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.

[jadeshaw88]

If only night could hold you...
Ari merely laughed when her suspicions about his thoughts were confirmed. It had been a while since a man had admitted to as much...well, since Belorner anyway and she decided that that one didn't count. It would have been nice if she hadn't gotten the vision right off...No, no it wouldn't because then she would have done a lot more than kiss the man and that was revolting enough in itself. She needed to get a man who wasn't so vile. How often had she thought this over? Often enough that she was surprised that she hadn't done anything about it yet. She allowed her smile to turn flirty, her lips being the only thing that could convey her mood with the blindfold on. "But such thoughts are so boring when they are confined to one's head." She teased. "How long has it been since you have been with a woman, Rashiek?" She let her lips play with the name as she spoke it. "Or is it true what they're saying about you and Beck?"

She sighed and let the conversation move on. She wasn't entirely sure that she wanted that sort of thing with the bandit. Jon would probably jump at the opportunity but Aria didn't really need something so famous between her legs. Besides, he had done Mother only knew what to Aus and she didn't think she could forgive him enough for that to tumble him. There were much better fish swimming out there that she could set her sights on. "As for the tea leaves, no, I don't read them. Usually if you find someone who offers to do so, they're a fake. Being able to truly interpret tea leaves is very rare." If she had the ability, she had never really tested it before. It seemed too...slippery to mess with. She got in enough trouble when she gave people actual predictions.

The questions and accusations about Velius caught her off guard. It seemed that she was unable to shake the man, no matter who she talked to. "Yes, I know Velius." She felt her other hand awkwardly patting the bandit's arm to comfort him....without her permission. "Trust me, don't put too much into what he says. He's either trying to get a rise out of you or intentionally trying to hurt you. Either way, I think the best thing to do is just ignore him." Not that she was all that good at that herself. He was so maddening!!! The b*****d had wormed his way into her brain and she couldn't get him out and now she was indebted to him. "I know you love your son. I've seen it...when you touched me before. I know you loved his mother too...at least a little." She didn't think it was wise telling him this but she wasn't a very wise person when it came to keeping her mouth shut.

She heard him addressing someone in the wagon and blinked behind her blindfold. It was darker in here? Certainly not darker than her own wagon. She tentatively pulled the blindfold off of one eye and then cautiously opened it. It wasn't too bad. It wasn't the perfect lighting but it was nice enough that she could see without pain. She pulled the blindfold off the rest of the way and sighed. She supposed it might not be awful to be in this wagon so long as she wasn't a slave. "Although Jon isn't necessarily opposed to male partners, I don't think Beck is really his type." She smiled, coming to the minstrel's rescue before he fainted again. "He's actually a big admirer of yours...which is why he fainted earlier. He's been trying to talk to you since he joined the caravan and you keep brushing the poor guy off." She wasn't really scolding the bandit but she wasn't going to sugar coat it either. She was simply stating facts. "Now, as fun as it has been getting to know you and all, I think we should probably get going. Just because I know my way around the tunnels, it does not mean that there aren't dangers down there and we have a lot of distance to cover to even reach the entrance." The Oasis was nice but Bethryl was beautiful. She was tired of dwaddling.

...Where I can see you, my love

[ChinchiIIin]

Mercedes watched as Kemun gathered her wares to pack up, having noted many other merchants already doing the same thing. She doubted she would get anything from any others at this point, nor would she inconvenience them to unpack anything just so she could look through their wares. By the rate it seemed they were moving, the caravan was in quite a bit of a rush. So this Rashiek was trying to get them out of this place as soon as possible. What emergency would cause such haste, the noblewoman did not know, but it certainly piqued her curiosity. Enough that she shooed her guards away back to the cart, preferring to take a look at things herself; an order they reluctantly obeyed.

She caught sight of a man wearing the red scarf Kemun had spoken of rather quickly across the caravan, however just as she was about to make her way over to him, her true target appeared from his cart once more. As he came closer, the boy he’d gone with beside him, Mercedes kept her eyes on the pair. The boy was certainly not the usual type she would have expected to see around someone of his stature, which lead her to believe he had some sort of motive behind being around the boy. She would not ruin whatever he was doing, however; it was honestly none of her concern at the moment.

As they finally drew near enough she gave the boy a smile and nodded faintly out of politeness before turning to the ‘lamenting’ Velius. His approach had once again brought her guards over, the men far too wary for their own good. With a simple hand gesture she sent them away again, a small warning that if she had to do so again she may well get irritated with them. With the men out of the picture again she turned back to the red-eyed man before her. “Lord Velius, it has been quite a long time since I have seen you last,” she said calmly, that sweet polite smile on her face again, “You resemble your parents a great deal. I just recently paid them a visit in Shahrazad. I never would have thought to meet one of their sons in the Blue Caravan of all places; though seeing the fine wares that seem to be here I cannot blame you for being here for things like the tapestry you just got.” There was no need to state who she was, as she was more than certain by that grin on his face that he knew very well who she was. To say she was glad for the sudden change in her dull trip home would have been an understatement. After all, it wasn’t often one ran into someone on the same level as yourself in many ways by such chance, which is exactly what she found in Velius now.

[Manuscripts and Pince-Nez]

Come out and fight and I will take your life

✿

Sulfur coloured eyes watched the winged man with the intensity of shackles on a women stealing, dashing, fighter for justice in tights. It was a kind of gaze that could only be acquired by years of seeing rather crazy and irritating s**t,leaving one with the ability to hammer the words ‘don’t even move’ into one’s brain by a look; a glare that told one not to mess with the person wearing the axe for they will chop of something vital. That well practices and often used glare disappeared when the winged thing relaxed, apparently no longer seeing them as much of a threat, and was replaced by one less accusatory and more kind. The man still didn’t speak word and Phedre wondered if he might be mute. He looked as if he had all the appropriate parts for speaking and maybe some more, but you never knew. She of all knew best that illness and problems could some from inside the body and leave no visible trace on the skin.
When the girl whose name she still didn’t know asked them to lower their weapons, the blond was reluctant. The winged man could still very well be dangerous and that sword he was carrying seemed sharp. It would probably be able to cut them all down if handled well enough and, judging by the dead, stinky, beast lying dead, the man knew how to use it. But then again, the other male stopped it with dagger only. Maybe it was a magic dagger? She had never seen a magic dagger, only jeweled ones. Did they glow? They had to. Magic glowed and sparkled and hurt like hell so magic daggers should too. Unless they were magicked not to glow.
It was a mystery that was not meant to be revealed by her, obviously, so she left it at that.
The axe remained in Phedre’s hands due to no other appropriate place to sheathe it, but it was lowered, as she realized that the girl was probably right and that they should risk it this time and try to make the winged man more calm. It seemed that the others agreed, especially the armed man who proceeded to get quite chummy with him. Truly the man must have been a fierce warrior that feared no demon, which was just proven by his skills with the dagger. She walked over to the two and put her hand on the man’s shoulder, giving him a look a father would give to a son that just killed his first bear
“You, sword brother, are a very noble and brave man. “ Throwing another smile at the beastly man, Phedre followed the girl, but not before turning to the youngest one in their odd party, the caravan leader’s son “You alright? Come, we gotta find an exit ‘fore we turn to fish”.
The blond could hear the priests’ hushed prayers and wondered if she should try to comfort him, but decided against it; If he was praying then she would let him be. Phedre didn’t pray much,but to some of her friends back in the days, hearing a priest’s words could bring great morale, and that was something very important. Loose the morale and the battle was as good as done.
“What do you think this place was used for?” The blond asked no one in particular. “Maybe some sort of…uh…highway? Underground? Or a secret city?” Her mother used to tell her stories of people living underground. What were they called again? She wasn’t sure, but she remembered that they supposedly made excellent axes and, as the blond knight would say, axes were a girl’s best friend.
“Uhh… are you sure that’s wise? Reading and…touching that” Phedre remarked as the girl started talking about some writing on the walls. She highly doubted that their bestial friend would do graffiti on the walls, but who knows, maybe it was a hobby to him? Besides, she could only see moss.



✿


What happened next was a rather strange event that, if one were to use just one word, it would be described as : weird. If one were to use more words, on the other hand, Phedre felt as if she was stuck in an opera house with her husband and mother where all the singers were green and, instead of singing about some fated love or the other while giving her betrothed to make awkward attempts at seduction which left one with a twitch in the eye, they were dictating cooking recepies and the correct way of amputating a foot (“one needed just a few bottles of Brandy, my dear”) and somehow, somewhere, there was a bear.
“Why am I looking at my own body” Was the first question that came from lips that stopped bleeding a while ago (it was bound to bruise, though, as the blond could clearly see on her own face)
“Are we dead? Because if we are, I am going to find the dog responsible for this, tear his legs off and shove it trough his bellybutton!”Somehow, the way she said it, combined with the aforementioned glare of axe to limbs introduction, it sounded like she had done that before. Though, apparently after getting that threat out, Phedre mellowed down and looked at everyone
“What happened? How do you all fare?” Sulfur coloured eyes observed her own body with wonder. It was a long while since she’d looked at a mirror and the blond was confused at best at how weary she managed to look while sleeping. Upon the girl’s inquiries of their whereabouts, the knight turned around and gave the place a look over. They were in a forest, apparently, and near a lake. The body of water looked a lot familiar and Phedre wondered where she had seen it before. Memories of two men and a painting resurfaced and she had to bite her lip in concentration
“We’re near Bethryl, I think. I had a painting of this lake .” The said painting had been burned, though , and the artist would probably sent dogs at her if they ever saw each other again. Funny story, actually.

But if you stay I am taking your pride

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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ABEL'S FABLES
Volume Two Chapter Eighty One
In which Abel heads back to the merchant.

He still wasn't quite sure about this man. Sure, he'd just pulled him in for a nice little chat and listened to his story...but he hadn't started out on the right foot. In Abel's book, first impressions mattered, and so Velius would have quite a bit of ground to cover. Plus, he didn't like the fact that he very quickly revoked Caden's status as his brother. Just because he wasn't related by blood didn't mean he was any less of a brother. Abel frowned, forehead wrinkling for a brief moment before smoothing over. He thought quite a bit for family loyalty as well. "Blood doesn' matta ya know. S'how ya feel tha matters when it comes ta ya family." By his own definition, Abel had a very large family that was beginning to include many of the people on this caravan.

Abel shuffled to the edge of the wagon and took a gentle leap down to the ground, clapping the dirt off his hands and onto his pants before jamming them into his pockets. "I'll go back ta her ta see if'n she still needs m'help. But, I kinda wanna clean m'self up afore we go. I can't be goin' someplace knew smellin' right foul." Not that that had ever been a problem before until it'd been pointed out to him by Miss Avalalalalalala. She'd been a right trip. Even now Abel kind of missed her, even though he wasn't quite sure what her deal had been in the first place, trying to save the same evil woman who he'd conked over the head with a hunk of wood.

Women were crazy though. Wasn't that why Rasheik had his kid now? Because the mom was a whacko? Abel would have to ask him...but at a more appropriate time when his son wasn't missing. Maybe when they were both a little bit more drunk. Or maybe even totally drunk. In fact, he hadn't had much to drink in a while aside from water. Something else would be good. "I could use a' drink. Ya?" Approaching the merchant's wagon, he touched his fingers to his forehead in a brief genuflection of respect and smiled slowly. Nodding at her instructions, he went to life the boxes as told, carrying them onto the wagon. "Ya wouldn't 'appen ta have any soap I could borrow, would ya?"

Abel will always need a bath.

[ChinchiIIin]

Rachelle froze as they all began to move again. The sharp appendage that the male had was suddenly gone, confusing his conflicted mind even further. Sound continued to come from them and his mind struggled to try and figure out why it was almost nostalgic hearing it. There was a term for the noises these things were making, some form of communication no doubt. But why would he find these strange sounds these creatures were making so familiar? It simply made no sense to the young man’s mind at the moment, which pushed him further into trying to contemplate what it was. But just as he came to the realization that they were speaking, something shattered the small semblance of control he’d regained of his mind.

The arm around his shoulders made him tense up visibly. How had he let them get so close without realizing it? What a fool he was, letting such dangerous things so close! They continued to speak to him, though if he’d had hackles like a dog, they would have been standing on end at this point. A low growl erupted from his throat, only a short warning before he lashed out at the male who was nearest to him, clawed fingers finding his upper arm to scratch through the skin, blood flowing soon after. His wings flared out angrily as his tail snapped around in his blind rage.

But before he could launch another attack on the intruders, something happened. Magic coursed around him. What might have lasted a moment for the others seemed much longer to the more sensitive Rachelle. Around him he saw the spirits of the very beasts that a cruel man had attempted to fuse into him long ago, the spirits of the beasts he struggled with for control during the very fight he had just been a part of. He could barely make out some of them before they began to mesh with his own soul properly. A lion, a falcon, some sort of reptile and other beasts slowly seeped into his own spirit. Awareness of their power and knowledge flooded his mind before he finally came to near the lake around everyone else.

The realization that the ‘creatures’ he had been fighting blindly were humans struck the young man hard. He had attacked humans in a rage, tried to kill them even. And now that they knew how dangerous he was surely they would not let him off so easily. Fear and guilt washed through him quickly as he moved away from the others, only then noticing their predicament. Their bodies and souls seemed to have been forced apart by the spell the younger female had triggered. This was why he did not like magic, it only ever ended in bad things.

When the older female spoke of Bethryl, though, he forced himself to not focus on hiding so much and looked around some. Familiarity quickly began to come to him followed shortly by knowing exactly where they were. And considering they were all in the same trouble at the moment, he dared to take a chance at incurring their wrath. He slowly gathered himself, lips parting a few times before he remembered how to work his vocal chords properly. “Yes... Bethryl..” he managed to get out, his words choppy and clearly very unrefined from having not used them for so long, “Near home... old home... before bad man.” He lifted his hand to his own chest, trying to emphasize that he was referring to himself when he said home. Despite his willingness to potentially help, though, he stayed far out of reach still, clearly uneasy around the strangers who would likely be very angry with him for attacking them. Keeping his hand where it was after a moment of thought, he spoke again. “Rachelle,” he said, eyes darting around them warily, hoping they would realize it was his name.

[Argentine.the.Tangerine]

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Rasheik pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking of the best way to answer Aria's first flirtatious question without getting himself into a situation he couldn't right handle at the moment. "More often than not business has come before pleasure lately, and so those thoughts are best kept tucked away. As for Beck...I prefer my women to be a little less ...high maintenance." A grin, and the moment passed before he looked back over to Jon, then to Aria, listening as she spoke of tea leaves. Something about people reading his life so easily disconcerted him. He was a man of secrets, and he liked to keep them as such.

"Velius is a wound that when untreated and ignored will become a painful infection in my side," he muttered, casting a glance back out the way he came, about to peer out to look for the man when he was struck by what Aria said next about Daniel's mother. So she had seen a memory of his, had she? He felt an unease in his stomach, and he made sure to keep his skin to himself from now on around her. Who knew what else she might find out? He peered over his shoulder at her, then caught sight of the man sitting amongst the cushions again.

Where were these ...fanboys coming from? Abel was bad enough, but he was kind of simple and a farmhand, so it made some sort of sense in a childish way, but the minstrel? ...A minstrel. He could be useful. Didn't they sing songs of people's greatness? Jon might just be exactly what he needed. "You're right. I should apologize for brushing you off. We should talk later, but as the lady says, we should be going. So, I bid the two of you farewell. Beck should be showing up soon." With a quick nod and a bow, Rasheik headed off to his own wagon, double checking his things to make sure they were all set and squared away before he went back outside to tend to the horses. They needed to be ready to go.

Adjusting bridles and bits, he looked over the flank of a horse to watch the people pack their things up to leave. He caught sight of Abel quickly because of his height, and true enough, there was Velius, still hanging on like a little parasite. The turd. What was he up to anyway? Rasheik frowned, keeping an eye on the proceedings, urgent to leave.






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[Watervoir]

xxxx
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xxxxCaden AlinarixxxxGuard
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No sooner had he announced the commencement of their valiant conquest that he felt something come at him. He screamed in shock and pain as the violent pain of his upper left arm exploded in his mind, and then once again when his hand imprudently flew to the spot where his skin had been ripped open and was now dripping crimson. Whatever pain that burdened his mind, the mushroom gas took it and dealt back tenfold, just as it did with all other thoughts and emotions that entered the grey matter. The effect had his mind suffocating in pure agony and confusion. If he had drowned while fishing, where was all this pain coming from? Maybe he could have burned himself on some rope. A fishing net, maybe. He had his eyes shut from the pain -- where was this green light coming from?!

And then suddenly, it was gone. Everything. From the point where he almost tumbled into the underground river right up to when he received his wound, dissipated into the forest air. Even the pain in his arm, and the memory of that too. Evaporated like smoke. His weight shifted between his two feet when they were planted by an invisible force on the soil ground. His sober mind registered the sound of birds chirping in the distance, which was an indicator that they were safe at the moment. He opened his eyes to take in the surroundings and the sights of the people around him. It was a mix of new and old faces. New being a woman wielding an axe and sporting armour as well as a holy man of some sort amongst them. Old faces: Nesa, and a boy who Caden had been told before was the bandit king's son. Where did Yang and the girl who dragged him under go?

Absent-mindedly he rubbed at his forehead. There was some mild expectancy for some kind of hangover effect from the mushroom gas, perhaps a headache or an upset stomach, but there was nothing of the sort. He felt perfectly fine in that regard. What worried him most was that his senses, the ones that usually allowed him to get a better grasp of his surroundings, were gone. His first thought as to why he was suddenly stripped of his magic was the fact that he was dead, but the notion made him feel more frustrated than ever, and so he decided to avoid it for the time being and focus instead on the issue of his lost powers itself. While most people relied on their sense of sight or their hearing the most, his sixth sense was his most important one. Right now, under normal circumstances, he should have been able to feel the presence of the other four that were with him. He would have been able to pinpoint an approach or a sneak attack. At its best, he might have been able to pick up some auras from nearby dense populations of people too, like that of a city or a town or a village. Without his sixth-sense, he almost felt crippled. Almost like he was blind.

In an effort to distract himself, he proceeded to inspect their bodies that laid neatly in a row, like a line of corpses waiting to be put into their new homes located six feet under, while holding an ear to the conversation the others were having. He stilled himself in a kneeling position to pay mind to the slight, but observable rise and falls of each of the slumbering chests. The bodies were still alive. He stood and with two fingers, he pinched himself, his standing self and not the one on the ground, gently and felt the sting. So, what was going on? Was his body asleep and he was a ghost of some sort, or did he get cloned? A trail of doubt rose through his thoughts: what if the bodies were the originals and himself the duplicate? With a toe, he aimed to make a soft nudge at his own clone's arm, only to have his foot pass through the surface was if it wasn't there, much like the fake wall of the room with the popping mushrooms. Then, he tried to swerve his foot into the dense of some nearby shrubbery, but made no contact. He could have walked through their bodies to verify the lack of solidity, but he didn't. He was convinced and disturbed enough.

"It would be nice if you were dreaming, Nesa. It would be nice if we all were." He walked over to the group. "The ground is our only solid, and maybe not even that. Try touching any of the trees surrounding us, or the water of that lake. I don't think any of you will be happy with the results." Focused and decisive, he was presently a stark contrast to the blubbering man of the underground tunnel. It was a blubbering man he was not even aware of having ever been. He nodded and gave a small smile at the winged man's when he told them his name. "My name is Caden. This is Bethryl, you say?" His voice trailed as he thought and his eyes darted through the thicket of trees to scour for shadows that could be lurking there. Sly shadows that he could no longer sense. He had heard of the lake, but he had never seen it in the flesh. But, these two seemed sure enough of where they were. "Hey man, where is this home of yours? We need to find someone who can help. Even if we can't touch them, maybe they would still be able to hear or see us." The winged man was an odd one, dangerous looking even, and he didn't look so shy and if the others weren't being so calm around him, Caden might have had his dagger prepped. Where did Rachelle come from? Just what had he missed? And would everyone from Rachelle's area look the way he did? In any case, his first goal was to get the hell out of there. He didn't feel comfortable in the woods now that his power was on the fritz. With so many objects blocking their line of sight, they were prime targets for an ambush. Their bodies couldn't be left here to rot either.

He lowered his gaze to look back at their flesh counterparts. "It would also be nice if I could find out why I have blood running down my arm..."

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[The Rectumbler]

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The slithering sound came through the darkness, and he could feel the creature winding about his foot, resting its head against his ankle. Bending over, he scooped it up and held it in his hands, then wound it across his shoulders, whispering all the while. His eyes watched the others, watched the beast, and the girl who approached him so casually. How could she dare to be so...easy-going about this situation? It was embarrassing to think that he had been scared of this creature, and she had been fearless. Or maybe she was just stupid. The tall man who had defended him was babbling nonsense, and he rolled his eyes at these two simpletons. He was the son of Rasheik! Stuck underground with a couple of morons! Who were wandering off....towards a wall with writing on it. He paused, wondering if he should go with the morons, the man who was flailing in the river, and the woman who babbled random things at the top of her lungs, and the big scary monster. It sounded like a really bad idea. But that meant he would stay here...with his snake...and the darkness that had absorbed the woman in red. Ok, so he'd go with the crazy people.

He padded after them, stroking the snake's head with his thumb, eyes wide and glancing around him, turning his head up to the adult's faces, then to the simple girl's, and lastly to the beast, who he trusted least of all. The one man was praying, and Daniel wondered if he was a priest, or someone just crazy religious. Was his dad religious? Probably not. When you were practically a god yourself you didn't need to be. Did that make him a mini-god of sorts? Maybe he'd live a crazy long time and have this wicked long beard that when down to the floor and twirled about his feet or something. And his dad would look exactly the same. Weird. Maybe they could have a beard growing contest...once Daniel could start growing one.

As they approached the reading, the girl began to read - babbling some other crazy thought that must have prattled through her brain. Then she reached out to touch it, giving them all this confident smile that suggested she knew what she was doing. He heard the woman express concerns, and he decided to voice his own. "Uhm...maybe you shouldn't touch that...my dad always tells me not to touch things if I don't know what they---" He was cut off, first by the beastie lashing out, his nails (those needed a serious clipping!) carving through Caden's upper arm before there was a tug, a twist, and he was someplace else entirely. Above ground.

He turned around, and he realized his hands were empty, the snake was no longer in his grasp. "D-Dad?" he choked out. Perhaps his father had saved them, done something which had brought them to the surface someplace else. Running, his foot caught on something and he tripped, falling to the ground with a hard thump, hurting the rib that he had hurt once before -- or that he had thought he had. Looking up, he saw the snake, crawling quickly away. "Oh, there you are." Reaching out, he went to grab the snake, watching as his fingers went right through. He tried again, only to achieve the same result. Frowning, he sat up to see what he had tripped over... maybe his own feet? He wiggled them back and forth, watching as they moved through a small rock and someone else's foot. More specifically, it was the priest's foot. But...looking over, the priest was standing over there...and there was the tall blonde. But there was the tall blonde. And the beast...but the beast. And him.

He was there, slumped with his back against a tree, the snake having left his body. He could see where it had wriggled away in the grass. Daniel paused, choking on his words. He was overcome with confusion. What had just happened to them? Where were they now? Why had this happened?

And most importantly, where was his dad? Daniel squatted, sitting down slowly. He wrapped his arms about his knees, oblivious to the adults talking behind him. He missed the beast's first words. Tucking his chin inwards, he watched his body, staring at a point past his shoulder as he whispered softly, "Are we dead?"

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[jadeshaw88]

Jonathan Cortez

Hey ladies ho ladies
Come follow with me
Hey ladies ho ladies
Come follow with me.

Jon gaped at the man as he spoke directly at him. It didn't even hit him at first what the man was saying. He was increasingly envious of the seer. It seemed as though she always met the most famous people. It wasn't fair. At the same time, she gained him access to said famous people so he supposed he couldn't really complain. He had been able to join the Blue Caravan because of her connections and he had met the former caravan leader once or twice through her. She knew nobility and evil slavers. She knew...everyone. He had been able to sing before a prince once because Ari had read him a good fortune and was invited to a banquet. Now he was meeting Rashiek the Bold. Officially.

That's when the realization of what Rashiek was saying hit him like a ton of bricks. He did think he was gay. No!!! That wasn't what he wanted him to think. He wanted him to think that he was a manly sidekick, not some...some....Beck! He wouldn't mind scrubbing the bandit's back and maybe a little...one on one time that way but he didn't think that Rashiek was like that. It was too late. He had waited too long to pick a flower. He had been too easily impressed by their beauty and had allowed himself to get turned around. He wished that the younger girls he had met were older. Certainly he would have chosen young Nesa if she had a few years on her. He didn't bed babies though. Such a shame.

He shot Ari a grateful glance when she came to his rescue. It wasn't the first time and he was certain that it wouldn't be the last. Gods, it wasn't even the first time today she had saved him. She was a good friend to have...even if that fact was taken for granted most of the time. He was proud that she was able to be so firm with someone so famous...and dangerous. She was so brave. Jon was a coward and he knew it. At least he had the good fortune to know someone brave. Maybe he would even be friends with Rashiek someday. It wouldn't matter if he was a coward then.

It looked even more possible when the bandit mentioned they should talk. They should? They should! He could sing him some of the stories that he had made up in his honor. Surely Rashiek would keep him on after that. He suddenly found himself wishing that he had skill with a weapon. He could pick pocket and talk a woman out of her skirts but he had very little skill with a blade. It was one of the hazards of being a coward.

Then he was gone. His idol. His reason for living for the past few years was gone again. "He wants to talk to me." He gave Ari a goofy smile, not offended when she rolled her eyes at him. "To me, Ari!" His smile widened and he got a mischievous look on his face before he leaned across the distance as fast as he could and tackled the poor seer. "Jon! You idiot!!" He felt her hands beating at him but he didn't care. He was going to hug her until he felt that he had sufficiently repaid her. "Jon!!" He didn't know what the big deal was. They had been much closer than this and she hadn't complained. Was it because they weren't in private? He seemed to recall that she didn't really mind that either. There was that time in the alley behind the Red Moon Tavern and then there was that time...His elbow was hot...why was his elbow hot? "Jon we have to get out of here! I can't see anything!" The wagon did seem a lot brighter than it had been before. And hotter. He pulled himself up a little and looked into Ari's face. Her eyes were clenched tight and she looked frightened. Then he looked at his own elbow...which was on fire.

"I'm on fire!!!" He said as if that wasn't obvious at this point. "We have to get out." Ari was still clearly freaking out but she at least sounded calmer. "Jon, I need you to grab the teak trunk." "I'm! On! Fire!""So put it out, you fool!" Yeah, clearly still freaking out. He grabbed a fancy pillow and started smothering his arm with it. It should hurt a lot more than it did...maybe it was because he was so distracted with everything else. "Should I try to put the fire out?!" "I don't care, just toss out the trunk first. Please! I can't...I need that!" Jon nodded and located the trunk before tossing it out of the door unceremoniously. "I hope there was nothing breakable in there." "Shut up Jon." So bossy. Now really wasn't the time to be calling him stupid.

He looked around for the source of the fire and found a small lamp that had been turned over. Probably by him when he lunged at Ari. That would explain why his arm was on fire. He grabbed a blanket, ignoring the part of his brain that was wondering why it was there and whether or not he would have to take a bath after handling it, and started beating at the flames, trying to smother them. Unfortunately, this had the opposite effect and he ended up fanning them instead. "Oops." He swallowed roughly as the flames roared up the the ceiling of the wagon. "I think it's time to go." He said before he grabbed the seer's hand and lept out of wagon. When he finally managed to get air to fill his lungs. He looked for bodily damage. Nope, he was good but his lute..."You really are an idiot." Ari gasped beside him as she held out his life. "You're lucky I almost tripped on it." It's what she said but he had a feeling that she had found it even before he had grabbed her up. There were burns on her hands that he didn't think came from just sitting there waiting for him to help her out.

He was about to thank her when she clutched his arm. "I had flammable stuff in the trunk I left inside!" Jon nodded and stood. "Okay...I'll go back and get it then." He felt he owed her that much since she had saved his lute. "No, we need to get away from here. I think it's too late. Please Jon!" She had latched onto his pant leg and he wondered if it was self preservation that made her say that or if she was worried that he might get blown to bits if he went back in. It didn't matter. He helped her to her feet, grabbed her trunk and her hand and hurried away as fast as the could go. Even so, he wasn't prepared for the blast that sent them flying.

I've searched the world over
For maidens in plight
To help them through their days
And me through my nights
My quest never ending
My song is now through
If you're a maiden in trouble
I'll be coming for you.

[NlETZSCHE]

≼≽≼Yggdrasil "Draaz" Søren Freud≽≼≽
(Igg-Druh-S-ill "Droz" Sh-roun Frew-oid)
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♦Extrovert♠ Cryptic♥ Dangerous♣
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Shady Priest
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≼≽≼Far too risky To feed you with bare arms.≽≼≽

≼≽≼Wait your turn, you're greedy I hear you.≽≼≽

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Draaz was quiet as they approached the wall, his eyes and body took a few steps forward before he realized the group had paused. He felt like finding a corner and curling up in it to sleep, at the moment. After all, it had been a long, long day. At first he was wandering blindly in the desert, and next he was listening to a song and falling through the sandy ground. Being attacked had really done him in. It was hard to breath, already and now he had to feign fear. He coughed, stopping a few feet away before returning to Cadan's side.

The calm, of course, did not last very long as the beast lashed out at Cadan's steady arm. Reflexively, out of habit Draaz nearly jumped him. He pulled the dagger from his chest, and charged at the beast. The moment was purely adrenaline, because from his own energy he could pull nothing. It was purely a reflex that would have ended in his death. Really, if Nesa hadn't accidentally triggered that spell he may have just died a hero. For him, a pitiful way to die, but looking back he wouldn't have been able to take the beast on.

As the light from the wall shined, and the magic was activated, he wasn't distracted one bit. The only bit of distraction that ruined his movement was when the light took his body from him. He didn't remember the anger, the pain or the exhaustion. He was suddenly standing, still, his fist balled in tension, and his body at his feet, Safe and sound, loosely wrapped around his Fjoryn blade. He was laying uncomfortably on his many bags and things that were wrapped around his body.

Draaz blinked, having a look at his palm, the expression on his face somewhat calm. "What the f-" He stopped himself from talking instantly zipping his mouth and looking around.

Every thought and feeling he had, he felt uncontrollably come to fruition. The look on his face was of disgust and confusion, as well has frustration. Those emotions he usually tendered silently with a smile so as no to set off suspicion.

"What have these idio-" there it was again. Verbal vomit. He found it best to simply stay silent, his hand falling to his side as he stared at his lifeless body in anger and confusion.

Every thought and instinct, he attempted to throw off by some other memory. He'd never had such a difficult time at controlling his behavior before. It was as if he was unable to hide behind the mask of his body. His true self was naked for everyone to behold and it wasn't too welcoming. His stance was that of a skilled assassin, and his expression was somewhat murderous. His desires poured out of him like hot geysers as well as every emotion he might not otherwise display.

He reached for his Artem that normally hung from his back, but it wasn't there. It, being a material object, was left attached to his body. He frowned, fearing that in that strange forest some thief might come and take it. He reached for it, only to find his hands go right on through. After a moment, he stood up straight, examining the motley crew. Could he trust them? After all, they'd succeeded in killing both themselves and him. However, was that hope on their faces.

A strange expression tugged at his face. It was both befuddled and suspicious. The look on his face was almost cold and without feeling, which was...odd for a holy man. He only hoped that no one was looking, because he could feel that his expression had lost it's smile. He stood unmoved and unhappy.


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≼≽≼How can I protect myself from you?≽≼≽

≼≽≼Trust is for fools!≽≼≽


OOC// I figured that since it was his soul, it'd have to be like...the true him. LOL. XXX》
Feeling// Frustrated, suspicious, curious, removed.XXX》
@// FOREST????XXX》
With// I still don't really know any of these peopleXXX》

[Dayum We Roll Hard]

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Departure?

As the hours rolled on, things began to heat up in the desert oasis, literally. Eyes turned at the sights and sounds of the second explosion of that day. This one was much louder and much more damaging than the first, and as it would turn out, leave a much more lasting impact on the caravan than the tear gas from earlier.

Rasheik had been making his way to Abel, intent on finally ripping apart the lingering and unhurried group there so as to hasten the caravan's departure. His son's life was on the line after all. There was no room for dallying. In other words, the explosion that rang through the air, scaring away birds and making insects burrow for cover, could not have come at a worse time. He turned at the blast, and there was his precious seer, coughing and sputtering, but otherwise okay, and Rasheik began to trek back to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him. But someone beat him to it. Someone on his pony. And then, that someone screamed at the sight of the wreckage. Beck.

Rasheik rubbed his brow in annoyance. This was it. This was the last straw. He had decided to take the caravan for a spin, and the fun was officially over. He called for his horse, a rugged but tame stallion, and climbed aboard to gain height above the heads of the caravan goers he had wanted to address. Then, he hollered at Beck, who quieted down immediately, and demanded for the slaver to be put on a real animal of travel. While the incapacitated slaver was saddled off of his pony and up onto one of the caravan's horses, Rasheik set his attention to the rest of the lot and explained, though not without heated breath, of his intent to abandon the caravan and forge on ahead to look for his son without them.

A wave of reactions would sweep the faces of the caravan, some shocked, some distressed, some indifferent, and some delighted beyond belief, at the sudden leave of their caravan leader turned bandit once more.

One person stepped out from the crowds. Abel Conway, the farm boy from the Westerwood that Rasheik had declared to be his hostage and personal messenger throughout his stay. The bandit king looked down at him contemplatively. There Abel was, puppy eyed and volunteering to assist Rasheik in his endeavours, though fearful as he was for being more a burden than any help. The two connected eyes for a second, and in an instant, the bandit king saw something that could have been. Something that, as a result of a decision on his part decades prior and a disassociation of family ties on Abel's part, could now never be. For once in recorded history, the bandit king would hesitate in his collection of people. The moment soon passed however, and turning his horse, Rasheik told Abel to get on. They were leaving.

And that was it. Off through the desert and towards the mountains the trio tore. At the head of the group was Rasheik the Bold, one of the greatest mysteries of Albrind, appearing and vanishing with a turn of the sands.

Three nights later, the bandit king's son, Daniel, would disappear from his location in the woods of Bethryl also, with not a trace left behind. It would never be known whether his father had succeeded in finding him, or if a worse fate had befallen the boy.

[Dayum We Roll Hard]

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Chapter 7: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

With its leader gone, the caravan now had to make a quick decision upon their next course of action. There was no doubt about it. Armed with the knowledge some of its members would emerge in Bethryl, the caravan goers knew they would have follow in Rasheik's footsteps, towards the gauntlet that was the mountains to their west to restore the rest of their numbers. The question now was how. How would the caravan, now leaderless and (as one of them might discover) frog infested, going to traverse the razor sharp peaks and hairpin turns of the Racluear?

The answer was teamwork. Even with their numbers divided, the remaining men and women of the caravan are strong, each holding within them some key component that would make their trip past the deadly chasms and ungodly heights just that much easier. The nobles would plot their course, using maps and navigation tools stashed here and there as their tools. Whenever the need arose, their resident seer would be there to fill in the gaps and other details left out of their diagrams, details such as the occasional landslide-prone cliff side or an old, worn bridge that had long given away completely. Others would work quietly, starting the camp fires that would churn up a sanctuary of warmth and security within the chilly confines of the higher altitudes, tending to the travel weary animals whose survivals were the cornerstones to their own, strumming hearty tunes to keep spirits up, and offering whatever other help they could muster to last them through the cold days and even icier nights. All in all, their voyage would sum up to three days and three nights of travel. Plenty of time for hearts to grow dark at the prospect of finding their lost acquaintances, friends and loved ones.

In the meantime, the ghosts of their numbers would wander the surface of Bethryl, searching, always searching, for someone who could be of assistance in the unknown land. They would exhaust their ideas to reach out to the villagers during the day and come up with more during the nights while seated around their solid counterparts. All they have is the name of their location, Bethryl, and the name of the village nearby, Lenti, to guide them, but that wasn't enough when there seemed to be no way to communicate with the locals. For three days, their bodies would remain undiscovered and undisturbed in the forest, but their luck would end after the third night, when they would return to the spot in the clearing to stumble upon the shock of finding their bodies gone.

Not long after the caravan would be out of the mountains and into the first thicket of trees that marked the borders of Bethryl that the notion would come to haunt its people. Eyes. Everywhere. As if they were being watched. The feeling soon passed with the rise of the morning sun that brought its rose shades and auric hues. The light would also reveal a worn path, one with its grass trampled back into the soil so well that it could not grow back, one so well travelled that it was sure to lead somewhere. It would be down this road that the caravan would come across a village where it could rest and stay before they begin combing through the surrounding parts. It is past the large bridge and at the foot of the hill that the village buildings perched on that the wagons would be parked and where the search would commence. There was no telling where the hunt should start, but looking through the village first seemed to be their best bet.


NEW MAP!!!

[ChinchiIIin]

Rachelle sat himself off a bit away from the others in this ragtag group he found himself in. Though they were profoundly confused by the disappearance of their bodies, he had already figured the puzzle out. Even without his body he could feel the residual presence of the one thing he feared the most. The man's magic still hung thick in the air and his wings shuddered in response. It put him on edge and a low growl escaped him. These people had no idea how much more dangerous the situation had become now and he was the only one who could tell them.

But he didn't like talking to them that much. He didn't like talking at all really. He had gone so long without speaking, without even thinking of speaking, that his words were a struggle to get out and rarely came out in complete sentences. It was frustrating knowing he had lost something so important and now infuriating knowing the man who had caused it all was not only still around but had taken their bodies captive as well.

Perhaps even more infuriating was how the people of his former village now viewed the man. Instead of seeing him for the sadistic maniac he was they praised him as a noble person who watched over the village and protected it from that which would do it harm. Even his own family had given up on searching for him it seemed. It had hurt, seeing them continuing on happily without him almost as though his disappearance had been nothing more than a minor unpleasant memory.

Thinking of his family sobered Rachelle a great deal. Even though he knew he should be telling those around him what he knew, he couldn't bring himself to speak yet. Instead his wings curled around him as a sort of barrier as he sat off to the side of the group still. He didn't want to appear weak at all in front of them; weakness was unacceptable for a male. Males had to be strong and brave, especially in front of females. He glanced up between his feathers a bit, eyes quickly finding the girl who had shown him nothing but smiles and kindness since the'd come to the surface.

He knew her name to be Nessa now, and it seemed she was a few years younger than he was. By her build he could tell she was not strong like the other female, Phedre, who confused and freaked him out a bit with how she acted. the thought of the mage potentially doing harm to Nessa, though, sparked Rachelle's anger again. She would need to be protected properly, and he would see that it happened. With his mind made up, he snapped his wings back into place behind him and stood to move over towards her.

"Nesa," he said, his voice still a bit rough sounding,"Know what happen. Bad man take body. Magic." He paused a moment to think on it a bit more."Mage. Did bad to me; this to me. Evil." He motioned slightly to his own body with a frown, knowing how strange he looked. He could only hope she understood what he was trying to say so she could relay it to the others better than he could. Know where is. Danger, big danger."