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.

[anais nighteyed]

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artwork by Rain, from Midnight Inks Illustrationsxxx

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Working methodically with Nesa, the flock caught fire and Agamemno’s barbed birds began to fall from the sky. Amid the turmoil she had glimpsed a winged man felling one of the Mage’s beasts, and she’d given the fellow a second look to be sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks. He wasn’t familiar to her, but she didn’t inquire about his presence. Once she cast a glance at Nesa, uncertain and curious, as if to ask the girl if he was with the caravan.

Sadly looking on at the charred carcasses strewn on the ground, she was suddenly bitten by sympathy. The smell of burned flesh was in the air and she shielded her nose with her sleeve, hoping the wind would carry it away. These creatures had all been manufactured for one purpose, and that was to do the Mage’s bidding. She knew they’d attacked the caravan with ill intent, and she in turn had returned hostility. She’d had little choice, but when she saw her handiwork she felt remorse.

Flinching at the Mage’s disbelieving exclamation, she looked up and caught sight of his retreating figure disappearing into the forest. “Is he fleeing?” That seemed like the opening they needed, but doubt made her hesitate. Was he planning to pursue them? She hadn’t expected him to give in so willingly, but Velius was already encouraging them to take to their wagons. That was that, or so she hoped. “Be on your guard,” she told Nesa, evidently bothered by the Mage’s hasty departure. If he returned, she shuddered to think what he would conjure.

Heading for her wagon, the merchant intended to find Willa before seeing to anything else. Lingering on the steps, she rapped her knuckles on the doorframe and called out to the woman. She nudged open the door, peering inside. There was a bundle of provisions lying unwrapped on the floor, and she realized she hadn’t taken Willa’s appetite into account. She was too accustomed to caring for her horse, her wares, and herself. That was the way she’d lived for some time, it was simple and unburdening. Then she noticed her guest reclining in the corner, and Kemun saw she was asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, she withdrew without a word and shut the door quietly.

She then went to console her horse; it would take him time to forgive her for putting him through such an ordeal. Kemun climbed into the seat, eyeing the trees with suspicion. She took the reins, mulling over the day’s events. Her pipe was still broken, and she sorely wished it wasn’t. What would become of Lenti? She didn’t want to guess at the town’s fate, and she didn’t dwell on the matter. Kemun was confident she could provide for the three of them, but she didn’t think Willa would want to sleep in her cramped wagon for very long. Didn’t the caravan have a few to spare? That could be worried about somewhere down the road, she decided, once danger was far behind them.

[NlETZSCHE]

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❥ Narcoleptic❥ Outspoken❥ Tomboy❥

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She sat back for the longest time, trying to watch what was happening in the carts before her. She didn't hear anything interesting from Resuia, so she assumed that she was going to be alright. She let out a sigh as she pondered whether or not she should go see what was happening at the front. She could see movement, but what of it she saw was just too distant to really see. However, she did see the flying the creatures, which were unsettling in their own right.

There it was again, that haze from deep within'. She'd been holding it off for so long, her narcoleptic side had become so angry with her. She thought that if she fought it off any longer, she may never wake. Carefully, she made the wood roof her bed. Really, it wasn't so careful, Ayn closed her eyes, and 'thump!' out like a light.

It was as though she was in a trance. She was breathing, but there seemed to be nothing there. Perhaps her narcoleptic side was more angry than she'd imagined it to be in the first place. There was no sign of her waking, not for a while anyway. This war would be long done and over by that time. Hopefully they'd win, so her body wouldn't be used for science. Well, at least it wouldn't be used for the science this mage was into.

The last thing I'll be discussing about Ayn, is that for once she actually dreamed. Her own dreams, too. She dreamed of her mother, her lost locket, and returning to her castle. Her father embracing her, and her sisters all aged and lovely. She'd sit and tell them stories of her travels, and share a drink. The dreams were quite nice, only, they were only dreams.

However, they were hers....


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[Watervoir]

Kℵigℋt and Sℯℵtiℵℯℓ

“Is this my wedding gift?” He bent over to pick up the severed horn, before throwing himself off to the side to dodge the incoming bull. It wasn’t the most elegant maneuver on his part, but it was a good thing his fiancée wasn’t picky. His head shot up at a rough noise as his mind ran miles per minute processing a six-legged horse he had failed to register the existence of earlier. The beast had only just fallen at the hand of one of the caravaner’s cross-bow, and Caden nodded his thanks. His attention quickly returned to the demon he had yet to deal with. “Phedre, meet my future wife. She can’t get enough of me!” With a close swipe of his blade, snake heads went flying. He had to roll over to the side, a bit more smoothly this time around, to dodge the blood and the barrage of deadly serpents and make a dash some distance away from the beast as it paused to rear its head and let out an enraged cry.

“A lovely wife,indeed!” Phedre humoured Caden, though she found him slightly odd at the same time and made a face.

“Over here, my love!” While the bull shuffled around to reposition itself for its next charge, Caden brought a hand to his mouth and blew the monster a kiss, making the motion extra wide in case it was short-sighted. It felt so wrong that he vowed never to do such a thing again. “Isn’t this such a great gift? I think it would make a nice headpiece for you.” Phedre snickered in the distance, obviously warming up and approving of Caden’s theatrics. She was following her own advice and smearing the bird venom onto her axe, mixing it up with blood. She figured the fiercer it looked, the better.

The bull let out an extra angry huff, though whether it was because of his comment or something else remained to be answered, meanwhile Caden shoved one of the horns inside his dagger’s sheath and took the other one lengthwise between his teeth to free his hands for his sharper weapons. As much as he wanted to impress the lady knight, he knew that it was impossible for him to have the strength to skewer any bull’s hide with it.

As the bull charged at him, Caden did the same. Only at the last second did he drop down to slide in a soccer player’s manner with the sharp point of his weapon directed upward at the creature’s belly. He gritted his teeth against the horn and tightened the grip on his blade with both hands, holding it in place while blood and guts spilled out just above his head, and missing him barely. When the heavy shadow of the beast was gone, the man flipped up off the ground immediately to assess the damage he’d done.

The bull’s knees buckled briefly. It was a small loss of control – the venom was quick to spread. Caden ran his thumb along the flat of his dagger, mindful of the wet toxic that he had smeared on it at Phedre’s advice.

As if to be thorough, the bull’s head was chopped off right after it fell, and Phedre gave a low whistle in appreciation aimed at the other guard. “That was some well oiled sliding action. Agile, I like it. I do hope you don’t treat your wives that way. ” She winked, keeping herself at a distance from Caden; that blood would start to smell terribly. She threw her blue cape towards him, not very happily. “Clean yourself, but you could keep some of the blood on; should demonstrate my point.” She glared at one of the horses, whom she already decided was probably a sort of leader “Of course, you’re gonna wash my cape later when we get out of here” Because they were going to get out. ”It was expensive and I like it, brings out my eyes.”

He didn’t think that he had gotten as much blood on him as Phedre made it out to seem, nor did he wish to soil her nice cape, so he took the item of clothing and tossed it onto the front seat of a nearby wagon when Phedre wasn’t looking. For all she knew, he’d used it. Caden rejoined the lady knight soon enough, taking up position behind her. “So, another wild neighing session?”

“Yes.” Phedre answered, trusting that the male had taken her advice and cleaned up. While the blood would get sticky and make it harder to fight (should the horses not listen to her), she was also bothered by the smell. Animal blood just didn’t have the same aroma as that of a human.
“This might get a bit boring for you, since I doubt you speak horse, so why don’t you ..uhh,” she shooed at him .“Go kill something. But NOT the horses!” The blond emphasized and patted the man’s shoulder. “If he dies, so do we. No matter how much we hate Agamemno, we value our lives.” He was a dark brown horse, not unlike Jafar in appearance. He had a tortured look about him, his hair had fallen or been ripped off along with the skin in some places, his whaleskin black eyes were filled with quiet rage and sadness.

“You actually believe that? That man is most certainly lying! And even so, you would rather live out your lives in slavery to him than to gallop free? What does value mean to you? What kind of horses are you even?” With every word, Phedre’s voice gained volume, and she felt her anger rising, wishing the horses would just shut up and listen to her. To anyone else, this whole ordeal must have looked rather silly.

The leader glared, as much as a horse could and stomped his hooves on the ground, making the dust rise.

“We were men once!“

“You’re men no more, so I don’t care. It would be in your best interest to listen to me and take up my very generous offer.” Phedre gripped her axe tight and ignored the dust. She could see Caden somewhere behind the beasts that were surrounding her slowly and hoped he would jump in if things turned bad. Those horses were not terribly smart, so she didn’t worry much and focused all her energy into looking as pissed off as possible.

“Who are you to command us? Just speaking our language is not enough to have authority! Why should we listen to you?”

Phedre barred her teeth and growled out her words, feeling awfully insulted that a mutated thing should ask her questions. “I am Phedre Varga, the emissary of the horse kings of the north-east,” she lied. Though she was pretty sure the real emissary might be dead, anyway “I am a herald of war and, like a vulture, I feed on the pain and blood of others! I have dragged more capable men than you to their deaths and I bring misery with every step. But, I bring you mercy this one time, for we are kin. I am not begging for your help. Either join us and escape the clutches of this filth that calls himself a mage or we–” She pointed at Caden. “–Will sign our names on your flesh and paint the ground with your blood! We offer freedom for temporary loyalty, and you will accept!”

What followed was a minute long staring contest before the remaining horses made way for Phedre to pass. “There. Done. Though I fear my voice will crack, I haven’t screamed like that in a while, if you know what I mean,” she said upon rejoining with Caden, obviously going for a dirty joke to lighten the mood somewhat. The blond felt pretty proud of herself. “…where did you put my cape?”

[ChinchiIIin]

RACHELLE

Before Rachelle could start in at the mage again he felt the heat of flames sparking from behind where he stood beside Draaz. Fire was more difficult for him to view with his echolocation, limiting him to using only his smell and the feel of the heat to determine where it would be. But never did he expect it to ignite so perfectly right over where they were standing. Without even a thought he snapped his wings out and around both himself and the priest, hoping the damage wouldn’t be too bad so he might still continue to fight on. What he did not expect was Agamemno’s shield protecting them from anything worse than a few singed spots.

But at the mage’s outburst his attention turned from the dying flames above to the man’s rage. Something within the boy shifted, and that deep rooted fear he had always held towards the man began to diminish quickly. But he could sense something wasn’t right as he ran away; his instincts were screaming within him. Something bad was going to happen and he was the only one who would be able to catch up to the mage. Gripping his sword he turned to where Caden stood. “Take people go,” he said, pointing to the road out of Lenti, “I go Agamemno. Stop him.” He turned quickly before he could be stopped to take to the air again; even if he would be killed, he would stop the mage from harming the first friends he had been able to make in years.

He was thrown off when the mage’s movements in the trees ceased, and Rachelle stopped in his headlong dash to try and discern where the man could have gone. If it had been dark out he could switch to his heat vision to track him, but he knew better than to do so during the daylight hours; the sun would burn his eyes painfully. He turned a bit to start off again, realizing too late that he had gone the wrong direction when he heard the man start off again. With a hiss he turned and started towards him again, needing to make up lost ground from his wrong turn but unable to do so in the trees. It wasn’t long before he reached a clearing, where he halted, confusion quick to show as he tried to decipher what was around him.

Various objects laid scattered across the clearing in a systematic fashion. It was a set of tombstones, each etched with a series of symbols that even he could not understand. They surrounded a circular stone platform, which was raised ever so slightly off the ground. Rachelle did not remember a cemetery in the middle of the forest from his younger days but something about the place felt wrong. His instincts screamed to leave the place, that it was unnatural, but he knew he had to stop the mage no matter what.

Wary he was that this would have been some sort of trap, so he proceeded with caution. He approached one of the tombstone-like objects, wondering if he could have ruined the mage’s work by taking the stone and moving it elsewhere. But all thoughts were scattered when something collided with him and knocked him onto the ground. A dagger came down to cut at his throat, and Rachelle managed to catch the murderous arm by the wrist just in the nick of time.

“I see you’ve come to join me, boy.” It was Agamemno, though he couldn’t see his gleeful eyes staring back at him he simply knew, as the struggle continued. The words were no longer smooth and charismatic, as they had been when the man was at the square. Now, they were raspy and quick, mad and hungry. “So you’ve finally come to your senses and came back to me. Wonderful, wonderful.”

Rachelle hissed in rage at the man’s voice, remembering well that tone of madness in it from when he had first been kidnapped. The mage was completely and utterly insane and the mask he’d worn for show in front of others was gone now. He was jerked out of his thoughts though as the mage began his fight beneath him again, tucking his wings in to roll with him. Perhaps it was a lingering fear of the man that made him hesitate to attack at first, but it quickly passed and his fists balled up to punch at him as they tumbled, hoping his superior physical strength would win out in the end.

He managed to land a blow on the man, bruising a portion of his face, but Agamemno kept going. With a burst of mad strength, the mage twisted the point of his dagger quickly and drove it in at the very arm that threw the punch, slicing into the flesh of the boy’s arm. “Just some of your blood would do, please and thank you...” The crimson liquid splattered as he let out a cry of pain, just enough landing on the altar in the center of the ritual space. Both stopped and held their breath, staring at it some before breathing again.

But just as they began to breathe, the ground shook. The very floor seemed to roll beneath them like a giant wave, and behind them began to rise a giant wall. Panic hit Rachelle as he realized the caravan was on the other side. He didn’t want to be separated from those people. Yes, he held them dear to his heart now that he knew there were people who would accept him the way he was. With a snarl he fisted his hand and slammed it down against the mage’s chest, remembering vaguely from his younger years seeing a man felled by such a move, before pushing up to take to the air. He pushed his body to his limit, straining his wings as hard as he could, air burning as he sucked it into his lungs at such a high altitude. But he made it, just barely, but he made it over before the wall before it completed. Heaving and exhausted he forced himself to simply fall, slowly gliding himself down on air currents as he finally spotted the caravan below him. They were safe, and he was glad to see them again. He wanted to be there now, with those people, and these were his final thoughts as he finally lost consciousness a few feet above the earth, dropping to the ground on the path before them.

(combo post with Watah~)

[Dayum We Roll Hard]

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Agamemno coughed. A rib had punctured his lung as a result of Rachelle's final blow, and it was the iron of his own blood that he now tasted in his mouth. Through his pain, he found solace in the fact that the deed had been finished and the barrier had been constructed.

He closed his eyes and thought upon all of the effort it took to get to where he was now. It had taken him many months. The cemetery-like set up was only a small portion of it all. It could not be seen, but underground, there was a network of mole tunnels that linked this location to the surrounding areas: the graveyard, the village, and even the lake guarded by the water mutt. When the blood of a non-believer was added to the mix, powerful forces would make use of the life energy of the surrounding flora and fauna to create the wall that he had no notion about prior to his recent moments. The setup was excavated and otherwise assembled by his own creations, but this was not his magic, and as far as he was aware, he was only to serve as the hand for some greater purpose, in exchange for some worthwhile rewards.

And so the Mage laid there, amid the glowing runes and in a mix of his own life substance and Rachelle's sacrificial one. He waited there until they came for him.

"...So it is done..."

Agamemno opened his eyes, but simply laid there, unable to speak because of his injury. The shadows snaked their way to the stones, and where they touched it, the runes disappeared, leaving no trace of the magic behind for anyone to find.

"...You have done your job well..."

The Mage was struggling to breathe, and closed his eyes because they were beginning to grow heavy. He was waiting for them to help him.

"...Not forgotten. Never, never forgotten..."

The voices were drifting away, and Agamemno felt his heart seize with panic. Where they... really leaving–to die?

"...Farewell..."

It wasn't long afterward that Agamemno's soul faded from his body's own devices, and it was on this evening that another evil had been wiped from the face of Albrind.

[Dayum We Roll Hard]

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With the Mage out of the picture and the area at peace once again, it was time to move. The forest did not necessarily give them better protection than the clearing, for the road through it was narrow and would leave them open to attack, but at least it would allow them to advert their eyes from the mess that was the battlefield. Any further worries of safety were soon smoothed out after Caden and a few others returned from a brief scouting trip on the road ahead to report that the path was clear.

They were soon far from the company of the now tame mutant horses, and no longer did it feel like the travellers were forever being watched, yet it wasn't time to completely relax. The caravan's guards had their eyes peeled for all movement in the forest at all times, those who could sought shelter under the sturdy roofs of the wagons, and never did anyone dare to linger too far behind and away from the safety of the rest of the group. However, surprisingly, their leave turned out to be rather uneventful. There was no sign for their eyes of the Mage nor any ensuing struggle, for they would be too far from any to make out anything distinctive.

The travellers managed to make it an hour past with no interruptions in their hurried escape, but just as they began to breathe, the ground shook. The very floor seemed to roll beneath them like a giant wave, and behind them arose a giant wall of unscalable dimension. It was unlike anything ever before seen, something distant and untouchable like a rainbow yet immense like a thundercloud. This wall extended north and southwards, seemingly dividing the east and west of the continent, as their politics had always wanted. It was only visible as a translucent grey for the full minute during which it was constructed, and then it faded from sight.

There was some discussion about what to do next. Should the caravan advance westward, or should they return in the village's direction to investigate? A number of the travellers had origins on the other side, and how would they ever return to their homes? It would be during this time that Rachelle descended upon them, fascinating a few and startling many more. Some of them would recognize the boy to be the one who faced down Agamemno during their fight to escape, and along with that recall the pain the village brought to them all.

No matter the debate on the nature of the wall and what was to be done about it, it could not be argued that the village they had only just left seemed to be where the wall's growth had stemmed from. On top of that, the caravan was short on supplies, and it was obvious that no matter where they went, Lenti and its vicinity were not the best places to go for provisions. They had already lost much to that cursed village.

And it was so that the caravan turned their eyes away from Lenti, Bethryl, and continued west, in the direction of the sunset. Those that had been left behind in the struggles would not be forgotten, though amid the turmoil in their hearts, the travellers stay had not been entirely in vain. It would be forever remembered that their efforts reunited them with their missing members and gleaned new ones along the way. With trust and determination, they would be sure to make it out of the mountains alive.

[Dayum We Roll Hard]

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Chapter 8: Out of the Storm

Anyone studying the caravan's collection of maps would come to realize that the caravan was now in the area known as the Western Kingdom, a collection of independent nations that had come into confederation years ago to be ruled by a single family in the Westerwood, the princess of which was among their very ranks. It was a land that for all intents and purposes tended to be clumped with Shahrazad and Belorner in the East, but usually with distaste. Politics aside, trouble was brewing in these lands of the West after the construction of the barrier at Lenti partitioning the two halves of the continent, but knowledge of this fact would be reserved to those who were responsible for it and those few that were keen enough to pick it up. It would not be for some time that the extent of the evil consuming the West would become apparent.

It was in silence that the caravan spent the next two nights and two days. The mountains of Bethryl were bunny hills compared to the razor-sharp mauls of inner Racluear, but it was still a harrowing task navigating the steep inclines and finding safe routes by which to bypass sudden waterfalls. There was not much time to talk, and come nightfall, exhaustion ruled all thought. It was during these trying times that some of the travellers recalled Jon the minstrel and wished upon how he was there with his music. These thoughts, in turn, were what made them cherish all the more everything they still had with them, like the fire that Kemun started every night, the meat that Caden, Phedre, and other able-bodied of the caravan gathered for their meals when the group went hunting, the supplies that Oliver was able to spare, Whitnee's medicines, and the fact that they had at least one person who knew how to navigate out of the mountains.

Today, the third day of the Caravan's journey, it had been agreed upon that the wagons would be camped at one of the cliffs for which Bethryl was famous. The land opened up to the north-west and would provide a great view of the sunset when the time came, as currently it was only late morning. A path further in that direction wound down the cliff and towards the next thicket of trees the caravan would have to pass through before reaching Cliffrock, and after that, Northenwood. Behind the travellers, bordering them towards the west and the south, were the forests from which they had emerged. The ground they choose to form their laager was flat and not deep enough for anything save grass and the occasional flower to grow their roots. It was here that the travellers would strategize their next actions, and within the nearby forests that they would spend the following hours hunting, gathering and otherwise preparing for their journeys up ahead.

Spirits had risen since the night the caravan left Lenti. Far enough were they now from the horrors of the days past that they could now start to forget it all, and begin to focus on the here and now. Plus, it was late spring, and the winter's melt from the mountain tops meant that fresh water was aplenty. As testament to this was a spring that could be found not more than a five minute's walk away, tops, and perfect for anyone wishing to refresh.

Needless to say, most of the travellers would breathe easy today. They could now marvel in peace the cotton clouds that hung in the air and the soothing effects of the clean, crisp mountain air. Life was good. Today especially, for it was a special day. It was Nesa's birthday.

[ChinchiIIin]

RACHELLE

Rachelle had spent most of the rest of that day after the escape sleeping off his exhaustion, having been moved into one of the carts by some member of the caravan that had known who he was. For the first time in a long time his sleep was free of nightmares. No longer did the mage's face haunt him with that twisted pleasure it had always held while he had tortured the boy. On that day there was simply blissful darkness. He did not wake until well after the sun had set in the western sky, the drop in temperature informing him that it was safe to open his eyes and switch to seeing in heat.

He had taken some time to explore along the edges of the caravan silently, his curiosity as to what it was like, the subtle differences in heat showing him all the detail anyone with normal sight would have seen if not more detail. But upon finding the actual members of the caravan he hesitated to approach the exhausted people. He heard them talking about supplies before he had even seen them and now that he saw them huddled around the heat of the fires he made his decision. Save for the ones who knew who he was from their time as spirits he spent little time speaking to anyone, instead moving off away from the caravan to try and find things for them to eat. He did not hunt with the rest, as most of them seemed to hunt through the day, but at night he was a silent predator, adding the little things he could catch to their stockpile. Whether or not they noticed he didn't mind, the boy simply wanted to help.

He adjusted his sleeping to smaller naps throughout the daylight hours, the sun far too hot for him to be able to see properly or hunt effectively. He kept his wings sealed most of the time through the day, the sensation of the lack of weight on his shoulders odd to him, having rarely sealed them with that small amount of magic in them while living in the tunnels. But life would likely have many things for him to adjust to now, as he could do little about the rest of his appearance. Never would he be able to hide his ivory colored horns, his pointed ears, or his long tail. But odd as he was his companions from Lenti seemed to accept him, some more than others.

And he remembered hearing that this day was special for one of them. It was Nesa's birthday.

He remembered that birthdays were special, after all he still had that necklace he had gotten for his mother so many years ago. He had spent much of the night contemplating it while the rest of the caravan slept, standing his silent guard over them while his fingers ran over it. He remembered the colors of it still even if he could no longer see them. The flower itself was of white clay with a yellow center fading to white and then to a teal color at the edges of the petals. Silver was spun around and over it to hold it in place on the chain. It wasn't the finest necklace he had ever seen, as many noble women probably had much nicer ones with gold and gems in them rather than just clay and a little bit of silver, but it was pretty.

And so as the sun rose he allowed himself to rest a bit, going back down into the wagon he was being permitted to use to sleep through the day. He did not wake until later in the morning, well after the rest were up and moving around. Reluctantly he began sending out those high pitched clicks to get a view of his surroundings as he stepped outside again. The air seemed lighter now and he began his search for the girl, though with so many people moving around it made it difficult. He unconsciously made a small noise of disappointment which sounded both alike and not like the whimper of a dog, moving around slowly to try not to disturb anyone. At long last he finally bit the bullet and approached the first group of people nearest him, hoping they would understand his broken words. “U-Uh... looking... no... seek Nesa?” his face scrunched a bit as he tried to get the words right, “Where at?” He had no idea his face showed his hopefulness so obviously, almost childlike in his innocence in searching for the girl, the pendant hidden in his hand still. He could only hope they would understand what he wanted and help him instead of being freaked out by him.

Pendant

[anais nighteyed]

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When the caravan settled, Kemun quickly set to work. Moving as if possessed, she went about gathering wood and said very little to anyone, reluctant to spare more than a greeting. She threw herself into these tasks and did not allow her mind to stray; the woman had turned brisk, and she had an air about her that suggested she was too occupied to give more than a moment for talk. After returning from the nearby spring with a pail of fresh water in hand, she ducked into her wagon but her stay would be fleeting. She left again with a basket tucked in the crook of her arm, heading off toward the forest.

Distrustful of the shade, the woman didn’t venture too deeply into the woodland. She wandered quietly through the brush, occasionally stooping to study a curiosity at her feet. Tender ferns, plump roots, bulbs waiting for the first breath of summer; these went into her basket, and she gingerly swept away leaves to find them in the yielding earth. She collected only what she could recognize. Birds twittered in the branches above, though she wasn’t lucky enough to observe wildlife.

Cliffrock was close. Try as she might, that place had been in her thoughts for two nights. She knew what waited for her there, a thing she had never seen. It had power over her. Kemun had managed to avoid it for years and still she feared she was not yet ready to find it. Somehow, she suspected she felt the stirrings of courage. Part of her had already made a decision in the matter and she was growing accustomed to the idea. Her home was also near, and her sentiments about that were mixed. But she had much to do and she would gladly use that to distract herself.

She was wandering back to the spring when she happened to glance up, peering at the clouds and strands of mist that wheeled overhead like white veils. The sky seemed close enough to touch, and that soothed her. Kneeling at the water’s edge, Kemun rinsed the contents of her basket, washing away clinging soil. Once this was done, she took up her basket and walked back to the caravan. After she came upon her wagon, she rolled out her sitting rug and set a pot half-filled with water over the fire. Her knife flashed in the sun as she sliced what she had taken from the woods. These were placed in the pot with meat saved from the night before.

With a furtive glance over her shoulder, she retrieved a bundle from her wagon and sat at one end of her sitting rug. Folding her legs beneath her, she laid out sewing implements and a pair of unfinished gloves. They were fashioned from beaver skin, lined with soft fur. Using a bone needle, her hand dipped and rose as she tugged at the red thread, endeavoring to keep her stitches neat. Bent over her work, her brow was knitted in concentration. From time to time she paused to tend to the soup with a wooden spoon.

[artfreek]

~~~~Nesa Comec~~~~


Nesa had been quite relieved when the battle was finally over. Everyone was safely tucked away and they were on the move again. Which Nesa was perfectly ready for. The place was full of bad memories that the girl would like to put at a safe distance. Then there was the wall, the daunting wall that seemed to go on for miles. Nesa founding the wall unnerving. They were cut off from half the world when they had only been there a few days before. She couldn't imagine if they had been on the other side. She would have been cut off from her family, never to see them again.

She shivered at the thought and pushed it back in her mind. She felt sorry for those who were cut off. They would find a way eventually. They would have to, but Nesa wasn't sure if they would want to go back. She felt that something bad was growing on the other side. She hoped that it was just a feeling, but walls are built to hide things, and keep them contained. She felt a burden lifted from her shoulders once the looming thing was out of sight.

The next days of travel were calm and exciting. Another year would be marked for her very soon, and she couldn't wait. She planning things in her head, to celebrate. It would be a good way to get everyone to relax and have fun. The caravan was in great need of fun. She was going to gather everyone up and they were going to sit around together and talk and laugh and sing songs and dance. Nesa was excited about the dancing. She hadn't in so long, and she wanted to see everyone dance with her. She was even going to make Velius dance. Wouldn't that be fun. She would get the cranky man to dance the silliest dance she could think of.

And of course she would dance with Rachelle. She smiled at that thought. She wondered if he had ever danced before. If not he would learn quickly. It would be good for him. He needed the lightheartedness of it after everything he had been through. Nesa just wanted to dance with him too. It was a little selfish thought, but she was allowed to be selfish on her birthday. She hadn't talked to him very much in the few days they were traveling. It was partly because she got a little tongue tied when she saw him. She wouldn't have to talk when they were dancing though. They could just have fun.

Nesa was practically bouncing around the camp site when she woke up. She had been on the move telling people about her plans for the night, and looking for anyone who knew how to play an instrument. She asked about making a big pot of stew for everyone, and then went around again to make sure everyone knew her plans. Nesa had only gotten in a short word with Kemun before the white haired woman was moving again. Hopefully she would relax a bit later. She hadn't seen Rachelle yet, but she wasn't worried. He slept during the day, that was part of the reason she had everything planned for night time. She didn't want to have the party without him.

Nesa walked around the caravan slowing her steps as she heard a familiar voice with broken speech. She smiled slightly and her cheeks pinked a little when she heard him say her name. She moved quickly toward the voice and smiled brightly when Rachelle came into view. “I wasn't expecting you to be up this early.” She said walking up to him, a small smile still settled on her lips. “But now that your up you can help me plan. I going to have a party.”

[WanderingMercenary]

Oliver Mendel
You can find me here: At the fire with Kemun
Talking with: The Blue Caravan

If there was one word that described Oliver over these past few days, it would be relief. He didn't die, and neither did his new found friends. At least, he didn't think so. He had heard rumors that Jon had somehow survived the tavern fire. If he did, there would surely be much rejoicing if the favored minstrel found his way back to the caravan. But with the wall now stretching from coast to coast, presumably, he would have a hard time doing so. The wall troubled him, for sure, but he realized on the second day out that there wasn't anything he could do about it, so he stopped worrying about. If anything, the Caravan might just play a hand in taking it down, if past stories were any indication.

Another thing he pondered about was the amulet. He had taken Velius' advice and had kept it. Close. It never left his person, whether it be in his jacket or pants pocket, the weight of the thing was always felt. He worried for a moment that the thing was cursed like items of the old stories. He certainly didn't feel obsessed over the trinket. Whenever it was asked for, Oliver always handed it over. He figured late last night that the importance of the thing was what drove him to holding it. The exact origins and the figuring-out-of-the-thing hadn't happened yet, but he wished it would be soon. He could be a curious man at times, and this amulet certainly caught his attention.

Currently he was standing at the back of his wagon, smoking some of his fine tobacco. He wasn't a habitual smoker like some people he knew. On occasion, like this fine morning, he would dig out his pipe and the small box of tobacco and have a small smoke. The taste reminded him of home, for it was tobacco grown and harvested in his fathers yard. He slipped his hand into his vest pocket as he gazed out onto the forest, feeling the soft curves of the amulet. It would've been in his jacket pocket, but his jacket lay on the cart bench. It was warm enough without it.

Some noise caused Oliver to turn his head. He saw Kemun grab some things from her cart, and quickly get to work making soup, and, sewing something? He couldn't be sure at this angle. He looked back at his cart. He was sure he had a little bit of bread left. He was hoping they would reach town within the next couple of days. His survival supplies were running a little low. The amount he had before leaving town had been just fine for him, but add in nearly ten people...

He snatched a half-eaten loaf and headed over to Kemun, pipe still burning. "Sit lux semper micarent, Kemun," he said, sitting himself across from the woman. "It's quite a beautiful morning, isn't it? Say, I heard it was Nesa's birthday today? Is she old enough to be drinking? I could spare some of the ale I have."

[Watervoir]

Ѵeȴɩus Kɩɾʈɑ
ɳoble

It wasn't very long after resuming their trek across the mountains and he received his stitches that Velius sought a sturdy horse with which to ride out the next stretch of the caravan's journey. The blue wagons were an especial luxury to ride in, their unique wheels gliding with the elegance of a desert snake past the earth and its sharp turns, but the noble was a man of business and had matters that drew him away from such comforts. It was so, Velius recalled, that he frequently joined Caden on his scouting missions for safe paths, and it was during these trips that he listened to his servant's report of the events following the days of their separation.

He learned about his waking up, about what it was like to be a ghost, about the creature of the lake, and a bit about the others in Caden's party as well, but it was mainly about Rachelle that Velius had questions about. "...Very good. But before that, nothing at all?" At the time, their horses had been picking at the pebbles of the path lining the water that ran off a vertical slope.

"Nothing. We were underground for a time and when I woke up, we were in Lenti."

Velius recalled himself shaking his head at that. "You must talk to me again once you remember."

"You don't believe me?" At this, Velius could not help against a small smile. Even without a sixth-sense, he could see the despair flooding into his guard's being. If the noble was right about anything, Caden must have thought he failed him.

"The truth in that statement is as empty as your memories," the noble had said softly, and leaving Caden puzzling over the statement for a short moment, before spurring his mare into a soft trot down a nearby path, the one the caravan ultimately ended up taking no more than a quarter of an hour later. It was with a gentle prod of the humanity in the noble that Velius offered the hint: "Surely there is someone who remembers..."

If the guard found out anything about his lost memories, he hadn't told Velius about them yet, but the noble could be patient about that one thing. Following his meetings with his guard, he remembered encountering Medayo not long after. She had found him studying the exterior of her wagon, and when she approached him, he had commented on how curious it was that the wood seemed a little bit different – a little bit more blue than usual. It was just unnoticeable enough to escape casual detection, but once one realized it, it was impossible to forget it. Her reaction had drawn out a little chuckle from him before he moved on to ask her about the potion.

She had done it. A replicate of the water at Belorner. Not a perfect one, but it was decent for a work in progress. It stitched together the body's vessels and nothing more. Stopped blood from spilling but left the wound open to the element's spoil. It was a means of first-aid, nonetheless. Velius could already tell that there was nowhere that she could ever go from there, no matter how many more hours she poured over analyzing its chemical and magical make up, and he knew that she would soon come to an identical conclusion. What the noble was most interested about, however, was the profit he might be able to attain if they could find a way to produce a good amount of it in a short period of time. It was already in his favour that the magic barrier had been constructed–now, there was no way the rest of his family could get their hands on this treasure.

Today though, he would be meeting up with all of the others. Making rounds, one might have called it. Having been so intent on his work, he had been feeling far too out of touch with the real world, and he didn't enjoy that very much. It meant that he had been too far from the magic of the world for far too long.

He found the camp's fire easily, and from there he identified Kemun and Oliver. Seeing the man reminded the noble that he had something to return to him, and something else entirely to ask of the both of them.

"Is that soup?" he asked no one in particular, not without excitement colouring his voice, upon making it to their location. He peered into the pot briefly, and allowed himself a small but glorious whiff of the bubbling contents. As a child, he used to sneak into the Red Moon Tavern to see what the peasants ate. Amid all of the smoke and depravity that clung to the air like a disease was always the smell of a hot cauldron of soup. It went quickly, but there was always plenty more coming from the kitchen. "Mmm! Hard at work, I see," Velius continued, before squatting on a flat rock next to the woman to briefly admire at her knitting. He didn't have a sitting rug the way the woman did, but he hadn't intended to be there long. "I have a small, but very specific request. Do either of you have any small vials in stock? I'm in search of one that can hold only enough ingredient for a mouthful. I'd thought to ask Medayo, but I've yet to see her today."

[Leelee_Mraz]

Willa Odette Wilafax

"I am not fat!"

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

It was the furthest from the caravan that she had dare venture since she had joined it. It wasn’t far. could still see Haruka’s hooves , like little thumbprints in the distance, through the leaves and branches and twigs. It was the strangest thing that had lured into away. It was a small stream heading toward the cliffs. She had heard it, no felt it, ever since the caravan had halted. It had called to her like a faint whisper begging her to come play, come visit. So she did. It had taken her a moment to be comfortable because she had stayed very close to the merchant woman that had allowed her to take refuge in her wagon during the trip. WIlla had felt guilty for eating her food without permission and had tried to be as helpful as possible. She found Kemun very pleasing. Willa was awkward around the woman because even though she had stolen from the woman, Kemun was treating her with a kindness that she had never experienced before. Everyone else in the caravan somehow seemed too scary for her, for now.

WIlla kneeled next to the small stream and looked down into the water. She smiled and stuck her bare feet into the water. The pregnant woman shivered and and pushed them deeper into the small steam. The water greeted her and swirled around her feet. She called it back playfully and soon a large bubble formed around her feet and she lifted out of the water. She giggled and released the water back to the stream. She then laid on her stomach and looked into it.

She dipped a finger into the water and closed her eyes. She thought of the farm and then opened her eyes. The surface of the water had come to life. She was looking at the farmer's wife, who was angrily brushing a horse by the house. Willa thought that she must be looking through horse trough at the front of the farmer’s house. She had never seen the farmer’s wife so dirty. Is that what she used to looked like when she worked for the farmers? Willa let her finger sink into the water again and thought again about the farm. This time when she opened her eyes she saw the farmer. He was in the stables shoveling the stalls, the job that she had hated the most. She smiled at the disgusted look on his fat grubby face. They had obviously not found anyone to replace her.

Willa stuck her finger in the water for one more venture. She suddenly felt cold the minute she thought about it. The hut a mile away from the farm. She opened her eyes and stared at the surface of the water where the image had changed. Before her eyes was Niles’ hut, where she had spent many hours under Niles strong hands, among other things. She paled. She never wanted to see that place again, but the worst thing about it was that the hut was empty. Niles wasn't there. Where was he? He was always in the hut. Unless he was coming to get her. Was he coming to get her? A violent shiver came over Willa and she quickly used her hand to scatter the water and used a nearby tree to quickly get to her feet. She remained pale as she walked back to the caravan, and quickly began to busy herself with Kemun’s horse. She went and found an apple and fed it to the horse , while stroking it’s mane. It was more to soothe herself than be affectionate with the horse.


Willa peeked around the corner to see Kemun cooking and sitting near the fire working on something with Oliver nearby. Curiosity peaked in her. She dug her bare feet into the ground and took a moment to settle her heartbeat and try to erase images of Niles from her mind. Although she was still a bit pale she joined the group just as Velius came over. She sat in the grass next to Kemun and eyed her work carefully seeing if she could figure it out before bugging her. When she couldn’t, she inched a bit closer and leaned in to observe. “ What is that, Kemun?” She asked softly.

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

[anais nighteyed]

x

artwork by Rain, from Midnight Inks Illustrationsxxx

xxxxxxxxＫｅｍｕｎ Ｅｌｄｓｔｒａ

She was startled by Oliver’s greeting, so absorbed with her task that she hadn’t heard his approach. Looking up from her sewing as he seated himself opposite her, she merely blinked at him in response to his remark about the morning. It gave her pause; she hadn’t given much time to anything beyond her work. Kemun was silent for a moment, taking in the breeze and the touch of the sun. “Yes,” she agreed, nodding. “Yes, it is a beautiful morning.” She hadn’t truly noticed the fine weather until he’d mentioned it, but the day was turning out to be a lovely one. Mulling over his question, she tugged idly at a seam. “I suppose a sip or two couldn’t hurt her.”

She gazed longingly at Oliver’s pipe and inevitably thought of her own. It was tucked away in her wagon, still irreparably broken. “You wouldn’t happen to be selling pipes, would you? I’ve been meaning to acquire another, but we haven’t seen a town in days.” To her dismay, they hadn’t crossed paths with merchants or peddlers along the way. That brought about other worries. She had experience journeying through wilderness and hadn’t felt apprehensive about it for some time, but now she feared they were so far-removed from civilization that her provisions would be whittled away to nothing. The chance to pay a visit to Lenti’s marketplace was long lost.

While Kemun fretted about the caravan’s circumstances, Velius approached the fire and inquired about the contents of the pot. “Yes. Nesa asked for soup,” she answered. That was one less concern, she was confident she’d prepared enough for the entire caravan. The soup was mildly spiced, because after Reena’s reaction to her favorite tea Kemun knew better than to flavor food the way she liked to. His question made her frown, and she pressed her knuckles against her cheek as she sifted through her inventory in her mind. “I might. I’ll have to look.”

Willa had joined them, and despite her attention being drawn in three different directions Kemun saw that the woman’s face was lacking in color. Was she well? “I’m making gloves,” the merchant explained when she showed an interest in her work. “Watch what I do. The trick is to pass the needle through, then pull at the thread. I try to keep my stitches small, like so.” She implored patience from Velius with a gesture and took up her needle, happy to demonstrate for the woman. Keeping others at an arm’s length and maintaining a proper distance was habit for her, so it was strange to wake in the morning and remember she was sharing her wagon with another. But Willa was her guest, and Kemun considered it her responsibility to ensure she was well cared for.

Setting down her work again, she wrapped the gloves in a bit of cloth to hide them from prying eyes. Rising to her feet, she went to her wagon to search for a vessel that met the man’s needs. After a short while, she returned from rummaging with a small blue bottle in hand, similar to those she sold that held medicinal salves. “Will this do?” she asked, offering it to Velius. “Incidentally, there’s an important matter I’ve been meaning to discuss with you, so I’m glad you’re here. It saves me from seeking you out myself.” Kemun glanced at Willa, and then fixed Velius with a pointed look. “Willa has spent the past few nights in my wagon, and I think it’s time she had one to call her own. If memory serves, I believe the caravan has spares.”

[Leelee_Mraz]

Whitnee woke to a dull pain in his head, and fatigue pulling at the corners of his eyes. He let a light sigh through his teeth as he sat up and wandered over to his cabinet of ingredients and gathering an assortment of herbs and a few dried berries. He put them all in bag and set it down on his bed to pull on a pair of brown pants and boots. His head protested the movement. Whitnee began to search for a shirt. It was then that he remembered that before he had gotten drunk in the privacy of his own cabin the night before, he had done laundry and all of his shirts and vests were outside on a line. He sighed and grabbed his bag of herbs and a pot to go over the fire he intended to make, and headed outside.

The daylight got the pain moving in his head and it seemed to split his head in half. He groaned and went over to the line that he had strung between his wagon in a nearby tree. He noticed that a particular favorite vest of his was missing. He frowned and went over to the line, checking the ground as he went. He grabbed a white shirt off the line and put it on while roaming the area in search of his vest. He found it hanging from his male horse’s ear. Faratees was shaking his chocolate brown mane in an attempt to free himself of the garment. Whitnee went to the horse and grabbed the vest as the horse took out his frustration on him, biting him squarely in the shoulder.

“ Ow! You wretched beast. I didn't do it. “ He narrowed his eyes at the horse, who, having got his vengeance, had returned to a neutral mood and began grazing on the grass he stood on. Whitnee rubbed his shoulder and returned to the side of his wagon to begin building his fire. He opened a compartment in the side of his wagon and pulled out several big stones and gathered them in a circle and began to build a small fire with wood he also has stored there. When the fire was set up he took out a vial from the compartment, dumped it on the fire, and used a bit of flint to create sparks and the fire roared to life. A little too much to life. Whitnee sighed and and sat back on the ground next to his pot and bag of medicine waiting for his fire to calm down. He had used too much of the oil...

Another wave of pain went through his head and he held his head with a groan. He shielded his eyes from the sun and propped his head on his arms, resting on his knees. The sooner he could make his tea, the better.