Eudicia

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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Chapter 1[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Year 1498 of the First Era, Season of Spring, Day 58[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]​

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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]The [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Spring [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Season was always stifling in Ecksoh[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] even with its dry heat[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], especially as Summer threatened the worst.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] Crossing[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] the Barrens was harsh for travelers and merchants. While highwaymen were more [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]rare, they[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] had to contend with [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]harsh [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]temperatures, de[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]hydration[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], and t[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]he Dust Wargs. There were other Wilder Beasts out there that were just as keen on human [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]flesh, but[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] only the Dust Wargs [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]actively hunted such prey.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]The travel from [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Neunyor[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] would be met with dangers upon the flat [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]wasteland, and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] it wasn't uncommon for those who must journey through it to hire [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]guards or carry weapons of their own.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]The airships made it far more easy to avoid the Barrens if one could afford the fare. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Merchants especially preferred this method of transportation as their goods would be more prot[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]ected along a shorter journey. An unfortunate turn of events brought such operations to a halt. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]A Season prior an airship fell from Sabletyn and crashed into the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Winded[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] Woods. It is rumored to be mechanical [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]malfunctions, though[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] there are a few that claim foul play. Whatever the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]case, it[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] has not been [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]solved, and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] thus the airways are without the humming ships above.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Festivallas[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] was nearly a week away, and while most of the grander festivities occurred within the main cities, even the villages would soon decorate in bright splashes of color. It was likely the only time the dust bin known as Southern Ecksoh would look so lively in the year. It was an unfortunate time for merchants and traders of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Neunyor[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], especially on such an important [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]event, for[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] the safest and quickest route for them to take with a cart load of goods was through the Barrens at some point. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Sabletyn[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] was an unfortunate mass of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]mountains, cliffs[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]quagmires, and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] due to the rise in [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]plague, not[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] many desired to walk through its borders.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Tildash[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] rested upon the border to the ocean right on the Faltak Curve where King Houdan and his six senators presided within Castle Drove. It wasn't as elegant a city as one would find [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Redden, but[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] it held its charm with its sturdy and distinct architecture that made its dusty or sandy surroundings a little beautiful in its own way. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Sheer, bright[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] fabrics were often draped within the windows to add a bit of color with the ocean winds. The city was livelier than usual as businesses and brothels came to an end with their Spring Cleaning to make way for [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Festivallas[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit].[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"I heard they brought the Wolf of the Valley down here," grumbled a common woman as she [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]roved[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] through the market. Her [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]companion, a[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] younger [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]girl, widened[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] her eyes at the rumor.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"The Aegis killer?" the girl asked, wide eyed before she looked over to the castle spires above the market tents.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"The very one," the elder confirmed. "They should have let him die with the plague. That's all that'll happen to him once he gets to Thol anyway."[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]And so [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Geirolf[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] was held within the dark confines of Drove's dungeons, chained and neglected behind bars in a cold, small cell. He had no [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]visitors, and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] even his neighboring criminals wished not to even look upon the man. King Houdan accepted the transfer with [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]reluctance, for[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] what if this killer brought with him the Sabletyn Plague? The guards would spare a glance his way only to check the status of the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]man's[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] health and report it to the Royal Physician.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]But one day the guard stopped at his cell, figure blocking what little torchlight could be seen as the thick [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]cape[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] fluttered. There came the jingle of keys and the turn of the lock in a twiny [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]groan, and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] the cell door opened. It only took a couple of steps before the guard was right at [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Geirolf[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], and he looked at the prisoner in thought before speaking.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"I'll set you free," the guard said in a low tone. "But you have to play along with me. Can I trust you to do [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]that, or[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] will you be a dick about it all and try to escape on your own?"[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent]@BearEnthusiast @Shizuochan @Red Thunder @CloudyBlueDay[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Redden was not as merry as [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Tildash[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] this time of the year. It hadn't been long since Winter when the first insignia cropped up and started a bit unrest, and now nearly ten citizens from Redden, Jaster and Lavengrove have disappeared mysteriously. Just two days prior[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] High Queen Jashyr decreed that anyone given the insignia [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]should[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] seek asylum in the nearest castle or fort, and that all Royals are to welcome these unfortunate souls and to provide them with protection. There has yet to be a victim to come, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]though[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] no one has been reported missing either in these two days.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]And in another two days would be [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Festivallas[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. The soldiers began to set up posts throughout the waterfall city to watch the streets both high and low. It didn't help with the fizzling spirits the citizens already carried. They were [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]worried, and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] rightfully so. Too much was happening in their joyous lands of Thol, and it made it a tad difficult to enjoy a holiday.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"Pixie Wick!" c[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]alled a merchant. "Get your Pixie Wick right here!"[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"What in the void is Pixie Wick?" a commoner asked. The merchant grinned a toothy grin that spread his groomed moustache to his dimpled cheeks.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"Why, it is the only[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] remedy for the Creeping Fog!" he answered bombastically. A bony finger jutted up into the air with a twist of a flare. "And we all know that nasty fog's gone and left its home. 'How does it work?' y[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]ou wonder."[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]The merchant [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]brought[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] a jar out to reveal to the audience, and from its clear confines one could see a glittering stick of a bluish substance spanning vertically from the base within. "Just light this end here at the top," he continued. "Any ol' light'll do. And close it up. It'll glow all like the stars and ward off that pesky Creeping Fog [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]soes[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] you don't [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]haveta[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] deal with it. Ever notice how the Fog don't like the light? So get your jar of light today with Pixie Wick!"[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Alexander [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Vallane[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] passed by the merchant and rolled his eyes. He was a bit skeptical when it came to far fetched remedies, though it was likely the traditionalist in him pulling to the forefront. It was true the Fog seemed to have an aversion to direct sunlight, but the validity of the product known as Pixie Wick was still in question.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]He loved being in the city of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Redden[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. The waterfalls created a constant background choir that made him feel a bit hollow when he left to quieter lands. The air always held a bit of moisture, and so in the growing Spring heat it was humid, and his brown locks stuck to his temples from perspiration even just in his small trek from one tier to the next. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]He[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] had just received his orders, and it was likely they were already served to his squire. It would be the first year he would miss [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Festivallas[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit].[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Aegis Alexander [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Vallane[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Squire[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=inherit]Marnia[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=inherit]Belhund[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] were to travel to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Tildash[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] to retrieve and escort [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Geirolf[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] Wolff to attend his trial in the Senate Chambers of Redden for his crimes against [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Estwynd[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. But why now? Why couldn't it wait until after [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Festivallas[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]? The man's death was no rush, to be sure, and it was said this year would hold an exciting new game. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Marnia[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] was likely to be of a more level head about it. She always seemed to be his better and served as a constant reminder to not let his emotions run rampant whether she realized it or not. But perhaps they would reach [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Tildash[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] in time for the end.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=transparent]@Doctor Jax @Elle Joyner @Starlighter @rissa[/BCOLOR]​

 

[Red Thunder]

Maes Harrow

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The Fair Stone, last haven of amiable sorts west before the Barrens, had let him down for the first time in his life.

"How else am I supposed to get two wagon loads of produce to Redden?"

"That sounds like a personal problem, kid."

Kid. Maes frowned. Twenty-five wasn't that young. He'd done a great deal in his personal quarter century. Well, no; that wasn't precisely true. He'd farmed his land, he'd raised a daughter. That...that was about it. All the same, he did those things well. Which was better than this guard long past his prime could say about his ability to instill confidence in the citizenry he was bound to protect.

"Alright, I guess it is. Then at least can you suggest a town somewhere closer than Redden where I can sell my crops?" The farmer looked back at the produce in question. Barrels, some closed and some open, were stacked and sorted in the beds of two wagons hitched one behind the other, and the old horse that led them both stared at his owner with a tired and displeased expression. "Maybe somewhere there's a thriving marketplace?"

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Maes turned. A small woman stood there, hands clasped before her, resting against the folds of her simple skirt. She smiled, the freckles on his cheeks shifting upwards at the movement.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to listen in. But Tildash is perhaps halfway to Redden, and Festivallas will of course be starting soon." A light chuckle escaped her lips, and she shrugged. "Surely they would need quality produce. It's not a quick travel, of course. But it's closer than Redden is by land."

"Ah." It was better than nothing, though that meant traveling he Barrens. Worry filled his eyes, dimming them momentarily. If he went and something happened to him, Joy would have lost both her parents. But if he didn't and merely returned home, the small family would have no money with which to buy other necessities besides food. No, it was worth the gamble. Returning her smile, Maes dipped his head in thanks.

***​

The wagons creaked along as they traveled over the well worn path. 'Road' was too generous a term; though a thoroughfare, it was little maintained, as the numerous dips and ruts bespoke. Still, Maes thought to himself, trying to lift his spirits, it was a better path than the northern pass. His wagons would undoubtedly had broken their axles on that trail, and he'd be even worse off than he was.

Though perhaps not. Shifting to one side, he pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket, otherwise inconspicuous save for the picture of a flower detailed in red-black ink. Even in his farm, living on the edge of a tiny village, Maes Harrow had heard of this sign and what it entailed for those it came to. He's found it underneath a potato while doing a quick inventory. Which was surprising; the potatos had been secured beneath a barrel lid. There was no way of knowing where he'd picked it up, and especially who had put it there; he'd passed over half a dozen towns and villages since leaving the farm. Not that it mattered. The result was always the same, so the rumor said.

But the rumor also mentioned cities of asylum for those with the insignia. Fortunately, one such city was Tildash itself. And he was by his guess perhaps two or three more days out from that port city. Shoving the parchment back into his pocket, the farmer reached back and pulled out the lute. Setting it on his lap, he strummed the strings with willing fingers, letting the horse pick his way down the path as he did his best to drown his worries in the whispers of children's gentle lullabies.

Under up upon the gilded tree
The kingly moon smiles down on me
Surrounded by his court of stars
Within this jet black hall of ours

Under up upon his castle cloud
The Tailor works, his shoulders bowed
And gives reward to golden heart
Who in good deeds do play their part

Under up!
Under up!
Under up and aweigh!

***
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Maes stared up as he passed under the gate. His father had accompanied him on the first trip to sell their crops after the elder had given the farm to him, and Redden had certainly been a sight to see. Yet with every annual journey the wonderment of it never left him. So though it seemed to him the Tildash wasn't quite the spectacle that Redden was, it was certainly amazing enough. His horse ambled through the crowd, silently and patiently allowing wanderers to move aside before pushing through. But the animal had no better idea of where to head than Maes did, and he looked about them for sign of a marketplace.

A small figure passed by his cart, and on an impulse he reached out, hoping that it was a local.

"Excuse me!" he called out as he grabbed a shoulder. Just as suddenly he let go, unprepared for the one eyed visage that greeted him from an otherwise nondescript little girl.

But she barely lingered long enough to take note of who it was that tried for her attention. Instead she cast him a wary glance before sprinting off again into the crowd, leaving Maes sputtering and unsure of what to do next.

@Effervescent

 

[Elle Joyner]

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She'd woken that morning, like any other, sunlight splayed across the floor of her room, bleeding light into her eyes. It was cold the night prior and Arabella had slept on the ground, close to the fireplace hearth. As she straightened upright and rubbed her face, she smudged ashy streaks of soot across her pale cheeks, then into her hair as her fingers dove through tangled strands of dark brown. Idly, she worked out the stubborn knots, staring at the embers that crackled dimly in the blackened coals of dead wood. In her mind she could see the images, still, same as every morning… the dream slowly fading from her mind, dragging with it the woeful memories of her father. He was three years cold in the ground, but she could still feel the warmth of his blood on her hands where she had found him in his shop… in the silver light of the moon that peered in through the holes in the straw patched room, his blue eyes had stared up at her, empty, frozen with fear. In life, he had seemed gargantuan and strong… In death, he had been so frail, so fragile.

Sniffling, blinking rapidly, Arabella rose and brushed dust from her skirts. With Festivallas coming, it was sure to be a busy day and an early start was never a poor decision when there was much she needed to distract herself from. Her room was small, and it was but a few steps from the fireplace to her bed, but as she turned to reach for her apron, hanging loosely across the foot board she saw it, lying on the bedside table. With a painful throb and a startled gasp, her heart slammed into her ribs as her eyes fell upon the parchment… upon the red insignia on the face of it.

Trembling fingers reached for it, paused as they hovered over it. Several thoughts ran through her mind - one most prevalent at the forefront - It was a cruel joke. She knew what they thought of her, though they would never say it aloud. She was the daughter of a blacksmith, slain in the night… a man who, despite his claims otherwise, had only ever been seen for the terrible crimes of those in his field. Merry Dane had never let it bother him what others thought of him or his work, but that had not stopped the rumors. Even his death bore with it terrible speculations. And because of that, Arabella's reputation, too, had been tainted.

Snatching the parchment up, she stared at the marking… A joke. It had to be.

But if it was not…?

Moving swiftly, she slung her feet into her shoes and threw a mantle over her dress. The weather had warmed, but there was a chill now in her bones that felt like her own private winter. Shivering, she tucked the parchment into her pocket and slipped out the door. The small room she rented was in a house a few minutes walk from the fort, through the crowded market. She'd made the walk many times a week - back and forth to the palace for work, but that day it seemed as though miles stretched between her and the sanctuary that had been offered for anyone who should receive the unfortunate, foreboding mark.

It occurred to her, rather desperately that perhaps she had been mistaken, but as she fished the parchment from her cloak and held it before her, the insignia shown clear and bright in the glowing sunlight overhead. Those who harbored ill intention towards her for her father's position were cold and calloused, but they were also fools, the lot of them. Those of great, indignant prejudice often were. In their ignorance, they would never have been able to so painstakingly and meticulously copy the image from mere memory of its description. Her hands quaked harder and her vision blurred as tears welled, clinging to her dark lashes, her pace quickening.

She saw it too late, the sudden shadow that crossed briefly in front of her and in her swiftness she could not stop herself in time, crashing with some force into the Aegis. Bouncing off his broad, armored trunk, Arabella tumbled backwards and hit the ground on her backside with a small cry, first of pain, then panic as the parchment slipped from her grasp, fluttering a small distance down the road, carried by the tepid breeze.
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TAGS || @Effervescent​

 

[Bears]

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GEIROLF WOLFF Tags: @Effervescent

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Both a plague and a damned airship had hit the countryside while Geirolf had been losing his mind in the valley. When he first heard the news he was unsure what to think. Geirolf could admit that a part of him went back into his past and scanned through the faces of his old friends and lovers. Had Isabelle caught the plague and died a torturous death he wondered, or was she still plying her trade on the corner across from the pub? As men passed by her could they smell the same heavy honeysuckle perfume hanging on her that was once so familiar to him? Shackled, beaten and brought to his coming death, Geirolf knew that he would never know the answer.

The idea of escaping his captors had long left him, replaced instead with a peculiar feeling of content at knowing that an end was coming to his unfortunate and painful story. As the soldiers brought him out of the valley and south towards Ecksoh, he preoccupied what time he had when his mouth wasn't bound with crude songs and tales of his adventures as a young man. Seeing as he would replace the woman in his verbal recounting with the wife of the guard closest to him, Geirolf was usually beaten into submission moments after.

And so when he finally arrived in Tildash chained and bound like an animal out for display, he accompanied his fresh bruises and cuts with a handsome smile. If they wanted to show what became of an Aegis killer than the Wolf only figured it was right he'd give the common people a bit of a show. They whispered his criminal title among one another and it only egged him on harder. He howled at the people and shouted, his icy blue gaze wild and untamed. He was the Wolf of the Valley -- slayer of soldiers and his father alike. The last part was untrue but Geirolf was the only soul who would ever know it.

The soldiers beat him until their captain realized that wasn't going to stop his theatrics. They threw him a cell with little light and only rats willing to speak with him. Isolation was the word he heard them used and a word he had grown to abhor as days passed away. It was there in his cell where he found himself with no guard to insult and no villager to entertain. It was in that cell where he was left with nothing to distract him from his sins.

His mind traveled to many places both dark and light. Oh how he longed to smell that honeysuckle once more.

Long after the time of concept had become lost to him, a guard entered the cell and spoke. With one eye still nearly beaten shut he blinked and then stared blankly, almost as if the art of conversation had left him as well. Geirolf blinked once more as the words registered slowly in his mind.

"Play?" He asked. His voice was cracked and dry. "A dead man has no time for games."

Geirolf paused, his eyes locking directly with the guard's as he let out an ill-timed laugh. It was hoarse but heartily and most certainly loud. The Wolf of the Valley cracked the man a grin barely visible in the torch light. "Free me then, if it pleases you. I'll play along however you like."
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[Aero Blue]

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Abrecan Scand ; Tildash

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Trickling rain was said to portent a storm. Granted, that morsel of wisdom was not particularly relevant in scalding Ecksoh, where humid winds signalled an eye full of dust. There were those optimistic sort who carried on in life believing that the good accompanied the bad in equal measure, high and low intertwining in harmonious accord. Abrecan Scand – and the rest of his degenerate ilk, for that matter – knew better. The bad begets the worst, and shit begot flies. Tragedies invoked fear, be they the crashing of airships, the disappearances of men and women, murders, plague. It was bad, bad, worse.

Unless, of course, you were an agent of all that was unwell in this world. Then, maybe, there was profits to be had.

Tildash was about as fine a city as one could expect from Ecksoh. The impending Festivallas only added to its modest appeal. Abrecan allowed himself the luxury of a silken robe – of fuchsia clashing with grass-green. It was a distasteful combination of colors that insulted the eyes, and yet there was a strength in that audacity, mocking and condescending.

A slip of papyrus barely held its form in Abrecan's firm grasp, a flowered insignia scrawled upon it. And across from him, the mark.

"I could scarce believe it!" Abrecan gesticulated as he spoke, catching a fine sheen of dust upon the papyrus, "A man, his form towering above me – his shadow drowning my very being – stood over me, dead eyes staring into mine, as if seeking to steal the life out of them. He simple delivered unto me this papyrus, and this Damned mark. For what reason, I cannot say, for he simply could have taken me then and there, but he chose otherwise as if…"

Abrecan studied his mark once more – middle aged, slender, hands delicate, certainly not one akin to hard labor, and certainly not of Ecksoh – before turning his gaze to the ground, in a pantomime of troubled victim. "… as if to torture me in my last moments, to glean satisfaction from my fear."

The insignia was a sham, although intricately forged. A near identical copy of Abrecan's false symbol had been palmed onto the slender man's possessing. Some particularly extravagant acting – involving a clearly shocked half-to-death Abrecan Scand aimlessly wandering into the man's path, insignia in hand – had then ensnared the man within Abrecan's yarn.

The man spoke, attempting to project an almost kindred reassurance onto Abrecan, as if the two had been bound together by sharing of impending doom. A fish would wrap its mouth around good bait, but it would jump of its own accord for excellent bait. "Don't worry. Have you not heard? By Proclamation, we are entitled to sanctuary at the Forts, the Grand Castles. Man and shade alike would not be able to take us from the living!"

Abrecan shook his head, "Yet I fear the great reach of this evil, a terror armed with a thousand yard spear, its influence perhaps even transcending such protection. I fear that such a diabolical conspiracy demands not that we hole ourselves up, like idle pigs ripe for the slaughter, but that we take to the Winds and-."

He had barely felt the tug upon his pant leg, such immersion he had achieved in the wake of his diatribe. Yet its persistence overcame his verbosity, and the conman could do nary but turn to look. A girl, with the coloration of squalor and misery, stared at Abrecan with a single eye, a piece of paper in her outstretched hands. And upon that paper, the Insignia.

"Take to the Winds and what?"

Abrecan turned away from the Mark and the Girl alike, erupting into full sprint towards the nearest Sanctuary that would take him.

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

AVELINE EIBHLIN

She normally was the type to stop and smell the flowers, but not on a task. The bones of Senator Cadius would not retrieve themselves, though it was perhaps suspicious that the ruler set her on a task to speak with his spirit when the accused had already been caught and were about to be put to trial. But it was not her place to question, and it was easier to focus on the part of her that didn't care to know quite as much.

Aveline did not enjoy bothering the dead very much, but she had no choice. Her first days as a blood mage left a bad taste in her mouth; the dead she had encountered were wandering, unrestful, unhappy. They clawed and scratched at her, begging for help, comfort, peace. Not that they had stopped following her, though. Aveline felt bad for the souls she often has to pull out of resting, because at least they were lucky enough to get to rest.

But there were no bones to recover, no skull to perform a ritual on. The Tomb was empty, without even any sign of a raid, almost as if he'd never been buried. Aveline stared at the empty casket in shock, and even spent a good amount of time searching the rest of the tomb go any hints that the bones of Senator Cadius had at least been here once, pulling off her gloves to touch around for dust, but came up entirely empty handed. The High Ruler would not be very pleased.

Great. Just great.

She elongated the walk back, if only to try and think of a way to make the situation seem brighter than it actually was when she presented her news to the Ruler. Aveline kicked up dirt as she walked, letting out an unhappy sigh every now and then. She had failed her task, and she was certainly disappointed in her performance. Perhaps she would go back, search again, but Aveline knew better. Something was amidst.

"Excuse me!" Came the shout, calling her gaze away from the dirt, glowing blue eyes wide and alert. The man in front of her did not seem the type to snatch children away from the street, but the one eyed girl looked strangely peculiar. Watching her run ahead, Aveline contemplated momentarily before stepping in front of the man. He looked young, and carried an instrument with him. A lute, most likely. Bards were often rather obnoxious, but she could suffer them if they played a good tune.

"Good day, sir," she started, turning in front of him. "What motivates you to attempt to grab children?"

@Red Thunder

 

[Starlighter]

Saren Dynagra[font=constantia, 6]
Thol, Redden[/font]​

Saren couldn't bring herself to concentrate. She had a list of things to do as long as her arm - approve the final guest list for the upcoming Festivallas ball hosted by her family, decide which gown to wear to her fiancè's sister's party tomorrow, looking through the decorations for the themes her Mother wanted to consider, tasting the appetizers and deserts to be served, selecting the wines.... Whatever reason had motivated her parents to decide that this was her party, she hadn't the faintest guess.

Most pressing, and perhaps most importantly, she had yet to decide on the official theme. Her mother had been hinting rain for the past two weeks, but Saren couldn't bring herself to agree. If they were going to host the best Festivallas party in Redden, then she couldn't go with something half the other wealthy families would be doing. She needed something original, something new, and something brilliant.

Currently, she had no ideas. She hated all the decorations of the proposed themes so far. None of them were anywhere close to what she was looking for. But she still didn't exactly know what she was looking for.

With a sigh, she stood from her desk and pushed the chair back into place. Sitting here banging her head against the wall wasn't going to stimulate her imagination. Snatching her favourite red cape from it's hook by the door, she stepped out of her room and fastened it while making her way down the stairs. At the entryway she bent over while changing from her slippers to a pair of tall boots. She straightened to appraise herself in the mirror next to the main door, and once satisfied stepped out into the sunshine.

She was greeted by the muffled noise of the city. She wished she could take a step and be at the country estate house, but at a time of the year so ripe with parties and other important social events, a retreat to the country was entirely out of the question. So for now, she would have to find her peace in the bustle of people and the roar of waterfalls.

Saren was halfway down the stone walkway to the gate when she heard the door of the house open and footsteps quickly approaching. She stopped and turned to see Ganston, the butler, hurrying towards her with a silver tray balanced on one hand. More letters? Suppressing a sigh in favour of a light smile, she greeted Ganston with a nod. He bowed slightly, and held the tray out to her.

"For you, m'lady" he said.

Furrowing her brow, she picked up the folded parchment. "Thank you Ganston." He bowed again and turned to go back into the house. Saren delicately unsealed the paper and opened it up.

She screamed.

The parchment fluttered to the ground, the red flower insignia plainly visible. She stared down at in horror, her knees trembling and hands shaking nervously. No no no. Not now. I have so many responsibilities, so many obligations! She knew she had to leave - and that she couldn't delay - but part of her wanted to deny that this was truly happening.

She took a deep breath to steady her trembling fingers as she reached down and lifted the note. She would be expected to pretend it didn't exist, to burn it and carry on with her life according to the chain of events her parents had set out. But I can't...not now. She swallowed hard, turning her back on the house. I can't stay, no matter what they want. Saren walked fast, not quite running. She would send a message to her parents and Javin after she reached the sanctuary, but they wouldn't stop her from going. They couldn't stop the real world from disrupting their perfect daydream.

 

[rissa]

ZAHARIN BELANOR

---

The backdrop of falling water, conversations between hundreds of people haggling and laughing and enjoying what they could before Festivallas arrived gave him an oddly satisfied feeling. Zahar, a traveller from the Allied Kingdoms, walked through the foreign marketplace with wide eyes, his hands itching to sketch the architecture within his journal. It had been months since he left Eversyth, months of hiding a part of himself he couldn't help. And yet it was all worth it… he'd learned so much since his feet left familiar grounds. Zahar had to save up a month's worth of pay for stationery and ink so he needn't worry about running out again.

Scratching at the wide leather band he wore in his hair to help obscure his elven heritage, Zaharin glanced worriedly at the lady behind the stall selling foodstuff. She had been squinting at him for a minute or two, but as she made no move to speak or harass him, he kept walking, mind flowing back and forth between things long gone and those right in front of him.

There were certainly cons about leaving one's home, about venturing to a place where a part of yourself was forbidden from use. Zaharin, however, was entirely too stubborn to completely stop using his magic. He refrained from using it within public and daylight hours, but every night, before bed, he'd perform a protection ward, just to make sure his magic didn't become rusty. The way he figured, using or not using his magic, whether it be defensive or not, spelled death if something malicious was intent on his destruction.

Turning another corner, nearing the edge of the marketplace and the short way to the fort beyond, Zahar heard a crash of clanking armor. Looking up a little ways ahead of him, he saw the aftermath of a collision. A young woman, even for a human, had collided with an Aegis. Something he'd read about long ago and finally, three weeks prior, had seen in the flesh. From the clutches of the fallen woman came a piece of parchment, taken by a rifling breeze. Zahar reached out and clasped the paper, glancing at it absentmindedly.

He began to walk towards the pair before doing a double take at what was depicted. With wide eyes he looked at the young woman and then back down at the symbol. Even a traveller like he had heard the stories… the esoteric whisperings of disappearances among the masses, of the encroaching fog, of the downed airship over the Winded Woods…

"I think you dropped this," Zahar said softly, having jogged to the scene. He held the parchment up, in front of the Aegis, concern adorning his face. "But I think you ought to take a look at this." Reaching out, Zahar offered the woman a hand. "Everything will be okay." He said to her, albeit it being far from the truth. It was a lie. She knew it, he knew it, and so too did the Aegis.

His only thought, as he looked at the fear in the woman's eyes, was what would happen to him now that he'd gotten involved.

---

Tags: @Effervescent @Elle Joyner

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia Belhund
Squire to Aegis Vallane

---

​

---

The woman's leg dangled off the edge of her bed as she hugged her pillow, blearily opening her eyes as the light filtered through the shuttered window. It was cold -- after all, Spring was just around the corner, and the wintery winds had yet to dissipate -- but Marnia had little truck with the chill. She'd grown up sleeping in grand rooms full of unlit hearths, taking refuge in the warm bodies of her cousins and sometimes aunts and uncles. Redden's nipping weather had nothing on that frosty time in her life.

Thus, it was not the cold that had awoken her. Rather, it was a disastrous urge to pee.

Marnie levered her body out of bed to quickly rush to the communal wash closet and relieve herself. After quickly doing a morning toilet (which in her case, constituted checking her teeth weren't rotting out of her skull, washing her face, and sniffing her clothes), she walked into her stone-cold room. It was little more than a closet -- and in fact at one point had been a closet -- with a window, a bed, and some other sparse furnishings. Marnie didn't particularly mind, seeing as she could've had a room with another five squires, all of them men, and she much preferred her tiny living space.

The tall squires picked through her things before looking at the circular calendar on her wall, frowning as she realized that she'd not turned it to the right date. She twisted the dial to the right date, and--

Her eyes stared dumbly at the thick ink on the date, arrows pointing at the number with driplets surrounding it. Today was important for some reason. Why was it important? She hadn't put an actual note, seeing as the square was too small, but there was a reason she must have--

They were supposed to be heading out soon to get that Wolf man.

The hall echoed for a moment with the resounding shout of a nasty four lettered word, moments after followed by a young woman desperately trying to put on her half-plate armor while running out of her room. She dashed to a stop at one of the windows to glanced at the clock tower in the square, finding, to her chagrin, that she had slept in far too late. She should've been in the parade ground with Alex hours ago. She was usually up at dawn, but she'd been busy scrubbing Alex's plate mail until two in the morn, and she'd barely got a wink after!

After managing to get her things together and look halfway decent, Marnie tried to retrace Alex's and her usual route. They were typically set to march around some of the higher-tiered squares -- maybe an effect of Alex's weighty family name, though Marnie wasn't complaining -- and usually she'd be more inclined to ogle at the buildings, but right now she was late. She skirted around the old towers and fanciful arches of the district, managing to take a few shortcuts she'd learned as she searched for Alex's brooding, unhappy face.

Finally, she managed to see his tall silhouette outlined against one of the heftier buildings (a design she considered 'chunky', and a landmark on their patrol), and the gangly squire jogged towards him.

"Oi, sorry I'm late! I just, you know, was polishin' 'is thing up ta par, 'n I ended up oversleepin'-- What in the void's 'at you got?" Marnie asked, very suddenly leaning towards the taller Aegis to get a peek at the piece of paper that had been put into his hand by a taller fellow Marnia was just now seeing (and side-eyeing, though the leather headband was a serious drawback). Upon glimpsing the flower emblem, Marnie's eyes grew wide as she looked up at Alex's face, before snatching it to see if it was truly real, even holding it up to the sunlight.

She quickly shoved it back into his hand before making the sign of the Argeris to ward off evil, touching each shoulder and then the forehead.

"They's gettin' bold. 's at for you? 'Ey, you're no' the people whom give'm this, right?" Marnie asked the two before her.[/hr]

@Effervescent @Elle Joyner @rissa

 

[Effervescent]

---

Ecksoh

---

The Soldier further approached Geirolf and unlocked the iron shackles that bound the man's wrists. Along his belt was another set of cuffs he brought forward in the dim light, presenting it to the man to observe as he turned it in his gloved hands. They were shackles rigged to be unable to fully lock, yet could close to present the appearance. The Soldier intended to keep up the appearance of a prisoner transit, and even with how seedy Tildash could get around its corners, it was still well guarded and maintained. He fit the cuffs around Geirolf's wrists and took the chain in hand like a leash to guide the wolf out of his cage.

The other prisoners made a ruckus at the sight of a man out of his cell. They begged for their own release, skeletal arms outstretched from the barred cells. They passed by more solid doors all in a row likely housing some other sorry sod in confinement. The Soldier ignored them as he carried out the play. They passed by one of the patrols that meandered the dungeons on duty. All that was exchanged was a not and a short glance to Geirolf in thought.

At the end of the labyrinth was the final roadblock. The Soldier halted before the set of iron bars and the eight guards on the other side. One of them got up from their seat at the sight of their approach and reached for his key ring. "Already that time?" she asked. She shot a particularly venomous gaze towards Geirolf, and the others behind her shifted up to a stand with expressions to match.

"He's got his trial date set all the way out in Redden," the Soldier responded casually.

"Unfortunate the airships are down," another guard pointed out.

"Yeah," said another, "shame you have to go into the Winded Woods with that son of a blacksmith."

"We could make your trip easier. He's an Aegis killer after all. No sense in missing Festivallas for trash like him."

The Soldier shifted his stance, though kept his casual air about him. "I'm a man married to my duty," he said. "I don't mind the travel."

The guard unlocked the door and slowly opened it, and the seven other guards took a step towards them as they exited the dungeons. "Let's not do anything brash," the Soldier warned.

But it seemed they were bloodthirsty, their sights set upon the man blamed for an egregious crime. The guards launched themselves at the pair, all of them quick to throw a punch or a kick towards Geirolf until otherwise dealt with. The Soldier had let go of the chain to allow the man the ability to fend for himself while he raised his hands through the air.

Within a blink of an eye all became dark, and the sound of their screams echoed until they distantly fell away. Geirolf would find himself in a dense nothingness and a strange nagging sensation as a pure silence pressured his senses. And then in another instance a hand could be felt grasping onto him and pulling him, the pull feeling stronger and stronger until suddenly he was thrown out into the sunlight.

They were in Tildash once again, and they fell right into Abrecan. The Soldier was quick to rise and dust the dirt from his uniform. Out in the sun, it could be seen he was a rather young lad no more than his early twenties. His skin was a dark tan framed by raven hair now dusted with the orange dirt that wafted from the Barrens. His casual air continued as he completely dismissed the strange happening that took them from inside a dungeon to outside within an alley.

"Apologies, sir," the Soldier said to Abrecan. He eyed the brightly dressed man thoughtfully, gaze settling upon a little girl as she approached the man once again to set the piece of parchment in his hand. And with an apathetic gaze she turned to look at both the Soldier and Geirolf before running off. "Hey!"

The girl did not stop. She ran through the streets and past Maes's cart once again only to scurry on. The Soldier looked at Abrecan and Geirolf. "Stick with me and I'll keep you safe," he said. "I can take you to a place no one will find you."

He rushed off in search for the little girl halting just at the farmer at the Blood Mage. His eyes widened at the sight of the woman, and he turned to look at Maes instead. "Did you happen to see a girl run through here?" he asked the farmer.

@BearEnthusiast @Red Thunder @CloudyBlueDay @Shizuochan

---

Thol

---

it seemed it was a day for clashed throughout Estwynd from gaudy attire to physical collisions. Alexander stumbled as a woman rammed into him, or rather more of a bump due to her small frame. Arabella fell onto the stonework road, and Alexander swiftly moved to tend to the woman with a string of apologies already escaping his lips. But his lips quickly sealed as his breath halted in recognition of the woman before him.

Blood had been spilled. It was all over his hands and he could see it even in the glimmer of moonlight that cast through the tree. And she was sobbing. He could see her silhouette mourning the death of her father wreathed in the golden hue of the fire in the hearth behind her. The anguish etched into his conscience to remind him of his transgressions.

And so it continued to do so. It took the friendly stranger's approach to pull Alexander from his haunting, fingers gently clasping the parchment with the unmistakable insignia. Zahar aided Arabella to her feet, and Alexander looked away entirely as he fought the instinct to leave. Marnia closed in to gander at the paper, and he turned it towards her for her to better see before she snatched it away in a flurry. All he could think about was that night and prayed the woman would not recognize him.

Marnia was more of a foundation than he would have liked to admit, especially considering his position as Aegis to the High Queen. But his squire had a better head on her shoulders with far more logic and reason through her thickly laid accent. And through her outward observations Alexander found his anchor and pushed away the fleeting fear and guilt. She inadvertently reminded him of their duties, not just in assignment but to the two before them.

"You two with us," he said as he continued his trek. Now with the insignia his course required a detour to the palace. There was no resentment in the task, but the unease of escorting a woman he'd hurt coupled with the prospect of possible further turmoil unsettled him. And to this he became far more quiet than was typical, eyes trained to scanning the roads.

Redden's palace was a glistening bastion of spires and and bright stonework. The constant moisture in the air made for slick surfaces and algae incrusted bases where the water tended to lap. The commoners could often be seen around the buildings harvesting clams off the rocks and sides or fishing within the more shallower pools. But around the palace was far more untouched and gave the appearance of a multicolored textured base.

Saren's presence on the palace tier did not go unnoticed, though the guards did not halt the heiress in her path. The upper echelon often traversed the expanse of gardens or had the privilege to delve into the High Queen's library filled with some of the most rare documents in the world. It wasn't until Saren found herself within the palace vestibule that she was approached by a guard. It was lavishly decorated for Festivallas in bright ribbons streamed about the pillars. Above in kinetic motion was an incredible planetarium of brass depicting moving stars and the crescent moon around planets and globes. The machine groaned with its slow perpetual movement crafted by the finest clockmakers.

"Pardon," the guard began, "but I will need to inquire into your business here to provide you with the proper escort."

Alexander nodded as he moved past, and those following were allowed to enter with him. Having frequented the vestibule regularly it had almost lost its splendor. The Aegis didn't even consider to look up at the display. "I'll take you to the sanctum," he said to them, looking back to see if they had followed. "It is likely the safest place in the palace."

@Elle Joyner @rissa @Starlighter @Doctor Jax

 

[Elle Joyner]

---

It all happened within the span of less than a few minutes, but for Arabella, it felt as though a lifetime passed, sitting in the dirt, staring up at the small crowd above her. As he bent down to aid her, she met the eyes of the Aegis and for a moment there was concern there... but as he opened his mouth to say something, it snapped shut again and she was reminded of the way most people looked at her when they discovered who her father was...

Did he know, then? Was she truly tainted so irreparably by the reputation of blacksmiths and their kin that even perfect strangers could see it? Or was it the letter that drove him to silent scrutiny? All she wanted was to live in peace and quiet, to do her job and fade into obscurity... but fate, it seemed, would see to it that she was forever haunted both the ghosts of past and future horrors.

The conversation that occurred seemed to fade in and out between the pounding pressure in her head, but clarity resumed as the darker haired man bent down to help her to her feet. He had returned the letter and the Aegis and what Arabella presumed to be his squire were looking it over. All she could think was how desperately she hoped it had blown away, but while she might not have had much as far as higher education was concerned, Arabella was not stupid. She had heard the rumors and knew the concerns of the High Queen. Whether she had it on her person or not, if the insignia was genuine, they would find her. She was in dire trouble.

Rising, dusting herself off, Arabella looked between the trio, all of whom to some degree or another towered over her. It was more attention than she was used to, and in no uncertain terms, it was discomforting. Everything within her told her to turn and run, to ignore the letter, ignore the threat and go back to work - to sink into what was known, what was certain and safe, until like determined it had had enough of her...

But when an Aegis, even one who looked at you as though you were an unsavory reminder of something unpleasant, told you to follow them, you followed... and so she did, silently, holding back tears that seemed utterly determined to fall. Working within the palace grounds, Arabella often passed through the vestibule, and she had been scolded more often than she cared to count about dallying as she stared up in amazement as the splendid spectacle suspended above. That day, however, her eyes did not move from the ground, her mind transfixed instead on the fearful things that lay ahead...
​

---

TAGS || @Effervescent, @Doctor Jax, @Starlighter, @rissa​

 

[Aero Blue]

---

Abrecan Scand ; Tildash

---

Motion was the enemy of rationality, and the better parts of the mind often had so little to do with the impulses of fight-or-flight. And so, Abrecan continued in full sprint unaware and unthinking of where to go, having fully committed to the first direction his body had sprung in. The operative word that engraved itself into his mind was 'Away', Away from the one-eyed girl.

As it happened, 'Away' would have stretched into eternity or until Abrecan's legs gave out, although some divine force or the whimsical nature of fate intervened. Two bodies crashed into Abrecan, their entire weight barraging into him with thankfully dulled impetus. This manner of 'bodily harm' hardly seemed standard modus operandi for the typical assassin, yet strange happening proceeded directly by strange happening weighed heavy on the con-man's psyche, birthing the raw embryo of suspicion.

"Egads! What the snivelling fuck are you doing?" Abrecan exclaimed, his posterior humbly condemned to coarse earth, "I would skin the lot of you; watch where you're hauling your addled asses!"

Some sort of trauma combined with the brain's desire to course-correct into normalcy caused Abrecan to overlook the fact that the two had seemingly unfolded themselves from a singular speck of air. He rationalized to himself that they must have blindsided him, the young soldier and the man-of-cuts-and-bruises-aplenty. His con-man instincts insisted that he play gravely wounded and force the two of them to reimburse him for his pain, yet it was his sense of self-preservation that won over instead.

He scanned all around him, before the shadow of the one-eyed girl approached him yet again. Perhaps shamefully, he found himself scuttling backwards, dusty hands dragging himself slowly away from the meager girl who - as of now - was as if the plague herself. It was for naught, as the girl wordlessly placed the inscribed parchment in his palm yet again. He reached out with his other hand to grab at the girl in inquiry, and found himself clawing at nothing, as the girl turned and ran leaving him with naught but air and tension.

Dusting himself off as he stood upright once more, he managed to gather himself - physically, certainly, perhaps not mentally. Dazed, he found himself compelled to follow the soldier and his 'friend'.

I know that man.

His eyes traced every minute feature of the man, discounting the various bruises and cuts that had made themselves recent acquaintances with the flesh. He then began running down his own list of sins, as - for a certainty - he was sure he had not done near enough to be lumped in with the likes of the Wolf of the Valley.

 

[Red Thunder]

Maes Harrow
Tildash​

"'Grab children'? Are you kidding me?" The farmer's shock at seeing the Blood Mage's eyes was pushed aside in favor of a righteous indignation at being accused of such a heinous act. "I beg your pardon, Mage, but how could you possibly-"

Suddenly the child in question rushed past once again. Maes raised a hand in hesitant appeal, but with a glance at the Blood Mage thought better of it. The girl could survive the street on her own, and he could find directions elsewhere. Maybe from the Mage herself.

"Anyway," he sighed, forcing a smile on his face, "I was trying to find out directions to the market. I'm not a local, but as you can see, I've quite a bit of produce to sell. If you would be so kind as to direct me-"

But he was interrupted again. Three men, a soldier, a prisoner, and a foreigner, approached his carts. That itself might have been odd enough, the three apparently traveling together, but the the soldier inquired about the one eyed girl. So he pointed down the road the way she'd ran.

"She took off that way." His eyebrows raised slowly as he took better stock of his visitors. The prisoner looked far the worse for the wear, but how he'd gotten so injured was beyond Maes. Surely it wasn't tied back to the little girl... Suspician crept into his voice. "Why? What did she do?"

@CloudyBlueDay, @Effervescent, @Shizuochan

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

AVELINE EIBHLIN
A soft chuckle escaped the blood mage at the farmer's shocked outburst. It somehow amused her, seeing his displeasure. She raised an eyebrow, listening to his rebuttal, only to have it be cut short. That same girl swept by them once again, causing a small "hmm" to leave the blood mage's lips. Well, at least she safe from the surprised child snatcher.

The farmer tried again, now justifying his actions. Why anyone would seek directions from a fleeing one-eyed child to begin with, she wasn't sure, but she could humor him. Any entertainment was pleasant on this failed mission, something to drag it out just a little longer. She got just that.

Before she could inform him of the way, she was cut off. Aveline's head turned to the newcomers, a strange looking group at that. The fact that the soldier ignored her so readily was not a foreign concept. Her brows only furrowed as she turned her gaze to the ground beneath them, letting the soldier ask Maes and only Maes. That was how it normally went. Either ignore the mage, or gawk the mage. Sometimes both. Her life would be so much more bearable if she didn't have these damnable eyes.

Why indeed. Why were these three so intent on looking for that girl? Or at least, the soldier was. Perhaps if they were of interest she could find something else to please the High Ruler. She stayed in her spot, feet firmly planted, waiting to hear the farmer's question answered.

@BearEnthusiast @Red Thunder @Effervescent @Shizuochan

 

[Starlighter]

Saren Dynagra[font=constantia, 6]
Thol, Redden[/font]​

The moment she was certain of being no longer in sight of the house, Saren bolted into a flat out run, pouring out every last ounce of energy her pampered body possessed. She ducked around the obstacles in her path, occasionally throwing back a slurred apology over her shoulder without really caring whether or not anyone she disrupted was offended. She clutched the parchment in her hand with white knuckles and a trembling grip. Every few steps, she glanced behind her, not knowing what she expected to see there - other than a physical form of the fear pursuing her.

One more turn… one more step… She tried to think only on the shrinking of the distance to her destination, on the approach of safety. Much as she tried to make herself see that and only that, one piercing thought that she tried to evade broke it's way into her conscious mind. Panic and effort rushed her heartbeat to the point where she thought it might burst. Her breath came in short gasps, exertion and panic settling in together as that one fearful thought grew in her mind. No one has ever made it before now. Why should I?

The thunder of a waterfall pounding in her ear, Saren collapsed to the street, crumpling against the wall of a small shop while her trembling fingers lost hold of the dreaded symbol. Tears blurred the blues of water and grey of cobblestone together while distraught sobs constricted her throat and cut off her air supply. Her mind screamed what her voice could not. I can't make it. I can't do this! She keeled over, nearly convulsing as she gasped for air. Over the pounding of her heart she could barely hear the tiny voice, the one that told her to sneak out each night, that reminded her to move on her own.

Get up it whispered.

Her fingertips scraped over stone and dirt to find the parchment. Cool grimy stone pressed into her palm as she pushed herself upright. One stumbling step after the other, the subconscious rebel in her kept her going over her conscious frozen desperation. As she moved, a silvery blue haze was all she saw. She couldn't say where she was, name the objects around her. She slowly tipped her head back. It wasn't the hazy sky she expected that met her eyes - instead, it was the finest clockwork she had ever been privileged to witness.

Relief turned her tense muscles to jelly as she realized she was stumbling onto the palace vestibule. A single thought drowned out the presence of the four persons she nearly plowed into, distorted the voice of the guard demanding she state her business. Safe. I'm safe. Her dry sobbing and overexertion crashed together with a near literal suffocating grip at that very moment, her lungs refusing to draw in another breath.

And so like a shaky sewer rat, Saren fainted dead away at the guard's feet.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Keeping Company

---

a @Doctor Jax and @Elle Joyner collab

It took a while for the young squire to realize, perhaps too late, that the piece of paper did not actually belong to Alex, but instead to the young woman who was with them. Indeed, it had taken Marnie a good minute or two to realize they even had a fourth member to their small posse, though she didn't miss the young man who was -- blasphemy just a bit taller than she was. It was unsettling, actually, to have someone who was her height!

Whatever the case, she had to admit, now that she realized that it was the girl who was in danger of Eudicia, that she was quite cute, especially with her being as short as she was. Marnia had always been envious of petite girls, seeing as most men were intimidated by a woman who stood nearly a head taller than them, and she had often wondered what it must be like to be considered 'pretty'.

Realizing that the girl was no doubt traumatized by all that had happened, and now that they were stopped in the solar (the thing was gaudy as all void would have it, and Marnie disliked the color palette of the place), she finally said, "Eh, sorry 'bout all the kerfuffle back 'ere, madam. My name is Marnia, Marnia Belhund, and that sourpuss is Alex Vallane. We'll keep a weather eye on ye. Y's safe as houses here, in the royal palace."

Arabella nearly jumped when the woman spoke to her, the thickness of her accent, partnered with the hollow echo of the open room having the effect of a sudden shock of unexpected thunder. Looking up, she blinked, feeling foolish and small beneath the magnificent confidence the woman seemed to possess.

"...Arabella... Arabella Dane. I..." Breathing in, then out with a shaky breath, she shook her head, "Thank you. It um... it's probably not real though. It's not the first time something of this sort has happened."

Marnie was taken aback.

"What sick bastard makes sommat like tha' 'n runs around givin' it to people? Listen, here, ain't no one got enough truck to be havin' that," Marnie stated matter of factly. It took her another moment to realize that Bella was implying this happened often, she asked, "Who's been givin' you trouble, then? I kin introduce 'em to my friend Mr. Pommel."

Marnia put her hand on the pommel of her short dagger. While she didn't have the money yet for a real sword -- she was getting to that -- she could definitely give someone a knock to the head. And whoever's handing out fake Eudicia notes deserves it!

Biting her lip, Arabella lowersd her gaze. She wasn't one to cause trouble, but if there was any chance... Any hope that the letter had been forged, it might help if she were honest, "There are some people... who are not particularly fond of the type of work my father did, is all."

"Ooooh, I know all 'bout that. Me Grandda was a Senator, 'n one who got the job from jailin' the populace. My family ain't held in much regard, neither," said the tall squire with a smile, her crooked teeth peeking out.

"Ain't had no people sneakin' about you, right? Criminals, they tend towards repeat offendin' so usually they done it before. What'd your father do?"

As Marnia spoke, Arabella paled. If it were possible... But then, why would he return? What reason could her have to, after all this time...

"He... He was a blacksmith." She answered, hoping it was enough for the squire.

Marnie's smile turned into a grimace as she bit her fist. Toes. You have smashed toes, Marnia. You have trampled them to pulp. Good job. And here she thought she was 'helping'. No, instead, she'd just brought up a whole slew of bad experiences and prejudices.

While Marnia was a superstitious person (and knew it, too, seeing as her wallet was often emptied in pursuit of different charms for luck, endurance, and the ability to wake up early) she was not so quick to judge the smiths and their unsavory reputation. After all, this girl couldn't help her parentage, any more than Marnie could help that her uncles and father were gamblers all.

"That... widens the list some, but I assure you, miss, we'll catch any of the tossers who been harrassin' ye. I've no doubt. Alex, he don't take well to people messin' with cute ladies," Marnie joked, trying to add a bit of levity back to the room. "I m'self am partial to saving cute boys, but them's rare as hen's teeth around here..."

Her cheeks flushed with color again and at the woman's words and Arabella focused on the ground for a moment, looking up only when she had composed herself, "Th... Thank you. You... You're very kind. I'm sure you both are." Her eyes flickered briefly to the Aegis, before returning to Marnia, "But I'm rather hoping, honestly, it is just a cruel prank... The alternative..." Trailing off, she shook her head.

Marnie furrowed her brow. The girl had had it hard enough as it was. If there was anyone who understood ostraci-... ostacri--... being left out, it was Marnia. Her face -- which hadn't been nice to look at even before the pox -- often made people turn white with shock and then with horror as they realized the disease she had carried. While she had stated many a time that she was not, in fact, able to give the disease to others anymore, she was still shunned as if she had the plague. The few who would keep her company were Alex and a few other squires. If she were dealing with the public, she typically wore a helmet, but today she'd been in a rush.

"The alternative is that yer safer here 'n anywhere else in the Four Kingdoms, lady Bella. I make it my geas y'll not be harmed here nor anywhere else," Marnie stated resolutely. " 'n I'll even keep you company while you take refuge! I ain't got nothin' better to do."

Well, besides transport the Wolf Man, but surely the criminal could rot a few days more in a jail cell, right?

Smiling faintly, the anxiety in her eyes preventing the expression from fully taking form, Arabella shook her head, "...I've never been called a lady before, Miss Marnie. There's really no need. But thank you. I... I've been on my own for such a long while now, I would appreciate that very much."

Rubbing her arm, she looked past Marnie to the young woman entering the vestibule. She looked about as erratic as Arabella felt, and as she paused to catch her breath, she wavered for a moment before blacking out.

"Oh!" Moving swiftly, Arabella bent down beside the girl, but as she spied the parchment clutched in the poor creature's hand she froze and looking up to Marnia, frowned, "She... she has one, too."

Marnie rushed to the lady's side as well, kneeling beside her with a dark expression. She recognized her from the now-and-again forays into court. Nice enough from a distance, from what Marnie remembered.

"Oi, do me a favor, you - yes, you - I need a bottle of wine, any of it, and have it brought over, along with water. She's gonna need it when she wakes," Marnie said to a servant who was standing to the side of the parlor. He nodded and ran off to do as he was told while Marnie leaned over the girl.

Tears strained her vision again as she stared at the young woman, unable to shake the terrible thought roiling through her mind.

It wasn't a hoax... A jest. The girl had one too...

Rising, she backed away, breathing out a soft "Oh..."

Marnie glanced over at Arabella, noting her tearing eyes. She had glimpsed the sign of Eudicia as well, and her stomach roiled. It was one thing for the group to target a young maid, relatively unknown -- it made sense. Who would miss her? It wasn't that Bella was unimportant or somehow less than the girl who'd fainted -- Dynagra, was her family's name Marnie remembered now -- but it was far, far more bold to target a member of a noble house.

While Marnie had been incorrect in assuming Alex had been a target, her assumption that Eudicia was stretching their abilities appeared to be true. She scooped up the fainted girl easily, carrying her over to one of the chairs.

"Looks like y've got some company. Guess there's some solace there -- y're as valuable as a noble," Marnie sighed, her usually cheerful visage turned somber.
[/hr]

---

@Starlighter[/hr]

 

[Effervescent]

---

Ecksoh

---

Despite having been given the direction in which the little girl had run off to, the soldier knew it was a useless endeavor. She was small and had already disappeared into the crowed. Frustration brought his lips to a purse, and he looked between Maes and Aveline. "She gave a man one of those insignias," he informed, and then pointed over to Abrecan.

Geirolf stood with Abrecan after they had fallen on top of the poor sod. The Wolf of the Valley would have been known to those who had paid attention to fliers, at least by face. His coming trial was well known through traveling news and word of mouth. The soldier quickly brought attentions away from the man he helped free.

"A Blood Mage out in Ecksoh again?" he observed. "Seems a lot of bad things keep happening around here." He looked back to Maes. "I need to commandeer your wagon to take a prisoner to Redden. You'll be paid handsomely. Soldiers out here don't get much in the way of a good budget and all the horses seem to be currently used. I've a long travel. Could you hold?"

The soldier jogged back to where he had left Geirolf and Abrecan. "I think I've got us a ride," he said to Geirolf lowly, and then looked over to Abrecan. "The offer still stands for sanctuary and protection. I can offer it. In exchange, you help me escort this man to the same safe housing. On top of saving your life, I can guarantee monetary compensation. Do we have an agreement?"

@Red Thunder @Shizuochan @BearEnthusiast @CloudyBlueDay

---

Thol

---

The groans of the mechanical planetarium combined with the chaos within the vestibule set Alexander on edge. There was only partial relief in seeing that, in fact, it was only just the reactions of two unfortunate souls marked for the unknown to be exacted by Eudicia. Whoever Eudicia is. He only knew it was to be feared. He had seen the broken man escorted into the Aegis Stronghold for questioning. Alexander was never part of an interrogation, even with a man likely treated with care and patience as with Rahm Madur. The Aegis all knew his empathy was a weak point, though the High Queen believes it could be just as much of a strength.

"Vallane!"

A familiar voice called out to him, garnering his attention away from those aiding the fallen heiress. Aegis Yvaine de Sauvetter walked up to Alexander with a mixed expression, his eyes darting from the scene at the entrance to the taller Aegis. Yvaine was a handsome man with a far more angular and square jaw and a presentation that looked more presentable and clean compared to Alexander. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword casually as his brow pressed together.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Eudicia has given another round of insignias again," Alexander murmured. "I was escorting the common woman when we passed Lady Dynagra."

"Lady Dynagra is a target?" Yvaine said in surprise. This was the first wealthy target they knew of that wasn't a Senator.

"We don't rightly know the motives of this organization," Alexander pointed out, and ran his hand over his mouth in exasperation. "The common woman's father was a blacksmith, but a commendable one."

"What does he do now?" Yvaine inquired. "Think there might be some blackmail involved?"

"Her father is dead," Alexander responded. "Unrelated to Eudicia by accounts."

"It's impossible for this all to be random," Yvaine said thoughtfully. "There has to be a pattern we aren't seeing."

"We have no way of knowing," Alexander responded solemnly. At this rate it almost felt hopeless to bring this to justice and lay the case to rest.

"That brings me to what I meant to talk to you about, actually," continued Yvaine as he turned his body away from the crowd at the entrance. Alexander watched him curiously, knowing it was designed to hide his features from onlookers, particularly the targets, as he spoke to his comrade. But Alexander did not turn in kind and listened keenly while keeping an eye on the two who were given an insignia.

"I hear you've been assigned to bring back the Wolf of the Valley for his trial," Yvaine said quietly. Alexander nodded in confirmation. "With the airships down, I know you need to go through the Pass to get through the Winded Woods. I have to go investigate Magi Gladae's house… She might have been involved with Eudicia to some degree, but we're not certain. Something she said during the Ritual. Anyway, since you're going through the Pass, do you mind taking a detour and investigate the airship that crashed?"

"That investigation is on hold," Alexander pointed out. "We're not to go near it."

"Alex, I need you to do this," he urged in a more hushed tone of voice. "There's something on that ship that needs to be recovered."

The two spoke quietly towards the center of the vestibule. The mechanical whirs of the slowly rotating planetarium masked their conversation well, especially since there was a distance between them and those about the wide room. Alexander kept his frame facing the entrance, eyes watching both those in his care and the immediate surroundings as he nodded his head thoughtfully. Eventually, Yvaine parted with a salute leaving Alexander to tend to his duties.

Approaching the entrance, he looked to Marnia before crouching next to the unconscious Lady Dynagra. The guards, eyes wide with concern, explained to him that she had fainted upon approach. The insignia gently resting in the heiress's delicate hand was unmistakable, and so he scooped the noblewoman up into his arms.

"We need to get you two to the sanctum," he said to Arabella as he rose.

Turning back to the vestibule, they would be met with the room encompassed in utter darkness. It halted Alexander in his tracks suddenly. The light of the sun no longer reached into the vestibule as it had before, and for a time all that could be heard were the mechanical groans from the planetarium. But then the screams echoed from within and gripped at Alexander's heart to push his instincts into overdrive.

"Follow me," he commanded urgently, and then rushed back down the stairs in the direction they came. "Belhund, at the ready. You. Stranger. We could use the assistance if you are willing. The palace is no longer safe!"

@Doctor Jax @Elle Joyner @rissa @Starlighter

 

[Aero Blue]

---

Abrecan Scand ; Tildash

---

Whether it was the unsightly nature of purple bruises and crusted scabs, or the overwhelming portent of doom that lingered about the Wolf, something forced Abrecan to turn away from the prisoner. He glanced upon the soldier and his newfound acquaintances. Abrecan's eyes were trained in their own devious way, but even the uninitiated would have immediately marked the first – uncharacteristically pretty though he was – as a farmer or trader based on the cart that accompanied him. The second one was harder to judge, if only slightly; the eyes identified her as Blood Mage through and through.

As far as Blood Mages went, Abrecan was ambivalent. The thought of them and what they could do elicited a chill, yet it was in part what allowed Abrecan to make his living. The unknown, the fearsome, the unexplainable – and the fantasy that Abrecan was the miracle-man who could undo it all. The con-man had crafted many a tall-tale of what their ilk was capable of, although in his quietest moments he realized that at times he was not so far from the truth. Suddenly, he found himself wanting to turn away from the Mage as well.

Faced with the prospect of staring aimlessly into the ground, the soldier's return was of great relief. The man's offer of protection was more of the same. The rest of what he spoke inspired different reactions altogether. After all…

This was the Wolf. Now, and more than ever, Abrecan was sure of that. And yet it seemed that this soldier wished to recruit Abrecan, a man under fire himself, as protection. Doubtlessly the destination was Thol, where it had been ordained that the murderer would face trial. Yet why was a single soldier made Geirolf's escort? And why were the two of them wasting their time here? Surely the soldier did not come here to recruit men of dubious background? Fear found itself competing with glee.

Ah, a game was afoot.

Abrecan spoke with a voice that belied how close he had come to soiling himself minutes ago. "If you will protect me and guide me to safe-housing, then I would owe you my life. As such, it would only be fulfilling my natural duty in helping you lead this man to peaceful harbors. I, sir, have the great honor and privilege of being Abrecan Scand, and as a good and righteous citizen of sandy Ecksoh, I shall stand with you."

Abrecan Scand smiled shamelessly at the Wolf of the Valley, with the false verve of the finest purveyor of dung. A shit-eating grin to end them all.

 

[Bears]

---

GEIROLF WOLFF Tags: @Effervescent @Shizuochan @Red Thunder @CloudyBlueDay

---

There was something ironic about needing to put on a new set chains in order to escape his current ones. Still, he complied with little more than a sarcastic grumble. He knew nothing of this soldier or his intentions but the wolf figured anything this man could lead him to would be better than isolation. A low rumbling laugh came from the prisoner as they made their way through the halls now that his fellows in chain wanted to speak with him. Pricks, the lot of em'.

Even when they came to where eight guards stood Geirolf did not show a trace of seriousness in his expression. With each venomous gaze, Geirolf's shark smile only grew wider. The look he shot at the woman guard who spoke first was particularly cheeky though.

Perhaps it had been that lack of respect which drew the guards to approach the wolf and the soldier, despite the latter's attempts at pacifying the situation. While his lackadaisical attitude implied otherwise Geirolf was ready when the interaction soon boiled down to a savage brawl. He threw himself into the chaos -- eager for some retribution after months of being beaten. Cuts re-opened, new bruises formed and in the moments before the lights turned off Geirolf was brutally holding his chains against the woman's throat.

"Soldier?!" He shouted out hoarsely after he discarded of the limp body in his arms. All of his senses were plunged into darkness and it panicked Geirolf more than he'd like to admit. He attempted to run, hoping that somehow he would run into the door. But a sudden tug stopped him in his tracks and the next one took him off of his feet.

The next thing he knew, warm sunlight was beating against his bare skin and fresh air rushed into his lungs. His icy blue eyes grew wide as they adjusted to the sudden change. It was the first time he had been able to breathe properly in weeks. Geirolf wanted nothing but to howl out loud and revel in his newfound freedom...but the criminal knew the latter was not guaranteed to last.

He followed after the soldier alongside the man who they knocked over earlier, though Geirolf didn't interact much with the latter. The proverbial cogs in his head were at work and he tried to find the opportune moment to break free from all of them.

The wolf watched with an unsettling glint in his eyes while the soldier approached two strangers just out of ear shot. He stalked a short distance back and forth from where he stood with the other man. He was becoming antsy, anxious and horribly impatient. By the time the soldier turned back and jogged towards them Geirolf was nearing his wit's end.

Perhaps everything happened too quickly for him. The escape, the brawl, the sudden sunlight. His mind hadn't received the ample opportunity to rationalize everything that had just occurred and maybe that was the cause of his lapse in judgement.

The words exchanged by the two men seemed to blur together into one incoherent mess and by the end of their exchange Geirolf was being smiled at...and he had no idea why.

In an act of what seemed to be primal instinct, Geirolf suddenly hurled himself at the wide grinned prick and shoved him in the soldier's way. His eyes were wild as he did so and they remained that way as he bolted into a nearby alleway. Kicking up a trail of dust and sand behind him, the Wolf of the Valley ran with a desperation his pace but it would only be a matter of time until someone managed to catch up with him.

 

[Red Thunder]

Maes Harrow
Tildash
​

At the soldier's request, the farmer hesitated before finally nodding.

"Aye, that will do fine. I don't suppose I've time to try to get my stuff sold? Probably not. All right; I can lend you my wagon, provided I'm driving it, though I'll need to be recompensed for the produce. It might not make the journey."

It was a calculated risk. On the one hand, Maes stood to make a good deal from such a venture. He'd always thought the royalty was rich beyond measure, their armies suitably supplied with the best equipment and funded by a bottomless treasury. The soldier's claim of not enough funds for horses was overlooked by the promise of reward. Anything to find the money to support his growing daughter Joy. Yet it might prove a disastrous decision; if this was not a soldier of legitimacy, or one working of perhaps not even a soldier at all, he might be chancing his produce going bad for nothing at all. Yet his service was requested, and he'd have to trust his instinct that the man was forthright.

But then the foreigner replied in the affirmative concerning a referenced insignia. Curious, Maes extracted his own letter and presented it to the soldier and the foreigner.

"Is it like this? I found it a few days ago, buried in my stock. It-"

But the third man, bound and bruised and the worse for the wear, shoved the foreigner into the soldier and sprinted away. Maes' face screwed up in confusion, comprehension a bit slow to dawn on him. Finally it did, and he turned to the others.

"Um. Was he not wanting to come?"

@Effervescent @Shizuochan @BearEnthusiast