Ьȴʊє Ͻ a r a v a n 🚙 🚙 🚙 (new thread!)

Favorite Character Poll Round 10!

Lucien Balthazar Mchale - Vicious hunter of humans and dragons.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Vasul Calim Shahrad - Crown Prince of Shahrazad and righteous eagle among a flock of vultures.	9.1%	[ 1 ]
Lorelei 'Ellie' Katerini - Knight Errant and Defender of Justice who will kick your butt!	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Inyri Ven - Sharp-minded beauty and budding lady of wares.	18.2%	[ 2 ]
Eriol Epheis - Mysterious man with an eye for the prize.	27.3%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 11 ]

This poll closed on November 27, 2014.
No longer accepting new votes.

[Dayum We Roll Hard]

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Chapter Ten: Fields of Love

Everything is interconnected.

With the closing of the latest adventure, we are brought to a fresh, third group of travellers, ones unlike any we've ever seen: from blacksmiths to herbalists, from knights to bounty hunters, from bourgeoisie to royalty. No matter their interests, goals, or motivations for travelling, the result is that their strings of fate weave together today, in the glorious town of Cantarta.

Cantarta, a town whose population could pass off as a city during its busiest seasons, is located on a series of north facing Cliffrock steeps. In the winter this land is laden with frost and snow. Come Springtime, the middle levels of the vertical town was like the equivalent to a desert oasis. Overlooking the woods of Albrind West and the fields much further ahead in the far distance, the west facing cliffs above the main town afforded much cover against the brutalist winds from the mountains of the East.

It was so that Cantarta was the optimal breeding grounds in all of Cliffrock for the Ancalamalita, the Gala of Flowers, a week long local celebration created to admire the the spring blooms that arrived in this nook of land every year before they did in any others in Cliffrock. This once small annual tradition swiftly grew to a magnificent festival as more passersby discovered this scenic town on their way to the annual trade show hosted by Northenwood's Trade Capital. Over the past 30 years, the town flourished as more and more caravans made a point to pass by this corner of cliffs, with some of its voyagers purposely stopping by the town with the aim to partake in the festivities.

Yearly, merchants arrived selling off unique wares. Some were trying to make a quick coin off the goods they hadn't been able to dispose of since last arriving at the town, while others brought excess of the newest styles from Westerwood, the most desired spices from Shahrazad, and the latest shady merchandise from Dreywood, hoping to wow and inspire. Other travellers arrived at Cantarta to listen to the enchanting love story and local legend of the Sir and Lady Innamor. Some were there to admire the unique varieties of flora like the Dragon Lilies. It was from these blooms that the love story had blossomed from, although there were some who claimed it was the other way around.

Voyagers would also find Cantarta to be the latest place of intrigue. A castle overlooks the town from the edge of the highest cliff, and this magnificent building was said to once be the home of the Innamors. It was also said to be haunted. What else would explain the mysterious fire that engulfed the abandoned building three days past? Any investigation attempts by the townsfolk were soon thwarted by the sporadic and freezing showers that recently been plaguing the land, although it was believed that was only thanks to this rogue weather that the flamed managed to be doused.

Those not charmed by ghost stories, knees deep in shopping for exotic fineries, or too discouraged by the terrible weather, would have been remarking the lack of Shahrazadian competitors and other Eastern guests. Some attributed the situation with a supposed mile high magical barrier that stretched endlessly north and south right down central Bethryl, but at this point it was all incredulous stories and rumours. No way was there anyone powerful enough to make a wall that large.

Our focus now returns to a choice few individuals. These adventurous men and woman were all from caravans en route to the Northern Trade Capital in Northenwood that were making stops in Cantarta, just in time for the Ancalamalita. Many of them were inside; the latest bout of freezing rain from the heavens had been brutal for any prospective sellers and buyers, but the few rays of sun peeking through the crowd cover hinted at a better day ahead. Already the taverns and bars in town were abuzz with excitement, pleasantries, singing, dancing, and uncrushable spirits. There wasn't long to wait for the the buyers and sellers to rush to the streets once more, and when that happens, there was no telling what else these new travellers of ours might find and discover in this town.

[Samantha Whitfield]

⚔xxＣ ａ ｒ ｅxxｆ ｏ ｒxxｔ ｈ ｅxxｂ ｕ ｄ ｄ ｉ ｎ ｇxxｓ ｅ ｅ ｄ ｓ


After a long time on the road, it seemed as though it was finally time to return once more to the civilized world. The lands of the north were certainly as harsh as they had been explained. Even as the days grew longer with summer nearing, these lands were still cold and dead. It was amazing how life found a way to endure the harsh landscapes of Albrind.

Tugging left on the reins, Lorelei urged her horse around a small ditch in the trail. Her steed turned, avoiding the hazard as she continued to plod along the icy path. The pinto coated Wendy was used to the cold, but even with her barding and short caparison her rider could tell she was not enjoying it. A trick the girl had learned from a travelling merchant made the hazardous wintertime a bit safer, at least. A set of studded hoof boots provided traction for Wendy and her rider. It also alleviated the need for her to spend time shoeing Wendy. With the weather changing, she would have to brush up on her farrier skills once more. Not that she minded.

Arriving at this town would be a time to purchase some supplies. It was about time that she parted ways with the current caravan she was escorting. The knight had contracted to escort this small group of merchants north to Cantarta for a local festival. She had yet to enjoy the festival, so since it coincided with her visit she would likely spend some time in the town. Then when it came time to leave, she would find a new caravan or trek out on her own. Where she was to head next, even she was not sure.

Exhaling a foggy breath, the young woman pulled her hood down over her tawny head. The rain was coming back again, though it had hardly left in the first place. Combined with the chilling wind, it was a wonder anyone lived in parts this far north. That said, the weather in the Racluear range could often get just as frigid and fierce. Scanning the horizon again, the young knight saw no sign of worry. Turning around, her sea-green eyes found the caravan she was leading. Or the distant image of it. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. She tossed a reassuring wave toward Olbert, the other guard who was at the direct head of the caravan. He returned it, and Lorelei faced forward once more, directly into the icy rains. The terraced town was off in the distance, slowly coming into finer and finer details as the caravan plodded on.

And finally, the caravan arrived. The fierce winds were gone, and the rains seemed to slow. After some heartfelt goodbyes, Lorelei started to lead Wendy into the town. And, what she found surprised her. Despite the rain, which had now calmed down somewhat, the town was alive. Each building she walked by was a surprise. And even in the rain there were merry bands of families and friends on their way to somewhere. What a contrast the townsfolk were to the weather! It was exhilarating! The girl pulled her cloak’s hood down to reveal her freckled complection and boyish look. Her hair was slightly frazzled from the wetness of the air, but she did not care. And it was not as though she had come here to impress anyone. But she did to talk to people.

“Um, excuse me? Sir!” called the young maiden, reaching out to a passing couple.

After asking for directions only to learn that the couple were visiting tourists, it took Lorelei another few minutes to find someone who was actually from Cantarta. She should have expected as much, given that there was a festival coming up! Regardless, the girl finally got the directions that she needed. There was a tavern in town, and one reputed to be good. Silver Vine Inn would be her destination. They had stables, which was the most important thing for the knight. She could sleep on a tossed out cloth and little else, but she would hate to have to make Wendy endure another night in the cold.

And then it would be off to explore this most lively of towns. People began to stream through the roads and the side alleys as the weather brightened. With tourists and caravans from distant lands arriving over the past few days, the town was reaching a fevered pitch. The weather was far from perfect, but the atmosphere here was infectious. Still, she did need to put her belongings away someplace.

Ｆ ｏ ｒxxｔ ｈ ｅ ｙxxｈ ｏ ｌ ｄxxｏ ｕ ｒxxｆ ｕ ｔ ｕ ｒ ｅxx⚔xxxxxx

[TailoredPetunias]

Khy the Exotic swayed back and forth in the saddle, a content smile on his face as sheets of rain pelted his skin, plastering his bright red hair to his head and running in rivulets down his face, neck and beneath his armor. Sure the rain was cold, but it possessed its own beauty and the strange little man reveled in in it, leaving his hood thrown back and taking pleasure in the energizing deluge. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of his horse.

Dancer neighed under him as the stubborn horse tried, unsuccessfully, to take the reign's lead. The small, chestnut colored horse seemed to huff irritably as it plod forward. Dancer was relatively small compared to most horses, but what he lacked in size, he more than made up in speed and stubborn endurance. Dancer had helped see his rider through quite a few long, arduous treks. More than a few times Khy had only managed to keep his life thanks to Dancer's speed and stamina. The two shared a strong bond.

Khy chuckled in amusement, patting the beast's neck fondly. His hand came away wet and covered in blue dye. He wiped the wet coloring off on a trouser leg. Dancer was every bit as prideful as he was stubborn, and Khy found it entertaining to indulge the beast. Every few weeks, he would spend a few hours painting the horse's hair with dyes, until the horse and rider matched, tattoos and intricate designs covering most of their bodies. Most people found it bizarre, thinking it a waste of time, and perfectly good dye. But Dancer seemed to love it, every time Khy finished, the horse would prance around, head held high whinnying in delight. The constant rain they had experienced over the last few days had washed most of the dye away and it seemed to be affecting the beast's spirit.

"Hush now boy, we'll be in town soon where I'm sure we'll find you a nice warm stable. After a bit o' rest, I'll get you all pretty again first thing in the morn'." The horse didn't seem to care about it's riders promises and huffed once more.

Laughing in response, Khy turned to the gentleman driving one of the caravan's wagon's. "Just can't seem to win with this one eh?" There was no frustration in his voice and Khy's smile stretched ear to ear. The man just stared out from under his rain soaked hood and smiled back, unsure of what to say. Khy's happy-go-lucky attitude had won over most of the company he traveled with, but most were still a little put off by the strange man. He was so upbeat about almost everything that many of them thought that he must be a little slow, and treated him as such. At this point in his life, Khy was used to such reactions and didn't let it bother him. After all, they could be rude instead. Long ago, he had decided to take kindness any way he could get it. There was no point in sweating the small stuff.

Soon, the town of Cantarta began to discern itself from the frozen rocks of Cliffrock's mountainous territory. As if on some cue, the rain also began to lighten and Khy could feel Dancer's spirit lift as they drew closer to the town. Khy let the horse lead itself while his eyes wandered lazily. For the most part, the trip had been uneventful. The caravan had suffered no raids, which Khy had no complaints over, but he wished that something had happened. Khy saw life as an adventure, and every adventure needed a bit of excitement. It was alright though, they were finally at Cantarta, where the Gala of Flowers would soon commence, he figured there was just no way he wouldn't find a new story or tale to add to his own adventure there.

When their little caravan finally arrived, Khy watched as one of the other guards said her farewells. Now what was her name? I know it started with an E. Elize? Ella? Ellie, that sounds right. Quiet little thing, but nice enough. They had mostly been assigned opposite shifts throughout the journey so Khy did not get to have much interaction with her. Still, from what he could tell, she seemed fairly capable. He waited for her to finish her goodbyes before he approached the caravan's leader. Rory was an older gentleman, his black hair fairly peppered with strands of grey.

"Well, we're here." Khy began, the little man's ever-present smile gracing his face. "No accidents or nothin'. Gotta say, did a pretty good job."

Rory laughed. "Don't know if Olbert would agree with you."

During one night, Khy had come across his fellow guard dozing off on post. Feeling rather mischievous, he had run off, appropriating a few pots and pans from the cook before circling back around, far out from their camp's boundaries. Then the red headed trickster proceeded to charge straight for the napping guard, hooting and hollering while banging the empty cookware against each other. All the noise and racket woke Olbert from his nap and the groggy guard spotted the oncoming figure, firelight gleaming off the pots and pans, creating a foreboding image. He began calling out the alarm while fumbling for his weapon. Olbert had barely managed to draw just as Khy came upon him, the guard took a mighty swing at the little man, and most likely would have parted Khy's head from his body if he hadn't slipped on a rock, his legs flying out from beneath him, and landed heavily on his back, the air whooshing from his lungs. Olbert stood, staring incredulously at the shorter guard lying on his back, switching between a pained groan and giggling like a child.

By that point, other members of the caravan, having taken up arms, had arrived at the scene and were milling around, unsure of how to take what was presented before them. After a few moments of silence, some one snickered. That one laugh seemed to trigger an avalanche and soon, everyone was laughing along with Khy, who was still rolling around on the ground, arms wrapped around his ribs in protest. Olbert, face red with chagrin, stormed away. After that, many in the caravan had taken to calling the strange little prankster Khy the Fearsome.

Khy shrugged, "I was only playin' around. Ain't meant nothing by it."

Rory shook his head amiably. "That I know. It was a pleasure meeting you, Khy the Exotic." He tossed a pouch towards Khy, the contents clinking against each other as it flew through the air.

Khy caught it deftly before tucking it away in his saddlebag. He winked at Rory, "Pleasure's all mine." With another smile, he knocked his heels against Dancer and the horse trotted forward. His business concluded, Khy was eager to see what new wonders the bustling town had to offer.

[artfreek]

~~~~Nesa Cormec~~~~


Nesa had not been having the best time the last couple of days. Her party had been canceled when thieves had run amuck, and three have their own had been kidnapped as a result including Draaz who had a knife wound that needed mending. At the very least the doctor had been taken with him. Hopefully the thieves would allow him to mend her friend. She was annoyed that they had been guests at their party. Somehow Nesa would have that she could tell if someone was of bad intention, but apparently not.

Rachelle had disappeared as well, but she didn’t think that the thieves were to blame. Draaz had seemed to be looking for him as well. He had mentioned him before he had passed out. Had he left of his own accord? She had done some searching for the missing caravaners, but found no sign of any of them. She worried for all of them, but Rachelle most of all. She knew Caden must have been worried as well since Velius was one of those taken. The two of them were quite close.

Nesa had spent most of the last three days moping or so it seemed to her. She had barely left the wagon she was in in the last three days. Truthfully it wasn’t her thoughts that kept her inside, but the weather. She realized that she did not have the correct clothing for the cold rain that they were surrounded by. She had wrapped herself in a blanket and ventured out a few times with Kemun and Willa’s present snug on her hands. She had found some solace in some friend’s wagons a few times, but mostly found herself in her own. The weather and the circumstances of her birthday had put her in quite a dreary mood that she found to be most annoying.

She was stretching when she heard the commotion outside. She donned as many layers as she could. An idea came to her mind that they had found the missing people from the caravan. Those thoughts were quickly dashed away. The chances of that were very slim.

She wrapped the blanket around herself and left the wagon, moving along the others until she came to the doctor’s wagon where Oliver stood outside. “What happened?” She asked peering through the door, Kemun and Vasul inside. “Did someone get hurt?”

[Aeroden Eternium]

Eriol Epheis


A cloaked figure urged his horse forward at a rapid pace, despite the rain-slicked path. They were unaccompanied, and they travelled light. Though the traveller’s face was hidden, the observant passerby would have noted that his cloak and bags were well-worn. His mount’s unhappy neigh would confirm that the two had been on the road for a while, and had travelled fast.

” I’m sorry Arthur, I know it’s been difficult. Thank you for bringing me this far, I promise you can have a nice break soon.“ Eriol leaned forward and scratched the slender bay stallion’s neck. The soaked horse simply huffed, too tired to put up any more of a fight. Besides, Arthur was every bit as proud as his (actually quite pathetic) rider, and refused to admit he was incapable of at least this much. Their destination was already within sight. Arthur slowed to a trot on the last stretch of the still icy roads, then a walk as they entered the town of Cantarta.

Eriol’s sleep-deprived expression quickly brightened when he saw the crowds already about early in the day. It appeared he had arrived in time for the famed Gala of Flowers. He had been in Cantarta only once before, sadly at the wrong time then. The noise of activity and the excitement in the crowds and caravans that now gathered in the town slice right through the grey and gloomy drizzle. Perhaps, this time, he might be able to see the legendary Dragon Lilies Cantarta was so renowned for. His daydream was gently interrupted by Arthur, who had come to a sudden halt.

” Oh, yes, of course. Sorry Arthur.” The horse whinnied, threatening to throw him off. Eriol dismounted, leading his companion through the constant stream of people. The festival would have to wait. Both he and Arthur needed warmth, food, and rest. Sure enough, the sign of the Silver Vine appeared before him. He prayed that they remained as excellent an inn as they were when last he stayed. If not…well, they still had nice stables. At least he wouldn’t have to break his promise to Arthur.

He entered the stable, and found an empty stall for Arthur. Eriol patted the horse’s muzzle, and told him to wait just a little longer. The Vine’s tavern was still pretty quiet. The face behind the counter was an unfamiliar, but welcoming face. Perhaps a relative of the old owners? He strode up to him, pulling out a handful of coins from a small pouch. ” Excuse me sir, I’d like a room for one, for two nights, if you have one.” He took the money, and handed Eriol a key in exchange. ”You’re in luck. I hope you enjoy the Ancalamalita!” He nodded his thanks, and rushed back to Arthur to give him some much needed care.

By the time he had returned for his own long-awaited rest, the tavern was abuzz with activity. Eriol eagerly settled down into a cosy corner, tossing a mug of mead back, and his cloak off. The drink was every bit as delicious as he recalled. He continued to observe the colourful patrons flowing in as the day wore on, refilling his mug and plate every now and again. Now all he needed to do was wait for the members of a certain caravan to arrive.

[Samantha Whitfield]

↻xxＴｈｅxxｗｏｒｌｄxxｉｓxxａxxｃｒｕｅｌxxｐｌａｃｅ ・ ・ ・

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s supposed to be summertime,” Lucien replied.

The wind and rain continued to buffet the caravan as the wagons made their way further and further north into Cliffrock. If this was, as Lucien quipped, summertime Tobias feared the wintertime of these parts. Seriously, the weather was horrid! But it did seem to be letting up. Then again, each time the skies seemed to calm, the winds and rains came right back within a few moments. And he could not yet see the blue after the storm.

Tobias nodded his head when his guard asked after his health. That was the last thing Tobias expected Lucien to actually care about. He got the impression from some of his captors that he could rot in a cell for his crime. And what crime was that? No one had gotten hurt, after all! Either way, he was safe for now. And was being given food but he was not eating. Not now. He had grown suspicious of what it was they were feeding him. The food tasted fine, and wasn’t specially made for him, but it wasn’t exactly energizing. Quite the opposite, it seemed to leave him a bit debilitated. Maybe it was the blow to the head, though? Tobias had no ******** clue; he was no doctor.

“How do you feel about Cliffrock, mate?” His captor continued the idle chatter. “I just think its strange that there are icy peaks down ’ere still like that...”

Tobias was not sure what the bountyhunter was getting at. The dark-haired thief had never really left his home region. This voyage north would put him at his furthest traveled from home. That said, he was not daft. Apparently the weather conditions were definitely not normal for this time of the year? Perhaps it was just a cold year? Sometimes the snows melted slow in his hometown. Lucien did seem oddly concerned about it.

“I feel like it’s a crappy place for a vacation,” he replied after a while. “Aside from that, the ******** if I know why it’s so cold... Gelu decided to take a piss somewhere nearby?”

Casually he’d profane one of the Mother’s protectors.

・ ・ ・ ｅｘｐｅｃｔxxｎｏxxｓｙｍｐａｔｈｙxxｆｒｏｍxxｍｅxx↺

[anais nighteyed]

x

artwork by Midori Foo, from Book of Picturesxxx

xxxxxxxxＮａｓｒｉｎ Ａｉｄｚｉａｍ

She watched the three captives, waiting for their answer to the offer of sustenance. It wouldn’t be a great surprise if any of them turned it down, considering she had proved herself to be particularly untrustworthy. But she had little reason to poison them, not that she happened carried any on her person. If they were dead when she came around to returning them to the caravan, retrieving Tobias would be much trickier than she wanted it to be. The doctor assured her he wouldn’t make trouble and responded favorably toward a meal. Velius began to stir beside him. He struggled with his bindings, and when he opened his eyes he then acknowledged her with a remark about her hair.

Nasrin grinned broadly. He could fling whatever words he pleased, but words were merely words. They did not alter his predicament. “You have a remarkably quick tongue for a man at the mercy of thieves,” she countered, regarding him with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “I half-believed you would never wake.” The priest turned to Velius to chide him for his cheek, ordering him to be silent. “So the harmless priest does have teeth. You’d best pay heed to his words, Velius. I’ve had the blood of your kind on my tongue before.”

She unfolded her legs and slid down from her perch. Arms raised, she paused to stretch and then departed for the clearing. She wasn’t well rested, but she could survive on little sleep. A meal would revive her. Beyond the trees and out of view, Nasrin stood in the clearing’s center. The meadow grass was heavy with dew, faintly gleaming in the misty dawnlight.

She pushed a hand through her hair. Its length now troubled her, but cutting it was now a chore so frequent that she carried it out with little thought. When her family migrated to the city while she was still a girl, she mingled with the foreign folk and came to the realization that the time it took for her hair to grow was unusually short. After dwelling on the matter she supposed it was a common trait among the people of her tribe. They took pride in their hair whatever the length, but time was no obstacle if one desired to grow it. In the days of her father’s mother, tradition dictated that those who went to battle wore their hair long. When they greeted the enemy, they did so with great manes that turned in the wind like banners. That was a time when their greatest worry was the war parties sent from enemy tribes and villages.

Those days had long passed. Their decline had begun more than a century prior, but none among them could have predicted what was to come. None anticipated the unseen enemy. Drought, famine and disease descended upon them like a thousand armies. Their numbers dwindled to almost nothing. By Nasrin’s birth, her people were an oddity in a desert that had nearly forgotten them. The families that migrated from the desert were the last remnants of the tribe. They scattered across the country, desperate to survive. The Tzarankhi had passed into myth.

Nasrin knew their extinction was imminent, but she had no desire to watch it happen. She wrapped a lock of hair around her fingers and pulled it taut. Then she raised her knife and began to cut. When she was finished it was cropped short, as she now preferred it to be. She peered down at the coil in her hand. Then she opened her fingers and the wind took it, scattering locks of flaxen hair across the clearing. Grazing birds began to claim them for their nests.

She gave her head a quick shake and swept away bristles. Then she gathered her belongings and returned to the shelter of the trees. She tucked away her knife and began to rummage through her rucksack. She withdrew a bundle bound with twine, and she tossed her belongings to the ground. She tucked this in the crook of her arm and went to tend to the captives. Nasrin loosened the ropes binding the hands of Velius and the priest. Then she began to unwrap the bundle, revealing its contents. Preserved meats, bread and dried fruit were carefully wrapped in oilpaper, and she placed these before the three. “Eat,” she said.

[azora natashi]

XXXXXXXXXXXX❀ R є s υ ι a ❀

The night of the party Resuia had left Majila tied to a pole close to her wagon. She loved the llama but animals were not suppose to be inside. The next day Majila was interestingly enough already fed and let off by someone. She didn't know who it was but someone was taking care of the llama so she didn't mind. Majila came to her wagon to have the occasional snack and when they began to move the llama just somehow knew where to go.

The next few days though were miserable. The cold mountain air and vast green canopies were already quite a bit much for her but had nothing on the slippery barren earth and dagger like rain that left her body shivering violently. The cold seemed to sweep through her veins and set the inside of her throat and mouth on fire, a fire different from the white sand and dust and torturous sun she was so used to.

But the world was not without mercy. The wagons that were unoccupied were treasure troves of lost items that made Resuia's life all the more comfortable and entertained. In the way that the caravan provided all the wagons needed for everyone to shelter, it also provided all the things for which Resuia needed to survive the harsh weather change and satisfy her curiousity. Like a treasure trove she found all that she needed, gathered from abandoned wagons here and there, a blanket, a silver with a few coppers, broken tools, cigarettes, old cloths. Even though they were far from the luxurious silks she was accustomed to, the wool over coat and thick cotton pants were the greatest joys she possessed. And not a single person mentioned missing items, leading the courtesan to believe, and she thought so with a little fear, it was somehow magic.

In the times where she was not treasure hunting, she'd sit in the back of the wagon with the door open, and watch the landscape crawl by, a hundred hooves moving together, the soft chatter of people. When the rain came, even though she could barely even think the word, she practiced her magic, pushing the slanted rain away from the door and keeping the inside dry. The stone glowed more brilliantly as she touched it while moving water, cold and smooth she kept it in her bosom above her heart now. When they stopped for the night hot food was given, small blessings.

But things were getting boring, she wanted a little more to do then pushing rain and finding old blankets, which now served as a nest in the corner for sleeping. As much as she was loath to step out into the downpour, which was usually such a blessing back home, Resuia wanted to go see some people again. Which meant Kemun, the only person she knew. With her silver and copper she went to see if Kemun had any curiosities to sell her. When she arrived the wagon was empty, save for the smacking of lip.

The courtesan snatched the jar from Willa. "What is it do you think you are doing?" She glared at the woman, dry save for the puddle about her feet and drops of water in the air. "Hiding in Kemun's wagon and stealing from her, she had been nothing but kind to you and you repay her with theft!" She angrily snatched the lid as well and screwed it back on. The drops of rain frozen in the air roiled and through her cloths the stone at her chest glowed.

[Leelee_Mraz]

Willa Odette Wilafax

"I am not fat!"

" Oh that?.......is just....a...watermelon I stole..."

Willa ate from the jar, the feeling of having food in her also seeming to warm her. She put her hand back into the jar, eating the sweet food, when all of a sudden the jar was snatched out of her hands. She gasped and looked up. "What is it do you think you are doing?" Willa shook her head at the woman, confused.

“I...”

"Hiding in Kemun's wagon and stealing from her, she had been nothing but kind to you and you repay her with theft!" Willa looked at her with wide eyes. She shook her head furiously.

“ No. No no! “ She said looking at the woman.

She struggled to turn and get to her feet, panting as she looked at her, holding Kemun’s back around her shoulders as she coughed, into her arm, before giving a little sniffle. “ I am not stealing. Kemun said I could have some. I think...” She wiping her fingers on her dress. Her eyes filled with tears, but like the water that had been on her dress, the tears suspended from her face and mingled with the droplets before falling with the rest of them like rain to join the puddle, not a single drop returned to Willa. She chewed remnants of food in her mouth and swallowed. “I’m not a thief.” She defended looking at the girl and sitting on the edge of Kemun’s bed.

Willa’s eyes caught the stone at her chest. “What is that?” She asked softly, putting her hand on her chest, missing her own locket.She took a deep breath before her body began a series of deep coughs. She swayed slightly on the bed , and shook his head slowly. She was tired. She looked down at the ground."Please don't hit me..." She said rubbing at her chest.

"You put that hand on my belly.....you are not getting it back."

[Angstbucket Edgelord]

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The woman was somewhat bogged down with her huge pack, but still seemed lively enough. She uncorked a hip flask and poured a good amount of what was inside down her throat, then closed it and slotted it back into the place on her belt, all with her eyes closed. Aradia swallowed, blinked several times, and scrunched up her nose as the sharp, fruity flavour burst across her tongue, up her nose, and down her throat all at once. She let out a small sneeze and glared at the shopkeeper.

"Nay, ye lump-headed dingleberry, that is not an alder sprig, that's ratsbane! I know," she silenced the man with a raised finger when he attempted to speak, and by raising her own voice when he tried again, "because I ha' been a herbalist for twenty years and I ha' ne'er, e'er once been wrong in identifying a plant. Ne'er. Nuh-uh," she paused for breath as the man tried to explain again, "For the truth seven twists are not required. That is ratsbane and ye know it. See the red-silk edges? Alder wears a gold-green hat, silk of red is bane of rat."

Aradia eyed the dumbfounded man rather smugly.

"And frankly, that price yeh're selling it for is ridiculous, alder sprig or not. Give me yer eyes and go about to beg! Lordy, ratsbane is worth nary a coin where I'm from. I'll take five sprigs, for this."

She held out a smattering of small coins, staring the shopkeeper down intently the whole time. He shook his head no and pushed her hand away.

"No, lassie. Listen here, this i' the leaf o' the alder plan', an' i's worth more. Tae' yo' gol' away, I can' seel for less."

"Knead meal and make a cake!"

And with that, the girl flounced off in a cloud of red fabric and bangles, shaking her head to herself. As she neared the open square, Aradia let out a shout of delight and pranced her way across to a neighbouring stall.

"Hellebore! Hellebore! Oh, look at that!"

She headed straight for dried plants, laid out in neat rows. The owner of the stall seemed sufficiently amused when a gust of wind sent Aradia's hood careening back so that her hair swirled in a tangled mess around her head.

"G'day lass. What ye come t' buy?"

"The hellebore! Are they wild strains? Oh, just look at that!"

"Wilder than anything else in thi' market. I dried 'em meself."

"How dark does't dye?"

The man moved a large square of cloth from behind himself and handed it to Aradia for inspection. The girl seemed pleased at the indigo colour.

"How much will ye ha' for it?"

He winked at her.

"I'll barter for't. What hae' ye in that monstrous bag, eh?"

The redhead smiled and set her pack down, her cheeks dimpling. She tugged at several strings, dug through a good few layers, and drew several meticulously woven shawls out. The shopkeeper whistled.

"Aren't they pretteh. Well, I see ye'd use that hellebore well. I'll give ye seven bunches for that one."

Aradia's eyes twinkled as she happily pulled out the most heavily ornamented of the shawls, stuffing the rest back in. She took a good look at the fabric, shaking it out so that it rippled in the soft wind. The herbalist then draped it over the shopkeeper's head, giggling to herself.

"Ye look good in that."

He laughed along with her, and then bundled up the seven sprigs and handed it to her.
Aradia beamed. She was already loving Cantarta.

1. widow silk ; 5 sprigs
2. feverfew fennel ; 5 sprigs
3. belladonna ; 5 sprigs
4. rue of the valley; 5 sprigs
5. sorrel ; 5 sprigs
6.
7. wormwood bark ; pouchful
8. hyssop husks ; pouchful
9. rue tonic ; hip flask
10. knife ; sheath

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[H3p4tic4]

She’d been Cantarta for a little over half a month now with the coming of spring. She’d rolled in with the first group of traveling merchants looking to earn a few month’s wages at the local forge before she set off to her next destination, where that was Ariale didn't entirely know. It was just as well that the town trade season was just upon them and the old man who owned one of the three smithies in the market(after all one had to have variety) needed assistance.There were other forges she could have chosen from,but the IronHill woman,had decided to apprenticed herself to the older fellow with hair the color of white chalk and could barely see without the aid of a pair of spectacles.Even if the man was old, blind, and senile, he’d been a smith for far longer than she had been and he worked the steel with practiced ease. He didn't pay her much, but his teachings and the use of his shop as lodging was enough for Ariale to make it for another week or so.

Her patron was a bladesmith and in the last few weeks he’d been working her to the bone to produce quality blades for the merchants that braved Cliffrocks terrain to trade with the populous. She knew the old geezer needed coin, but after almost seven days of constant work she was about ready to give the man the finger and split.The warm gust of heated air from the forge brought her back to the present time as she gripped her current work with the clinchers and slowly quenching the tempered steel. The heat from the red hot metal produced a plume of steam to rise into her face, the humidity making her already curly hair messier in its ponytail.

Pulling the blade from the water one could see the blue coloring of the metal fading into a proper pale gray, the exact color she was looking for.The blade edge was sharp but not smoothed and with the morning Ariale was having she’d get to filing and smooth when she damned well felt like it. So she hung it with the few other unfinished blades and straightened , stretching her back and arms until her bones popped.

“ Thats it for today old man” She grunted wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her leather clad hand. The rain brought with it a chilling breeze and it was a relief after the heat of the forge. Before he could answer Ariale was off, untying the leather apron and tossing it onto the crafting table as she wade out into the streets.

“ I’ll be back to finish those blades up ” her destination was the Silver Vine Inn. It would be rather crowded, but it was a place to get a good draft and learn about what merchants were selling and where they were coming and going too. Ariale was getting that restless feeling again ,the feeling that told her body that it she’d been in one place for too long.She figured that when the caravan’s left for the roads after the festival she’d leave with one of them.

Even during the day the tavern was filled with the chatter of it’s occupants and the lute and drums of some traveling minstrels, singing some song of adventure or other. A few familiar faces waved to her and with a nod of acknowledgment she settled herself down at one of their tables with a tankard that was frothing over. She made a mental note of new faces and was only half sure she would remember them after she was pissed drunk,which only took three and a half filled tankards. By that time Ariale had taken to singing a loud and boisterous shanty that she and the occupants of her table thumped their fist and feet too.

[Samantha Whitfield]

⚔xxＣ ａ ｒ ｅxxｆ ｏ ｒxxｔ ｈ ｅxxｂ ｕ ｄ ｄ ｉ ｎ ｇxxｓ ｅ ｅ ｄ ｓ

It was with some looking that the redhead would finally find her way to the Silver Vine Inn. Not that the inn had been hard to locate, though it had been a bit far from the beginning of the town. The area she had started on, as would anyone else entering the terraced town the normal way, would be the residency of mostly farmers. Taking the winding path up to the second cliff up, she would arrive upon the Gierada section of Cantarta. This was filled with the markets, residencies, a large mill, and of course the taverns. It was here that the young knight found herself facing the door to the Silver Vine Inn. Above the door hung a large, silver and green stretch of ivy.

“I do believe this to be the inn,” Lorelei murmured.

Wendy would let out a snort, ostensibly agreeing with her rider. Tying down her steed, Lorelei would softly open the door to the tavern.

Quietly she would enter. A few eyes would wander toward the woman. It was uncommon but hardly out of the ordinary to see a female knight. And, of course, that was easily what the young woman looked. She wore a snuggly fit, earthen tone hip-length doublet which hid her chainmail breastplate. Her trousers were loose fitting and ended beneath heavily worn boots. Bracers that ran from elbow to knuckle, and small hands hidden beneath dark gloves were the only visible, metal protection. And, of course, no good knight could travel without a blade; Lorelei’s was a short sword, securely stored in a sheath that once must have looked like an art piece but was now weathered after years of travel. Most eyes returned to their meal, though a few eyes would continue to wander the lithe girl’s frame as she made her way to the counter.

“Excuse me?” she asked as she approached who looked to be the tavern owner. “I was told this was the establishment that could provide me with a room for myself and steed.”

“Uhyes, little missy,” replied the man as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “For one lady and a horse, I reckon a few coin a night will do. How long be yin planning to stay?”

“Until the Gala has ended; perhaps a bit longer,” she replied, already getting out the coin to pay for that period.

Her small coin purse had been hidden from sight beneath her jacket. She was wary of leaving anything out of her sight. She only trusted leaving her spear and shield with Wendy because they were slightly more replaceable than what little coin she did accept for her services. Lorelei could always find a caravan willing to accept her services since she normally only asked for a week’s room and board in pay no matter the journey. And that was only when the caravanners would demand she accept some form of payment. With the transaction complete, and a key to her room on the second level of the tavern, the young woman was told exactly where she could find the stables, and which stalls were free for use. With a polite bow, the girl left to deposit her steed and come back to store her possessions.

And, when she returned, she found that the tavern seems to have taken to song and dance. The girl looked toward the tables with a quizzical expression. She partially regretted the choice of this inn. Still, she could not very well ask for a refund now could she? No, she would simply drown it out; Lorelei had slept through worse.

Of course, now that she needed directions it seemed as though the kind looking gentleman who ran the tavern was no longer anywhere to be seen. Perhaps back in the kitchen? She could wait, but she was really curious to get directions to a smithy and perhaps a tailor. Her jacket could use some stitching and extra filling to increase the protective benefits. She needed a smith to repair her spearpoint. It had become worn and bent over the last few months from use and neglect.

Approaching one of the tables, Lorelei tried to politely intrude on the merriment of those around the apparent leader of the song and dance.

“Pardon me, but would anyone here know of a good tailor and mayhap a smithy as well?”

As usual, she was polite and formal. Not that she thought she needed to be with the kinds of people she was talking to, but it was how she was raised. Half expecting to be ignored, the girl would wait for a bit for an answer to her query. She expected plenty of tailors in these parts, but she was not sure if there would be any good quality smithies in these parts. Surely there would be ironworkers, but whether they worked weapons was another matter.

Ｆ ｏ ｒxxｔ ｈ ｅ ｙxxｈ ｏ ｌ ｄxxｏ ｕ ｒxxｆ ｕ ｔ ｕ ｒ ｅxx⚔xxxxxx

[Watervoir]

►► Aiden & Caden


The fire was mere cinders by the time Caden arrived to crouch beside it with a fresh change of clothes and a desert cloak. The latter was a hardy thing, made to shield brutal winds and buffeting sands, but not quite as effective as a space warmer on its own, which was what Caden was hoping the fire would remedy.

Elsewhere, for a moment, Aiden looked at the closed door of the wagon the pregnant lady had just entered. The woman, Willa, turned back to him as he spoke to her. Over her shoulder, he could see how empty her wagon was. Aiden by no means came from a life of leisure. Much of what he owned he had worked hard for. Seeing the bareness of the woman’s wagon struck a chord with Aiden. It didn’t seem right to him.

Willa had managed a whispered “thank you” before turning around and heading to a corner of her wagon. Aiden closed the door behind her. Shaking his head, he turned back towards the now extinguished fire, only to see another there. It was the dark haired male he had met in the forest. Caden was his name, he remembered. It was easy for him, since it sounded like his own.

Not wanting to head to sleep just yet, he made his way over to the fire. He made no effort to quiet his footsteps as he approached the man. Better, he thought, not to seem like he was sneaking up on him. Little did he understand just how wise of an action it was, given Caden’s current predicament. When he noticed his shadow, the guard merely glanced up at the cook with a brief nod before returning his attention to the fire and tossing in it a couple of the dried pines and twigs that remained from earlier that day.

Aiden smirked at the sight of the guard throwing pine wood on the fire. At least now he knew he wasn’t the only one who could get a fire going. Aiden was pretty sure that the both of them knew that the fire would still take a while to get going, but luckily he had in his pocket just the thing to give it an extra kick. He pulled out a leathery something that looked an awful lot like a sausage link. Using his thumb, he broke the skin of the package, and immediately a large quantity of what looked like cotton burst forth. He knelt down and shook some of this white fluff into the fire, and instantly the fluff caught flame and ignited the twigs and pine wood that laid on the fire currently.

Caden nodded, clearly impressed. “And where did you learn that trick?” He reached for the slab of wood that was resting beside the fire and started fanning the flames.

Aiden chuckled at that question. “Me mum asked me the same question when I nearly burnt the house down with it when I was a kid.”

The man’s good humour was refreshing for the guard and managed to draw a smile from Caden despite the troubles that were plaguing his mind. “I bet it really brings a new meaning to the word cooking.” He put down the fan and held his hands to the fire.

Aiden smiled at the guards statement. “Well, she never did let me ‘round the fire without her after that.”

“Glad she didn’t or we might not have had such a terrific cook for tonight’s party.” The flickering light from the fireplace helped him track down a stray puff of the flammable cotton-like material. Caden lifted it from the dirt with a finger and added it to the fire. Its flames licked it up readily. “Trouble sleeping? Your gems should be safe now.”

Aiden sat down next to the fire, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. “People ‘round here had lots of trouble tonight. Promised the pregnant lass I’d get her necklace back, but I wasn’ able to,” he said, letting out a sigh as he finished. Some people might have thought it strange that such a thing bothered him, but that was only because they didn’t know he didn’t make promises lightly.

Caden’s eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists as he was reminded again of their party crashers. “You did your best. As much as we’d like them to, thieves are not ones to make themselves easy to catch.” How many times had he caught rats like those in the past, only for this one to slip away. He unclenched a hand and reached once more to the ground. It caught hold of a pinecone and almost instinctively he belted it violently at the fire.

Aiden raised an eyebrow at the guard. Obviously, the bandits had taken something from him as well. Was Aiden the only person who had not been affected by them? “Seems to me like yeh lost something as well…” he ventured.

Caden gritted his teeth. “More than I’d ever care to admit.” He stood. It was time to get back to work. “Thank you for your cotton. Saved me a bit of trouble.” He motioned to the fire before turning his eyes to the forests in the near distance. Pulling his cloak closer, he began his path back into the dark woods.

The guard, it seemed to Aiden, was determined to continue searching for the bandits, even though it was night, and they were probably long gone. Aiden got that he was dedicated to this whole guard thing, but didn’t get what kind of idiot thought it was a good idea to go chasing after bandits in unfamiliar woods in the middle of the night. “If yeh’re thinking of going after them, then yeh’re a fool. They’re long gone by now, probably.”

Caden’s sights did not waver. “Those rats are not the only thing I’m after,” he said in half a mumble, losing sight on the the world around him and focus converging on the path ahead. It was a foolish venture for him to go out without his sixth-sense backing him up, but Caden was determined to make it work. It was more than just for the sake of duty.

Aiden was starting to feel like he was missing something. Caden, it seemed, was after something else other then the bandits, but he didn’t seem to want to tell him. Annoyed, Aiden asked, “Yeh want to actually tell me what it is yeh’re after?”

“A noble, a priest, and a doctor,” was the response. The familiar scent of the trees welcomed them into the forest. Caden scanned the woods. “Shouldn’t really be as difficult as it’s turning out to be.”

As succinct as that statement was, Aiden was at least able to gather from it what he needed to know. Apparently some members of the Caravan had gone missing. Including the Doctor. Truthfully, Aiden couldn’t care less about the Noble or the Priest. He was never much a religious man, and all the Nobles he had met were unpleasant for him to be around.

But the Doctor? He was worth getting back.

Aiden followed the guard into the woods, managing to catch his words about it not being difficult. Aiden rolled his eyes at this. He knew the man could read a trail, but that statement was just too stupid for him to ignore. It was the middle of the night, the woods around them were dense and unfamiliar, and it had been a few hours at least since he guessed these people had gone missing.

“Why don’t yeh let me take the lead. I’ve got a bit of experience followin’ trails, yeh know?” he said to him.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Caden remarked, but he made the motion for Aiden to lead on. If what Medayo said was true, the effects of the powder were temporary and perhaps he could speed things along by walking it off. Until that happened however, Aiden was likely his best bet for finding what he was looking for. He remembered the skill Aiden exhibited that afternoon when they were tracking Oliver, before the lightning struck.

Aiden had expected Caden to say what he did, but at least trying to get The Doctor back seemed like something he should help with. “Well, first off, where did yeh last see them?” he asked.

Caden stopped, turned, and then started the trek from whence they came. He waved for Aiden to follow. “It’s to the forests on the other side of the cliff…” He’d already been past that side of the woods. Before Aiden offered his aid, as far as Caden was concerned, the further he was in lands untravelled when his sixth-sense returned, the more ground he’d effectively cover. He didn’t think Aiden didn’t need to know all of the nitty gritty details to his logic, though, for both their safety, and Caden saw the value to Aiden’s approach. “Where did a cook learn to hunt people?”

Aiden chuckled as he followed Caden. “Well, I used to travel around a lot with some friends. Most times we had to hunt for a meal, and tracking came in handy for that. Hunting people uses more or less the same skills as hunting game.”

“Game is more predictable.” Animals rarely learned new tricks to throw off their predators. They were all equal under his sixth-sense, however. Now, if only his still worked. The light of the blazing campfire soon returned to view. Its intense glare gave Caden another wave of nausea, catching him off guard right when he was about to forget about it. He resisted the temptation to groan, and merely closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples with his thumbs, but pushed on past the camp.

Their destination was just past the brush on the other side. “Well… we’re here.” Caden crossed his arms and stood idly by, giving Aiden a chance to work his magic.

Aiden went up besides Caden as they made it to the place where they had been. Aiden could clearly see that someone had been here at first glance. Blood had been splattered on the ground, which had been trampled. Bending down, he examined the spot closer. His sharp eyes told him that three people had been here. One had lain or slumped on the ground, while two distinct footprints had knelt next to him. He placed a hand on the spot where the one who had lain been.

“One lay here, while two tended to him.” he said. He saw that a path lead away from the spot, deeper into the woods. There were two footprints, and a drag mark. Obviously, they had dragged the injured away further into the trees. For what reason, he didn’t know. Aiden motioned towards the tracks as he stood up. “Looks like they dragged someone who was injured into the woods.”

“Unlikely without good reason.” Caden didn’t see Velius putting the legwork to move Draaz for otherwise, and he figured Whitnee would oppose moving a patient on the brink of life and death if there was not a better place the patient could have been. “The priest’s name is Draaz, and he had a knife wound to his gut. The other two are the doctor, Whitnee, and the noble, Velius. Met any of them?” Caden didn’t personally know all of them, but he made the effort to know as many names as possible.

Aiden looked back at Caden as he spoke. He had not met either the priest or the noble, but The Doctor, he had. “Only The Doctor.” he replied.

“A good man, that one.”

Aiden in the lead, they pushed on through the brush that the trail lead through, deeper into the forest. For a few moments, Aiden was absorbed with following the trail through the underbrush. Every few steps, he would reach out towards a thin branch protruding from a tree above or a bush below, and break the branch so that it hung limply. Caden made no sign of it, but he was making a mental note of the cook’s actions. They weren’t far enough into the woods yet for Caden to need markers to find his way back, but he was and always had been impressed with what regular folk did to find their way. This tactic of Aiden’s wasn’t so necessary for someone who could sense the life energies of the environment and could find their way with them, but Caden could see its uses. The fact his sixth-sense was absent made it seem all the more noteworthy.

“I just don't get why they go deeper into the woods.”

Caden lifted his eyes off the trail. “This is the path to the spring,” he concluded, recognizing the surroundings. Another piece in the puzzle. Not being the one in charge of scrutinizing the trail, he had the benefit of being in a position where he could afford to lift his eyes from the clues and look at the bigger picture. “Maybe they wanted to wash off the blood.”

Aiden was too unfamiliar with these woods to have picked what Caden had said out on his own. But now that he did say it, Aiden recognized the direction the trail was leading. When Caden mentioned that they may have wanted to wash off the blood, Aiden nodded. “That could be it, aye.” It was then that he noticed that there was no more blood on the trail, and that he hadn’t actually seen any since they had left where they had started. “Well, it seems as though the Priest’s wound was healed. There’s been no blood on this trail that I’ve seen since we left where they had first been.”

“Good eye.” Aiden couldn’t possibly have known about the healing concoction, and he came to the correct conclusion all the same. Caden was now certain Velius must have agreed to use on Draaz. It would have been the only way they could safely move the priest without him dying in their hands.

The calming rush of running water at the spring grew louder and soon the spring was in view. This was at least Caden’s third time in this area, and the first in which he had to bear through yet another headache. His steps slowed as he brought a hand up to rub at the space between his eyebrows. The pains were getting weaker but no less annoying. He waited quietly for Aiden to reveal the rest of the path.

Aiden spent a bit at the Spring, searching around the place. Though the trail had lead here, the ground around the spring was so trampled that it was difficult for him to pick out the tracks they were trying to follow.

Eventually, though, he managed to find the footprints of the three they had been trailing. There were now three sets of prints, where before there had been two. “Seems like The Priest managed to find his own feet…” he said, looking back at Caden.

“Everyone calls him Draaz,” Caden remarked, though wasn’t sure if Aiden heard.

Aiden’s eyes were back on the ground. He was surprised to find that he was on the other side of the spring where they had come from. He hadn’t been paying much attention to where he had actually been going. “Seems like they wandered off in the wrong direction, though. This won’t be good…” he looked over to Caden and waited for him to come over to him before he went back off into the woods.

The guard was frowning as he moved toward Aiden. “This isn’t good at all.” He wasn’t so sure the trio had a good reason for wandering off this time. “Were they following something? Can you follow the trail?” Concern was written all over his face. It was becoming clear to him that Velius, the one the guard cared about most out of the three, had gotten lost in the worst possible hour for him to do so.

Aiden shook his head at the guard’s first question. “It doesn’t seem like they were,” he replied. For the second one, he motioned for Caden to follow as he led them off on the trail, back into the woods.

The pair carried on in pursuit of the long winding trail that had drawn the misguided trio further and further away from the caravan. The tracks that they were following lead them further into the woods. From the lack of direction, the trio seemed to have wandered around for awhile before noticing they were lost, and then quite suddenly the tracks ended.

Aiden studied this area for a bit. He could see that they had been lying down on the ground, but there were no tracks leading away from the spot. Instead, there were several horse tracks all around. “Huh, that’s odd.” he remarked, standing up. To be extra sure, he searched around some more, but with no luck. Finally, he came back to Caden, who was standing a bit off to the side the entire time, giving Aiden a chance to investigate with as little tainting to the evidence as possible. “They had lain down there, but there’s no trail of theirs leading away from here.”

Caden nodded. “Hm.” Caden paused in thought briefly, before crouching low quite abruptly. He had his eyes on the ground searchingly. He stepped past the area Aiden remarked, and his gaze roved around it, hunting for a cause. A snapped twist of vine caught his attention. “A trap,” he reasoned. The vine was part of a series. A large branch laid on the ground not much further from the spot Aiden had claimed the trio to have laid. Strong and sturdy, it looked out of place lying there, as if it were broken. Caden brushed at the ground closer to him and found a second branch.

Caden stood and lifted the branch up into the air, weighing it by the hand. It was thick, much thicker than the one Nasrin had wielded against him. “One that would hardly kill a deer let alone a bear. It’s either incomplete or heavily experimental.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow at the guard’s words. So there had been a trap? Aiden probably would not have seen that himself. While he did know how to make traps, when the need arose, putting the pieces that were here together to come to that conclusion was quite an achievement.

Meanwhile, Caden continued his investigations. The trap couldn’t have been designed to knock out animals or humans, not unless there were people around who were interested in capturing live subjects. There was only one person Caden could think of who would do such a thing, and he was certain there were no manic mages running loose in this area.

The situation wasn’t any more comforting for Caden. “Are you sure there is no trail?”

Aiden answered the guards question with a shake of his head. “Not that I can see, at least. There’s lots of horse tracks around, but they don’t seem to lead anywhere, and in any case, the people who had rode them would be long gone by now.”

Caden narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the forest floor some more. His mind was racing a mile a minute. He prodded at the ground with the branch in his hand, brushing aside brown leaves. He tried to trace the path of one of the sets of hoofprints Aiden had talked about, but if Aiden had no luck with it, Caden didn’t stand a chance. “You’re suggesting they were taken?”

He looked at Aiden, who merely shrugged. “It would make sense.”

Caden scowled, tossing aside the branch. He could agree with the cook on this one. He didn’t recall ever spotting or sensing wild horses in the area, but he didn’t see who would bother taking all three of the travellers. What were the chances too, that a stray woodsman would be out at this time of night, happen on the trio, be on a horse, and be able to lug all of them away, all in the span of a hour? If anything, there would have been at least three woodsmen, on at least two horses.

Something clicked. “...Damn it!” Or a woods-woman. “We need to return to the caravan, now!” He turned, starting for the way they came in. “What was the status on our prisoner when I was away?”

Aiden shrugged and followed him. “Last I saw he was tied up at the Caravan,” he replied simply.

“He better still be by the time we’re back,” the guard said through grit teeth. No one had really been in charge of babysitting Tobias, but it would all change when Caden returned.

The pair were well on track when suddenly Caden let out a groan and was brought to his knees, both hands on his head. “AGHHHHHHHH!”

Aiden rushed over to the guard as he fell, his scream still ringing in his ears. “S’matter with yeh?” he asked, kneeling down to his level.

The guard was speechless, powerless against the head-splitting ache that overtook him so. The pain had been coming and going the entire time, ebbing and flowing like the tide before finally crashing down upon him like a final wave. All the demons inside the powder-filled vial of Nasrin’s came into war with the guardians of the magic that made their home inside his mind. It was unlike anything Caden had ever felt, and there was nothing he could do to abate or overcome it.

It was the mind’s eye of a thousand years crumbling and being reconstructed. Memories flooding into him and being washed away, leaving only traces and particles and at best broken chunks behind. They were nightmares and daydreams and sensations and emotions, all racing and pushing and stacking on top of one another, all in the space of a blink of an eye.

A blink, and it was all gone. Caden breathed and opened his eyes, reregistering Aiden’s presence beside him. “It… It’s nothing.” Slowly he pushed himself up, wobbling only slightly. Awareness flooded back into him. The forest was alive once more, albeit asleep, its presence, hushed. He waved his hand in the darkness before him and could make out the intricacies of the movements. For the first time over the span of the past couple of hours, Caden felt… fine. “Nothing but a small ache in the head.”

Caden raised his gaze and took in the forest with a fresh perspective. The landscape beyond was relatively uniform except for the spot, which in all likelihood was the people gathered at the Caravan. “I kindly ask you don’t share what just happened with anyone, though. I do have a reputation I need to build as a guard,” he joked, with a sidelong glance at Aiden.

Aiden didn’t really understand what had just happened to the guard. From the way he had been holding his head, he guessed a headache. But the way he acted afterward threw him for a bit. He got up slowly, and waved his hand in front of his face. What was that all about? The guard muttered something about it being a small headache, and though Aiden wouldn’t have classified that as “small” he accepted the guards explanation.

As to his request, Aiden just shrugged his shoulders. “If yeh want to keep secrets, then I’ll play along, I guess.”

Caden returned his eyes on the road. The less Aiden knew, the better for the both of them, but the reluctance in the cook’s voice did the escape him. “I suppose it’s not that great a secret, really. The girl I chased off into the hills left me a small present. Powdered headache in a bottle, didn’t think it would get this bad, to tell you the truth. Magic, I think it was - really stuff that’s beyond me. Are you familiar with this hocus pocus stuff?”

A small smile played across his lips at the last question. Briefly, his mind flashed back to years ago, when he was sitting at one of the tables in his mother’s tavern. Before him was a brown haired man he knew by the name “Hans”. Han’s was deep into an explanation about some magical theory or something. Aidens eyes, however, were on the new lass his mom had hired to help her around the tavern. He smiled at her as she looked over, and chuckled when she turned away to hide her face.

“Not so much, though I know a guy who’s something of a scholar about these things.”

“Yeah?” Caden raised an eyebrow, but was glad Aiden seemed to have been sufficiently distracted. “And where might he be now?”

The smile on his lips disappeared at the question. “We took different paths a while ago,” he said.

Caden didn’t see the change of expression, but he felt it. “Well, that’s a shame. It’s nice to have you on board though. And… thanks, for coming out with me tonight,” he said with a bit of smile.

He thought there was something wrong when there was no response. But even without needlessly glancing back, as he had done, he could tell Aiden was still behind him, and that was all he cared about at the moment. His face steeled as his attention returned to the woods. “Let’s hurry back. I’ll lead. I know this part of the forest well.”

((OOC: This post takes place before the time skip.))

[Watervoir]

Ѵeȴɩus Kɩɾʈɑ
ɳoble

Velius looked on his fellow prison mates with interest in his eyes. They seemed to have been taking their predicaments rather well, which was surprising to the noble. There were no demands to "free me now!" or "you're going to pay for this!". Velius smiled at the notion that perhaps they thought it was his job. Wasn't it always that way with peasant stories?

Velius was waiting for the bandit lady to speak, however she was not the first to respond to his jests. Draaz retorted first, bitter and sourly. It made the noble grin in amusement. So the priest had bite. Velius did not fear him. He had outrun enough yapping dogs in his lifetime. The noble was ready to reply to Draaz, a cheeky reply hanging off the tip of his tongue in no time flat, but he was cut off by Whitnee's calmer words. It made no difference to the noble, really. "And a wonderful good morning to the both of you too," he greeted the both of them neutrally, in a tone that was meant to be friendly to the doctor and patronizing to the priest and his earlier words.

The noble listened to the rest of the doctor's words on their predicament. Even had Velius not known the bandit leader, the bonds around his body would have told him quite as much. Regardless, Velius had acknowledged the Doctor's message with a flicker of the eyes in his direction.

That was when the bandit leader spoke up. Velius would have countered her first words by saying that he was even quicker with a sword, but though he could beat even Caden in a fair fight, he knew a match with even one of the bandits would soon become like a bedroom scuffle. The woman's next words dripped idle threats. Velius was hardly fazed and quick to reply. "Likewise," he began darkly with a mysterious half smirk. The tone switched quickly. "I've had more than my fair share of fresh fruits during my vacations to Oronia!" If it hadn't been clear what a banana was, it might have been a lot more obvious now. He made a face and stuck his tongue out at the woman as she departed.

He waited until after Whitnee presented the question as to the whereabouts of his bag before chiming in on a chipper note: "Did you hear that, priest? She called you harmless. It means you're hardly any danger to her. She has no reason to get rid of you. Looks like you don't have much to worry about!" Velius concluded. He then continued, laying out the ground plan for the rest of them. "All three of us are safe, actually. The good Doctor has his fair share of useful skills, so he's far from expendable. And me. Lovely ol' me has if nothing else, his dashing face and charming wit that are worth keeping around. I mean..." The bandit leader was out of view so instead he turned his gaze to her two lackeys. "Why else would we still be roped up here over simply wandering lost in the woods as we were meant to be?"

[Aeroden Eternium]

Eriol Epheis



Before his eyes, a sea of green grass sung with the wind. The warmth of another human being seeped into his skin from the palm of his hand. They lay beneath the wide embrace of a willow tree, the weather just warm enough. Were they waiting for an animal, or a person? Were they resting, sleeping, or playing? A memory, or something less? It mattered not. It was warm, and gentle; a scene of peaceful, happy days. Or it would have been without the drunken sailor serenading him. A disgruntled Eriol was stirred from his sweet dream, and forced his heavy eyelids open to a scene of raucous party.

It hadn't taken long for Eriol to fall asleep, and it took little more than that to wake him up again. Brief as it was, the nap was welcome, but it didn't do much for him. He should retire to his room, but who could slumber in all this ruckus, even if separated by a floor and several doors? In his opinion, it was a tad early for this level of merrymaking, but it must be excused in lieu of the festive air. He grabbed his tankard only to find it deprived of all but a few drops of mead. He sighed, and seeing no staff wandering around, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went to seek out the innkeeper.

The man had just disappeared from the counter, to his disappointment. In exchange, the gods had left a girl...no, a young woman...a young lady, who appeared to have walked in not so long ago. In truth, many of the patrons in the tavern were quite the characters. The dark-skinned singer herself was rather eye-catching, and after all, this was an inn of high repute open during a time of high repute. But this lady appeared a knight (or a squire, he couldn't be certain). He was no stranger to female warriors, but this one looked and sounded a bit far from home. He couldn't recount the last time he heard polite speech on the road. His interest piqued, he followed her to the center of the noise. His guard somewhat loosened by the copious amounts of alcohol, Eriol dared to approach her.

"I can't say with any confidence I know where you could find either, miss, but I'd chance a guess that she would know something about smithing.“ Eriol pointed with his still empty mug towards the woman singing, his speech yet unslurred. "You don't get arms like those from sewing." He refrained from asking after her circumstances, or whether she was actually a knight, but the thoughts stayed in the back of his mind. He bowed out after imparting his opinions to her, and retreated to his corner once again, picking up an abandoned, full tankard on the way back.