaps drinking wasn’t a good idea. Or perhaps she hadn’t drank enough yet.

“...Sorry,” the soldier finally answered, his eyes flicking sideways to look her up and down. If he felt anything, he didn’t show it. “Arwyn.”

“Zhetta.” She motioned for Ymir to bring her more. The half-orc filled her a pint of the same mead and she watched the last of the keg pour into her cup. They’d drained the whole damn thing dry.

“You sure you want to keep drinking little elf?” he asked wearily, sliding the wooden tankard her way across the counter. She barely caught it, spilling some of it down her road-worn hands. She just threw the orc a gold piece in reply.

“Awfully wealthy for an elf,” the soldier said incredulously, looking toward the dwindling sack of coins at her side. “Are you a thief? Or a treasure hunter?”

“I’m a soldier, just like you,” Zhetta said quickly, a little bite to her words. Then her tone dipped, sad and tired all at once. “The Gods pay me well to forget what I’ve done for them.”

“Aye…” The soldier actually looked at her now and he saw himself reflected in her, as she’d seen herself reflected him. They were equals now, just like that. He recognized her demons as his own. “It's never quite enough to forget though, is it?”
“Aye.” Zhetta was far past sipping her drink. She gulped down a few mouthfuls like she was trying to drown in mead.The edges of her vision faded in and out.

“What flag do you fly, Zhetta? Have we ever met in battle?”

“No, but we might.” The cup slid from her grasp, clamboring to the floor. It was empty, and Ymir moved to pick it up for her. She didn’t seem to notice. “I fly the flag of the Doth’rak and Inali. They’re both dead.”

“And your King?”

“Queen.”

“Aye, your Queen then. What of her?”

“I am the Queen. Or I was, once.” But what is a queen with no kingdom, Zhetta thought. She laughed softly, bitter and tired, and reached across the table to grip Arwyn’s hand. “I’m sorry if this is too forward, but… I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“So you do want something from me.” Arwyn laughed. It sounded genuine. He clasped her hand in his and helped her out of the chair. His mind was considerably clearer and his steps more certain. To be honest, Zhetta didnt even know where they were going, but she followed his lead as he guided her to the double doors that lead to the various sleeping chambers. They went upstairs, which was tricky for her wobbling legs, but Arwyn’s strong arm around her back kept her upright enough to navigate the uneven footing. The knight pulled her sideways into a room, using a key he must’ve gotten from Ymir at some point. Was she really so blind to her surroundings? Mead was much different than the mushroom tea she used to drink to sharpen her senses and let her see into the Otherside.

Arwyn stopped her thoughts sharply with a kiss, his lips unpleasantly rough from the long march. Just as worn were his hands, their calloused skin running down the length of her arms beneath her fur hood. She reveled in his imperfections. Someone to hold was all she wanted. It was all she’d prayed for since she left Belcoast behind. She wrapped her arms around him, the warmth of his old leather under-armor so familiar to her exploring hands. The smell of tanned hide and sweat reminded her of home.

Arwyn moved his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed away her fur hood, dropping it to the floor. Zhetta gasped against his lips, alerting him of something wrong and he pulled away sharply. The knight took in her spiraling horns and the moonlight-colored hair that cascaded around them. In a moment he gripped her by the throat, a knifepoint against her belly.

“What sort of trick is this?” he growled, his lips still so close to her face. “Are you a demon?”

“I’m not-” she rasped, and he loosened his grip. “I’m no demon. I promise.”

Her words dripped with honesty and her eyes were pleading. Zhetta moved carefully to the belt at her side, removing the entire thing. Her money, her knife, her potions and everything else hit the floor with one firm thud. Arwyn let her go and stepped back, knife still pointed at her cautiously. Zhetta didn’t look at him as she removed her pack and set it down gently off to the side, peering in momentarily to make sure the Book of Remnants hadn’t been lost in her drunkenness. The guardian unclasped her own leather armor, lifting it over her head and hanging it on a hook on the wall. So meticulous but fluid as well, like the blooming of a flower petal by petal. She’d put this armor on and taken it off a hundred times before. She was all the soldier she promised to be. Zhetta finished removing her clothes until she stood naked before him. Her body bore few scars, as she’d been cleaned by the spirit water in the Veil, but when Arwyn looked into her eyes he remembered what drew them together earlier. He sheepishly put the knife down and crossed the distance between them, taking her into his arms once more.

“I believe you,” he said softly before taking her to bed.

◇
◇☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾________________________________________________________☽☼☾◇
◇

◇☽☼☾◇Inventory◇☽☼☾◇
Items:
(2) Canteens of Spirit Water
(2) Leather Gloves
(1) Bearskin
(1) Book of Remnants
(1) Large sack of gold and gems
(1) Mask of the demon Kadesh
Potions: (1) Life potion.
Weapons: Hunting knife.
Doth'rak Bow- (11) Arrows
Wearing: Hardened Leather Armor

Status:
Healthy
Tipsy

Bonus:
+3 Survivalism (Forest Elf)
Penalty: