Cursed Earth | IC Thread

[ze_kraken]

Background Music

THE HOLLOWS ONCE MORE

---

"Damn fog,"

Nathyen hissed under his breath as the companions made their way down the cliffside and back towards Maud's encampment.

Ascending the path had been one matter - exhausting and treacherous, despite the ease with which Egret had seemed to manage it. But heading down, in a fog so dense Nathyen could barely see past his own arms, was another entirely. Even their guide struggled to keep her footing and sense of direction, the moisture clinging to the rocks sending even her slipping and sliding on occasion.

Unlike the days before, on this morning the fog did not part even as the sun began to climb over the Crags and shine its light on the valley below. Nathyen found himself missing the usual chill as humidity began to make the air heavy and sticky, clinging to Nathyen as the air in the depths of Gol Badhir had. Not quite warm as humidity often was, but a persistent, grasping cold that sunk deep into his bones yet left no trace of its chill about his person. Only Scarnesbane, tucked safely in his pack with his bedroll around it, offered any comfort. A dull, pleasant warmth ebbed and flowed from the ruby in its head, making Nathyen yearn for the comfort of a warm bed in the Cat and Rooster down below in the Hollows.

Gods know I've the coin for it now, he thought with a wry smile, thankful for the new weight of the gold and jewels that filled his pack as well as the hammer.

"How far was it, you said, Egret?" He called ahead. "Beginning to have my doubts."

"Not too long," came her curt reply, an unusual edge to her voice that hushed any further questions.

Further down the path they went, and still the fog persisted well into midday. The sun hung overhead, its light bouncing through and about the heavy mist, worsening the humidity and making it even more difficult to see clearly. Nathyen kept still his tongue, fearful that voicing his concerns aloud would do little more than dampen the group's spirits. It was the same fog that had hounded him along his trip to the Hollows, and heralded their coming, but the villagers seemed adamant that fog was common throughout the year.

Aye, he reflected. But this dense a fog?

A little after the sun began to decline from its peak at noon, the companions arrived once again at the watchtower. Egret, along with a handful of her fellows, escorted the group inside. Inside was warmth and the pleasant smells of lunch, which looked to be stew still from the beast Egret had downed days before. Maud sat about his fellows, and immediately stood at the arrival of the companions, setting aside his bowl and spoon.

"So the mighty heroes return unscathed - and that looks to be Volcite steel I spy," he boomed cheerfully, approaching the group, flanked by a handful of his followers. "Might it be, too, that I spy a hammer in your pack there, lad?"

"So it be," Nathyen agreed. "But I'm not parting with it. I rode halfway across the continent on a rumor for this, almost lost a leg to a damn stone troll, and might be I'll tussle with one 'o them too before I leave this valley. Hammer's non-negotiable."

"Might not be up to you, lad," Maud said, chipperness fading as rapidly as it had come. "If that hammer's what I think it is, I've been searching for it far longer than you. It belongs in the Shroud, not with some thief and his crew."

"Thief, is it? Aye, and tell me, if you were the one to take it, what would that make you? Suppose when it's a knight it's heroism, but when it's some commoner it's theft, is it? You want this hammer, come pry it from my-" Nathyen was cut off by a gentle hand on his shoulder. Blanc.

"Come now, think with your head," Maud retorted. "You give me the hammer, some of that Volcite steel of yours, you make off with the gold. What use is a hammer in your hands anyways? You look scrawnier than the girl there."

The orc gestured to Aria and chuckled.

"And besides, might be you're willing to die for your hammer, but are your fellows of the same devotion?"

"So that's it, then?" Aria started, her eyes darkening slightly, narrowing in on the orc as he looked her way, "We do the work and you sit back here in your safe little nest, protected and warm, then take the spoils when we've the good and foolish nature to return?"

Frown deep across her delicately featured face, her fingers gingerly curled at the cusp of her hilt, "I knew you were a scoundrel from the moment we first encountered you, but I didn't take you for a coward, too. We were just what you were waiting for, weren't we? A bunch of idiots, willing to risk our lives for a treasure you were too damn scared to go after yourself. It was never just about the Volcite... About taking down the demons or revenge for those you lost. It was a payday, and we delivered it right to your feet. I can't say I'm disappointed, as I haven't known you long enough to be surprised, but I had rather hoped after the conversation we had before leaving you might at least be something better than a rotten thief, who can't even do his own heavy lifting."

Her other hand clasping the small leather bag at her hip, she untied it and chucked it at the orc's feet, coins spilling across the floor with a clatter, "Keep the damn gold. Never wanted it, anyhow. And may the blood it bought weigh on you every minute of every day until you cease to exist on this plane." Other hand curling tighter, she pulled her blade free, the metal singing in the small, crowded room as it rested at her side. Shifting, she moved slightly to the side, blocking Maud's path to Nathyen, "But it'll be over my cold, dead body before you so much as touch that hammer. I promised that man right there that I would protect him with my life, to ensure he found what he was looking for and brought it safely home." She hissed, gesturing back to the locksmith, "I am a soldier of High Crest, the most esteemed regiment in Korin, lowborn daughter of an Armbearer and unlike most in these parts, I keep my word. I may look scrawny, but if you think for one second we're going to walk away without it, you're a coward and a madman, and unless you back off, not one long for this world."

Fuck the damp, fuck the fog and fuck fucking brigands. Oryn's sword hand itched. It twitched as it hung next to his blade. He had been annoyed since the moment he woke up and packed his tent. He didn't mind rain. In fact, he enjoyed a good down-pour. But what the fuck was the point of damp? And then a damp fog as dense as the one they'd had to endure all day. It did nothing but make him uncomfortable. And now they were faced with this. Maud and his… cunts.

He was standing at the back of the group. Counting those of Maud's followers on their flanks, he shifted his weight onto his right foot as he heard steel being drawn. The hairs on his neck stood. Not out of fear, but out of anger. Something ran down the length of his spine. He was hungry, annoyed and thirsty. That, and the fact that he was mostly in agreement with Nathyen and Aria. They had come for the hammer, they'd leave with the hammer. Maud could have some of the volcite steel. Aria was right in what she said. They had been sitting here in safety with a fire going, warm food and ale - dry - and waited for them to return. Further back, emerging from a doorway came the redhead Oryn had talked to before they left. Delia. She stopped in her tracks as she saw the scene before her. It was easy to sense the tension in the room.

Someone moved to his right. Two someones, in fact. Oryn fixed his blue eyes on a skinny man with stubble and short hair. He reached for a short sword, slow so as not to make any noise. Oryn clenched his jaw, raised an eyebrow and slowly moved his head from side to side. A warning. Fighting stone trolls was one thing, but most of these brigands he was confident he could beat with relative ease. And he wasn't the only trained fighter among them. It could get messy.

"I'd put that toy away before you hurt yourself, lad," Maud chided to Oryn. "I've no doubt the lot of you are all trained killers, save the lass in blue and this twig with the hammer here. And you…"

The orc's attention shifted to Aria, his sharp teeth flashing behind lips curled up in a grin born of equal parts confidence and smugness.

"I like your fire, girl, but I'm afraid I have no use for fire - that hammer, that hammer is what matters."

About the orc the other brigands began to shift into a more ready position, clutching at weapons with uneasy hands. Their reluctance was palpable, and Egret had vanished from the scene entirely upon a second look. Blanc and Vardis shifted to guard the flanks of the companions, Vardis beginning to bounce and tip-toe atop cushions of air that kept his feet light. Blanc's red eye glimmered, her muscles beginning to swell with the energies stored in the jewels along her belt.

"You've no clue what you might have stumbled upon, and I won't risk the honor of my Order just so I can let some backpedaling thief find a fence or some other unsuspecting dolt to sell it off to," he continued, taking a step forward as he drew his blade.

The companions responded in kind, steel flashing in the torchlight of the watchtower. Maud's followers adopted a combative stance with their weapons and began to amble towards the group, surrounding them. Instinctively the companions formed a circle, back to back, weapons outstretched and ready to drive back the brigands when footsteps came booming down the steps to the watchtower's roof. Before either party could make sense of what was happening, a winded member of Maud's band staggered out to the main floor, hunched over and wheezing. He looked, perplexed, at the brawl-in-progress he had stumbled upon and coughed once before speaking.

"Fog's cleared," he spat out. "Down… in the valley - I saw them! Demons, dozens of them… and they had it with them… the dragon… the demon one, anyways..."

"You," Maud growled, addressing the companions. "Seems fate has deemed it appropriate you shall live another day at least. You're coming with us to the Hollows - though I believe there is still blood left to spill between us. Men, to me!"

"No." The sound resonated. Not loudly, but with a force that she wasn't generally accustomed to speaking with, as Aria's eyes remained fixed on the orc. His words held a sort of presumptuous authority that naturally came with his station, but if she was at all swayed by it, she wasn't allowing it to reflect in her expression, "No. We aren't going anywhere with you. Not without a deal struck, first. You used us and now you're trying to steal from us… And you expect our aid in the same breath you threaten our lives? No. I don't think so. We'll go to the Hollows and we'll fight the hoard. But when it is over, and you will give your word on this, our business is concluded. You have your Volcite. You want treasure? There's more of it in the tombs that you're welcome to fetch whenever your balls finally drop… But our own lot… What we leave this tower with? It is ours to keep. The hammer. The weapons we choose. And the spoils we collected. Your men are scared, Maud. I see it in them. The way their knees quake. The way their fingers slip along their hilts, slick with sweat. You may be accustomed to great battles, but these? These are farmers and millers and bakers… You may think they are willing to die for you, but the moment blood spills, they will fold faster than a house of cards in a gail… They aren't ready to fight us, and they won't last ten minutes without us against those creatures down there. So either you agree to these terms, no games, no tricks… or you walk out of here and lead your men to their slaughter. Your choice, better make it quick."

Niowyn sighed and stepped toward Aria, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and looked at Maud with silent rage in her eyes. "Apologies, Orc, but I'm afraid the girl is right. We aren't going anywhere with you. It would be easier for us to watch you die as you stupidly flail about fighting the demons, clean up afterward, and be on our way, than to do all of the heavy lifting and deal with you afterward."

The mage removed her hand from Aria's shoulder and placed it on her hip. She lightly scratched her forehead with her free hand and then smirked. "But what do I know? I'm just a lass not trained to kill. I wonder if your civilians think the same and would be willing to wager their life for the words of an orc though? It's as Aria said, you either agree to our terms and we leave with our stuff and everyone gets to live, or we watch you die and take our shit anyway."

"You kill me, rout this lot, and then what? Fight your way through a valley full of them?" Maud retorted, halting indignantly as his followers shifted their attention to rallying outside. "Like it or not, we're bound at the hip now - if I die, that's one less soul fighting down in the Hollows with you. It's as you say - I know this lot won't think twice of trying to fight those that bring me down unless it's to save their own skins. If we survive the coming days, you'll have an easier time disposing of me if you think you're hardy enough to do it. If we don't, then it won't matter whose bones cling to the hammer and it may as well have stayed with Ormund's."

"Contrary to what you may think, I've no desire to kill you, Maud, and even less to harm your men. But you grossly overestimate your own importance if you think we've need of you. I find very little value fighting alongside one whose only interests are his own safety. We'll go… but for the people in the Hollows, not for you. And not until you've given your word, as discussed. Otherwise, I wish you well against that scourge on your own."

Maud's eyes narrowed into slits, and he took a step towards Aria only to be stopped as Blanc stepped out to shoulder ahead of the girl just to her right, axe drawn. The once-knight thought better of it and stopped, sheathing his blade.

"Be fortunate you found that which you promised in plenty," he snarled. "Otherwise, I would take great pleasure in seeing just how many of you I could lay bare before fate smiled upon one of you. I will see you in the Hollows, but after our mutual foe is disposed of, do not let me find you again or else I may yet try my odds with you."

With that, Maud shouldered past Aria, Blanc looming over him despite her comparatively shorter stature. Once outside, his harsh orders could be heard and his followers stood-to, beginning to march down the pass they had taken just days before. Of Maud's men, only Egret remained, standing still as a statue by the stairs to the roof. Her arms were crossed tight across her chest, eyes inspecting the companions with an equal mixture of curiosity and surprise.

"I've wanted to leave his service for a long while," she said cooly by way of explanation as the companions took a moment to relax and put away their weapons. "I owe you lot nothing, nor do I think any of you owe the Hollows more than the coin it takes to put a roof over your head and a fire by your side, but the Hollows is the last bit of home I have left. I make my stand there, but I'll take you out the valley if you wish to leave this place."

Watching the door long after Maud left, Aria only turned when Egret finished speaking, a small frown on her lips still as she shook her head, "...I meant what I said. Those people down there… I won't leave them to die. But I can only speak for myself." Her eyes shifted to Niowyn and Oryn, to Vardis, then lastly to Blanc and Nathyen, gently pleading, "If I go alone, so be it… but I would hope, my friends, that you would fight by my side, at least once more?"

He laughed. It was honest and a little loud. Blue eyes looked to the ceiling above and then back down, fixing on Aria before them all. There was something so impossibly endearing about her that all Oryn was able to do was laugh. He laughed also because he might not usually have gone down to help the people of the Hollows, but he knew now after her little speech that there was no other way. He stepped forward, stopped in front of Aria and tilted his head down to look at her. He lifted his sword and gently knocked the blade against her hip, nodding. "You're too good. It'll get you killed some day." There was a small pause and then he took two steps past her, turned so he was facing the rest of the companions. "Of course we'll fight with you." Oryn usually only spoke for himself, but he figured that if he had been convinced by her speech, so had the rest of them.

"Don't sound so morose," Nathyen huffed, trying - and failing - to put to rest the tense air that hung about the group, hands shaking a bit in leftover nerves. "You sound as though we're pledging our lives atop the Wall of the Pass to stop the Demon King himself - aye, suppose there's no way around it, and the Hollows is as good a place as any to try and fight."

Niowyn smiled at Aria. Her speech was impressive and Oryn was not wrong to assume the rest of the lot would surely help her. Niowyn admired the young soldier - although her experience in the Hollows was little and she was nervous and scared, she was brave and courageous. One day she would make an excellent leader and Niowyn admired anyone with that sort of fortitude and kindness of heart. "Aye, it is as the old block says, of course we will help you."

The smile turned into a sly grin as Niowyn bumped her shoulder against Aria's and leaned in to ensure her hushed voice was heard. "It might be best to get your slug in on that overconfident Orc early on, should he happen to succumb to fatal injuries later…"

Before leaving, satisfied that she would not be leaving alone, Aria hesitated nevertheless at the doorway, and when everyone had passed but the locksmith, she reached out a hand, catching the man by the forearm. Her voice kept low, she looked up with a deeply concerned expression, "Down there… in the valley. Stick close to my side? I do not think for one moment Maud will be content to leave things be, and there will be enough distractions that we may miss a stray arrow or blade. I don't trust him, and I'm not eager to see that weapon in his hands… but more than that, I've no mind to see you fall." Releasing his arm, she glanced over her shoulder to the others, "Your boots wouldn't fit me, after all."

"I'm no good in a proper scrap, but aye, suppose if it's fighting, then better be with the one who risked a troll for me, 'eh?" Nathyen said with a wry grin, face sombering as he nodded in agreement. "You can count on me, Aria."

The name felt strange upon his lips, having called her anything but her name for so long now, but it felt weightier than "lass" he supposed.

"Come on, then, plenty of time to talk of fate and share feelings on the eve of battle," he said, the brief moment of sobriety giving way to the locksmith's usual irreverence and brevity once more. "I don't want those thoughts clouding my head like the executioner's axe while we march."

---

Egret guided the companions back down to the Hollows, taking a forest trail she explained had been tread by generations of the human inhabitants in the valleys coming to seek fortune and gold in Ormund's holdings. Hunters still frequented it, at least they had, for she explained that in recent months the others had made even brief journeys outside the safety of the towns in the Crags exceptionally dangerous save for the well-armed and bold.

Much as Nathyen had been want to deny it, the axe loomed over his head despite his insistence to the contrary. The weight of Scarnesbane in his pack was a constant reminder of not only the dangers they faced in the Hollows below from the otherworldly, but of the very material and very present danger Maud presented as well. Doubtless the orc would love to plant his head atop a spike in his watchtower, or else parade his body back in the Shroud with his hammer in toe, boasting about slaying the wielder of the hammer. The thought brought a smile born of grim humor to the locksmith's face - for even in death, he would be the one to pull one up over the knight. Maud would carry the burden of the truth that Nathyen was no great warrior, a fact he was sure would give his wandering ghost great joy in the meandering afterlife.

He and Aria drilled with sticks in the evening, and while the hills were still steep enough they all partook in Blanc's stone-tossing game. The orc, as she had a habit of doing, bested them all until they found other ways to occupy and distract themselves along the road. Niowyn poured over her tomes day and night, and Oryn remained his lumpish self as Niowyn had put it one evening around the fire.

On the dawn of the third day since their departure from the watchtower, the fog was heavier than it had been even the day of their fateful encounter with Maud. Egret had assured them that the Hollows were barely half a day's march away and that they would arrive by noon - and to the surprise of none, she had been correct. Through the fog, the hazy outline of the Hollows' walls were visible by the time the sun shone high above their heads. They had come across corpses strewn along the road, their bodies mangled and mutilated, the scent of burned flesh hanging heavy the closer they came. Through either fortune or blind arrogance, the companions had steered clear of any encounters with others along their route, and Nathyen worried why it had been the case.

He was torn from his wondering as arrows whistled toward their party, landing harmlessly a few paces before and behind them.

"Oie, you fucking dolts!" Nathyen bellowed. "Do I look like I've come to stick a red-hot sword in your guts?"

"Shit!" Came the call of a watchmen atop the wall. "Archers halt, lower your bows! They're the living! Get that gate open - and you lot, hurry inside quick!"

The companions were ushered through the wooden gates by the watchers atop the wall quickly, the doors of oak and iron shutting loudly behind them. Nathyen flagged the one who had given the order and gestured to the land beyond the wall with an open palm.

"What's happened? We saw corpses along the road," the locksmith inquired as the companions shuffled about the main road.

"We've been fending off demons for a few days," the watchman explained. "First came a handful of 'em, scaled the walls, butchered a few in their sleep before the alarm was raised. They burned the grain stores and retreated before we could kill but two or three. Been subsisting off 'o what's been in the inn and what the hunters can scavenge in the night, it's them you probably saw 'long the road. You that lot that went to the dwarven hold?"

"Aye, we are," Nathyen replied dryly.

"Ah, all's well that Faegon's dead, would have owed him a handsome sum of coin," the watchmen quipped. "You lot look exhausted, Cat and Rooster's serving food to all those that'll fight, and you lot came back. Might make 'ya fools, but I see you're armed to fight."

"Against our better judgment," Nathyen confirmed. "Say, has Maud arrived with his merry band of men yet?"

"Ah? Maud you say? Why would we let that cowardly brigand in?"

"Might be he'll pretend to play the hero - if you happen to see him, we weren't here, you hear?" Nathyen said, tossing the man a gold coin. "There's a good man."

The companions ventured down the main road, striding past hollowed and shaken villagers. They hung in small groups, and watchmen wandered about with spears in hand. Their mail glittered with damp droplets in the mist, but their stature belied the romantic notion of shining mail. They looked as haunted as the villagers, wary of crossing corners and alleys.

Further along the road they passed what had been the grain store atop a hill overlooking the main town square, splintered and burnt to cinders. Ashen-black logging and bits of burnt grain remained, and in the gentle breeze blowing floated handfuls of black scraps of incinerated oak and barley. There was little refuge in the Cat and Rooster, either. What had been once a quiet, if warm, inn had descended into a lifeless shell. The innkeep greeted them dryly, eyes fixated on the glass he was polishing to an excessive gleam as if to distract himself from the horrors outside.

Nathyen and his companions took their food - meager rations of potatoes, bread, and a watered down quart of ale - and sat by the fire they had gathered around little under a fortnight ago. How quickly things had changed, Nathyen reflected as he quaffed down his drink, washing down the hard, salted bread and half-raw potatoes.

"I'd ask if this is what every eve of battle is like, but not one of us here are soldiers," Nathyen mused, scratching through his beard, casting a fateful glance Aria's way. "Empty. Nervous."

No one responded, and he supposed that was as it should be. No doubt all were shouldering their own burdens and reflections. Nathyen reached around for his pack and fetched Scarnesbane, shifting to his feet and presenting it to Oryn.

"You were there when we found the keystone," he said, shuffling his feet. "And, I suppose even at my most insincere, there's something to that. I'm no fighter - gods known and forgotten alike I can barely even swing this thing, and if Maud does make himself known it's me he'll be after. If you have the hammer, then, well - I don't know what Oathsworn means, but it sounds too important to gamble away on a wretch like me."

Nathyen sat back down, casting a glance over his shoulder to where a handful of men sat about with instruments cast aside on the ground. He rose almost as swiftly as he had seated himself, urging the gathered musicians into a group about him.

"Give me that," he said, gesturing to one's lute. "I will not spend what is likely my last night in this fucking dreary world in an empty husk of a tavern. Follow my lead, will you lads? There you go, up, up, grab those and use them like you trained on them."

The locksmith cleared his throat and joined around the band about him in the center of the inn, addressing the room in a loud, clear voice unlike his normal gruff, impatient tone the companions had grown accustomed to.

"Aye, it be a rough state of affairs we're in - but I see no reason to wallow in it. Here is a tune from one young lad's time in New Maidenholm, for the young lass in the mail over there," he said, nodding to Aria rigidly before beginning to strum his lute and sing a quickly-paced, raucous tune.

"Oh who wouldn't be a soldier lad marchin' 'long the bay,
To gain the good will of his lord's good name?
He took upon a inn one evening to be
And that was the beginning of my own true love and me.

And it's home boys, home -
Home I'd like to be home for a while,
In me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin' green 'long the wide sailin' bay.

Well I asked for a candle to light me up to bed
And likewise for a handkerchief 'round me head
She tended to me needs like a young lady ought to to,
So I says to her "Now won't you leap in with me too?"

Well she jumped into bed makin' no alarm,
Thinking that a young soldier lad would do her no harm
So I loved her and I kissed her the whole night long
'Til she wished the short night had been seven years long!

And it's home boys, home -
Home I'd like to be home for a while,
In me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin' green 'long the wide sailin' bay.

Well next mornin' the soldier lad arose,
And into Mary's apron threw a handful 'o gold
Saying "Take this 'o my dear for the michief that I've done,
For tonight I fear I've left you with a daughter or a son."

"Well if it be a girl child send her off to nurse,
With gold in her pocket and her purse
And if it be a boy child he'll wear the mail true
And march about the city like his father used to do!"

Oh come on 'yer fair maidens, a warning take by me
Never let a soldier lad an inch above 'yer knee,
For I trusted one and he beguiled me
And now I dangle a pair 'o twins about me knee!

And it's home boys, home -
Home I'd like to be home for a while,
In me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin' green 'long the wide sailin' bay."

GM NOTES:

Mentioned IC: @Pupperr @Elle Joyner @Steel @Jamaicanbobslayer @Morgan
Other:

THE EVE OF BATTLE

Demons scour the hills and forest, butchering all they come across. Scouts have clashed already with the guards of the Hollows and burned their food supply. Either the demons mean to starve them out, or dishearten them such that the ensuing slaughter is quick... Deep down, you know what they're after. The hammer...

INTERACTIVE ELEMENTS

Interactive elements in this section will be largely communicated on Discord and OOC - if you have a destination in mind, let me know and we will work out the trip there and what obstacles there are. You may feel free to push the story forward as you see fit, and if you have questions as to where challenges are or if something is permissible please let me know!

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arianell Oresh
COLLAB WITH | @ze_kraken, ADDITIONAL DIALOGUE | @Pupperr ​

---

Along the Road || The

The valley below was rife with violence… a feel of it permeating the air as they closed in on their destination. Aria was no stranger now to the rambling sense of fear, clawing in her chest, but this threat felt new… deeper. This would be her first encounter with the creatures that had bereft her of her loving brothers, and she had not imagined that such an encounter would be quite so frightening. It was not for her own life, however, that Aria feared so greatly.

For the first time since leaving home, she had something greater to lose than her own life, and anxiety clung to her like drenched clothing, unrelentingly discomforting. Most of her companions seemed prepared… eager, even, to face the foe waiting for them in the Hollows, but Nathyen's words before leaving Maud's tower lingered in her mind, unyielding and stagnant.

By the time they'd set camp for their first night, Aria knew precisely what it was she needed to do, to settle the uncomfortable weight that burdened her. Nathyen had professed, rightfully so, that he was no good in a scrap, and with only a day or so before they reached the Hollows, she knew there was little she could do to fix that…

But there was no excuse for doing nothing at all…

And so shortly before dusk, Aria abandoned her armor, and after searching the nearby wood for a pair of sticks, sought out the locksmith.

Tossing a stick at his feet, she gave the man a firm nod, "Come on, Princess. It's not much, but we've a few hours yet… Time for you to learn how to handle that blade of yours."

Nathyen hunched down and wrapped a cautious hand around the stick, examining it with an inquisitive stare. That stare lingered up from the stick to the one who had tossed it, and understanding dawned across his face. Aria saw his mouth droop for a moment, felt the witty or snide remark about to leave his mouth, but instead he nodded and rose to his feet, stick clutched in his right hand.

"I think fighting with sticks makes me a squire, truth be told," he said. "But aye, suppose better to be a squire than a damsel in distress when the proper fighting starts."

"Squires get wooden swords. Children get sticks." Aria quipped, the corner of her mouth tipping upwards into a small smirk, before she waved him along to a clearing, "Once I've seen what you can do, we'll see about something a bit more challenging."

One foot sliding back, Aria balanced her weight to her front leg and extended the stick in front of her, "Now, then. Disarm me…"

"Oh, my charm and handsome looks haven't done that already, lass?" Nathyen asked.

Aria's stick whistled through the air, slapping Nathyen's wrist. He winced and stepped back, shaking as if to stop the angry red welt forming across his arm. Adopting a readier stance, Nathyen nodded as if to reassure himself into a more serious posture and lunged at Aria. His stick-sword was deflected by a quick parry, sending the swing wild to the right with Aria following up with a poke to his ribs.

"I don't imagine demons will be swayed by charm or good looks, Nathyen. And I'm certain Maud won't. Straighten up, shoulders back. You favor your right, then you should lead with that.. Strong foot, planted, knee at a slight bend. You won't have time for much in regards to fancy footwork or tricks, not when you're facing something that won't care much for a fair fight, so you'll need strength and speed to carry you through. Eyes aware. Watch my movements… Your best chances of disarming will come when I've not yet fully extended my arm. If you can, keep yourself within my field of movement. The closer you are, the more difficult it is for me to get off a powerful strike. Your greatest benefit is your size and the fact that you're accustomed to working small, tight spaces. Use that. Are you ready to go again?"

"Must admit - no," Nathyen said. "But I think you'll smack me again if I actually meant it. Let's do this again."

They adopted their ready positions again, staying just to the point where their sword tips could meet. Nathyen planted his right foot ahead of him, trying to stay limber. He took a measured step towards Aria, keeping his sword in a guarded position as he approached. She made a feint strike to his left side, causing him to retreat just as quickly as he had moved up. Seconds stretched to feel like hours as they paced about one another.

Nathyen stepped forward and sidestepped right to dodge Aria's reactionary swing, bringing his sword about to her exposed left side. As her sword arm came back from the momentum of her swing, Nathyen's stick struck hers, his arm folding under the unexpected weight of the blow. The locksmith stepped left, using the momentum of Aria's swing as best he could. The pair adjusted their positioning, now just beyond arm's reach of one another and staring each other down.

Stretching his arm back, Nathyen went for a quick stab to Aria's wrist but she easily parried the blow after such a long wind-up, her sword once again prodding him as Nathyen's momentum carried him forward recklessly.

"Better…" Aria noted, as she let her arm fall lax, "You're still a dead man, but surprisingly better. Your movements… they aren't fluid. I know where you're going before you've even shifted, and if I can tell that with my experience, someone far more experienced will see it even quicker." Looking at him, she tapped her chin a moment, with her free hand, "...Are you a dancer, Nathyen? I mean… have you? Before?"

"Once, with that girl back in the Shroud, aye - what of it?" He questioned, cocking his head.

"When you're fighting… your movements should be something of a dance, themselves. Fluid… controlled. One should flow into the next with ease and grace. Mirror your opponent… and look for an opening where a strike can go without expectation. I've been told it helps, anyway. Ready…?" And this time, she did not wait for his response, but instead, swung wide for his right shoulder.

Nathyen dodged to the left, Aria's stick whistling right by where he had stood just a moment ago. Still mentally stunned, Nathyen reflexively swung right at Aria's stick came back around for another blow and the two makeshift weapons made contact with a loud thwack. Nathyen, seemingly bewildered that he had managed to block the blow, retreated and adopted the stance Aria had pointed out earlier with his right foot ahead of him.

"Never seen a dancer swing without a warning," Nathyen huffed, circling around with Aria.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I've never danced…" Aria quipped again.

Without warning, Nathyen shifted his weight to his left foot and sprung forward, aiming a blow at Aria's left side. Again she parried, but Nathyen shifted the sword with the aid of the momentum generated by the parry to swing about to her right side. Her stick whistled through the air and the pair stood, mock blades placed squarely on each other's collarbones.

"...Better. Much better." Lowering her stick, Aria nodded, impressed, "Keep your shoulders back, and tighten your grip on your weapon. A little more force behind it, and you might've had me, there."

"Aye, might have - still no good against a seven foot tall brimstone nightmare," Nathyen said, planting the tip of his stick into the ground beside him. "Where you come from, in the South, do all the ladies learn to fight like you? Even as far away as the Shroud it's a rarity for women to fight, and they still live in dangerous parts like these."

"Are you saying I'm not as intimidating as a seven foot tall brimstone nightmare? I'm wounded…" Her smile was quick and light, but faded slightly as he continued. Shaking her head, Aria pressed the tip of the stick briefly into the dirt, "No. I… It's actually rather frowned upon for a woman to fight, where I'm from. There's a certain honor in it, I suppose, that is reserved for men. Nevermind a woman can die by sword all the same..." Giving a shrug, she straightened again, "But my father was a soldier and all of my brothers learned from him. And I was young and eager, so I would watch him and practice on my own. What I picked up was a pittance, compared to what my mentor taught me, after I left home…"

"So you went up north to this charming land with no semblance of skill, and yet you made it as far from the Wall as the Hollows? Color me impressed, lass." Nathyen said, a note of earnestness dotting his tone. "Not many can claim as much."

"Stubborn resilience, I suppose." With another small smile, her cheeks lightly pink, Aria lifted the stick up again, "And pure, stupid luck. I… I've a small confession. Though I suppose small is putting it a bit lightly." Teeth pinching the edge of her lip, Aria's gaze fell, shoulders slightly hunched, "That troll… in the ruins. It's the first thing I've ever… I never killed anything, before then."

"Consider yourself fortunate it was a troll, then," Nathyen replied, crossing his arms and sitting by the edge of their encampment. "It will rest easier on the conscious than a man might have - that brand sticks, and sticks for a while."

"...Is… is it foolish then? That it hasn't? Rested easier?" Looking up at him, cheeks still flushed, Aria reluctantly met his gaze, "I think about it, constantly. Can't get it out of my head." Looking down, she stared at her free hand, opening it palm up with a shake of her head, "...They're clean, I know they are… but it doesn't feel like they are…"

"It's one thing to kill a beast, another to take the life of one you consider to be an equal," he said softly, gazing down at the ground and taking a finger to overturn a stone tamped down in the damp earth below. "If you want to find that brother of yours, I think there'll be plenty to dirty them in the months to come. The road to the Shroud's dangerous - and there's plenty of others willing to do the killing on your behalf in this little company of ours, but one day it will be you or them. It's a moment no one wants to face, but, ah, well…"

Nathyen scratched his chin with one hand, the other plucking the rock from the ground and turning it about idly in his hand.

"I suppose it's a brand burned into more in these parts than not at this point - and I don't just mean the valleys in the Crags. I mean…" he gestured with the hand clutching the rock. "The whole country. What with them runnin' about and the like, you'd be forgiven to think that us with our mortal squabbles would be a bit more forgivin' but, then, there's the likes of Maud. Selfishly motivated, or very pig-headed."

"I know what I signed up for…" She murmured faintly, letting her hand fall back to her side, "But I am afraid, Nathyen. Of… of losing who I am. Of not recognizing myself, anymore. Of becoming someone like Maud. He was a knight… someone of renown and regard, respected and honored, and now? Now he's little more than a brute hiding in the hills, preying on those he's deemed lower than him. I don't doubt for a moment, he would've tried to kill you for that hammer, and I don't doubt he'll try, even now. To fall so far… How can I stop the same thing from happening to me?"

"Knights've no more honor than you or I, lass. From best as I can tell, his order are all like this - wanderin' the countryside, claimin' their ends justify whatever means they use in service of their 'quest' as they like to call it. The Shroud's full of these self-possessed would-be saviors - none are as perhaps openly murderous or brutish, but it's a harsh world here. It drains character faster than a spoiled merchant boy drains his father's coffers left unattended, but I doubt it will marr you much. Aye, it'll roughen up your edges, shear away a few southern niceties, but if you came this way for your brother and the death of a troll pains you so I doubt you have much room to fall. Less than most of us here," Nathyen said, waving about the camp.

Nudging a stone with her foot, Aria nodded faintly, before continuing, a slight twinge of uncertainty behind her tone, "Do… do you think it's foolish? To take Maud at his word about my brother? I had thought for a time he was someone I could trust, but now I know that to not be true. Yet it is the first spark of hope I have felt in some time."

"Whatever his oaths and ties to his order, I do not think he was lying to you - incorrect, perhaps. But I doubt it was purposeful deceit, as at that point we'd done nothing to anger him," the locksmith shrugged, hand drifting to plant itself atop the dimly glowing ruby of Scarnesbane from the top of his back beside him as if to verify it was still there. "Besides, you're looking for one man in a country league across and a false hint is at least a point to start."

Looking over at him, she gave a small, subtle smirk, nudging the locksmith with her foot, "...Careful now, you're sounding dangerously close to optimistic." Eyes shifting to the hammer, she gave a bob of her head, "Have you tried it, yet?"

"Optimism? Aye, suppose you'll get a rare moment of sincerity from me every now and then," Nathyen remarked dryly, lips tugging up at their corners. "And no - all that guff Niowyn was saying, about this being.. Ah, what was it? Oathsworn? It doesn't feel right now that I should use it. It's odd, holding it - I've held Volcite steel before, but never felt something quite like this. Something is stirring in this hammer, and with how long it was down there I'm not so sure if it's something I want to get entangled in."

"Why in the world should that stop you?" A brow raised, Aria shifted, "Seems to me something like that… belongs in the right hands, but who's to say those hands aren't your own? Something brought you to it, right? Something drove you to find it… How do you know it's not right, after all? Certainly better than in Maud's hands, at any rate."

"Certainly better than in Maud's hands, though I doubt they're meant for mine. For starters, you've seen me fight - but I was just searching for treasure and nabbed some greybeard's scrolls and maps. Aye, perhaps it was fate, destiny, or luck that brought us all together to find it, but if it 'belongs' in anyone's hands then it does not belong in mine."

Nathyen tapped the ruby with his thumb, scraped a bit of grime from it, and shrugged.

"It feels fiery, fierce - like I can still hear the dragon rolling around in there," he continued, words slow and purposeful. "This is a type of magic I don't think I've seen or heard of anywhere."

"...That's all magic to me, until Niowyn, anyway. But it certainly seems like… old magic. Still, it's a shame." Looking over at him, she gave a small, teasing smile, "You look awfully dashing with it. Now… are you ready to disarm me, or shall I find a barrel for you to hide in, when we get down into the valley?"

"Oh, right, for a moment I forgot I'm probably going to die in the Hollows, silly me," Nathyen grumbled, shifting up to his feet and fetching the makeshift sword from his side. "Well, come on now, I don't have enough welts yet."

Shifting, raising the stick ahead of her again, Aria gave a nod, and with her free hand, gestured Nathyen forward, "...Then on your go, have at it."

---

Contrary to the doubts roiling in her mind, as they neared the Hollows, Aria was overcome by a strange comfort in knowing that despite what was most likely their imminent demise on the horizon, she had accomplished the task she had set out for in the first place. The hammer resting on Nathyen's back was no small prize - she knew now from Maud's reaction as much was true. But just what exactly that meant for them, she could not quite surmise. It brought a small bit of hope to her, that they had made it this far, and though what they faced ahead was far more ominous than trolls in the dark, maybe... just maybe there was a small sliver of a chance they might survive it, as well.

Then they came across the bodies, and that shining pearl of light faded ever so slightly.

Their journey from the gates to the Cat and Rooster was made in silence, contemplation robbing Aria's energy. It wasn't until she'd sat down that she noticed it seemed to be the same everywhere she looked. The light seemed gone from the world, faded and grey and sullen. Even Threadbare, who had reclaimed his throne by the hearth had a sense of somberness that brought Aria's heart to a place of near despair. This was a town in leagues with their own bitter end... These were people resigned to their fate.

Rather suddenly, Nathyen rose, and she watched as he handed the hammer over to Oryn. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words fell flat as she considered his own. Maud would be looking for him, she had no doubt... But while he might think Nathyen an easy target there was a factor he had not considered. A young woman's resolve was unshakable, and she had given the locksmith her word that she would guard his life with her own, if need be.

When Nathyen rose again not a moment later, she opened her mouth once more to say as much, but the man was gone before the words could be uttered, and she watched instead, slightly confused as he lumbered over to the small throng of musicians, lute in hand. His gaze came to her, the words not mistaken, and her own eyes widened as the music began. Feeling not all too unlike she had in the crypt, at the behest of Elvin magic, she stared dumbstruck as the bawdy lyrics drew to mind colorful images for which she'd not entirely prepared herself. If one's skin could turn a color to properly indicate utter mortification, her own could reflect no clearer a picture. The few howls of laughter and whistles that followed the tune fell on deaf ears singed by the heat that burned along her spin and across her nape, drowned out by the pounding rhythm of the sudden rock inside her chest, and while she was all too aware some of those catcalls were offered in her direction, she paid them no mind, her vision not idling from the locksmith.

It was the sudden elbow in her ribs that drove Aria back to full consciousness and her head twitched slightly to see Niowyn beside her, grin wide and knowing as she raised her brows.

"What!?" Aria hissed in genuine distress, her voice marginally higher pitched than she was accustomed.

"And why didn't you tell me?" Niowyn inquired, an edge of tease in her tone.

"Tell you what??" Aria squeaked back.

"Oh love, we are going to have to chat later about all this..." Her hand gesturing between Aria and Nathyen, Aria followed it for a moment in confusion, before realization dawned.

Were there a brighter shade of red, her skin might have in that moment invented it. Rising, not saying a word, Aria swiftly crossed the floor and stopping before the locksmith, pointed a finger at the man, "You! With me!" And spinning on her heels, she marched out of the inn.

 

[ze_kraken]

Background Music

THE HOLLOWS ONCE MORE

---

"Keep the mood lively,"

Nathyen instructed the other musicians, who in turn whistled and lobbed jests at the locksmith as he followed Aria out of the Cat and Rooster.

As he went, he noted that though the specter of death still hung, it had been pushed back into the shadows of the corner. Rather than loom over the inn, it instead was an unpleasant feature of an otherwise bright room. A few guardsmen in the inn began demanding songs of increasing bawdiness, and a version of the same warmth and life they had been greeted with upon their arrival.

Aye, but seems death is still very much present, Nathyen thought as he saw the steely daggers protruding from Aria's eyes. Maud was right. Fiery she is indeed.

Almost immediately, Aria gripped him by the collar of his tunic and forced him into the wall of the inn to the amusement of surprised onlookers, grateful for any distraction from their impending doom.

"Suppose that means your oath earlier is just-" Nathyen was cut off as Aria placed a stiff finger to his lips.

"Explain to me…" She hissed, voice low, "In very simple terms, for I am in no mood for puzzles… What in the hell was that about??"

"Call it sentimentality," Nathyen replied, shaking his head at Aria's narrowing eyes. "You're a charming lass, Aria - and all's to say while I've no intention of, well, anything resemblin' romance with you, you're a dear friend is all."

"...Wh-Y-I..." Stepping back, releasing him, Aria shook her head, stammering a moment, before raking her hands over her hair, "These are… The times… confusing. And… And you've… I didn't… Augh!"

With a balled fist, Aria struck his shoulder, "These are not the thoughts I need in my head a few hours before I'm probably going to die, Nathyen!"

"Never had a boy fancy you down in the South? Aye, and singing's the most subtle of my charms, lass," Nathyen said with a wry grin. "Reckon I won't be leaving your sight tomorrow, might be me who needs to keep you alive now, which means we're all fucked."

"No, I haven't, actually." Stepping back, Aria bit the edge of her lip, "Never one I… thought of, anyway."

Rubbing the color from her cheeks, she shook her head, "You'll be lucky if I live past the morning. No chance I'll sleep, now. I was worried enough, as it was..."

"I suppose I would, seein' as I just went up and did such an egregious besmirch on your ladyship's honor by having the gaul to, at all indicate, that might be I fancy her," he replied, a bit of a biting sarcasm dripping through his tone.

"You…you can't just..." Breathing out, Aria stared at the ground for a moment, before looking at the locksmith again, "I have spent the last two years of my life hiding the fact that I'm a woman! It's not as if I've had much practice in these things! I thought… I'd rather assumed you were teasing me."

"That might do where you're from, but on the morrow you'll find men 'n women alike with spear in hand and no one'll think twice of it," Nathyen cocked his head sideways, examining Aria. "And judging that you've likely killed a beast bigger than any of this lot - if they've ever used a sword against a real opponent before in their lives - you're going to be a damn fine example for 'em, too."

"That… that's not what I meant, Nathyen. I'm not worried about the battle… Well, I am, but…" Swallowing, she looked down again, "It was easier when I thought… When I thought there was nothing else to lose."

"It is a damn fine pair of boots," he said, though his eyes for once were etched with a somber sincerity. "It… it would be a shame if they went missing."

Looking up, Aria stared for a moment, before the edge of lip twitched up, "...Fairly certain they wouldn't fit you, anyway." Expression shifting, smile fading, she hesitated somewhere between a step forward, "I wasn't mad, you know…"

"Oh I'm aware - I've seen you truly angry, if I'd thought you were about to disembowel me I would have brought Blanc with me - tender one, she is," Nathyen exhaled sharply. "Aye, so neither of us is allowed to die - you still owe me those boots, and we'll talk more on the other side? That sounds like the responsible thing to do before a battle?"

Breathing in, Aria nodded, "Aye. Responsible." With an exhale, shuffling a rock in the dirt with her foot, she avoided the man's gaze just briefly, "...Bearing in mind that the irresponsible thing to do would be…?"

"Ah well, as I'm want to do I think I've already done it - but I suppose the truly irresponsible thing is to head back in that tavern and pretend that the world is as it was for us a week ago. No Maud, no hammer, no brimstone beasts at our door." Nathyen's gaze found a sudden, profound interest in the rock Aria had turned loose below and he shrugged nonchalantly. "But then I've never 'battled' so much as a child before you thwacked me with a stick so I'm no expert on battles and what is or isn't responsible."

He paused.

"Not counting the troll, I suppose, but ah that doesn't quite count now does it? Spent half the time tripping. My first instinct is to hide til the fight's in my favor."

"It's a fair instinct… Given what we'll face tomorrow. There's a part of me… strangely enough a part I never noticed until a few moments ago… that wants to run. To hide. We could…" Looking up, her lip curved up gently, "But we couldn't, could we? Not really. Not leaving Oryn and Nio… Blanc, Vardis. I came into this with nothing and suddenly there's far too much at stake." Taking that step after all, she paused before him, "If things… if things start to go downhill, I need you to get out of there…"

"So I can risk it on foot through miles of enemy territory to reach a more cowardly version of the same fate achieved by staying? No, you're stuck with me, lass."

"Stubborn ass… You'll get yourself killed, and have the nerve to say you've no honor..." With a small sigh, Aria shifted foot to foot, before shifting up onto her toes, a ginger peck pressed to the man's cheek, "Get some rest, then… We'll likely die tomorrow."

"Likely isn't certain," Nathyen said after a brief, stunned blink. "Good night, Aria."

 

[Pupperr]

Niowyn and Oryn

---

The journey back to the Hollows had been a strangely quiet one considering the bonds that were forming between their group. The tension in the air was thick enough to slice and an ominous feeling lurked overhead. Had none of them looked death in the eye before? Death was not uncommon for tribespeople, and war certainly wasn't. Niowyn's carefree nature would be out of place in the deep quiet the eve before battle bestowed upon everyone else. In the strange circumstances the return to the Hollows was, she welcomed the reassuring feeling the fog brought.

The Cat and Rooster was more depressing than the walk to the Hollows or the small town itself. No matter where you turned, there were pale faces looking back at you with scared eyes. Niowyn couldn't blame the people though, demons were not a welcomed house guest and people should be afraid of them, but it was not what she was accustomed to. In the eve before a battle, the tribespeople would regale in a party and bolster the spirits of the warriors. Fires so high as to touch the stars would burn all night and shoeless feet would beat against the ground as hands struck tambourines and war cries cut through the night. It was a tradition she missed sitting quietly at a table among her companions with watered down ale but she would be damned if she spent her last night alive in such bleak conditions.

Niowyn chugged her ale and slammed the mug against the table, abruptly standing only to notice Naythen had approached the same musicians she saw sitting alone against the back wall. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile and she laughed off the small scene she had made, making it to be that she was going for more ale. When she returned back to the table with a pitcher for the group, Naythen had already begun his serenade for Aria. Niowyn sat next to her, jabbing her with her elbow and commenting on Naythen's song. It was endearing to see at least half of the duo had realized the feelings that had been brewing for some time now. When Aria snatched Naythen away and scolded him like a child, she only laughed and moved to sit with Oryn, gesturing to fill his mug with more ale from the pitcher. "It seems love is in the air."

Their journey down the difficult paths had been dull and slow. Dale seemed to have been just as annoyed with the whole ordeal as he had. When they had reached the Hollows, Oryn had looked at the state of the buildings and the people. Miserable. But that wasn't so strange in itself. As he sat there in the tavern among his companions, he didn't feel nervous for what was to come. Oryn felt a tinge of something that sent a chill down his spine. Was it fear? Whatever it was, it was born out of the thought that he might face down one of those dark abominations again. Absentmindedly, he touched the scar on his face. Something had changed, though. Oryn wondered if the hammer would tip the balance of the fight, should he meet a Hollow Knight.

Blinking, he returned to the present and grabbed his mug of ale. It was watered down, yes, but it was better than nothing. Besides, he'd tasted worse. It didn't matter the quality of wine or ale however, when it went down the wrong pipe. He hadn't noticed Niowyn sitting down until she spoke up and her words made him choke on his drink. Coughing, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and raised an eyebrow. This bought him just enough time to realize what she was talking about. Oryn set down his mug and let her pour more ale.

"Thank you." He said, voice a little coarse. He looked in the direction Aria and Nathyen had gone and shrugged. "It was a good song, though." Oryn fixed his eyes on the mage in front of him and tilted his head to the side. "You don't seem grim and sour, like the rest of this lot." He gestured to the people surrounding them in the Cat and Rooster, not caring if anyone heard him or not. Their spirits had been lifted by Nathyen's singing and playing, but he wondered how long that would last. He understood the townsfolk. They were hardy people, but no soldiers.

"Well, that would be because I'm a tribeswoman Oryn" she sneered. "It's not unheard of for tribes to war with each other. Fighting… and death. It is commonplace in this world, even more so for people like me." There was a pause in her breath before she continued, her face more serious than before. "And besides, death is not the end. Should I die tomorrow, it is because my spirit is meant to move on, to move toward something else. Something better perhaps."

Watching her, he wondered why she was serious all of a sudden. He rarely thought about what happened after you died. Oryn had always just assumed you would die and that would be it. No afterlife, no nothing. They had vastly different thoughts on this matter, it seemed. "Death is commonplace, I won't argue with that." He said and took a large gulp of his ale. Then he studied her for a moment before he leaned in over the table. "I hope that if there is a place after this, it's better. 'Cause this is a shithole." And by that, he didn't mean the Cat and Rooster exclusively. But despite Oryn's less than uplifting outlook, he grinned as he leaned back. "I hope your version is the truthful one."

Niowyn couldn't help but start laughing when Oryn leaned over the table and shared his hope of a better afterlife. Her eyes began to water at the corners and she wiped away any tears before they had a chance to fall. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble but my people don't believe in an afterlife. You'll return to the same shit hole… but maybe you'll be lucky enough to come back as a horse and have a master as pleasant as Dale has had."

Niowyn stood from the table and moved around it, sitting next to Oryn now and facing him. "Say…" she started, her voice missing its regular cheerful tones to it. "There's something I have to tell you before tomorrow, that is if we do die. We might not end up in the same place afterward… and your soul doesn't always remember its previous life. But… I have to thank you." The smile on her face didn't resemble one of happiness, but something else, something sad but also grateful. It was soft and delicate, almost as though it could shatter if you touched it. It was as though she was baring her soul for the world to see.

It annoyed him that she kept saying he was a good man. It simple wasn't true. But she couldn't know. How could she know? But it didn't matter - Niowyn stood and moved to sit next to him. Oryn exhaled and the feeling disappeared. And now there was something completely different about her. He turned slightly to better face her and that signature serious look with one raised eyebrow found its way onto his face. Oryn studied her as she sat there. There was a fragility to her that he could not recall seeing before. It surprised him, though his expression didn't show it. Slowly, he reached up and let his thumb trace over the soft skin of her cheek. Then it came to rest on her chin. His eyes met hers and then he pulled away his hand, whatever haze of thought he had been in now lifted.

"Ah…" He let out, chuckling and shaking his head. "As far I recall, you saved my ass back there." Turning his head to face her again he sighed. "I'm the one supposed to thank you." There was a pause and then he smirked. "But I get the feeling you're going to fight me on this." He tsk'd as if preparing for an argument.

A glimmer of surprise appeared on her face at the touch of Oryn's thumb against her skin. Niowyn didn't expect it of him, a man who has thus far been aloof and uncomfortable in any sensitive situation. But it made her smile nonetheless. When he looked away and laughed, she just watched the contour of his jaw. Niowyn reached over and clenched her hand around his, sincerity and urgency nipping at her face. He thought she meant what happened in the fortress, and he was partially right, but there was more to thank him for than just their fight with the troll.

"I want to thank you for being there for me on this whole journey." She began, taking a moment to think about how it all started in the very room they were in. "You have been kind, even though I am a stranger, and an odd one at that. But you have looked out for me, and for all of us, and for someone who thinks so rotten of himself, you have been selfless. You could have left me to die in that fortress after I healed you. You didn't have to protect me, but you did. You didn't have to carry me out of there, but you did. And you sure as hell didn't have to help me go through that library, but you did. And I have to thank you for that." Niowyn released his hand and sat back in her seat, she looked down at her lap where her hands were open faced toward her and remembered how they were stained with his blood all but a few days ago. Her gaze then found Oryn once more and she reached for his face, tracing along the scar on his mouth that he always aimlessly did. "This scar doesn't make you a monster, just like your past doesn't make you a bad person. I can see that your soul is kind. And I thank you."

Although he was slowly getting used to the fact that Niowyn was a person who was not at all against physical contact, his muscles tensed a little when her gentle hands touched his face. His heart beat a little faster and a little harder in his chest. He had a thousand arguments to what she was saying, but now didn't seem the right time. Oryn swallowed and moved in his seat, but this time he didn't find an excuse to wriggle away from her touch. He just sat there like an idiot, without the faintest idea of what to say. In his mind he thought that all of the things she had just said to him, applied to herself. To him, it spoke volumes that someone as gentle and kind as Niowyn, used those exact words about him. To him, she had it backwards, but he couldn't say it. As brave as he was with steel in hand, his courage failed him here. And that was a first. Oryn wondered just what the hell that meant. Instead of denying her words, he nodded (eventually). She was being sincere and honest and besides, her patience with him would run out eventually.

Oryn leaned a little closer to Niowyn as a group of men whose morale and spirits had been greatly boosted by Nathyen's song, sang loudly a small distance away from them. He caught her scent once again and paused. For a split second he was thrown back to the halls of Gol Badhir. "I'm not serenading you." There was no point in letting Niowyn know that he would do all of the things he had done again. If she believed what she had said, she already knew. Oryn failed to see how it made him a good man, treating his companions with what he thought to be human decency. He treated his enemies with brutality and his friends with loyalty.

Niowyn felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand and her heart beat a little faster as Oryn leaned in but his light quip instead made her erupt with laughter. It was entirely what she expected from him - aloof and uncomfortable in sensitive situations and using humour to deflect whatever it was he was feeling. Niowyn released his scar from her fingers and abruptly stood from her seat, she grabbed his hand and pulled him up and into the middle of the room. "Well, the least you can do then is dance with a beautiful woman the eve before her death" she teased, her classic cheerful smile returning.

Oh fuck. he thought. Him dancing would be like watching a bear in a trap. But there was something about the way she worded the invitation that made him stand. Something tugged at his heart and it was with an equal mix of joy and sadness that he followed her. He didn't want his companions to die. If he could he would protect them. In the middle of the room he stood in front of Niowyn and looked at her for a moment. She was a stark contrast to the darkness of the demons. It seemed so wrong that she should die - she brought a little color to the world with her blue garb and tribal way of life. Oryn then smiled and nodded. "That I can do."

---

L: The Cat and Rooster | M: Naythen @ze_kraken and Aria @Elle Joyner | I: Oryn @Morgan

 

[ze_kraken]

Background Music

ASTRIDE A PALE HORSE

---

"Nervous, lass?"

Audryen nodded, spear shaking in her hands and clattering against her small iron round shield strapped along her forearm. All about her were several other inhabitants of the Hollows, all clutching a veritable armory of weaponry. Some brandished spears like her own, tipped with deadly steel. Others held swords and axes. Some yet wielded wooden cudgels, kitchen knives, and pitchforks.

Dawn had barely broken over the Crags when the scouts had come, bearing news of movement to the north side of the Hollows. Audryen could still remember the clamor of the bells, sounding like the wails of wraiths in the fog. By torchlight she had donned leather armor, fetched her spear, and joined the others atop the wall. No more tricks - there was to be a proper battle, the scouts had said.

Now, with the sun just beginning to cast its light up and over the peaks of the mountains, the villagers stood ready to defend their homes. The fog made it impossible to see past twenty paces, but still Audryen kept her eyes sharp and her head on a swivel.

"Where are they?" She asked, voice cracking with nerves. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

"Who's to say," Gilas replied, stroking his beard with a rough, calloused hand. "Might be they're taking their sweet time with us."

"Why? That damn dragon could come down and torch the village with little we could do," Audryen countered. "Why the delay?"

Gilas shrugged his shoulders, plucking at a loose thread protruding from his tunic. Audryen knew better than to take his nonchalance at face value - his other hand picked at the edge of his thumb where nail met flesh, and she could see traces of ruby red blood trickling down from where he had broken up the skin. Her own foot tapped, serving as a faulty outlet for her pent up tension and nervousness.

She stared over the parapet of the town's outer wall, searching for something, anything that indicated the arrival of them but none made itself known. If they took any longer, she thought, her fear would give out to frustration. Then they would have it - aye, they would suffer her wrath for their inconsideration.

"Archers notch your arrows!"

The sudden command sent Audryen stumbling on still feet, nearly dropping her spear over the edge of the wall.

"Draw! Loose! Loose!"

A series of thwangs from loosed bowstrings shattered the silence and Audryen watched as blurry shafts whistled through the air into the fog. For a brief moment, she thought perhaps they had loosed early, jumping at shadows. Some sank clearly into mud, but then she heard it. The scrape of steel tips along metal, echoing back out of the fog. Then came the sinister red glow - first the eyes, then the reflection of their swords along the fog. In unison they strode forth, wordlessly and without barely the scuff of a boot through the mud.

"Notch again! Quickly now!"

"What do I do?" Audryen squeaked. "What do I do? Gilas?"

"Stab anything that makes it way over these walls," he said, patting the girl reassuringly on the shoulder. "Come on, get that spear up and show me-"

Gilas rocketed backward as a black spear rocketed forth from the fog and pierced his neck, spraying Audryen in blood as the man collapsed back and crumpled to the ground below. Audryen stood there, stunned even as more missiles sailed overhead, sinking into wooden walls and flesh with equal ease. Once embedded in the wooden walls the spears began to glow red, flames flickering and lapping at the wooden walls. Though subdued at first the flames swiftly fed, swelling into mighty pyres that added billowing plumes of black smoke to the dense fog.

Audryen shrieked as a hand white as bone clasped the edge of the parapet before her, a skull-like face appearing a moment later. Only, where there might have been a jaw was but the creature's neck, almost diminutive skull-like head simply an extension of its alabaster frame. It wore black plate that crackled and glowed with a brilliant red glow, its eyes likewise shimmering in angry red. The girl stood dumbfounded, stepping away from the creature as it scaled the wall.

Once over the wall, it silently approached Audryen, producing a sword seemingly from nothingness. The blade was inky black, crackling with the same red power as the creature's armor and thin as a razor. Audryen shoved her spear forward, shaft sliced in twain by an inhumanely swift slice from the creature, the blade spitting ash from the burned end of Audryen's now-useless weapon. Over its shoulder she could see more of them breaching the walls as the flames rose higher and higher. The shouts of men fighting, screams of the dying, and clashing metal all rang out through the village.

And the smell.

It kept Audryen standing there even as the creature closed the distance - blood and ash and piss and sulfur. It was worse than anything Audryen had smelled before in her life, and rather than face her opponent head on she hunched over and wretched at its feet as its blade lunged forward. Only, just as the blade nicked her shoulder, the creature stopped. Audyren rose from her pile of sick, watching as an axe blade retracted from the creature's shoulder and it collapsed into a pile of sulfur and ash at her feet.

Where the creature once stood now stood an orc, hefting a massive bronze axe, one eye pulsing a fiery red as once the creature's had.

"You want to die here?" She asked. "Get on - go, get yourself a new spear. Don't just stand there, go!"

Audryen slid off the wall, landing less than gracefully on the ground below. Men who had been waiting in reserve by the buildings below rushed up to the wall, spears and shields in hand as more and more began to pour over the walls. The walls were a raging inferno now, and she could see men and women atop the walls leaping to the safety of the mud and cobble below as the flames began to overwhelm the defenders as much as the creatures were. They pressed their attack, exhibiting no signs of weariness or wavering morale: not even the flames impeded their advance, for they passed harmlessly through even the fiercest plumes of flame with naught but a mask of smoke. For every pile of ash there were three or four slain defenders of the Hollows.

Hummmmmm.....

Horn. In the watchtower by town hall.

Hummmmmm.....

No, not a third, Audryen thought. Gods no.

The horn ceased. Bandits? Now of all times?

"Men! To the forests at the front! Maud's men!" Screeched the watchmen atop the tower. "I see him! They're... they're fighting them!"

Audryen barged into the town armory, fetching a replacement spear and venturing back out into the streets of the Hollows. At her front burned the wall, the defenders fighting a steady retreat through the streets of the village. Corpses began to form in rings as the men and women of the Hollows fell back, beset upon by all sides by the creatures that towered over them. She could see the orc from earlier leading from the front, fighting side-by-side with a queerly dressed knight hefting about a greatsword the size of a man as if it were a toothpick. The villagers rallied to them, fighting harder by their side, but it was not enough.

"Gods this is the end..." she croaked, legs refusing to budge. "This is the end..."

Again the horn rang out - three blasts this time.

"Over the walls to the rear! Raiders! I see five of the!" The watcher in the tower bellowed, voice drowned out in the chaos below.

Audryen looked, barely making out his words of warning and frantic gestures to the side. Her eyes followed his flailing arms, and saw them darting through the streets unopposed, a hunting pack of sorts. They were smaller than the ones pressing up the streets ahead, lither, brandishing spears in both their unnaturally long forelimbs.

"You lot," she said, pointing to a crowd of guardsmen, among them a blonde-haired man and a woman who clung close to his side. "With me! There's some of them to the rear! We have to stop them before they-"

A guttural roar echoed through the valley, and the leathery crack of wings followed shortly after, barely audible over the sounds of the battle. A black shadow flickered overhead, circling the village but making no move to descend. Again the roar sounded, and the raiders to their rear doubled their efforts, darting forward swifter than before.

"-before they get to the line!" She continued once the roars abated. "Come! Come!"

GM NOTES:

Mentioned IC: @Elle Joyner
Other: @Morgan @Pupperr

THE BATTLE BEGINS

The demons are at the walls, and the battle has begun. Swiftly the defenders of the Hollows are pushed back into the streets below, the wall going up in flames to mask the approach of demons who seem all but immune to flame. They march silently, butchering all in sight. Overhead the Hollow Knight waits - for what none can say, but as raiders emerge from the rear the situation is indeed dire. Maud has broken through the demon lines outside the village with his men, but the flaming wall has cut off his approach into the village for now. Of particular note, the demons seem hell-bent on slaying the man with Scarnesbane...

INTERACTIVE ELEMENTS

Fight Atop the Walls

Those along the walls were fit first. The spears sunk into the walls and cast them aflame, after which demons began to use the distraction to scale the wall and fight with those standing watch. Those on the wall were driven back as the flames overwhelmed, taking a few demons with them in the exchange. The walls to the far right and left are safe as of now, both in terms of flames and demon combatants.

Fight in the Streets

In the streets below come demons from the walls, pushing back the defenders who have gathered into a loose rank formation with Blanc and Vardis at their front. Here the demons are better pressed to make full use of their biological advantages and superior weaponry, but are prone to being set upon by multiple defenders.

Intercept the Raiders

The raiders to the rear are closing fast, and without stopping them they will be able to sew more confusion and chaos among the defenders... they must be stopped, or the battle will be lost in moments rather than hours.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arianell Oresh
MENTIONED | @ze_kraken, @Pupperr, @Morgan ​

---

Along the Road || The

Night was a blanket of black over the Hollows, as though the stars knew what the morning would bring and had fled in fear. It was a silly thought, for stars were not sentient beings ruled by their emotional responses... But Aria supposed it was also a thought born from her own emotional turmoil, and perhaps not so silly, after all. She was, in many ways, inexperienced with the things of the world... Particularly the world up North, but contrary to her nativity, she understood well the conversation she and Nathyen had hacked through following his musical confessions of sorts. She would have been quite dishonest with herself if she said she hadn't thought fondly of the headstrong locksmith. But with morning would come unspeakable horrors… that which they had never faced. Demons were not partial to the hearts of humankind… not respecters of feelings and emotions.

And the likes of Maud weren't much better. Nathyen had given the hammer to Oryn and so they had the element of deception at hand, but she housed little doubt Maud would not cut down the whole village to get his hands on the weapon. His very will seemed driven by that selfish desire, and Aria would not allow herself to be caught off guard by whatever mental turmoil the locksmith had put her under.

When it was late and they had all retired to their respective rooms, Aria waited for Nathyen to vanish behind the door before settling outside in the hall. With her blade at the ready in her lap, she sank down, and for the few few hours, as weariness and paranoia played games with her mind, she watched the stairwell for movement… For threat.

Eventually, when her heart stopped pounding at every creak of floorboard and scuffle of mice feet, she let the weapon sit beside her and head drifting back against the wall, she gripped the ring that hung round her neck, pressing it tighting into her palm.

"Hey, Call…" Her voice was a whisper, a secret, tucked deep and low in her chest, "I don't even know if you can hear me… but what does it matter, right? I… I miss you. You always knew what to do when things got bad. When I was scared. Remember that time when Abby went missing by the river? I was sure Dad would murder me cold… she was our best milk goat, but you told me to keep my chin up and listen for the bell. To focus on nothing else… and that's what I did and we found her and brought her home. Then you told Dad anyway and he boxed my ears so bad they hurt for a month, and when I cried and asked why you told, you said 'no good's a person who can't take responsibility for their own actions, no matter the consequences'. I was furious… but you were right."

Bringing her forehead to the ring, her eyes closed as hot tears pressed against the lids, "Oh, Call. I don't know what to do. This fight tomorrow… I'm not sure I'm even half ready. I know you don't have any say in it, but… please… if… if you can… help me keep him safe. Just… that's all. Help me keep him safe." Pausing, she wiped her free hand across her cheeks, and continued with a sniff, "Anyway… I'm gonna find Matty, Call. And I'm gonna bring him home. I really do miss you…"

Releasing the chain, tucking it back into her armor, she let her head drift back against the wall and slowly, she drifted off.

---

Acrid odors drifted on foul wind, mud from thick fog slick and cloying on the ground beneath her feet. Every pound of her pulse was a century, every moment that passed a lifetime. Her sword was clutched, white knuckled at her side, her eyes a focused blaze on the wall.

True to every fear, the demons came in droves. Fast and fearless, they ascended, hacking and clawing as they poured over the parapets and into the Hollows.

'When they come, lad, and they will come, you need to be ready. You'll wanna freeze up. Nothing more, you'll wanna run. So you plant your feet and you take a breath and you think of those kin you're so desperate to find. Then what you do, lad, is you count them… and you don't move. Not till those bastards are more than ten. You count them, then you break through their center, and you fight and you don't stop, not till they're dead, or you are."

"...Seven… eight…" Whispering to herself, Aria straightened, digging her feet into the muck, "Nine… ten..." Twisting to Nathyen, she gave a firm nod, "Stay close and watch my back… Steps fluid, blade tight, weight at your center and watch the mud! And Nathyen… stay alive."

Heels lifting from the mud, Aria moved, darting for the throng as they raced into the square. The harmonies of steel and death rang across the field of battle, and with no hesitation, Aria's blade joined the song. A slash, a thrust, a hack… There was no time to think, no time to consider the lives cut down. There was no hesitation as there had been in the ruins, no sense of trepidation or guilt. These monstrosities were devoid of thought or reason or good, and as the burst to ash, another bloomed in its place… Lives were scattered, spilled out across the Hallows, and not a single demon gave pause.

Fury was the wind, propelling Aria to action. Don't stop. Don't think. Just move. Be the blade. End the fight. Deal with the rest, later... And there would be so much, later...

"Men! To the forests at the front! Maud's men!" The cry came from the watchtower, and Aria felt sudden dread curl along her spine like a wave. So he had come, then… No matter. They would deal with Maud when the time was right. When the time was right...

The blast of the horn resonated again, and a horrible bellow chased it…

"You lot," A woman suddenly called to her left, "With me! There's some of them to the rear! We have to stop them before they-"

Eyes flying upwards, Aria followed the billowing shadow with her eyes, heart a weight in her stomach as she recalled the terrible vision she'd seen on the tower… No. No, there was no time for fear.

"-before they get to the line! Come! Come!" The woman continued, and Aria was already moving in that direction.

"Nathyen! Stick tight! Do you see Nio??" Eyes skimming the crowd, she could just make out the wisps of blue robes dancing through the field of blacks and beiges, and thanking whoever might hear it, Aria turned, half-running backwards, "Niowyn! On my right!"

Skidding to a stop before the encroaching creatures, her free hand shifting to her belt, Aria grabbed her waterskin and holding it upside down, slashed the stitching along the bottom. Then in an arc, she swung it high, water spilling out overhead, "Now!"

 

[Pupperr]

Niowyn of the Ta'Lassa Tribe

---

Leather boots sunk into the muddied ground as they approached the river that ran through the Hollows. Dew still hung in the air and day had not broken yet. Niowyn had stirred from what little rest she was able to manage and went in search of resolve before what was to come. As always, she found her way to the water. The tribeswoman knelt on the riverbank, her knees disappearing in the mud. She clasped her hands together, eyes shut and head slightly lowered.

'Be careful tomorrow, OK? Nathyen trusts you with that hammer… but Scarnesbane is more than just a weapon belonging to a legend. Scarnesbane is the legend… Oathsworn.'

Her brow winced.

'We still know so little and understand even less. All I ask is that you're careful tomorrow…. I know it's not in your nature. I know you're a warrior… Just don't let it consume you.'

The words she whispered to Oryn as the two danced in the middle of The Cat And Rooster played in her head. What could be worse than to watch someone you care for be consumed by a magic you know nothing about? As much as the old world excited and intrigued her… the thought of what could happened plagued her the night before and robbed her of any sleep. It wasn't the battle that scared her. It was what she might be forced to do should the magic of the past rear its ugly head.

"As the water flows… so does the passage of time… always constant, never unchanging.. As calm as the unmoving pool but as wild as the untamed sea...the strings that weave our lives together are always unpredictable… and that which grants us life can easily take it. Thy soul is yours to carry.. and do with it what is to be done.."

Niowyn released her hands and drove one into the mud beside her. Her fingers curled around the slurried ground and gathered a ball of the sludge before she reached up to her face. Niowyn pressed her hand against the right side of her forehead and dragged it down her face to her chin, smearing the black and brown ooze against her skin as a symbol of war.

"As the Zah'le… I give these people my Source. I give this battle my soul." A wicked grin replaced the gentle smile as wild eyes stared at the river that had stirred into a fury. The ocean would rage.

~~~​

Fog had rolled in as the sky had birthed the sun. It was almost too perfect - a thought that crossed Niowyn's mind as she had prepared with the rest of would be soldiers in the Hollows. But the monsters that lurked in the shadows did not hesitate and stormed the city with a ferocity akin to wild animals. It wasn't long before the Hollows was engulfed in the putrid smell that war brought and the shrill screams of those who had lost their lives.

Niowyn danced about the streets, water pouring from her gourd and swinging around her like a ribbon in the air. It shot in every which way as she moved about the battlefield, flooding her enemies faces and drowning them above ground. The sounds of people's war cries were like music to her ears and the wailing of the horn only reminded her of home. Maud was premature to assume she was not accustomed to such a thing.

More cries came from overhead at the gate. The people there were being overwhelmed and the blaze that was set was growing uncontrollable. The smell of skin burning permeated the air but it was not the flesh of demons… it was the flesh of humans. The beasts ran through the flames as though they weren't even there. Niowyn scowled, her eyes burning a bright blue as she focused on the gate ahead. It was perfect that there was fog… Niowyn pulled the water from it, gathering it above the billowing flames until it was the force of a river before the fall, and dropped it on the gate.

"Niowyn! On my right!" Aria's voice rang through the battlefield and Niowyn turned on her heel quickly to find the source. Across the battleground she spotted Aria, flanking to the rear with Nathyen close behind. The tribeswoman sprinted in Aria's direction, a stream of water shooting in her direction underneath her. Niowyn let the water carry her but struggled to hold her posture and leapt off once the distance was lessened. She grinned as she watched the waterskin fly in the air, soaking the sky above the creatures.

"Now!" On Aria's mark, the hundreds of water droplets from the waterskin hardened to cold ice and sharpened into tiny daggers that rained on the creatures below. It blotted out what light the sun provided from above as they pierced and sliced through the oncoming hoard.

---

L: The Battle | M: Oryn @Morgan. Aria @Elle Joyner. Nathyen @ze_kraken

 

[Morgan]

Oryn​

---

Calen and he had once been unfortunate enough to be caught between the strife of two larger villages. It was years ago. It was a feud that had been built up over a generation, and neither village was entirely sure of the reason for the hostilities. Fact of the matter was that it ended in bloodshed. Granted, it was not a battle on the same scale as the wars of old, but hundreds had died nonetheless. Oryn had been a younger man and back then, he hadn't slept. There had been a roiling pit in his stomach all through the night, making him nauseous and shaky. Well into the night, Calen had enough of his fretting. He nudged him, set a mug of ale down in front of the young man and told him to sleep, or he would knock him out himself. Oryn drank and fought and survived.

As he sat in his room and stared at his mentor's sword as it lay on the table, the moonlight playing off the ripples in the steel, he grinned. That same feeling of nervousness was not there, however, and he wondered what that meant. "I'm not afraid to die." He whispered, not because he was reassuring himself but because he realized the truth of the fact. Determination meant that he was hellbent on taking as many of his enemies with him before he died. The night before he had looked around at the inhabitants of the Hollows and realized that, despite their fear, many of them seemed to possess the same strength of will. Oryn's respect for these common people grew. They would defend their home until the very end. The night before he had heard Nathyen's song which even now brought a smile to his face. He had drank watered down ale and ate stale bread and soup. He had talked to Niowyn. Niowyn. His face was serious again. They had danced. Swayed gently to the music. Little was said on his part, while she whispered gentle words of worry and warning.

'Be careful tomorrow.'

Eyes closed he swallowed against that knot of worry that now began to form in his stomach. When he opened them again, he fixed his eyes on the hammer that was resting against the table and picked it up. Again he felt the magic of the weapon coil its way up his arm, running through his veins and spreading through the rest of his body. It began at the fingertips as a tingling, became almost overwhelming and then settled into some power that took root within him. It was both scary and intoxicating at the same time. Oryn held the ornate hammer up in front of his face, nodded and stood. Outside his window, the moon was losing its fight with the sun and he knew in his core that the enemy would soon be upon them.

---

Dale reared his head impatiently when he entered the stables. There were but a few other horses there. Oryn laid a hand on his mount's neck and patted him. The horse settled and pressed his muzzle into Oryn's shoulder.

"You've been my companion for many years, my friend." Dale made a noise as if to answer. "And although I know you'd carry me into battle," He paused, moved back and grinned. "You're no warhorse." Again the horse responded, this time by rearing his head again and stomping his hoof. Oryn opened the door to the stall. The saddle sat on the wall. He led his companion outside. Fog had rolled in. He could smell rain, fog and...ash? There was something else in the air. He knew it was somehow tied to the approaching enemies. Yet, he pressed on, leading Dale in the opposite direction of the one they had come from, as they came down from the mountains. Once they found themselves outside the Hollows, Oryn stopped. They were within sight of the river. He undid the clasps of the bridle and pulled it off Dale's head. The horse whinnied and stomped the ground again.

"Go on." Oryn said. Neither moved. "You stubborn old mule. Go on!" He sighed and laid his hand on the animal's neck again and spoke in a calmer tone. "There is no point in both of us dying today. Who knows, if I die I might live again as a horse. One as stubborn as you, perhaps. Then you and I can roam the fields of Ashfen." Oryn chuckled to himself and rested his head against Dale's neck. "Too bad it's a shithole." He sighed. "Go, Dale. Go!" He said in a louder voice, giving the horse a smack. Dale finally took off along the river, hopefully to live the remainder of his life free, never to feel the bite of a bridle or a saddle again.

When he made it back into the town, people had gathered. The walls had been manned and townsfolk and watchmen alike gathered swords, spears and shields. When he stood in the center of the street, he heard wings crack above. Oryn sighed and felt a strange calm come over him. Ahead of him, flames rose over the walls, people fell and the familiar sound of singing steel sent its terrible music through the streets. Demons climbed over the walls and were soon seen in the streets. Blanc and Vardis were the first of his companions he saw. Defenders had gathered around them, forming a fresh defensive line. Oryn clenched his jaw, thinking that the walls had been lost too quickly.

Somewhere high, a watchman called. Enemies to their rear. Raiders seeking to strike them unawares. But more of his companions rushed to meet them. Niowyn, Nathyen and Aria worked in unison and he nodded to himself, hoping that they could manage.

Unsheathing his sword and taking it in his left hand - where it felt almost uncomfortable - he unslung the hammer from his back and took it in his right. Again he felt a sudden rush of power. Oryn walked forward, Demons were approaching the defensive line in the street. He stepped past Blanc and Vardis, stopping in front of them. He heard the rush of wings above again, sensed the enormous shadow cast a hazy shade onto the ground and looked up. The power of the hammer had once again settled within him and while he could still feel it, it was no longer dizzying and overwhelming. Oryn lifted his head to look up at the foggy sky above and chuckled. He was facing certain death, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He found it comical that someone like him should end his life in the defense of a town against an onslaught of demons, as part of a strangely wonderful band of companions. If only Calen could see him now. His chuckle became a laugh and his laugh became louder and louder. Several men and women from the line looked at him as if he had lost his mind. But Oryn had not. He had never had a clearer mind.

When he'd settled himself, he brought his eyes down again and fixed them on the approaching enemy. Red eyes and impossibly black steel. It brought back memories. But against his beating heart he matched his will. The runes on his sword glowed brighter and he tightened his grip on the hammer.

Clank!

Swords met. Oryn blocked with his own and shifted his feet, moving quickly to the side. Rapidly, he stabbed at the demon, but his sword glanced off its armor. His foe countered and missed only by a few inches. Oryn gritted his teeth and growled. He let his enemy attack now, blocking and sweeping his sword away. Finally, he managed to bring the demon so much off balance that he was wide open. Oryn swept its weapon away, using its own attacking momentum. Spotting his opportunity, he brought the hammer in a wide arc down into the face of his enemy. He could feel it connect, but at the same time, the demon disintegrated into a pile of ash at his feet. It was indeed a powerful weapon. It took one strike to slay an enemy. The ruby flared shortly. The glow subsided and he straightened. Once again wings were heard and a beast roared above. This time, however, it wasn't just the guttural noise of a mighty, deadly beast. This time there was a voice as well. He looked to the sky again.

Burn it down! BURN THEM ALL!

He glanced down at the hammer in his hand. The townsfolk raised a battle cry behind him and rushed forward to meet their enemies. Oryn joined them.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arianell Oresh
COLLAB WITH || @ze_kraken, @Pupperr MENTIONED || @Morgan ​

---

Along the Road || The

The woman with the spear led the companions through the village, their footsteps sloshing noisily in the mud below. Behind them the fires still smoldered, having been largely doused by Niowyn's magics. Still, the cloying scent of burning flesh and ash permeated the air, choking the faint of heart and driving the more brave among the defenders to cover their faces with scraps of cloth to drive away the odor.

To their front the raiders prowled, moving in eerie lockstep about four paces apart. Overhead their commander soared, still encircling the village atop its foul steed. Startled villagers, caught unawares in their homes by the sudden approach of foes to their rear, darted out and fled the streets. Some were cut down by the raiders' spears, others retreated back to the safety between the companions and the steadily retreating frontline.

Before long they stood in the town square, the creatures beginning to run circles around them, continuing to move as if they were of one mind. They hunched their backs, using their long limbs and spears to herd the companions into a circle. The woman with the spear jabbed forward, toying with one of the raiders as Nathyen and Aria weaved about their probing jabs. Whenever one strayed close to Niowyn, she flicked a stream of water to deflect the blow.

"More!" Shouted the woman with the spear. "I see more! North of the square, over the walls! They're stalling us out!"

"Damn…" Hissed from a tight lipped frown, Aria looked between Nathyen and Niowyn, back to the woman with the spear, "Nio… That sliding thing you just did. Do you think you could do something similar, but freeze it? I have a really terrible idea..."

As Aria spoke, she deflected a spear jab from one of the raiders. Its fellows rushed around them still, keeping them pinned even as nearly ten others began to dart into the village. The horn in the watchtower began to blare loudly in an attempt to alert the line, but they were ensnared in their own bloody melee and too preoccupied to take note.

"Aye, anything's better than being spitted like a fuckin' pig," Nathyen grumbled, clumsily parrying a spear thrust aimed for his neck.

Niowyn glanced at Aria, grinning at her request. "Well of course. Can you skate, Aria?" she asked, a lighthearted jab in her tone. The tribeswoman flung some water at an approaching enemy from behind them. "Which way do you want to go?"

"Skate… we'll see." With a small grimace, Aria swung at another raider, a growl of frustration behind the move as she gestured with her free hand towards the other onslaught, "That way…" And unslinging her shield from her back, she dropped it to the ground, hoping it was explanation enough. "Keep him out of trouble, and if this doesn't work, come save my ass…"

"Ahh, so we are sledding I see!" Niowyn exclaimed, excitement on her tongue. The mage swooped her arms from the side and upwards, the water from the gourd mimicking her movements. Her arms drew downward and forward, the water rushing from behind Niowyn and toward the onslaught in the distance. As the water created a pathway, it began to rapidly freeze as it reached further and further.

Without hesitating, because in truth she knew if she hesitated, she'd never move, Aria gave Niowyn a nod of thanks and with her sword clutched tightly at her side, she raced forward and leaped on the shield. The sound it made was less than pleasant, as metal scraped along the ice, and it was hardly as graceful and balanced as it might've been in mind, but it did the trick, carrying her rapidly towards the other raiders as they poured over the wall. When she was close enough that that sulphurous scent stung her eyes and nose, she slammed a foot down and kicked the shield with the other, catching it as it bounced up into the air.

Sword arching, shield before her, she swung at the first of the raiders, aiming to sever head from body with a merciless hack. Her arm jarred at the impact, blade ripping clean through its neck and slicing its head clean. The raider's body disintegrated into a pile of ash, its armor and weapons clattering to the ground before likewise vanishing into a plume of ash and smoke that smelled heavily of blood and sulfur. Their fellows drew in close to Aria, heads wheeling about to stare her down as they advanced.

As Aria maneuvered around this new threat, back in the center of the square the demons seized the opportunity left by one fewer fighter to contend with and surged forth. Two ganged up on the woman with the spear, driving her back to back with Nathyen and Niowyn who were likewise under assault. Her spear caught one in the leg and it fumbled just in time for its counterpart to bury the tip of its black spear deep in her shoulder, hissing and crackling like molten metal dropped into a pail of water. She cried out in agony and collapsed to her knees, clutching the angry red burn and stab wound.

Nathyen shifted right and drove back the pair with a few reckless, wild sword strikes leaving himself open to his flank. He winced as a spear seared into his left calf, the raiders driving forward only to be flushed away by a jet of water and ice by Niowyn. The shards of ice shredded the first of Nathyen's assailants, baring patches of glowing red-black flesh where once there had been scraps of chain length.

"Get back here, Aria!" Nathyen shouted out, aiding the woman with the spear to her feet. "Can you fight?"

"Well enough," she said, though there was clear resignation and defeat written into the fear in her eyes.

"Niowyn - see if you can do something about that wound," Nathyen said, shifting to take her place as the remaining four raiders began their game of cat and mouse once more. "Aria and I will distract them."

There were moments in life, when plans were forged in the heat of battle, and though complicated and dangerous, that amounted to something extraordinary. Standing beside the ashen waste of the first demon, staring at more than half a dozen now encroaching, that was not a feeling in Aria's gut.

And yet, here she was…

Crouching slightly, her fingertips curled around the hilt of the small blade kept within her boot (nice boots, indeed), and rising, she flung it with a ferocity towards one of the demons flanking on the left, before bringing her sword in another solid sweep towards a raider on the right.

Nathyen's frantic shout reached her ear and swearing, Aria took a step back, "Get ready!!"

Niowyn crouched next to the woman, examining the wound on her shoulder. It was deep but it wasn't bad. It wasn't anything like the wound Oryn had suffered in Gol Badhir. She could heal it easily and with minimal impact to herself. "Don't be alarmed" she reassured the woman before placing a firm hand against her wound. Water trickled from her gourd and enveloped her hand against the woman's torn clothing and bleeding wound. A few murmured words and her hand shimmered a golden light.

The woman's pain eased, her eyes wide in awe of what was happening. Most commoners rarely saw a mage, let alone one that could heal. "Tha- thank you."

Niowyn smiled, pulling herself to her feet and offering a hand to help the woman up. "It's not over yet. Stay alert." She spun on her heel and joined Nathyen with her back to him. Niowyn shot a look over to Aria who was in the belly of the beast and readying to make a return to them, along with the raiders who were surrounding her. The tribeswoman grinned, her eyes wild with power as she began to pull water from the very earth beneath them. Hundreds of droplets started to gather in the air as Niowyn prepared to push back the advancing raiders that would be accompanying Aria. "READY!" she called back.

As Aria moved to flank the raiders encircling the small group, slicing through the calf of one as the woman with the spear impaled it through the chest and reduced it to a pile of ash, Niowyn began to freeze the droplets. The air about them became chill, and in short order the droplets hardened and started to refract the gaudy red glow of the creatures' auras into a deadly, beautiful display. Once Aria was secure beyond the barrage-in-waiting, Niowyn loosed the shard, catching the reinforcing creatures head-on.

They raised their arms to block the shards, which hissed and steamed as they struck their skin. Patches of alabaster skin were torn open, intensifying the odor of sulphur and sending oozing ichor spilling out across the ground. This bought the companions time to drive off the last three creatures penning them around the square. First Nathyen managed a disarming blow like Aria had taught him, Aria delivering the fatal stroke from behind. As they dispatched the last two, a quick spear thrust from a cornered creature sliced through Aria's forearm, leaving a deep gash that was cauterized from the head of the spear's red-hot bite.

As the last of them collapsed into ash, they stood, beleaguered and weary as a handful of raiders pressed on to the frontlines and the ones distracted by Niowyn's storm of shards were rallying themselves. Niowyn's arms were beginning to droop, her breath starting to catch in her chest, and her reflexes slowed as the use of magic took its toll. Nathyen, Aria, and the other woman were likewise beginning to tire as they formed a loose defensive line to meet the remaining three raiders head-on: they would have to deal with the ones to the rear of the line later.

"We can't keep this up, forever…" Aria shifted her stance, her blade balanced slightly to the side as she briefly inspected the serrated burn, still stinging in the frigid air, "Alright… You, to the left, Nathyen take the right. I'll take the middle and Nio..." Nodding, Aria readied her blade, "Whatever we miss…"

At the sight of readied defense the raiders halted within thrusting range of their spears, standing roughly two paces apart. They kept their spears extended, threatening any advance from the companions. It seemed clear that, again, they were there to stall and distract from the trio that was breaking out behind them so that they might disrupt the line. The two sides probed at the other's defenses, feinting strikes and making light advances and retreats.

Nathyen moved in step with Aria, seemingly aware of his own shortcomings as a fighter with his unsure footwork. The woman with the spear was bolder, taking cautious jabs at the raiders' weapons. Slowly but surely the companions were driven back, forced to step back to avoid the burning tips of their foes' spears. The standoff was broken when, unseen by the companions, an arrow whistled and struck one of the creatures square in its shoulder, sending it staggering back. The woman with the spear lunged without question, seizing the opportunity to thrust her spear forward.

Like a row of tumbling dominoes, one reaction led to another. A raider shifted to counter the spear thrust towards its fellow, which was met by a cut from Nathyen, provoking the third raider to action who was intercepted by Aria. Steel met hell-forged iron, sending sparks flying in the fog as they clashed. With the first raider wounded, the companions were able to gain the upper hand and make quick work of them with the continued aid of their unknown ally.

Niowyn watched her companions and the raiders closely, she couldn't engage as freely now and would have to pick her moments. Her ability to pull magic from the Essence had almost reached its peak and she was beginning to tire. Any spell weaving she did after that would be incredibly straining on her own body.

Her eyes watched as the three raiders who split from the group were making their way around them. Two on one side and one on the other. It was impossible for her to intercept all three… her attention landed on the two and silently prayed the archer in the distance would take care of the third.

Water rushed from the gourd and sped toward the two advancing raiders. Each raider stopped to draw their spears, slicing at the jet streams of water swirling around them. Whenever one of them cut through the stream, a new one appeared. It wrapped around the raiders like a rope, tightening against their skin and beginning to freeze. "I've got you.." the tribeswoman silently whispered to herself as she watched the water slither up the raider's bodies toward their necks.

A spear flew through the air from behind her; the last advancing raider. She screamed, a sound of pain shooting across the battlefield, with the spear lodged in the back of her shoulder. Her sleeve was already beginning to soak with blood and she fell to her knees. Niowyn focused on the two raiders in front of her, still caught in her spell but the water snaking up their necks had stopped. If she broke her focus on them, the water would fall and they would collapse on her and her companions, and if she didn't break her focus on them, the raider behind would do the same.

Whipping around as her sword withdrew from the plume of ash, Aria's eyes followed the scream to Niowyn, and an angry oath slipped past her lips. The archer was still as of yet unseen, but from the trajectory of the arrow she could pinpoint the general vicinity. The idea of relying on a hope was both not ideal and not uncommon. Trust in the heat of battle was rarely ever perfect… but if she was wrong, well… She'd be dead, so it hardly made much of a difference.

Flipping her sword round in her grip, she raced forward and leaping over Niowyn, Aria threw the blade at the solitary Raider. Predictably, the weapon was swept aside by the spear, but as it parried to the right, Aria drove for the center mass of the demon and wrapping her arms around it, with her full weight in the tackle, took it to the ground, pain searing up her hands and arms as she clung tightly to the despicable creature.

In short order Nathyen and the woman with the spear slew the immobilized raiders with swift blows to the neck. As Nathyen rushed towards Aria, yanking her from the raider and thrusting his sword down into the creature's neck, the woman with the spear saw to Niowyn's wounds.

"Who's looking after who, lass?" Nathyen quipped. "Come on - let's get to shelter, see to Niowyn."

"Gotta earn those boots, Princess." Aria replied.

Looking down at her hands, she grimaced slightly, "...Maybe not my best plan."

Nathyen allowed himself to enjoy the brevity for a moment before his eyes hardened and his brow creased in seriousness again. "You there, how is she?"

"It's not good, not the worst," the woman with the spear said. "Can...can you fix yourself? Like you did me?"

Niowyn's face shuddered in pain, beads of sweat rolling from her brow. But she looked over to where Nathyen and Aria were, forcing a grin. "Cool as a cucumber" she managed, though strain in her voice.

"Healing doesn't work like that." Niowyn added, looking at the woman tending to her shoulder. "I have to give life to heal life… I can't do it to myself."

Seeing Nio rise, a breath of relief escaped and with a sly grin, Aria pulled herself up, giving Nathyen a nudge as she did. The woman with the spear pulled out her knife and cut a piece of fabric from her own tunic's sleeve, using it to bind Niowyn's gash and tie it shut.

"That'll hold for now, but you'll need to be seen… after, after all this," she said.

Around them small fires had cropped up and were doused by the oppressive fog as quickly as they had appeared, seeming to congregate about the slain raiders. The battle raged ahead towards the gate, the line pushed back further and further. They were in hailing distance now, and the sounds of clashing steel and shouts were clear. From their position the companions could see Blanc, Vardis, and Oryn leading from the front. Oryn wielded Scarnesbane in one hand and his runic blade in another, casting aside the creatures to his front with ease, the hammer glowing a brilliant ruby red from the jewel atop its head as he fought.

Retreating into a nearby alleyway, the companions took a moment to recuperate. Nathyen did what he could about Aria's burns, taking a bit of chilled water to a rag with the help of Niowyn to help numb the pain. They worked in silence, too stunned and weary to waste effort on words. Suddenly that silence was shattered by the wailing, echoing roar of the beast overhead preceded by the loud flap and crackle of leathery wings snapping in flight.

To the companion's left they saw the dragon fly low, its rider cast in pale red magnificence. It clutched a lance as long as Blanc was tall in its right, gauntlet-clad hand and the reigns of its steed in another as it urged the beast lower and lower. At their distance from it, they could see gaps in its armor where there might have been limbs, moving about as if possessed and tugged along like a puppet. Its helm gleamed with the red and silver glow of the fog in sunlight and red light it cast. It sailed clear past the companions, headed towards the front. Shouts of alarm and panic rang through the frontline of defenders as the dragon landed behind the safety of its own soldiers, its rider dismounting, lance vanishing to be replaced with a black two-handed greatsword that rivaled Vardis' in length, though like all the weapons the creatures carried it was unearthly thin.

"Bugger me," Nathyen hissed, peering about the corner of the alley. "We're fucked."

 

[Morgan]

Oryn​

---

Within moments the dragon landing, Oyrn found himself staring down its rider with weapons raised. Its movements were jagged, as if carried along by a force that was not its own. Where there might have been eyes peering out from its skull-shaped helm was instead a black void of air, and gaps in its armor where there would be flesh and bone was likewise devoid of substance. It carried its blade deftly in two hands - a massive, two-handed greatsword of black and red iron, crackling with red light and thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs.

The dragon loomed behind it, propelled along by massive forelimbs that sprouted into wicked black wings. Its horns were pure ivory, its eyes a piercing crimson that rivaled the brilliance of Scarnesbane's ruby. The beast's mouth hinged open, rows of teeth the size and width of daggers shone a pale white and its red tongue licked along its lips hungrily.

Fire bloomed in the dragon's mouth as it opened its maw wide - first a bright orange glow blossomed in the back of its throat, then flames materialized along its teeth and shot towards Oryn. Scarnesbane's ruby flared so bright that its redness gave way to a shimmering, piercing white flash. The flames surrounded Oryn, driving back what few stood at his side, but leaving him untouched. Though sweat broke out across his brow in the heat, and his armor begun to glow cherry red, his skin did not burn.

The flames subsided and Oryn stood, a bit bewildered - and had there been a man in the rider's armor, it would have stared just as dumbfounded at the man before him as well. As it was, it clanked forward, amplifying the lingering flames at its feet. The dragon spat curses at Oryn as its rider jutted forward and strode behind its master obediently, discouraging all from coming to Oryn's aid with bursts of flame and swings of its lithe tail.

Fear would have gripped him at staring into the void behind his enemy's helm. He had expected the same chill to rise up along his spine, just like all those years ago. But Oryn didn't have the capacity, as he was too shocked. He had to look down at himself and see that it was true. He had survived dragonfire. For a moment more he wondered until his eyes fell on the hammer once more. Of course. That had to be it. Oryn harbored no illusions that he was special or protected by a god or goddess. No, it had to be this ancient magic.

Knowing that there was nothing else to do, he readied himself for the fight with the rider and his beast. The latter of the two spoke in its guttural tongue and again he was surprised that he understood. Oryn eyed the great dragon, gritted his teeth and fueled the rage inside.

"After I've killed you, I'll eat your heart." His eyes were wild as he stared at the dragon and aimed the tip of his sword at it. The frenzy of battle rose in him again and he readied himself. He rolled his shoulder, tightened his grip on both hammer and sword and nodded. "Come on then."

The rider answered the challenge, hefting its greatsword over its head and swinging in a wide arc with inhuman speed. The tip of the blade raked against Oryn's breastplate as he dodged back, sending sparks flying as the hideous screech of metal upon metal rang out. The dragon behind it hung like a black specter, observing the fight but making no move to strike the human before it, instead keeping its attention on quelling any resistance from the defenders attempting to aid Oryn.

Again the rider lunged forward, swinging its greatsword at Oryn. This time blade met blade - runic sword and infernal greatsword singing the song of battle. The edge of Oryn's blade instantly shone with red heat as the swords clashed, and in one deft movement the rider flicked his wrist and applied pressure to dislodge the sword from Oryn's grip. It sailed off to his right, burying itself deep in the ground as the rider stepped back to avoid a counter swing of Scarnesbane.

He hadn't been this easily disarmed since Calen had taught him to fight. It surprised him. Both the ease and speed and strength with which the rider used its greatsword. Oryn now took a few steps back, increasing the distance between himself and the rider to gain a few seconds. Enough to study his opponent and think of a new angle of attack.

Recklessly, he stepped forward and to the left, bringing the hammer down from over his head only to shift his feet, roll to the right and bring the weapon in from the right toward where a living man's ribs would be. Hammer struck greatsword, and Scarnesbane's ruby gleamed red as the two collided. The rider was thrown off balance, and the weight of the swing carried Oryn a step forward as he wrestled back control of his swing. Seizing the opening, Oryn was able to deliver a solid blow to the rider's chest, knocking it back further still. Its armor was dented where the hammer had struck it, a blow that would have caved in the chest of any man. Only, the rider pressed on as if nothing had happened, sword coming around for another slice.

The dragon behind the rider bellowed, engulfing Oryn in another bout of flames that fell harmlessly about him. Only, as the fire abated, Oryn barely had time to raise his hammer before the rider was upon him, using the distraction of the dragonfire to lunge. The greatsword sliced at Oryn's shoulder, searing flesh and sending blood flying as it connected. It was a glancing blow at best, but enough to send Oryn stumbling backward.

He winced and clenched his teeth at the pain. The rider's razor thin and searing greatsword bit his flesh unlike any other blade. At least, any other blade that had kissed Oryn's skin. He looked at the wound that had been semi-cauterized already. Then he took a ready stance again, breathing slightly heavier and wracking his brain to find a way to defeat his foe.

Setting his feet, he decided to wait and let his enemy attack first. The rider was quick in responding to the lapse in the fighting, coming in for another swing. Without the dragon's flames to conceal its movement, however, Oryn was able to swing up and strike the blade away before shifting stance and delivering a crippling blow to the rider's hips. Bits of loose armor, knocked free from whatever magic sustained the rider, clattered to the ground as the rider collapsed to its knees.

You'll die for that, Oryn heard echoing through his head in a voice of pure rage and flame. The dragon lurched forward, the rider lay helpless on the ground reaching for the sword it had dropped at the sudden violence of Oryn's strike. Time slowed. The dragon's maw opened. Fangs flashed orange and fire began once more to surge forward. Oryn did not have long now. The rider was standing up.

Now. Now! There was no time to waste. This would be his only opening. The dragon's maw would shoot forth its fiery destruction in but a moment and before he knew it, the rider would be back on his feet. As if some instinct had been awakened inside him, his fingers curled as if gripping at something. In his palm a heat began to grow and an energy formed. Oryn didn't have time to be surprised. He acted as if he knew exactly what he was doing, only he didn't. Well, perhaps half of it.

As a fire grew within his hand he brought Scarnesbane high and brought it down toward the rider's head with all his might. At the same time, he stretched out his hand toward the dragon, hoping to send forth whatever magic he could muster, just to buy himself time enough to end the terrible swordsman who was quickly getting back to his feet.

In quick succession Oryn's blow hit home, crumpling the rider's skull-shaped helm and reducing it to a pile of rubble, pieces of armor scattering across the ground at Oryn's feet. From his outstretched palm shot back the flames from the dragon's maw, passing harmlessly against the beast. Stunned, the dragon withdrew, screeching as its rider perished and retreating from its own dragonfire turned against it. Scarnesbane hummed with a life of its own as the rider collapsed, its ruby's normal dim glow replaced with a resplendent gleam. Flames curled from the head of the warhammer, and power surged through Oryn as the fire atop his weapon burst outward in a shower of sparks.

In his immediate surroundings, the footsoldiers of the Hollow Knight's army collapsed into ash. Those further fell into disarray, retreating when overwhelmed by the defenders or otherwise becoming sluggish and weak. The dragon likewise was beginning to fade, its movements slow and purposeful as it mustered the last of its power into one fell swoop at Oryn. It tucked its swings deep to its sides, propelling itself off of its back legs and unfurling its swings as it surged forth. Those within its wingspan were knocked aside, some rent asunder by the talons at the end of its wings.

With such a massive objecting hurtling towards Oryn, he could do naught but brace for impact. The dragon's horned head hammered into Oryn's chest, cracking bone and hurling the man back five paces to the ground, Scarnesbane flying from his hand, the flame snuffed out even as the ruby continued to glow. The dragon attempted to rise to its feet, but to no avail. The light faded from its eyes, and as it slumped dead to the ground, its black color faded and left a white, pallid corpse in the center of the street.

The fires about the battlefield quieted from a raging inferno to a solemn smoldering blaze, and the sounds of wood cracking from the heat and men dying began to ring out clearly over the clash of steel. Oryn lay motionless, breast plate caved in, sternum cracked, blood beginning to pool in the muddy dirt about him, forming a dark black mire. Overhead ash began to mingle with the fog, which itself was beginning to lift and let the sun's rays finally shine overhead, casting a piercing array of light atop the fallen hero. Still he clung to life, breathing raggedly, laboring for each beat of his heart and each lungful of air to sustain him. His blue eyes were fixed at the sky. He didn't register the smell of ash and death in the air anymore. His body was broken. Yet still he smiled. They had done it. Oryn struggled to breathe. Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. Aria, Blanc, Vardis, Nathyen, Niowyn. Please let them be alive. Unable to move, he coughed and fought to keep his eyes open. At least now he had done something with his life. Calen would have been proud.


Collab with @ze_kraken

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arianell Oresh
MENTIONED || @ze_kraken, @Pupperr, @Morgan ​

---

THE HOLLOWS

A moment's pause. That was all they would get. Nathyen's ministrations went unnoticed momentarily as Aria focused less on the pain of the burns and more on what they had accomplished thus far. It wasn't much. The battle was far from over and the tide had certainly not turned, but they had done more than she thought possible.

Her eyes watched as he tended, wrapping cool cloth over her palms, before flickering over to Niowyn. These were not merely companions, anymore. These were her friends… these were people worth fighting for… and they had done something.

Turning her hands downward, she gripped Nathyen's hands in her own briefly, her gaze shifting again between the pair of fighters beside her, "Whatever happens, I want you to know in all of this… it has been an honor fighting alongside each you. Whatever comes in this life or the next, I am glad to have known you… and better for having met you… Coming here, I had no notion of what I might find, but I can promise I never expected to find you. In so many ways, I found exactly what I was looking for… Family. And one I am proud to live… or die beside."

A shrill roar echoed through her sentiments, shattering the brief tenderness and her eyes twisted past the alley. Slowly she stood, moving towards the opening, and there, she watched in transfixed awe and horror as the black beast at last descended upon the field, upon Oryn. As flames rained down, she heard, rather than saw Niowyn shift and as the woman ran forward, Aria reached out and caught her. Dragging her back, despite the volatile struggle from the woman, she called out, "No, you don't! You are in no shape to go out there!"

"No! Let go! He needs us!" Nio cried, but Aria's grip tightened.

"You are no use to him dead, Nio! That thing… you're no match. None of us are! This is his fight… This is Scarnesbane's fight!"

And all they could do was watch. Watch in agony, as, back and forth, blows were exchanged, Seeing Oryn wielding the hammer as though it were made for him, she understood now why Nathyen gave it away… and a selfish part of her was almost glad the locksmith hadn't held on to it. Eventually, Niowyn stopped resisting, stopped struggling, as almost in tandem they seemed to come to the realization that they could do nothing but wait. Wait to see the outcome. Eventually, in glory and fire, it came, as with a single hit, the foul beast and his master were felled.

But their end did not come without consequence and as Oryn went down, she immediately released Niowyn's arm and stumbled back, hands coming to cover her mouth, fighting the burn of tears behind her eyes. After a moment, watching Niowyn, a storm in her own right, race towards their fallen comrade, Aria spun around and without a word, crashed into Nathyen, burying her face in his chest.

Nathyen retreated for a moment, half stunned as Aria collapsed into him. He glanced down at the mess of grimy, smoke-filled pale blonde hair and gingerly wrapped an arm about her as he fumbled with his sword in his other hand.

"Aria..." Nathyen said in a hushed tone, "easy now, easy now..."

He planted his sword in the mud beside him, as if resigned to the fact it would do him no good with the sobbing woman in front of him. His other arm joined the first, clutching Aria close. He glanced over her head to the battle raging beyond their alleyway and fixated his attention instead on her, one hand gently clutching her by the back of her neck and rubbing softly.

The battle, for the moment, seemed at its end, but only the few minutes that followed would tell if they had won or not...

 

[Pupperr]

Niowyn of the Ta'Lassa Tribe

---

Niowyn ran, her feet beating against the ground as she stumbled past piles of ash and blood stained earth. All the colours around her dulled… and all the sounds disappeared into distant muffles. Her hands desperately reached for Oryn but he felt miles away. She tried to scream, she tried to call for him… but her voice refused to cooperate. The lump in Niowyn's throat was like a knot choking her of any breath. And for the first time, she was scared.

Her body collapsed as she reached Oryn, looking down at him, all colour drained from her face, eyes wide with horror. She trembled while hesitant hands reached for Oryn's broken and tattered body. "...no…" she whispered, voice shaking with distress. Eyes pooled with tears as her hands finally reached him. Life was something Niowyn could always feel but when she touched him, she could only feel it slipping away.

"NO!" The maiden's cry cut through the silence that fell on the graveyard that was once the battlefield

Niowyn slumped over Oryn, her hands grasping at his caved in breastplate and her face buried against his limp body. Her body shuddered, tears flowing freely now as she wept. Her people believed that death was not the end, but she didn't want him to die, she desperately didn't want him to die. She wanted to laugh with him again, she wanted to dance with him again, she wanted to smile with him again. But she had drawn all she could from the Essence, whatever magic she had left would be drawn from her, and healing already required her own life. It could kill her but would it be enough? It had to be enough.

"Don't die Oryn… please" her words trembled. The tribeswoman wept quietly against his body, pleading for her healing to work. And as the golden light appeared around them, she could feel her life begin to pull away. "Please be enough…. please work… please Oryn, don't die... Please.."

Her breath became laboured with each beat of her heart, beads of sweat mixed with tears of despair on her cheek, and her body weakened as the seconds passed. Niowyn's sobbing slowed and her voice quieted. She was giving him all of herself in a desperate attempt to save him. "the.. world.. needs.. you… "

Blue eyes fluttered shut, the sound of quiet sobs disappeared, and Niowyn's body stopped shaking with fear. The golden shimmer of hope that surrounded them seemingly vanished and Niowyn laid lifeless on top of the hero who saved them.

"I..... need.... you...."

---

L: In the depths of misery | M: Oryn @Morgan

 

[ze_kraken]

Background Music

DESTINY FULFILLED

---

Killing

came naturally to Maud. It had since he was a boy in the Shroud, drilling in the yard of the Aetherstone Keep as a squire in the Knights of the Shroud. None had been so gifted, so ruthless, so strong as he. None could dare opposed him - least of all this blightspawn from the nether. He and his men had led a charge from outside the gates of the Hollows when the fires were their fiercest, driving back the demons. Once the fires had been doused they had driven through and joined the melee that followed. Many of his men had died - many still had fled the dragon's fiery wrath, only for one of those bastards from Gol Badhir to slay it.

The hammer. He had been wielding the hammer - Maud had seen it, seen it glow brilliant with red light and orange flame. He had seen it used to smash in the head of the Hollow Knight, seen it fly from the man's hands as the dragon charged him. He had to find it, and soon before the chaos of the battle died down. Though much of the Hollow Knight's army had perished when their commander had fallen, enough clogged the streets of the Hollows. Maud ignored them, striding through the streets in his plate mail, holding aloft a kite shield and Shard, visor of his helm lowered.

When he came upon the patch of rubble he had seen the hammer soar towards, the thief was there as well, picking through the ashes. A smile crossed Maud's lips - rarely did he relish in killing as a matter of personal satisfaction, but the thought of this thief laid low and left to bleed out by Shard's bite brought satisfaction to the once-knight's mind. It was the perfect time to strike - all about him had fled, gone to tend to the wounded, search for loved ones, or join the fight routing the demonic creatures.

Maud rushed forward on armored feet, his footfalls heavy. The thief turned up, brown eyes flickering with confusion, recognition, and then horror. He clutched the hammer in both hands, rising to his feet and stumbling away through the ruins as fast as he could. Maud noted the wound on his leg and doubled his efforts, urging himself into a jog. The thief overturned a pile of barrels which Maud simply shouldered his way through, rounding a corner where stood the queerly dressed knight with the greatsword.

"Hm-hoh! It appears we meet at last, with all pretenses of our cooperation now void," the knight chirped, bobbing back and forth atop deft feet, sword sliding from its sheath along his back. "Come, then, sword on guard if you please!"

Without waiting, the knight propelled himself off his right leg, leaping forward a distance impossible for any one man to make without the aid of magic. His sword swung in a downward arc towards Maud, carried along by a gust of wind. Maud caught the strike on his shield, the blade splintering the wooden kite shield, discharging splinters and tattered leather across the muddy earth below. A second blast of wind caught Maud square in the chest, knocking him backward as the knight seized the opportunity to wrench his blade free. The orc stepped back, unstrapping the shield from his wrist and tossing it to the ground.

"Fancy tricks," he spat.

The knight chuckled, continuing to dance about on cushions of air beneath his feet, making his motions almost impossible to predict. Maud drew upon the gems adorning his belt, sending power coursing through his leg muscles. With a roar, Maud leapt up much like the knight had, Shard flashing in the sunlight. The knight simply pushed Maud back with another blast of air and side-stepped the blow, chuckling once more.

"It seems you specialize in killing helpless maidens," the knight taunted. "Not a talent to boast of, hoh!"

Shard nearly decapitated the knight, flying wide in a left-facing arc. Had he not used more of his magic to aid in swinging his blade up to block, he would be dead on the ground. Maud shuffled to face his foe, snarling.

"Dance all you want - I'll outlast you, that I promise you," the orc retorted, taking a probing jab at the knight.

He darted beside the blow again, and again he used his wind magic to dislodge Maud's positioning. This time rather than flee, the knight seized the chance to cut at the orc's chest. Metal scraped metal, sparks flew, and Maud was tossed back further still. His armor had stopped the blow, but in the exchange the knight had cut a strap keeping his breastplate intact. The two exchanged blows and counter blows in a deadly dance, each failing to score a meaningful blow on the other, but the knight was beginning to tire as not only his Essence but his muscles began to tire keeping his act afloat.

With one last desperate effort the knight lurched forward, less graceful than he had before, slicing open the other strap of Maud's armor before flinging the orc back with his last vestige of strength, the wind so powerful that when Maud struck the ruined support beam behind him it snapped beneath his weight and sent him sprawling back into the ash and rubble behind. Maud barely had time to register what had happened before the knight was upon him, blade soaring down for the fatal blow.

Shard met the blade, ringing with the bizarre cadence of Volcite steel before it shattered under the weight of the greatsword, splinters of metal flying in a deadly barrage. One slipped between the ringlets of Maud's mail, another struck the knight square in the leg. He buckled, and Maud tossed Shard aside, drawing power from the gems at his belt to empower a punch aimed at the knight's chest. His balled fist hit home, and Maud cried out in pain as his fingers and wrist broke at striking steel so fiercely but the knight was hurled back, across the beam Maud had just struck a moment ago. The orc rose to his feet, staggering to where the knight lay on his back, coughing and spluttering.

With his free hand, Maud hooked fingers beneath the knight's helm and tossed it aside. Beneath was a face as plain as any man's - one Maud had seen thousands of times before. Brown hair, brown eyes, a chin that spoke of an aristocratic heritage. There had been plenty of his kind in the Shroud.

"Take away your armor and you're just a runt," Maud spat.

"Hoh...hmm..." the knight said, as if contemplating his fate, taking pause. "Might one say the same of you, I wonder?"

Maud ignored the taunt, wrapping dark green fingers around the knight's neck and squeezing. He kept squeezing, even as the knight struggled, and he fed his muscles with the last reserve of strength his gems had to offer. Maud saw the light begin to die, saw his eyes begin to bulge, his face turn blue as he struggled. With one last, bolstered grip he heard bone crunch and it was done. The knight lay lifeless, stripped bare of the eccentricities that had defined him in life. He was but one among many of the slain, one who would be forgotten before long.

Maud struggled to his feet, fetching what remained of Shard from the ruins.

"Thief!" He called out. "Where are you? Show yourself!"

There. He emerged from the shadows of a nearby burned-out house, hammer clutched in his hands, gleaming ruby red and cast aflame. He looked unsure, his stance was awkward, and he had never clearly held a weapon of the hammer's size before in his life. Battered though he was, Maud found the strength to laugh a deep, throaty laugh.

"I just killed that knight who was twice the man you were," he growled. "Put that thing down, boy, or you'll end the same way as he did."

"You want it? Come pry it from my cold hands," the thief croaked.

"False bravado will get you nowhere, now hand it over..."

Maud stepped forward. The thief stepped back. Maud stepped forward again. Again the thief stepped back. Their game continued until the thief stood, back pressed to a wall. Maud lunged forward with the ruined blade of Shard, catching the shaft of the hammer in response. His broken arm shouldered the thief in the gut, knocking the wind from him. He loomed above the thief, Shard raised to kill when a rock struck him on the back of his helm...

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arianell Oresh
COLLAB WITH || @ze_kraken ​

---

THE HOLLOWS

He'd seen it fly… The hammer. For a long moment, Nathyen had held her and comforted her to the best of his abilities, and truthfully, it wasn't half as long as it felt to Aria, but eventually she had pulled free and dried her eyes and he had promised to return quickly, and then he had dashed off to retrieve Scarnesbane before it was plucked up by the wrong hands. And for a second or two, Aria had composed herself before she followed after, but she had lost sight of him. It had been only a second or two, and he was gone, vanishing from her eye line.

Panic swelled in her chest with such unexpected veracity she felt for a moment like it would drop her. But forcing herself to take a breath, to focus, she returned her mind to the fight, to where she'd seen the hammer land when it flew from Oryn's grasp, and sprinting, she tracked the position. And then she saw him…

It should have occurred to her that he would come for it, too. It should have occurred to her, but with the stress of battle and watching Oryn fall, she had lost concentration… and in a split second, horror trickled her spine, mingling with a sickening sensation, as she watched him toss aside the all too familiar figure, dressed in colorful robes… Limp like rags, Vardis collapsed to the ground and something inside of her shifted…

She was moving, but her steps felt weightless. Vardis was down. Nathyen was missing… But he would not have abandoned the hammer...

Stepping through the husk of a doorway into the burned out building, Aria's fingers found a rock on a sill and heart pounding, she held her breath as she listened to the sounds of muted conversation ahead. She kept her eyes up, but she knew the moment when she walked past Vardis, and her jaw tightened as she steeled herself. He didn't move. He wouldn't move again. And whatever feeling had burned to life within her watching him thrown down raged like an inferno as her eyes instead watched the orc stumbling towards the cornered locksmith, blade ready to strike.

The rock flew. It flew and it connected with his helmet and bounced off with a ping. As he turned, her fingers curled around the hilt of her blade, dragging it free of its sheath and her eyes narrowed, burning, "Right then. Come and try your odds with me, you son of a bitch…"

Grimey steel turned, and Maud's visored face stared down Aria, rage-filled eyes glowering from behind the shadows of his helm. His breastplate hung by a tattered leather strap, swaying at his hips, the mail beneath soiled with blood from an injury Aria could not quite see. The blood ran down his chest, stream giving way to heavy droplets that fell from the end of the mail's ringlets. The hand still clinging to his shattered sword gripped Nathyen and tossed him aside as if he were a ragdoll before Maud approached Aria, twirling his blade idly.

"You're really willing to die for this gutter rat?" He croaked, jerking a mangled and crooked thumb back towards Nathyen.

"I'd be willing to kill you for a gutter rat, but that man there is twice the man you'll ever be. And you won't touch him again." Fingers curling tighter, she planted her feet, holding her sword at the ready. Her other hand raised and her fingers twitched inward, beckoning.

That earned her a scoff. Maud hobbled forward, injured hand clutching with splayed and useless fingers at the wound in his chest. Aria could see as he approached a sliver of steel protruding from the dark red stain, of a different shade and shape when compared to the mail that surrounded it. Only, she had little time to do more than observe the wound for the jagged edge of Maud's sword surged forward, catching Aria's blade in a deep v-shaped break along its length where once its tip might have been.

Size was never in her favor, but never more than now. Stumbling back a bit, her stance interrupted by the unexpected ferocity of the orc's assault, she adjusted her grip, brought a foot forward and pushed against his broken blade, pushing into his space to box in his range. Blade still locked, she brought her knee up in a swift motion towards the gap between Maud's legs. Her knee struck hard leather, but it was enough to send the orc tumbling back, grunting in pain, dislodging the lock their blades were ensnared in. Maud bellowed and swung his sword in a long, labored slash, just enough to put a safe distance between him and Aria while he collected himself.

The two began to tread in circles about one another, and had both been fighting with whole blades, their swords would have been close enough to touch. Maud kept a guarded stance, and Aria could see his eyes studying her movements from behind the visor of his helm. His footwork was slow, rusty, and labored, and the hand at his injury shone through with white knuckles at the strain of the grip he kept at the mail.

"You're slowing…" Aria remarked, almost absently, her feet bringing her to his injured side, her own eyes intently watching his movements, studying the pained expression. There was little honor in fighting a man in Maud's shape, but through her mind flashed the vision of their colorful companion in a heap on the ground, and taking a swift step, she swung, lunging towards his wounded arm.

Maud's injured arm jabbed forward, crooked and bent fingers catching Aria's blade. The orc grunted, and a sickening squishing sound rang as Aria's sword dug deep into the dark flesh. Blood dripped down and Maud's fingers wrapped around the edge of the sword, locking it firmly in place. The gems at his belt shimmered, light flickering, and even as Maud clung to the sword he was able to sweep at Aria's legs with a studded boot, striking her shin with enough force to draw blood.

Briefly, Aria buckled with a cry, and staggering back, her eyes fierce, she forced herself upright, her weight in the opposite leg, her hold on the hilt of her weapon strained as he continued to grip the blade. Curling her free hand around the other, she yanked back against his hold. The blade slid from the orc's grip, trailing blood down the flat surface of the sword. Maud appeared unfazed, even as his hand swayed uselessly at his side, nearly rent in two. He brought his blade up and slashed at Aria's side, their blades meeting again. Maud leveraged his weight to his left foot and shoved, knocking her sword free as the pommel of his own weapon crushed her hand between her sword's hilt and Maud's own.

Another cry rent as her scorched hand was mauled between the weapons. Pulling back swiftly, Aria backed away and adjusting her footwork once more, her eyes narrowed, focused. Shifting her grip, she sent a swing just wider than his stance towards his left. The swing caught across his mail, tugging violently at the ringlets before skidding free, striking the shard of metal lodged in Maud's chest. The sliver of steel jerked right, widening the gash it left and allowing the blood to flow more freely. As Aria's swing carried her with its momentum, Maud lashed out with his elbow, knocking Aria in the shoulder and knocking her to the ground face-first.

The air escaped her as her chest impacted with the hardened ground and blood pooled from her nose where the soft cartilage struck. Gripping her blade which had threatened to scatter, she swung herself around inhaling sharply, forcing her lungs to adjust to the unexpected blow, she struggled upright. A steel-studded kick lashed out, striking Aria's side before flipping her over. Maud dropped his sword by his side before gripping Aria by the neckline of her tunic, gems along his belt flaring with their last ounce of power. He hauled her onto a wall, and her sword fell uselessly to the ground as fingers wrapping tight around her neck.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die," Maud hissed, eyes a rage-clouded blue that was as piercing as a spear.

A glob of crimson spit smacked into Maud's cheek and her own eyes bore into his, every bit defiant, even as his fingers crushed in. A moment ago, the breath had been knocked from her lungs, now they burned with desperation, and despite her every effort, panic swelled in her chest.

Then she saw it. Glinting in the wan light of the burnt out home. The gash of metal sticking out of his mail. As specks flooded her vision, she reached her trembling hand and curled her fingers around the sharp splinter of Shard and yanking it free with the last vestiges of strength she could muster, she brought it up and jammed it into the side of the orc's throat.

The splinter of Volcite steel punched through the orc's armor as if it were paper, lodging deep inside his neck. Blood spurt violently from the wound, leaking out of the gaps between the orc's helm and mail shirt. As Aria retracted the splinter, the leaks became streams and Maud's grip slackened, dropping Aria to the ground below. His healthy hand raised to his punctured neck, fingers rubbing meekly at his gorget, smearing bloody finger trails across the steel. She could see his face growing pallid as the blood rushed, and there was crimson trailing from his lips. Maud began to gurgle on his own blood, collapsing to his knees, and then the ground, laying flat on his back as the life flowed from him, resting in a growing puddle that trailed from about his neck.

Her breath returned to her in a gasp as his hand relinquished its bruising grip, mottled skin red and raw and already shifting to purple. A hacking cough brought her to her hands and knees, but her eyes were trained on the orc as the light faded from him and deep browns turned ashen. Hands quaking now, she raised one to her neck and the cough turned into a sob as the realization sank in, the broken shrapnel of his weapon still clutched in her own hand, carving into the soft skin of her palm as her grip on it became nearly manic, waiting… watching… certain it wasn't over and at the same time, knowing it was.

 

[ze_kraken]

Background Music

RIVERMAN'S TITHE

---

Shhnk...Shhnk...Shhnk...Shhnk

The steady sound was the only sound within the empty, hollowed out husk of a building. Dirt shifting as metal dug in. Nearly twenty minutes had passed before she rose shakily to her feet. Maud hadn't moved, and a cursory glance at the orc's open eyed stare told her what she already knew. He was dead, yet she could spare no sense of sorrow for the monster laid out before her. He would have carved through them all with reckless abandon, and enjoyed their end… She took no pleasure in his corpse, and as she moved to pry his lids down over his empty gaze, another sob shook her, but it was not guilt that racked her… but the painful realization of what had been lost to get here.

She couldn't bring herself to go to Nathyen. Not initially. He hadn't come to her side when the fight was over, and while acknowledging what might have happened would undoubtedly have broken her, she managed to cling to some hope. Some small sliver of hope in knowing he'd been alive when she first found Maud. But she couldn't go to him. Not immediately. So instead, she found Vardis. His mask lay near his broken body, and Aria scooped it up and replaced it over his features. He lived his life in anonymity… and so too would he be carried into the next life. When she had seen to it that he was properly laid out, only then did she go to find the locksmith.

The splash of blood on stone brought a painful ache to her chest, and her steps were slow and stunted, forced, as she dropped down beside him, but stilling the panicked sense of loss that rose within her, she forced herself to look him over and the steady rise and fall of breath told her all she needed to know. He would live. Curling her cloak beneath his head and gingerly wrapping the wound on his head with a strip of cloth, she staggered off to finish the work she knew she needed to do.

Finding a shovel perched against a wall outside the husk, she returned to where she had left the colorful knight and began to dig. Every fiber of her body was strained… bruises and gashes and burns scattered like patchwork across the bridge of her nose and hands and covering her neck, her ribs, her chest… but she began to dig. She was roughly halfway through the shallow ditch, blood and sweat mingling in the dirt, when a soft groan cut across the near silence, echoing through the empty room.

"Aria?" Came the cracked, uncertain voice of the locksmith laced through with a great deal of agony. "Ah, my fuckin' head…"

She didn't answer, not at first, setting the shovel tip in the dirt. Slowly, she approached and knelt down before the locksmith, lifting the rag to inspect the wound. When she spoke, there was an edge of raspiness, a husky sound that drew a grimace.

"You hit a rock. It's stopped bleeding, but you'll have an ache…"

"You say that like it isn't achin' already," he quipped back, but there was none of his usual sarcasm in the remark.

He jolted, then, surging into a seated position and looking about, clutching his head fiercely as the blood rushed to his wound and sent pangs of agony shooting down his spine.

"Where… where's Maud?" He asked. "Is.. did you.."

His eyes fixated on the shovel, the dirt on Aria's clothes, the trails of dried blood lining her nostrils.

"Lass," he said softly, losing the strength to stay seated and slipping back thankfully onto the makeshift pillow Aria had made for him. "Are you alright?"

Still concentrating on the gash, Aria gave a terse nod, flinching at the motion but biting down on her cheek to fight the rush of tears threatening to spill out.

"Maud's dead." She answered, plainly, "Vardis didn't make it. I got here too late. I… I'm fine. I'm alright."

Nathyen nodded slowly, glancing over to Aria's shovel again. His face was hollow, gaunt almost. Mud clung to all of his clothes, and his face was ashen grey from the layers of rubble and debris and smoke that clung to it. Where he had bled or let loose a few tears the dirt had caked into a stiffer, chalkier layer of dirt. Brown eyes, usually alive and in motion gazed somberly ahead as if at something thousands of yards away.

"We both know that's a lie," he said at last. "So no point in keepin' tough with me, lass. You've proved that more 'n enough today."

"I told you to stay by my side…" She whispered, eyes falling to the dirt clotted gash in her hand, "He could've… he almost…"

"He could've," Nathyen agreed. "Not sure what I would've done without you, Aria - and I wouldn't've been able to live with myself if ya'd died on my account. You're a better person 'n I am, and you've still got that brother 'o yours to find."

He paused then, offering a lifeless chuckle.

"Proves I still need to learn how to properly fight - but, no, you risked yourself for me, 'n you shouldn't've had to."

His hand then gripped one of Aria's, offering it a small squeeze.

"Thank you."

Looking up, her eyes met his and she shook her head, bringing a hand up to brush the tender bruise along her neck, "...I would've died, gladly, to keep you safe, Nathyen. I'm not sorry he's dead. I'm not… I'm just sorry I ever thought he deserved to live."

"What're you apologizin' to me for? By all accounts you're the one all tattered up," Nathyen cocked his head to the side, letting go of Aria's hand. "Ah, no matter now - you've alive, and that's a large mercy if ever there was one."

"If I'd trusted my instinct… in the mountains. If we'd taken him out when he first threatened you…" Pausing, she rubbed a bit of blood from her knuckle, studying the pattern of red against pale skin, "You've not seen yourself, have you?" She continued, lightly, "Not sure it's fair to say who's the bigger mess."

"Ah, well it does sting, and I think I'll be feeling hungover with none 'o the fun that came before it but I'll be fine," Nathyen shrugged his shoulders as best he could, which looked more coaxing them to shift up rather than a proper shrug. "What of the others? Have you seen them?"

"I… I haven't. Niowyn went to Oryn, but I couldn't bring myself to go out there. Vardis… I need to bury him. And Maud. He doesn't deserve it, but I have to…"."

"Aye, all's well and proper with that, but in the town?" Nathyen asked, cocking his head to one side and urging himself back into a sitting position. "Suppose it's as good a place as any - doubt this lot'll be able to fix this place up for a few months yet."

Grunting, the locksmith unsteadily clambered to his feet, swaying and clutching his head. When Aria made a move to push him back down, he raised a hand.

"Let me be useful," he snipped, gripping the top of the shovel's handle for support. "Even if it does mean just standing about rather than layin' like a sack of flour."

Rising as well, Aria shook her head, moving to grip the shovel as well, "Nathyen… No, I… I need to do this. I'll never reconcile it if I don't. What… what I did here."

"And there's no reason you need to do that alone," he said lowly, glancing at Aria's eyes intently. "If you need to be the one to dig the hole so be it, but I'm not budging from this spot."

Looking at him, eyes misting again, she took a tentative step closer and gently, dropped her forehead to the middle of his chest, "Thank you. I… I don't know what I would've done if… if something happened to you…"

"'Ya likely would've mourned me, never taken another man, and remembered me for all my thrillin' heroics like getting my head smashed on a rock in the Battle of the Hollows," Nathyen quipped back, a bit of his normal bite back to his words. "And been up a pair 'o boots, too. Come to think on it, 'ya mighta been better off if Maud had tossed me just a 'lil harder."

Straightening up, she gave him a smack in the same spot her forehead had just rested, "That isn't funny…" But there was a lightness to her gaze and with a sigh, she looked down at his feet, "They are nice boots…"

"Ah well, I've been known to do worse to lighten the mood - as you can attest to," he said, nodding at the shovel. "You sure you don't need any help with that?"

Nodding, fingers curling around the shovel, she turned and made her way back to where she'd begun digging the second hole, shoving the metal tip into the ground, "...Just… stay close. It's been a very long day, and if anything else comes of it, I might go mad."

Nathyen nodded, letting Aria resume her work. It had been just past noon when the battle had ended properly, and by the time the graves were dug the sun was already on its way back down into the mountains beyond. Not quite day, not quite twilight, the air about them shone a hazy gold though the air still reeked of smoke and blood. Despite Aria's insistence, Nathyen aided her in lowering the bodies into their graves, which Aria promptly began to fill back in but not before taking what remained of Maud's sword for her own.

"What'd he call it?" Nathyen asked as Aria admired the ruined weapon. "Shard? Fitting name, now, I think."

Once the graves were filled and flattened out, Aria laid Vardis' greatsword atop his grave and Maud's helm atop his. Nathyen reached into his pack and withdrew a small golden coin from Gol Badhir, laying it atop the sword as well. Once there, knelt over the grave of the knight, he muttered a few words inaudible to Aria, nodding to himself. He stepped back from the lonely graves, glancing at Aria.

"A custom back in New Maidenholm," he explained. "The riverman's tithe, it's called. You're supposed to ensure the soul's got…"

He paused, waving his hand in the air vaguely as he struggled for the right word.

"...got the fare for safe passage to whatever's next. As much as I owe you my life, doubtless I owe him yours, too. I'm no good with words over the dead like Blanc is, but…"

The locksmith's eyes looked to the sword, the coin. He stuttered for a moment before finding the proper words, brief though they were.

"I know he wasn't trained in the Shroud, but ah, well - it's as knightly a vigil as I know," Nathyen said, tone shifting to that of recital. "Shed now is your mortal coil, free now is your spirit, here now lies your blade. We pray not your that your spirit shall take need of it, but that your spirit may watch over those who still carry these mortal burdens."

Brushing her cheeks, smearing dirt and blood with fresh tears, she stepped closer to Nathyen, sliding her hand gingerly around his, "Onward, Vardis. You were the bravest man I've known… Thank you."

She was silent for a moment thereafter, before breathing in, "Let's go. I need to look at that gash of yours, and I've a powerful need for a tub of water."

As they turned and headed back towards the remnants of the Hollows, the sun broke through the clouds for a moment, casting a brilliant golden ray atop the graves, Vardis' greatsword gleaming a rich amber. The wind picked up, subsiding as quickly as it had come, bringing another row of clouds to mask the sun's light. Nathyen and Aria turned, watching the light fade before they turned, and did not look back…

 

[Elle Joyner]

Music

Arianell Oresh
Mentioned | All​

---

THE HOLLOWS

Pale light shown through wisps of clouds, bathing the Hollows streets in an effect like fresh snowfall, stillness in the air and silence all around an odd contrast to what was, only a short while ago, a warground bathed in blood and ash. There was such peace to it now, it hardly seemed possible that it had been the field for such unspeakable horrors, even now, despite the tears that curled along her skin. She had no delusions she might sleep. The echo of the battle clung to every vestige of her mind, from the ashen demons to the demons of her own making, haunting her every waking thought. Vardis had not been with them long, and while he had been, he was an enigma both fantastic and strange, but he had also been their friend. He was the first to offer Aria his aid in finding her brother and the words resonated, even now, in the still darkness...

"Assuming the both of us leave Gol Badhir with our lives, I will join you on the path - should you accept me."...

Before leaving him in the grave, she had taken a small scrap of his colored cloak, and the fabric was tied now to the ring she wore, the metal circle resting in her palm against the gash. It would linger, a scar... a reflection of all that had happened. Maud's words too, rang in her mind...

"You're the fiery one..."...

A memory of the orc standing by the flickering flames, wise for a moment... honest. Noble.

There was no nobility in his end. She had stripped of her armor and washed away the traces of the fight, but it stuck with her, still... and her fingers curled around the ring as they had the shard of blade that had been his resolute end.

Her eyes drifted towards the man sleeping a little ways away. He had stayed as she asked, and for a little while she had pretended to sleep too, just so he might feel as though he could. His presence was a comfort, but it would be some time before that comfort echoed deeper that the surface. There was a good chance, she knew, that it might never again... She thought of Oryn, broken and bleeding beneath the corpse of dragon. Of Niowyn, so beautiful and brave, shattered by the sight of his fallen form. Of Blanc, stronger than anyone Aria knew, driven to silence by all the loss and the bitter unfairness of the world... She thought of Theod, who put his faith and trust in her so willingly, and who believed in her more than she did herself, but who would never hold his own daughter again. Of the woman, Egret, who had lost so much and carried it with her, yet never gave in to the grief... Of Nathyen, who taught her that even in the greatest depths of pain, light could outshine and that the courage that came from her conviction was armor no blade could rend assunder... She thought of Callum, lost to the wilds of the North, but never forgotten...

Looking upwards through the open window, she watched as clouds peeled away from obsidian and starlight, like scattered embers of a fire twinkled up against the black velvet of the sky. And memory wrapped itself around her like the warmth of a blanket...

"See the stars, Ari? You know that every single one of those stars has a story?" The darkness overhead was speckled with lights, blinking beacons of energy, dancing through the heavens in majestic incandescent radiance. Matthias had nudged her awake and dragged her out into the field, and lying down on the woolhair blankets from the stables, he gestured now, up to the sky.

"Don't be ridiculous Matty..." Aria scoffed. It had been three weeks now since they'd gotten word her eldest brother would not be coming home, and her dreams had been dark and merciless in their imagination of what had happened to Callum. For every bit of purpose his attempts to comfort carried, they hurt, all the same. "They're just big balls of light."

"Arianell Oresh, don't you speak such blasphemy!" His voice didn't change, soft and warm, but looking at him, she could see he had turned to face her, and the expression he wore was so wise... so much older than his years that she found herself drawn in by the knowledge he was offering her, even if a part of her knew it was probably just platitudes, "A story... I swear it. And they're shinin' up there just for us. So we never forget 'em. That one there... that real bright one, you see it?"

"I see it, Matty."

"...That's Mum."

"N-not so..."

"Is so. Dad told me, and you know it's true if Dad said it, cause Dad never lies. He said the night she left us, it showed up, bright as anything and he knew then and there, it had to be Mum. And there? That one? It's Call. It's him. I know it. And you know what, Aria?"

"What, Matty?" She asked, her voice quivering slightly as she stared, transfixed at the stars he had pointed out.

"...Someday, there'll be a star up there for you and me, too... for all of us, and we'll shine down on those lookin' up at us and they'll know." His voice softer now, he lay back on the blanket, and it was to Aria's credit that she didn't pay mind to the tears leaving streaks on his skin.

"Know what...?" She whispered, tears trailing from the corners of her own eyes, now.

"That we never forget them. That we never really leave..." Rolling onto his side, he looked at her, giving her a small prod on the edge of her nose, "That's how much you matter, Aria. Don't forget it, okay?"

"...Okay, Matty."

Brushing her cheeks dry, Aria focused on those beaming pinpricks of light and gingerly, pulled the window shut, but not before a soft breeze glanced across her skin.

Gone, but never forgotten... Nothing about her time in the Hollows and beyond had been what she'd expected. In so short a period of time, so much had changed, and whatever she might have thought, she wasn't the girl that had stolen her father's sword and left their farm in the dead of night. And if her time in the North had taught her anything it was that giving up was not an option. That she was stronger than she knew, and no matter what, no matter what she lost or gained along the way, she was doing something worthwhile... That the beauty and the wisdom that she wrought from those around her would always outweigh those bitter, painful moments of brokenness...

And without a doubt she knew in her heart, Matthias was out there. And she would find him... She had to...

 

[Pupperr]

Background Music

Niowyn and Oryn

---

Blue eyes struggled to wake, flinching at the sunlight filtering into the room through the tangerine coloured window coverings. It was blurry, nothing but blotched colours in the tribeswoman's periphery but as the world came into focus, all she could do was stare at the perfectly white ceiling.

"...alive?"

A weak smile appeared before Niowyn's eyes grew heavy again and she fell back into slumber. Her body was drained and tired, all life and magic completely sucked from her being. It was a miracle she was alive - the spirits had other plans for her soul.

Pain. Everything was pain. His chest hurt. It hurt breathing. His head hurt, his back hurt. His leg hurt. It even hurt when he slowly opened his eyes. Oryn drew in a sharp breath and then coughed as if breathing was strange to him. Only because the sun was filtering through the windows, was he aware that some time must have passed. Question was, how much time?

Then the events of the battle flooded his mind. He remembered the intoxicating rush of it, but it was soon overshadowed as he recalled fighting the Hollow Knight and then the attack of the dragon. Faintly, the memory of someone crying emerged from the fog of his mind. Oryn sat up slowly and put his head in his hands. Who else could it have been. He looked down at himself. His chest was black and blue. Sighing, he stood grimacing through the pain - which was greater than he had expected. A knot of worry formed in his stomach for his comrades. But there was one he wanted to see first.

Throwing a tunic over his head, his armour was rent and broken, he put on his boots and limped out the door. He asked several people but none of them was able to answer him before he found the innkeeper. It seemed fitting that the Cat and Rooster should still be standing. When Oryn had been led to Niowyn's room, he paused for a moment. He wasn't sure why he hesitated. When at last he had gathered himself, he knocked the door gently but when no reply came, he slowly entered the room. He walked quietly to the side of her bed and eased himself down on his knees. Gingerly he reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of the mage's face. He didn't want to speak and wake her up, but a gentle caress he couldn't resist.

The hand against her delicate skin stirred the woman from her slumber. It was rough but tender and it shook her awake softly. Although her body screamed for her to rest, the touch was familiar and she desperately wanted to see that he was ok. Niowyn willed her eyes open and the same white ceiling came into view. Her head rolled to the side where the man was knelt at her bedside. His blue eyes came into view, his jet black hair, and the undeniable scar on his cheek. It was him. It was really him.

Tears welled in Niowyn's eyes and fell against a gentle smile. Her hand shakily reached for him, weak with exhaustion, but needing to know that she wasn't just dreaming. "...you're alive.. thank goodness, you're alive.."

His hand took hers as she reached for him. He squeezed it gently. Oryn cleared his throat and nodded. He watched her, feeling bad that he had disturbed her sleep. They were both battered and bruised. Niowyn was weak from her efforts to save him and he couldn't remember ever owing anyone his life. Nor could he remember feeling so thankful.

"Are all tribespeople so reckless and… stupid?" He said the last part with a small smile. Then his free hand reached to wipe away the tear that rolled down her cheek. He was almost afraid to touch her, for fear of hurting her.

Whatever fear she had that lingered for her companion's life eased away as Oryn squeezed her hand. It wasn't a dream and Niowyn could only smile, taking solace in the feeling of her small hand inside of his. The woman pressed her face against the hand that wiped away her tears, thankful for his warmth against her cheek. He really was alive. And he was OK.

"Maybe just me.." she responded, her voice quiet and tender. Her eyes fluttered open and fell on Oryn again. "...but I would do it again."

He shook his head. He tried to smile but it never really reached his lips.

"That makes you crazy as well." Oryn said but then his serious expression faltered and he looked at her more softly. Despite his words, however, he was thankful that she had saved his life. A moment passed in silence and he watched her. "Thank you, Niowyn." Oryn said. "I owe you my life." His words were but a whisper but he needed to speak them. He needed her to know the relief he felt. Oryn leaned forward and rested his forehead gently against hers. "Sleep." He said, knowing she was exhausted.

His forehead was heavy against hers but she welcomed anything to know that she wasn't dreaming. He smelt like a hearth filled with white ash crackling in the flames and his breath against her face was hot and full of life. Niowyn could feel his life again and she couldn't stop the mist in her eyes. All she wanted was to freeze the moment in time so that he would remain with her. But her eyes were growing heavy again.

"Maybe just a little while longer.." she answered him, knowing that she couldn't fight her body's plea for rest. "...can you stay?"

Oryn smiled to himself and leaned away, nodding. He stroked her hand with his thumb and watched her silently. "I'll stay." He said. She struggled to stay awake and he wagered she would be asleep before long. His free hand came to rest on top of her head and stroked her hair, gently as he could. A lump threatened to form in his throat - a decidedly unusual feeling for him. Part of him wanted to scold her more for putting her own life on the line for him, but he didn't want to wake her. And he didn't want to argue with her. His smile widened slightly at the thought. After a few moments of saying nothing and just watching her, he raised her hand to his lips and gave it a kiss. The room was quiet, except for her slow breathing.

---

L: The Cat and Rooster - The Day After the Battle | M: Oryn @Morgan

 

[ze_kraken]

Background Music

CELEBRATION

---

The Cat and Rooster felt alive.

Though the Hollows that surrounded it still carried with it the burdens of the battle - burned buildings, piles of rubble, and ash that still swelled in great waves with the wind - the inn saw a life it had not for months. That morning the dead had been laid to rest outside the town, near where those who had made their "Hero's Return" were buried. The town's priest had recited their last rites from some scripture Nathyen knew little of, save that it was a faith separate from the one practiced in the east.

Vardis' share of the treasure from Gol Badhir was granted to the town to rebuild, and Nathyen had delved into his own for a celebration at the inn that evening. As the sun had begun to set, all those that had survived had made their way to the tavern where a warm fire and quality beer awaited them. None of the companions had the time nor the energy to seek one another out, but Nathyen had not seen Oryn or Niowyn among the dead, so he waited with anxious anticipation by the bar for their arrival. With him he carried a mug of stout porter, the last of Vardis' belongings laid on the bar beside him with notes and texts likely no eyes save his had seen.

He spied Aria across the inn and gingerly raised his mug to her, a wry look of amusement on his face as she returned the gesture. He felt fortunate the others had not caught wind of them spending a night together, as that would have made for quite a ceaseless river of ridicule along the road to the Shroud.

Aye, and we've seen how long Niowyn'll latch on to that block 'o hers, he thought, smiling at the thought. Where is she?

Nathyen scanned the crowd but saw no sign of the woman's signature blue robes. Perhaps she still rested, he reminded himself, for not all had gotten away with but a head wound and an angry gash along the leg. The porter eased his nerves, stilled the pain in his head, but the bloody gash wrapped tight underneath bandages Aria had changed that morning still throbbed dully. He a woman approach the bar whose features struck Nathyen as foreign despite her plain attire yet deeply familiar and he approached with a cautious step.

Niowyn? Can't be...

"Niowyn, of the Ta'Lassa Tribe?" Nathyen asked, a teasing note to his voice.

The woman looked over her shoulder at the familiar voice and smiled when her eyes fell on Nathyen.

"Ah, so I see my tales of heroics have reached even the commoners." she quipped back. "I'm happy to see you, Nathyen" she added, turning and giving him a small hug.

Nathyen returned the hug, clapping Niowyn on the shoulder as they withdrew.

"As am I," he said cheerfully, sliding over Vardis' collected notes across the bartop to Niowyn. "I found these in Vardis' pack in his room, and it seemed like something you might take interest in. Talks of magic and sorcery 'n the like, so..."

He patted the top of the small stack.

"Aye. So here it is. Enjoy 'yer evenin', I'm off to see if I can join the band 'n not cause a scene this time."

---

Egret drank in the corner of the inn with a handful of Maud's other followers, weariness plain on their faces. Despite the mirth of the inn, not one of them partook in an ounce of it. With the death of their leader, and no homes left to return to, they had all wandered aimlessly through the town aiding with clearing the ash and moving the corpses of those slain. Few had survived the fighting at the gates, Egret had realized - whereas before their band had numbered just under twenty, she could count the remainder on one hand.

"Ah, suppose we knew it would always end this way," mused Chissick, breaking the contemplative silence of the group as he took a sip from his porter, foam clinging to his unruly beard. "Them horrors we fought, there's a reason ain't nobody stood up to 'em."

"A shame it was not in service of their true homes," Egret replied. "And for us - we owe to them a good life."

There was a round of agreement and nodding from the small gathering, each raising their mugs.

"Aye, that we do," Chissick nodded.

Why does it feel so empty? Egret pondered. Why can I still hear their voices, see their faces when I close my eyes?

She had thought, once, that seeing that monster dead might relieve her of her burdens, relinquish her guilt. Only, where once there had been a fire within her that pushed her along, even at the worst under Maud's service, now was but what blew in the wind outside. Ashes. What purpose was there now to live in a town that was not her home, without her family? Would she live out her days in the Hollows a barmaid, or some farmer's wife? The blonde man had given her a portion of his share of the gold he had nabbed from Gol Badhir, but while gold bought comforts, fulfillment and purpose gold alone would never buy.

All matters for the morrow, she scolded herself. Drink. Be merry. Happy. This is your victory.

Only when she closed her eyes, it was still her son's face she saw.

Will time ever heal this wound?

Egret was torn from her pondering as hushed murmurs and whispers began to reign over the music in her corner of the inn. She glanced up and saw the man who had wielded the hammer during the battle, killed that thing and almost died for it. She laid down her mug and shouldered her way through swaying and dancing couples, bawdy and drunken men, and idle and chatting talkers.

"Uh, Oryn, was it?" She called out to him, somber green eyes meeting his own. "I... thank you. You put some small piece of me to rest with what you did, and I am thankful that my family's killer has been slain. It will be a while before I will move on, if ever I do, but... You've done more for me than you could know."

She bowed her head awkwardly, then, retreating back to her group where once again they drank without words...

---

The boy's lips tasted of stout ale and bread, but then Audryen had wondered if it was on account of her own drink or of the alcohol still on his breath as he had pulled her in for a kiss. She had shoved him back, of course, and slapped him for the audacity - much to the amusement of the crowd, and to her surprise, the young man in question. He staggered away to jeering and cheering friends, swinging about his mug, its contents sloshing and spilling on to the wooden floor below.

Cheeks flustered, in equal parts embarrassment and drunkenness, Audryen seated herself back down where she had been and hummed along to the music, foot tapping in rhythm with its beat. Her head swam pleasantly, and the ale was cool and refreshing upon her tongue. The inn was warm, the music bawdy and fast. A better reward for her survival she could not imagine.

Footsteps approached, and Audryen held up a hand, expecting it to be the boy again. Only, she was certain he had not been an orc - green flesh flashed in the corner of her eye, and she gasped as she followed it from hand to arm to face. Two eyes looked down at her, one a somber brown, the other a pale milky white. The orc gave Audryen a toothy grin, spying the recongition that flickered in Audryen's glossed eyes.

"It's you!" She slurred happily, rocketing to her feet, ale spilling over her lap as she surged forth to hug the orc. "Aye, I thought you'd died upon that wall! You..."

She hiccuped, swaying back to be steadied by one of the orc's strong, sturdy hands.

"You saved me!"

"Don't mention it," the orc said shyly.

"Don't mention it?!" Audryen exclaimed. "Oh no no, aye it might have been the brooding one that killed the demon, but you! I am forever in your debt."

The orc was clearly uncomfortable, a fact that was lost on Audryen as she clasped her once more into a hug. The orc gently pushed Audryen back, easing her into the chair.

"And what'll you do now?" She asked, going to take a sip of her ale and finding, much to her chagrin and disappointment, that much of it had spilled to the floor below. "Will you venture off with those friends of yours?"

"No," the orc said plainly. "They're talking about things I just can't seem to wrap my head around. I'm no hero. I'm best suited staying here, doing what I've always done."

"Oh? And what's that?" Audryen asked, cocking her head, nearly tumbling from her chair as she leaned close to the orc in curiosity.

"Easy, little one - go, rest yourself before you start to be sick, seems you've had enough to drink."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arianell Oresh
Mentioned | @Pupperr , @Morgan , @ze_kraken ​

---

THE HOLLOWS

The day following the battle had been curiously uneventful. Eventually, Aria had gone back to bed and while she managed little in the ways of restful sleep, she stirred that morning with a sense of determination that she had not felt since first arriving in the North. Early, after breakfast, though her reluctance persisted, she found Oryn and Niowyn. They had recovered for the better part, though their bruises, like her own lingered as reminders of the war waged. Knowing the state of her neck, nearly blackened by Maud's hateful grasp, she waved off their questions and instead, she sank into a seat and began to recount the events after they had separated. Telling them of Vardis's passing was difficult, but it had been admitting to ending Maud that struck her as the biggest challenge.

Afterwards, she had taken them through the streets to where the graves were, and there, as she and Nathyen had the night before, they said their goodbyes to the wild, clever knight. On the return, Aria had posed the suggestion that they join her and Nathyen on the journey east... When it was agreed upon, Aria felt both heavier and lighter for it, all the same.

That afternoon, Aria finally allowed herself to rest, and that evening, she joined the others downstairs for a small celebration. For a time, ale in hand, she sat on her own and in the silent reverie, she reflected on the last few weeks. Eventually, Threadbare came by and Aria scooped the cat into her lap, taking comfort in the gentle, gravely rumble in his throat. After a while, when her mug was drained and she was far too willing to refill it, she rose from the bar and made her way instead to the familiar face across the room.

Blanc had been oddly absent throughout the day, and it did not escape the attention of the young soldier that there was a quality to her solitude that felt as though she were preparing herself for it with more permanence. Approaching, Aria cleared her throat, looking up at the rock-skipping warrior with a nod.

"...You're not coming with us, are you?" Aria finally asked, her voice still somewhat hoarse.

"The road to the Shroud is not mine to travel. For a while now, I have sought purpose beyond that which I left behind. Here, I think I may find some of that."

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"Whether or not you should stay... or go... or... Or what your purpose is?"

"For me? I trust my own mind." A finger tapped the side of her head, as Blanc gave a small shrug of her shoulders, "Yours is a journey that I've little stake in. While I admire your courage, I cannot see reason to venture further than this to find my own bit of peace. But I trust the answer you want is one only you will find... I cannot speak for you, Lass."

"I wouldn't be here, if it wasn't for you, you know? That night in the tavern... When you thought I was eavesdropping."

"To be fair, you were eavesdropping." She answered, deadpan.

"Aye. I was." With a chuckle, Aria nodded, "But I'm glad that you noticed. And I'm glad, Blanc, to have known you. Who knows... Maybe we'll meet again, someday."

"Indeed, Lass. Maybe we will."

With another firm nod, Aria took a step back, but after a moment, she hesitated, and moved forward instead, gently wrapping her arms around the Orc's waste. With a dry chuckle, Blanc patted her shoulder and Aria released her after a brief moment.

"Goodbye, Blanc."

"Goodbye, Lass."

Turning away, Aria breathed in deeply, and with a firm nod of resignation, she made her way across the bar once more, stopping this time near the musician's corner, where Nathyen had once again plucked up the lute. Looking up at the man, recalling with an odd fondness now the mortifying moments a few nights prior when he'd gifted her with his... ludicrous song, she held out a hand and gave him a look of expectation that she had all too frequently worn during their sparring.

"...You said you could dance. Let's see it, then, Princess."

 

[Pupperr]

Niowyn of the Ta'Lassa Tribe

---

Ft. small collaboration with Morgan as Oryn

The morning had come and gone and night had fallen on the Hollows before Niowyn finally stirred awake. Her eyes opened to the missing sunshine filtering in the room and instead, it was lit by an oil lamp on the bedside table. Also at her bedside was Oryn - he had stayed, and all night it appeared. His head nested in his arms on the edge of her bedside and lightly snoring. Niowyn smiled at the sight of him, her body filling with warmth and comfort. With a groan, she pushed herself to a seated position and ran her fingers gently through his hair. "You did well, you old block…"

His snoring stopped. In his sleeping mind the haze lifted and he felt himself being pulled to the surface. When he was awake enough to register Niowyn's fingers in his hair, he opened his eyes slowly but lay still. He clenched his jaw as images of the fight with the Hollow Knight flooded his mind. Then he stirred and slowly raised his head to look at Niowyn. He was sleepy and his knees, back and chest ached from the fight, but also from the position he had been in during the day.

"I don't even remember falling asleep." He said, his voice coarse. He cleared his throat. For a moment he watched her. Her touch was gentle and soothing, but there was something strange about it. Oryn wasn't sure what it was. He realized that it was the very same thing that he couldn't put his finger on, back at Gol Badhir. A soothing, calm feeling but at the same time, it woke a storm in heart and mind. Oryn wondered why that was and wished that everything could be as simple as combat. "How are you feeling?" He asked, concern in his eyes. Better to focus on Niowyn than, well, anything else at the moment.

"More alive than I was this morning" she answered, her usual playful tone to her voice. "Thank you for staying, but you probably shouldn't have napped on the floor. I imagine you're sorer than you should be."

"Well, I did get tackled by a dragon." Oryn chuckled. He found it amusing mainly because the thought itself was so absurd. But his smile faded and he became serious again. He took Niowyn's hand again and held it in both of his own for a moment, obviously struggling with his words. "But if it wasn't for you, I'd be dead now. See, you've put me in an awkward position with what you did." Oryn watched her for a second before looking down at their hands. "I'm not sure I can ever let you know how grateful I am. I still think you're a reckless, stupid tribeswoman, but…" He paused, smiling for a moment. "I wouldn't be here now, if it wasn't for you. Thank you, Niowyn."

Niowyn watched with nothing short of shock as Oryn took her hand out of his own volition. It was unlike him to be as serious as he was being. It was perplexing but she wouldn't take his moment away from him and smiled nonetheless. But when the comment about her being a stupid tribeswoman left his lips, she couldn't resist but using her free hand to punch him in the shoulder and then chuckled lightly. "I would caution you to call me a stupid tribeswoman again, my dear friend. I might just curse you."

"But… you're welcome." she matched Oryn's sincerity and vulnerability. She smiled, thinking if she teased him too much he might never be vulnerable with her again. "You know though, you're sort of a hero and I imagine the Cat and Rooster is full of people waiting to thank you. We should probably head down and say hello."

He sighed defeatedly and let his head fall. "If that's the case, I'm staying here forever." Oryn then stood up slowly, a few bones in his back cracking as he did so. "I'll wait for you at the door." Before he turned to leave, he fixed his eyes on her as if to speak. As if there were things he wanted to say. But he didn't. Oryn turned and left the room to wait for her outside.

Niowyn noticed the look Oryn gave her before he left, not his usual look, but one yearning to say something. She didn't press the issue and let him leave. The woman pulled herself from bed and stood in the dimly lit room, looking for her robes. All she had left on was a plain black tank and pair of plain black undergarments. Her usual clothing was nowhere to be found and then she remembered the spear she had taken to the shoulder. 'Must be bloodied… did someone take them to clean?'

In the corner of the room on the back of a chair there was a pair of adventurers trousers in a plain brown colour, her brown leather boots, and an off white shirt that looked ten times too big for her. Niowyn held it up unimpressed, "how drab.."

The woman removed the black tank and folded it neatly on the chair. She dressed quickly, stuffing whatever leftover material from the shirt into her pants. With a quick run of her hands through her hair she exited the room and smiled at Oryn. "Not exactly my first choice of clothing - it seems more akin to a potato sack than actual clothes…. But there you have it. Shall we?" she asked, her arm extended as if she was going to lead him to the celebration.

It was so strange to see her wearing something with so little color. Oryn chuckled and nodded, taking her arm. They walked down the hall in silence until he could no longer hold his tongue. "Now that we have the money, we're stopping as soon as we can to get you new robes." He sighed, starting down the stairs that creaked under his weight. "This isn't going to work." He gestured at her with his free hand and chuckled again.

"What, you don't like my new look!?" she asked, laughter filling the small staircase the two descended. "I do have to agree with you though. Your normal people clothes are quite strange."

The two exited the stairwell and just before they reached the swinging doors into the main room of the tavern, Niowyn pulled Oryn to a stop. She looked up at him, and with a smile, brought her hand to his cheek. "Now, go in there and be a hero." Niowyn released him, both his cheek and his arm, and gave him a slight push to start his momentum again. "You deserve it."

The light-hearted mood, however nice, was soon dampened. He watched as she stopped him and felt her hands on his face. Without him meaning to, his expression became stern. But he had little time to ponder the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach and the paradoxically comfortable feeling in his chest. Niowyn pushed him toward the main room. As she did he tasted the word 'hero' on his tongue and immediately decided that he didn't like it. "If I get cornered, will you freeze them?" He asked before he opened the door.

"No!" she announced, and grinned as she watched him disappear into the crowd of people in the tavern.

~~~​

Niowyn looked at Vardis's collection of notes and papers, some so old that she was afraid to even touch them. Her gentle smile faded away and she just stared at the papers - this was all that was left of the colourful knight. It came as a shock to her when Aria told them of his passing and the two visited his grave. A man shrouded in mystery, with the ability to wield a blade and use magic… the world would be at a loss without such a man as Vardis. He was the only other one that understood her yearning for knowledge and her connection to a hint of information on her tribe. Niowyn collected the papers and notes and slipped them into her journal, silently hoping that whatever he knew would be somewhere in there.

The woman sighed and planted her elbow on the bar, her hand raised in the air with a finger extended toward the ceiling. "Excuse me, I would love a drink please."

"Ahh! Of course lass!" the bartender spun around and produced a large mug of ale. His eyes widened at the appearance of Niowyn at the bar and with excitement leaned over. "You're the lass who has been resting all day! One of the barmaids helped you to your room last night. Your uh…. clothes were pretty tattered and dirtied. We tossed them, sorry about that lass."

Niowyn cocked an eyebrow at the bartender and chuckled at how his voice described her clothes. Whoever removed them probably thought them to be weird, just as she thought the clothes she was wearing now were weird. "That's no problem, kind sir. Please extend my thanks to whomever watched over me."

"No problem, missy! Oh, and the ale is on the house."

The woman sighed and stood from the barstool, turning her back to the bar and resting against it as she watched the room. Her body was still tired but at least she could walk around. Niowyn threw back a large drink of the ale and thanked the spirits that it wasn't watered down. A celebration was well deserved but she was happy to watch her comrades take part in the festivities - Aria and Nathyen dancing, Blanc drinking with a young warrior, and Oryn uncomfortably making nice with the people of the Hollows.

'Bunch of dummies…' she thought fondly, wearing a proud smile.

---

L: The Cat and Rooster | M: Nathyen @ze_kraken, Aria @Elle Joyner | I: Oryn @Morgan