The Prosperos Quest

[Fury of the Tempest]

Upon receiving this information about the Black City, and how they would need permission to cross, Arcantos had said half to himself. "Sounds about right for such a place." Through he fell silent after this, pondering this information and what it meant to their mission... and his own.

Upon the tavern coming in sight, the lizard had to admit he was probably one of the most relieved to see it. Having been trapped inside that jail for so long, after such a long hard travel to the wasteland, meant it had been a very long time since he had a good, solid meal and a nice warm bed to sleep in... something that he felt Sikara would appreciate just as much.

He took the coins offered to him with a smile and a thanks, glad for the small gift as save for his swords, all his possessions had long since been lost to the Wizard and his tower. Once again, the Draken promised to himself to pay for this upkeep in anyway he could, so that him travelling alongside the others was a choice they did not regret.

Because of this, Arcantos was willing to be among the last of the group to enter into the tavern, watching them go one after the other. Medwick, Galian, Aerie and Caoihme all entered before him, all while Arcantos and Sikara kept an eye on their backs and another on the road. One could never be too careful.

Now, Arcantos had decided that he was his time to enter. He had waited long enough between himself and Caoihme to follow the wolf, and they had been far enough from the tavern that anyone watching idly from the widows would be unlikely to spot them. Only those on a sharp look-out would know that they were a group, and the Draken could do nothing about that.

So the lizard entered into the tavern and into the warmth. Allowing the magic that had kept him warm and alive to fade, through not to disappear. It remained around him in a warm embrace, but the heat of the building made it easier to sustain. Now, he looked around, looking for a seat.

 

[Mowkie]

It is a dark, frightening night where the wind howls and the sky turns a dismal ocean of gray. Though lightning does not flash, and thunder does not sound, Resmic can still hear the pitter patter of rain on the roof of the Jackobane Tavern with fine-tuned ears and a heart that shudders at the thought of being soaked again. Her years, though young, have been harsh ones, and often has she been required to face her fears. But facing her fears does not always mean getting rid of them, and Resmic still has many fears - especially that fear of water and lightning...the pure energy that seems to flow throughout.

She rests alone at a table in the back flipping a coin back and forth between her long fingers. Her body trembles. It's been two days since she arrived, and still she feels soaked to the bone. Her long, translucent white hair sticks to the side of her soft, furry face as sapphire eyes look around hopefully. Please tell me that I did not go through all of that for nothing...these adventurers must be here somewhere! But still, she cannot seem to find them. Then again, the child does not seem to know where or how to look. She focuses closer in hopes of noticing something different about the people tonight. Many soaked travelers have seemed to arrive. Perhaps one of them could provide answers. But how to ask the question? Resmic has never been very good at talking to people.

"Mayhaps you try?" Eilow speaks, disrupting her internal babble. The fluffy panda lies splayed on the chair beside her, his round eyes looking up at her knowingly, a slight smile upturned on one side of his face. An ear twitches as he turns to look out at the crowd. "Try picking one that seems more drawn away than the others...perhaps one that you feel is different."

Resmic looks down at her aenigma, fear in her eyes as it is in her heart. "I...I don't know how..."

"Try, Resmic...that's what you gotta do, sometimes. You want adventure so badly...then try asking for it."

Her tail twitches in angst. She wasn't made for this. She wasn't made to be an adventurer. It's a mistake to be here now. Why would she travel so far only to realize this? Her eyes dart about the room, terrified as her breath heightens. She fears speaking to people almost as much as she fears thunderstorms. But some things must be done. Pushing her dark cloak from her arms, Resmic pushes herself from the table, taking the coin she had been passing between her fingers and placing it back into the pocket of the thick leather pants that adorn her legs. Straightening the tunic that rests with an open V over her chest, she takes a breath, letting it out slowly...in hopes of calming herself. Once more, she searches for an adventurer, and sapphire eyes come to rest on a man with the aenigma of a crow. Why she feels he is the adventurer, she is not sure...but something feels right...as if the magic that flows within her says such.

Slowly, she takes one step, then another, towards the man. Slowly, she grows the courage to speak to him. And upon making her way to him, followed closely by little Eilow, she taps the man on the shoulder gently.

"Excuse me, Sir?" She gives a small bow, her body trembling with the fear that speaking to another brings. "Are you, perhaps, an adventurer?"

Okay, so not the best way to start a conversation, but better it come right out then never come at all....right?

 

[Asmodeus]

Medwick had gotten the spoon halfway to his mouth.

Over a steaming pool of lamb stew he observed the Felleon who had bapped him on the shoulder. His bar stool creaked. One eye narrowed, completing a half-scowl that spoke not just volumes, but carved the very statue of his mood right then. It was the look of a man who had held his tongue for a very, very long time, against all manner of slights, and despite this had, at that moment, cracked in the presence of one single unfortunate.

The spoon lowered back to the bowl. His stare did not abate. And in a flood that birthed raging animation, not least from the left arm in its sling, he answered thusly:

"NO, YOUNG LADY. I AM NOT AN ADVENTURER. NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST. I am a member of a feudal post-apocalyptic society fighting a daily battle against hunger, cholera and hypothermia. The ligaments in my left leg are shredded and I live in constant pain in a land of perpetual winter. From the age of four I was forced to butcher animals and my one abiding dream is to live beyond the age of thirty-two! However, that is highly unlikely, since two decades as a magic user have exponentially increased my chance of kidney failure. Every day is a mortal struggle to find firewood, shelter and clean drinking water. I can't even afford a prostitute, let alone countenance the idea of romantic pursuits, trapped as I am in indentured service to the aristocracy. My arm was dislocated. I haven't bathed in four days. I haven't been able to defecate for a week. AND I HAVEN'T. HAD. MY. STEW!"

His fist came down on the bar, rattling the bowl and spoon. A thin trail of lamb stew trickled over the counter and plopped onto Resmic's boot.

The outburst had caused a vacuum around Medwick. Even some of the drunks had put their own rants on hold to listen to his. The barman, an Orc the size of a tree and half as charismatic, simply grunted to break the silence and leaned over to place a sprig of mint on top of the stew.

Chatter slowly reclaimed the tavern and Medwick put his head in one hand, rubbing his eyebrows.

"No... I'm not an adventurer..." he murmured.

It seemed that everything had finally gotten to him.

But as to what that everything was... Resmic had yet to learn.

 

[lynzy]

Ignoring Medwick's outburst, Shardis sat in the back corner of the main room eating her fourth, yes fourth, helping of the hot stew that in better days she would be hard pressed to be coxed into eating even one bite of. Slowing down enough to pay attention to the rest of the room she noticed that everyone from their party had finally entered the medium-sized tavern. They either wandered about like lost sheep or sat and ate with relish like she had done. Others not of the party had taken up spots at tables and leaned at the bar for a more liquid meal. Then there were those who had left the main room to ether take up quarters in the upstairs rooms or had gone to the back room for a bath.

Not having bothered to take off the cloak, or even remove the hood, she made one large mysterious shadow in the low lit end of the place. The huge fireplace in the middle of the establishment seemed to be the focal point of most of the chattier patrons, including a bard from what Shar could tell. There was some merriment and laughter at the bawdy lines that were sung and clapping and stomping of feet, all in all it was a rather noisy place and it felt good to enjoy the warmth of human kind as well as the raging fire.

A serving wench in the typically low-cut bodice came by to see if she needed anything and she asked for a refill on the ale as well as asking if there was any pie or cake to be had. It had been ages since she had indulged in a sweet and she hoped there was something here worth having. She didn't usually drink ale but the stuff here was mercifully watered down and she didn't mind. Besides the water didn't look to clean, the milk was gone and of course there wasn't any fruit juice at this time of year.

A large yawn caught her unawares and she blinked afterwards, she was more tired than she thought. If nothing went down soon she would give it up and go up to her room. Shar couldn't wait to flop down on a real bed for a change. Within moments the girl was back with a large piece of ginger cake. After thanking the girl and paying her well, even giving her a tip for the trouble of feeding her huge appetite and receiving a large smile for it, the woman curtsied and ran off while shoving the extra coin Shardis had given her into her bodice.

 

[E.T.]

It had taken ten minutes of internal conflict for Caoimhe's hunger to finally win out over any misconceptions she had about this place. Five of those minutes had been spent regaining her courage after Medwick's outburst sen her on edge. Carefully placing her pack on her seat she undid her cloak and placed that over her bag. For a second she paused considering whether or not to take her coat off as well. Even from this distance she could feel the warmth rolling off of the hearth and after a bit of thought she decided that it would at less help her dry out faster. So she undid her coat and placed that on top of her bag and cloak. Without the added bulk from her outer layers Caoimhe looked rather small. That isn't to say she looked weak, she just looked strong in a stringy sort of way.

Winter was always the hardest time for her and it showed in the way her shirt clung lankly to her midriff, and in the harsh edges of bone that had almost none of the fat to soften the edges, only the cords of hard muscle that held it in place. She didn't look thin, she looked hungry. Grabbing one of the rough wooden plates Caoimhe quickly strode up one side of the table and then down the next. She had seen some of the others settling down with bowls of stew but experience told her that her stomach would not appreciate her eating that. A life sustained by the wild and raw the shock of eating a lot of rich food all at once would probably only sicken her. In the end she found a large, and very rare, cut of venison from a marsh deer, and two large handfuls of gooseberries. Paying presented a challenge in itself and she was pretty sure that she overpayed by several coins but as someone who had never used money before she was rather pleased with herself.

Dodging back to her seat with her spoils it took Caoimhe all of thirty seconds to get her stuff organized and then start digging into the food. Utensils seemed to be lost of her and she only used her hands to hold the meat down so that she could bite and tear large chunks off with her mouth. If the only problem had been her table manners it would have been fine but it was soon clear that her food aggression was surfacing. She at furiously an yet whenever someone passed close to her she would freeze, back arched and tense, head bent low over her plate, a guarded expression on her face with just the ghost of a snarl ready on her lips. Anyone who approached her now would have to tread carefully, like Medwick she was ready to snap, unlike Medwick she was much more physical in her aggression.

 

[Tegan]

There was a long stuttering shift of cloth against wood. The feral woman watched, silent and guarded, as a dark, calloused hand slid a linen-wrapped parcel before her. She detected the slightest trembling, the ache of old joints, in the hand as it withdrew. Caoimhe's eyes followed the hand to wrist to arm to shoulder to face. The old man was seated directly across from her, swaddled in layers of brown and red cloth, his face was half covered by a snowy beard, the other half obscured by silver, moonish spectacles. A reflection of the firelight caused a glare in the crystal lens of his right eye, so that only the left was visible to her. In that eye was the reflection of the parcel, fallen open to reveal three snipe's eggs nestled in the linen.

Inside each speckled shell a tiny gold sun slept, waiting to burst into new life. Such a find was a boon in these harsh lands, more precious than any treasure. To pierce the shell and drink down the yolk was the surest way to survive these places. The nutrients in each one were a spark of vitality that would last days.

These were not served at the tavern. The old man must have foraged them himself. A gift.

"If you eat them, miss, and give to me the shells, I can read your fortune."

 

[Mowkie]

It is the instant that the man glares at her that Resmic knows her fears are about to come true. Before she can back away, he turns around completely, his voice a wave of pressure that squashes the girl like a bug. He yells at her over things that he battles over every day, everything that makes an adventure hard and tiring...everything that can break a man in an instant. And with his final word, he raises his voice again, slamming his fist on the counter. Resmic can't move out of the fear she suddenly feels. Her body is rigid, her glowing blue eyes filling with tears as the entire tavern goes silent.

Eilow is at her feet, burning with rage over the outburst. Even as the man calms himself, the little panda boils over, speaking out just as he repeats that he is no adventurer.

"You cruel, evil man! Do you have any idea how long it took me to talk her into talking to ANYONE here? The ONE thing she is afraid of is talking to people, and all she wants to do is travel and help out like a good citizen of this world, and you had to RUIN IT!"

Every time his voice rises in volume, he bounces with his outrage, his fur standing up along his chubby body like a cat. His eyes glow with hatred, even as Resmic backs away slowly.

"I...I'm sorry. I just thought...I thought that you could take me with you...but...maybe not." She turns away, shoulders slumping in defeat. Perhaps it is best to go back to the frozen world. Pulling up her hood, she draws her cloak closer around her and turns away. "I am sorry I bothered you. Enjoy your stew." With that, she moves to head out the door, back into the rain.

It is Eilow who stops her, solidifying himself and munching on the tip of her cloak, pulling her back. She looks at the panda, defeat and fear in her eyes. She doesn't want to be yelled at again. She'd rather go head first into a thunderstorm than have the whole tavern stare at her. Snatching her cloak away, she turns again and heads out the door.

Once again, Eilow looks at the man. "Thank you, wanderer. Thank you for finally breaking what was left of that soul. Enjoy your darn soup." With that, he turns and begins to head out the door as well.

But that is where he stops, turning to the corner where a shadow resides. There, he sees a small sense of hope. Padding over, he looks up at the shadow of the woman still in her cloak. "Excuse me," he says a bit more politely, "Do you think you could help out another stranger? I get the feeling that you have done your fair share of helping out, and I know you are tired...but my lopos is all but broken and terrified of talking to people. I need someone to get her out of that blasted rain because there doesn't seem to be anything I can do any more."

There is sadness in his sapphire eyes, but there is also a shimmer of something else. Hope. Hope that someone is kind enough to still help, for Eilow is out of options...and this is his last chance to get his lopos back.

 

[lynzy]

"Excuse me,"a voice from the floor says as the Felleon rises, "Do you think you could help out another stranger? I get the feeling that you have done your fair share of helping out, and I know you are tired...but my lopos is all but broken and terrified of talking to people. I need someone to get her out of that blasted rain because there doesn't seem to be anything I can do any more."

Startled Shardis looks down to see... an Aenigmae, not her own of course, Garth was to large to fit in the tavern. It was a little bear of some kind, hmmph I killed your kin not too long ago, or helped anyways. How strange, they don't usually talk to another lopos. It must be in serious distress to do so. "What seems to be the problem little polite one?" Shardis said while bending over a bit to hear the tiny bear's words better.

 

[Mowkie]

Phew, at least she's gonna listen. Eilow lets out a breath of relief, looking up at the woman with even more hopeful eyes.

"My lopos is terrified of talking to people, but she craves adventure more than anything in the world - she wants to do something with her life - something good. But that mean, mean man at the counter yelled at her when she asked if he was what she was looking for. After I spent days trying to talk her into speaking to people. Her only fear greater than talking to people is thunderstorms, and I fear one is on its way now. She walked outside, and I can't get her back in here. Please...is there anything you might be able to do? She is afraid and alone, even with me...I am powerless to save her from this fear...I just want her to be happy..."

It all weighs heavy on the little panda's shoulders. So many years of trying to get her to smile...to see her happy. All of those years in vain if he can't even get her out of this mess. His face shimmers with his sorrow...he doesn't want to lose his lopos, and if it means he must communicate, then so be it. He just hopes that this one is kind enough to help her.

 

[lynzy]

"My lopos is terrified of talking to people, but she craves adventure more than anything in the world - she wants to do something with her life - something good. But that mean, mean man at the counter yelled at her when she asked if he was what she was looking for.... At this point in the story Shardis turns her head to look at 'the mean mean man' and what's left of her eyebrows lift in surprise as she realizes that Medwick's outburst earlier was the one this little bear was talking about. Shar had thought someone else had been mean to the tiny creature's human. For some reason it just didn't occur to her that they would be one in the same. ...might be able to do? She is afraid and alone, even with me...I am powerless to save her from this fear...I just want her to be happy..."

Standing up straight and thinking a moment Shardis replied, "I will speak with your lopos, lead me to her please."

 

[Mowkie]

Hope returning to Eilow's sapphire eyes, the little panda turns and pads out into the drizzling rain. He knows where his lopos resides, and straight to her he goes.

Resmic is on the left side of the building, her back against the wall, crouching with her head tucked over her knees. Her tail curls around her beneath the dark cloak. Though her hood is pulled high, her hair still manages to fall out, the strands cascading down her legs into the mud that now covers her boots. Though she is sad, she does not cry. She simply hides herself for fear of anyone else knowing about her. The hair on her arms stands on end, both from fear and the cold, and she shivers beneath the darkness of her cloak.

Typically, she is a survivor - always fighting to make sure she stays as comfortable as possible. She's managed to keep herself from dying yet, even living in two of the harshest places of the world - polar opposites when it comes to climate. Now, she simply sits and shivers, uncaring of what happens next.

Eilow pads up to her, his eyes shimmering with concern. "Mi," he says, calling her by her childhood nickname, "I've brought someone that wants to talk to you. Perhaps she can help. I promise, you won't get yelled at." That promise, Eilow hopes to keep as long as possible.

 

[E.T.]

It had been with a guarded apprehension that Caoimhe had watched the man's hand push the carefully wrapped parcel towards her. In her frenzy most of her meal had already disappeared, there was only a bite or two of meat and a handful of gooseberries waiting to devoured. Perhaps this is what stopped her from warning the man back with a cautionary growl and snap, a fair meal tended to curb her temper. It could also be that she did not feel particularly threatened by him. He was old, that much was obvious with just a quick glance. And as far as she could tell he did not seem particularly powerful, just a old man with shaky hands and glasses that made her think of a grizzled old owl.

It was with surprise that she watched the parcel fall open to reveal the eggs cradled in a nest of linen. Slowly, carefully her expression changed, her eyes widening no longer narrowed in distrust and her back straitened so that she was not quite so bent over her plate. It was caution that had kept her alive but it was curiosity that had let her live. And this gift of food had her very curious indeed. Nervously her tongue darted out to taste the remnants of the meat she had eaten on her chin, listening to the man as he spoke. So these eggs were being offered to her, the prospect of these treasures set her mouth watering but even still she was a bit cautious.

Slowly as though she thought a sudden movement would make the man change his mind she reached out with one hand to touch one of the eggs. Like a dog afraid of being caught taking something from the table she pulled the first eggs closet to her. Gently she dragged the egg across the short distance in front of her other hand pushing her plate off to one side as the egg came to a stop a few inches from the edge of the table. Reaching down to her belt she drew her knife out, gripping the blade itself in her hand so that she would have better control over the blade. Tok, tok, tok, went the blade as Caoimhe pierced a hole in the top of the egg. Then placing the knife down next to her plate she brought the egg up to her mouth, tipped her head back, and quickly sucked out the golden center that lay within. Creamy and rich there were few things that she enjoyed eating more, she could almost feel the egg's bit of strength reviving her.

Quickly the first egg was finished and placed upon the table before being rolled back to rejoin the other two eggs. Twice more Caoimhe repeated the process, carefully taking the egg as though fearing some sort of sudden retaliation, but quickly finishing the little treasure off once it was tapped. Finally all three eggs were returned to the linen nest the only sign that they were any different being the small holes in each of them, and the weight if anyone cared enough to lift one. Belly full, and attitude greatly improved Caoimhe turned her gaze on the man once more, her eyes wide with interest as she thought about what he had offered her besides the eggs themselves. Dipping her head in gratitude there was a curious tilt to her head when she spoke after having remained silent for the exchange do far.
"What is my fortune Grandfather?" she had remembered hearing a child call someone of great age this. From what she remembered it was a term of at least some respect and since she did not know this strange man's name it was all she could think to call him.

 

[lynzy]

"I've brought someone that wants to talk to you. Perhaps she can help. I promise, you won't get yelled at."

Feeling very awkward Shardis cleared her throat a bit while swiveling her ears forward and back in a nervous sort of twitch as she began to speak, "Your Aenigmae here is very brave, they don't usually talk to other lopos. My name is Shardis, what's yours? Umm it says you want to go adventuring? Can you explain that a bit please?"

Her tail swung back and forth nervously while she waited. Shar didn't like the idea of leaving Medwick alone in the main room with all those strangers when he was on the edge of one of his fits.

Resmic looks up, cautious sapphire eyes studying the face of the woman before her. A Felleon, from what she can see...one of exquisite beauty and grace. A sniffle, then sigh, as she sends a small glare at Eilow, who smiles sheepishly at her. Trying hard to regain her composure, the girl rises from her squat on trembling legs, her entire body shivering with both the fear and the cold. A nervous twitch of the tail almost mirrors that which happens beneath the cloak Shardis wears, but Resmic once more pulls as much strength and courage as she can. She trusts Eilow - she always has. So, if he says she won't get yelled at, then it's probably true. Add that to the fact that Resmic can sense the other Felleon's nervousness, and she knows there's no danger here.

"R-Resmic. My name is Resmic." She gives a small bow, the rounded tips of her ears seeming to twitch beneath her translucent hair. "Eilow has always been brave. He...he only wants to make me happy." A smile is sent the little panda's way. Then, with a deep breath, she calms herself, readying her explanation. "I've always wanted to be an adventurer. Ever since my parents made me flee my home when I was small, I've wanted to travel the world and help people in any way I can. I would make a good traveler because my greatest skill is how to survive...but I'm not so good at talking to people..." She speaks this all in one breath, slowing down only in the last sentence. Turning away, she sighs before continuing. "I don't want to get in anyone else's way. I just want to create a story of my own journey that can inspire the hearts of others like the stories inspired me...I just want to help people. But it's not easy when I can't even talk to one....."

The Snow Leopard Felleon tilted her head to the side as she watched the girls face while she told her tale. I don't think she's telling the truth, but she obviously needs some help. She thought to herself and then a familiar voice in her head chimed up.

They need help, perhaps someone is trying to do them harm and they need to hide...or or they have to secretly get to some benefactor! or... Garth would rant on with all the different possibilities of why this girl and her Aenigmae wouldn't or couldn't tell the truth if she didn't stop him. SHHH!! enough, I get the idea. I should get her to talk to Medwick, but it will have to wait for one of his more sane moments.

"I think I can help you. I will be doing some traveling myself and I grow weary of being alone, I would be glad for the company." Shardis smiled as she offered her arm for the traditional clasp of agreement.

 

[Mowkie]

Surprise flits across Resmic's face. Company? Her ears twitch slightly beneath her translucent hair as her sapphire eyes search Shardis' face for any sign of insenserity. She doesn't see any.

Bowing her head, Resmic gives a timid smile. "Anyone who is friendly enough to help, I would be happy to accompany. It is an honor." Though she still trembles, she feels a surge of confidence pass through her. Looking back up at the Felleon's white, spotted face, she nods. "I guess we should go back inside, then..."

Behind her, Eilow is jumping around happily, pumping his little arms in victory. He gives an extra special thank you smile to Shardis, calming himself and bowing his head. I could never repay you...thank you so much...

 

[DotCom]

For a sincere and honest moment, Aerie thought she had made a new friend.

Or as close to a 'friend' as she had ever had. So...a living thing that didn't want to kill her, and also spoke the same language. And didn't want to kill her. That part was important.

But even she had heard the old adage, "The enemy of thine enemy is thine insert-f-word-here." And that had to count for something.

She'd just settled somewhere in the rafters, because the floor was the crowded, and the vaulted ceiling was warmer, and she was content to sit above(ish) the fire and let her wings drip dry...even if the two or three Felleon sitting below her hand't been quite to happy to see the rain moved inside. And after those first weeks with her mystical, magical ever-shrinking clan, she felt better knowing she could keep her eyes on the whole of the tavern/inn/pub/motel at once, anyway. Just in case someone lost their temper and caused an avalanche or tried to turn her to stone, or some other annoying and pseudo-imminent form of death.

Because -- and not to belabor the point -- Aerie seemed to find herself with all manner of homicidal (and decidedly unfriendly) manic quite often.

She watched the newbie enter the bar and grille last, just after Caoihme, who quickly crept off to some corner with a trembling, rheumatic figure who smelled like death and posies. She watched the cat who'd caused all this find another corner and sit on her own, in drip-dropping silence, probably trying to be mysterious, so she could trick another poor, unassuming Avian into a long, unseemly trip with waist deep snow, mud, rain, and monsters.

And people trying to kill her.

She also watched Angry Human drag himself to the counter and order a bowl of...something edible. It was hard to tell from here. It might have been stew, or soup, or mutton, or sheep's milk, or some kind of apparently hard-won berry. In any case, he sat down, dug in...and blew up, as a spindly Felleon (apparently no relation to their own) tried to make friends.

Aerie watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, still gnawing on a dried root vegetable of no specific or contradictory nature. And she was the one with the bad attitude. Really.

She canted her head to one side, waiting eagerly for the Felleon to rebut, to make herself heard, to insist on whatever the hell sort of bloody adventure would make her want to speak to the reeking human. To, in essence, put him in his place, or at the very least suggest just precisely where he could put that spoon, sprig of mint at all.

She did no such thing, and Aerie felt her dripping wings droop just a bit more in disappointment.

Ah, well. The girl had shown no spine, but Aerie had never been picky. She was certain if the Felleon managed to join their pack, the two would get along famously, if only for having to withstand the sort of temperamental outbursts one might expect from a young girl child from their human leader.

After all. The enemy of thine enemy is thine --

Wait.

Hold up.

Was she going to speak to the other cat? Really? Really?

Yes.

Aerie sighed. So much for new friendship. Any luck, and this new Felleon would be ushering them all off a cliff an into the mouth of an active volcano in two day's time.

Cats.

 

[lynzy]

You weren't exactly truthful, you know. Once again Garth pointed out the obvious to her.

Yes I know but if I tell her I am with a psychotic flyer, a wizard that is loosing his mind, a wolf girl and..well you get the point. She is going to be the only other felleon with us, for now, I think... The way things were going, who knew?

Giving the young girl a warm smile she offered up a corner of her room to Resmic and hesitantly the felleon accepted. After making sure the girl had eaten the two of them retired for the night.

 

[Tegan]

A shrill voice erupted from within the old man's cloak, followed by a rustling."I cannot believe you are trying to fool her with this schmaltz!" The wolf girl found herself in the regard of two beady black eyes and a rodent face as it appeared from under the collar of the old man's tunic. The hedgehog blinked at Caoimhe.

The corners of the old man's mouth arched into a wizened grin; using the deepened lines as a guide, Caoimhe could navigate the history of his expressions. He had smiled much. "Cirque, I need your assistance." The chubby aenigma snorted, before it worked its way out of the old man's clothes and scurried across the table. Caoimhe watched as the hedgehog nosed each shell. Already, the truth was revealing itself to her; the identity of this man.

The old man squinted, his bushy brow furrowed. "You are looking for someone, that is why you are here."
"Of course that's why she's here! What else is out here; atmosphere?"
A raspy lilt of laughter escaped his throat."Ah! You will be a mother, dear girl."
"Cliché--"
"...and your child will kill you." A pregnant pause followed.

Then.

The old bard retrieved the sandalwood oud on the bench beside him, resting it across his lap. From within his sleeve he withdrew a long porcupine quill that had been rubbed smooth with oil and sand. He used the quill to strum the elegant strings.

"Allow for me to play you something sweeter to ease the digestion."

spoiler

* * * *​

Sleep, for those who found it, was all too brief for the party. The sky was still dark when they set off, led by Glyph, through desolate moorland trails.
Medwick had been given use of Tanglehoof, an old plow horse who did not appreciate leaving the Jackobane's stalls at such an early hour. She vocalized this by taking as many stops to shit in the road as she could.

The sun's first rays had pierced the sky when the bard finally broke the silence between them and rode abreast of the mage. He seemed oddly regal astride his tawny mule, his hand outstretched to offer Medwick a twist of strange green leaves.
"It is khat-- food of the gods. It is the only thing that helps me to forget the ache in my bones." They chewed the leaves for a while in companionable silence before Glyph spoke again.

"I have arranged for you an escort to Avarath." The desert was a dry wasteland filled with raiders and brigands not even the Black City will claim. There was always safety in numbers; traveling alongside a caravan was the most rational way to reach Avarath. "I have answered the caravan leader's questions about you with coin and silence." Glyph swatted a biting gnat away from his mule's ears. "A zmey named Dokar."

"This city is populated with two-faced merchants, and Dokar is no exception. If he decides it is more profitable to sell you out, he will." At this, Glyph smiled at Medwick, revealing a mouth full of missing teeth. "But, if you are not a problem for him-- blend into the rest of the caravan and cause no suspicion, he will forget you are there." A feat easier said than done for the likes of them.

A sigh from Glyph brought Medwick from his planning. "Unfortunately for you, my friend mage, none of this is charity. This quest you are undertaking is proving to be very expensive. I was given a message bearing your president's seal that I will be given compensation. And I believe the words of a Pegulian."

"But you would understand if I asked for an assurance more substantial than words."

 

[Fury of the Tempest]

Like Medwick, Arcantos managed to get himself some stew while at the tavern. From there, he retreated to one of the less filled areas of the room and had his fill, keeping himself to himself and watching the goings on as they occurred.

When Medwick shouted at the girl, he frowned to himself, not happy with what happened. When the she walked out and her aenigma was obviously stressed, the draken had started to rise, intending to see how he may help. However, the aenigma sought out someone to help by himself, and reluctant to make a show of himself, Arcantos sat back down, through his evening had been soured.

When offered a horse to ride when they left, Arcantos declined. Riding wasn't a skill he had learned, and placing himself on a horse now would mean he would not be able to operate at his greatest capacity, so he stayed on his own two feet. Not to mention that he would get uncomfortable sitting on a horse all day and wanted to avoid that.

So here they were, walking on the road to meet up with someone else that would help them in the next area of their travel. An untrustworthy person unfortunately, and they would have to blend in with his cavern to get the most of it. Still, they were heading across a desert, which not only meant that the amount of Draken around would surely increase, making it easier to blend in, but Arcantos would no longer have to sustain his magical aura of warmth around him. A fact that he looked forwards to rather eagerly, as it was starting to tire him.

 

[E.T.]

It had been with wide curious eyes that Caoimhe had watched the old man interact with his small aenigma. Even Galra took a moment to peak her translucent head out from where she was curled in her lopos's pack before she retracted her head. In her mind she was already working out that this was the man, the Glyph fellow, that there were supposed to be seeking out. The man apparently had their descriptions, and there were very few people that would have approached the wildling with the feral look in her eye and phantom snarl upon her lip.

However when he voice his predictions it was with a jolt she received them. For a long moment she looked into his eyes, trying to decide whether he spoke the truth or whether his words rang with a more subtle lie. She searched for a crack in his words, for even the grimmest truths what she still found more concerning is the hint of a lie. Wolves didn't lie, they might bluff, might whine, might fight, but they didn't lie. And so she was almost comforted with the fact that she found no falsehood in Glyph's words. However there was still the meaning of his words that she had to consider. But how could this man, a stranger until only a few moments ago, possibly know what her future held and that it would be at her own child's hands that she would finally die. Once again her instincts rescued her from any more worrying, time was always suck a tricky thing with wolves. What might happen twenty minutes or twenty years from now was all the same from the way wolves say it there was no point in dwelling on it.

She was distracted when Glyph pulled out a large object made of wood with string running from the top to the base. Intrigued she watched as the old man made the object sing, plucking at the strings to create a song. The song itself was very new to her, she had only ever sung to the birds and amongst the wolves, but this, this was different. And after a while of listening Caoimhe lowered her head so that it was resting upon her arms, clasped over the table. Her eyes watched the instrument, gaze lax and unfocused, her ears doing most of the work. When the song stopped she stretched lazily, yawning widely before closing her mouth wih a snap and letting out a sigh of air. With sleep pulling at her eyes and a full stomach making her movements sluggish she gave Glyph a slight smile before gathering her stuff and retiring for the night.

Everyone rose before dawn, and Caoimhe was almost reluctant to leave the warm she had constructed for herself on one of the far corners of the bed. But the full nights sleep without chill or damp to weight her bones with lead she woke feeling almost frisky and it was with soft bounding steps that she fled down the stairs to join her companions. Their new companion Grandfather Glyph had secured them mounts, something that she was very cautionary about. Horses tended not to like her all that much sure she could speak horse well enough, it was not unlike elk and deer, but it was her wolflike habits that always seemed to unsettle the beast. However there were always exceptions. Among the horses was a pony, no taller than fourteen hands, with an off-white coat covered in small black spots, and a mane and tail thick enough to look rather ridiculous. Specially since the pony, who was called Nibs, could hardly see through the thick vail of hair that fell newly to his nose. The first thing that Nibs tried to do upon being awoken was to bite out at Caoimhe. However he quickly got the message as the willing drove him to the far side of his stall with a glare and apologized. Nibs was a quiet horse but none to bright, and she found that she liked him quite a bit.

For much of the morning Caoimhe hardly even touched the saddle. She only took the time to secure her bag to Nibs' back before she was off exploring around. The marsh held a variety of plant life and she took full advantage of it, while still a bit early there were some blackberries and chokeberries on the vine, and while most of these bitter and tangy there were certainly edible and it was not long before she had a black stain around her mouth. The best find was when she stumbled across a small group of marsh lilies. Pulling some of the plants up she soon had several large bulbs. They tasted much like a watery sweet onion but they were filling and Caoimhe found that she was full enough that she could afford to save three of the bulbs. During her foraging she made sure never to stray to far from the group, often times running ahead so as to keep from being left behind. She was thankful that Nibs was to much of a herd animal to wander from the main group, even without a rider on his back. For a long while she just walked next to the pony, it only took her a few moments for her to strip the stems from the bulbs and store them in her bag, the extra bits ending up being fed to Nibs.

When the sun finally rose high enough to pierce the gloom it found Caoimhe astride her little pony, legs hanging loosely around his round barrels, hands loosely holding the very end of the reins. Her gaze wandered all around them, not really alert just bored and searching for something to look at. When she heard Grandfather Glyph speak she turned her gaze on him and Medwick, giving her legs a slight squeeze so as to encourage Nibs in their directions, wanting to here what he had to say. The first bit interested her, and perhaps put her on edge a little bit, but the second half sounded to much like business and politics for her to be to interested.

"Grandfather Glyph when do we get there, to the Black City?" she said tilting her head to the side in question.

 

[Asmodeus]

5 hours ago...

​

"Show him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! He's not going to bite. You're not going to bite, are you, Medwick?"

"It's nothing, really."

"Go on! Show him!"

"He looks upset. He's judging me!"

"No he isn't. You're not judging her, are you, Medwick?"

Medwick sat at common room table, a chunk of bread in one hand, a bowl of honey in the other, and glared at the two Felleons before him. He was judging them, silently, and wondering if he could tear their throats out with his teeth. It was very upsetting. Shardis and that other girl had come down from their room at daybreak and had spent the next, long, painful minutes agonizing over some unknown decision.

"What?!" he snapped, and from this came a yelp from the younger Felleon, Resmic, who darted forward and placed something on the table. Medwick moved his honey bowl to look at it. It was a copper coin, crudely minted and the size of a human palm. No markings but two lines bisected by a third, which had serif curves to speak of intention. He eyed Resmic and went back to his bread.

"It's a Black Drop. The Scribe Guild makes them. Transmutation, I think."

The girl's panda had crawled onto the table and was giving him the stink-eye. Medwick pondered upending the honey bowl on its head. But such gestures were futile with ethereal spirit companions. Were such things possible he would have throttled Carval long ago. Instead he simply moved his beer tankard in front of the creature and scowled again at Resmic. "You want to buy our services? Is that it?"

"NO!" Shardis sighed suddenly. She had been hovering over the younger Felleon's shoulder and her outburst startled Resmic, who laughed nervously.

"No, no, it's just... they gave this to me, when I visited them last winter."

"Their patience must be legendary. I shall commend them."

"THAT WASN'T HER POINT!!" Shardis gripped the table and shook it, slopping beer over the bread.

Again, Resmic laughed. "What I mean is... they said... well... I did them a good deed, see? They needed some Cox Willow from the Dendrax Mar-- well, that's not important... but... anyway, they said I had done them a favour and they would return it. So... yeah." She nodded to the copper coin, which was now being lifted up by her panda aenigma. "The coin grants the freedom of the Guild Library for one day."

Medwick stopped chewing abruptly and snatched the coin from the panda, a moment before it turned incorporeal again. He held it up in the light while Shardis puffed her chest out.

"See? Now we can find out about the White Wizard. Those scribes must have something on him."

There was a drilling peck at the window. Medwick glanced to see Carval perched there. Behind him, in the mud field, the silhouettes of the Bard and Caoimhe were against the stables, while Tegol and Arcantos saddled horses and Aerie tested her wings. It was time to go.

Medwick tucked the coin in his robe and pushed the last of the bread into his mouth. "A'ight. She 'an 'ome a'ong."

* * * * *​

Medwick had not felt this good in months. Though the night at the Jackobane Tavern had been a rough one, stained with too much ale and the catharsis of his grief, what followed was a piece of heaven. A horse to carry him, breakfast in his belly, and a mouthful of leaves that were... strangely... making him forget a lot of his troubles. His knee was not aching. His arm had dulled. In fact, he could not feel his limbs at all.

Their motion was dream-like through the moors. With the cold winds of Pegulis receding the southern stretches were temperate and rain showers scarcer. Heather dotted the landscape in yellow and purple, and woodlands hugged the eastward slopes. Now the ground was firm and the water hemmed by rivers and ponds. The new Felleon, Resmic, seemed elated to be with them, and bounded to catch deer and rabbits for their meals. With Shardis she travelled on all-fours beside the horses while Arcantos strode or jogged. And overhead the Avian, Aerie, kept watch for danger what would never come.

Yet whatever lethargy Medwick felt, it was nothing to that of his horse, Tanglehoof. At times the animal took the path at zig-zags, idling between hedgerows where it grazed and field where it crapped. Sometimes Arcantos would slap it or the Felleons startle it into motion with yowls and arm-waving. But for the most part Tanglehoof was oblivious; and Medwick was happy to let her be so. Because, for the first time in weeks, he knew they would not die if they stopped.

When Glyph spoke again it was with a stream of information. His appetizer of leaves was chased by an entree of warning and a sweet of commerce. Medwick's half-doped brain struggled to digest it all. A new player - Dokar - was one to be wary of. And the days ahead would be covert ones, remaining low profile in the midst of a desert caravan. He did not fancy their chances.

And when the bard spoke of payment Medwick looked over at him. It was strange, at last, to not be the oldest of the fellowship. It made him waver, as if a part of him would gladly defer to this mentor figure if given the chance.

"Well, Master Glyph: if you wanted instant gratification you should have gone with the Kausteirans. Everything the White Nation does, including business, is a matter of short-term sacrifice and long-term gain. We are men of ice, after all." He eased his arm from its sling and let it rest on his lap. The fingers flexed. Sensation and strength was returning. "Yet if you seek something substantial, look no further than the seven of us." He waved the hand at his companions as they travelled. "We are not an army. We can barely even work together. Every day has been a struggle to stay alive, and we are deep in the lands of our enemies. Why would we betray the one friend we have? It defies reason. And reason is our bread and honey."

He smiled at Glyph, a little too much, and blinked glazed eyes.