Fire Emblem: The Exalted March (Shapeshifters)

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A pelfrey, trotted carrying a particularly large humanoid with fire emblazoned hair that fell down along the character's broad and muscled chest. His muscled arm were astride the saddle he sat upon like a king to his throne. Indeed. He felt more free on a steeds backside than anywhere--like a bird soaring. But this unusual breed of humanoid was covered in blood. A scent he wore, rather than simply carried. From his balled fists which showed signs of recent use, to his chest which bore the marks of swords slashes, and spear thrusts narrowly avoiding him. There was even blood that had accumulated around his mouth as though he had bitten his own tongue off--or someone else's.

Indeed,this seemingly feral 'man' was no man at all. He was a Manakete. A race of quasi-draconian lineage that could trace its roots back to the great creator Naga. But there were variations of Manakete, just as there were of those dimwitted insects the Beorc's. This Manakete was fire born and he proved he had, had the fire in his soul from the very beginning. While it was true that flame Manakete's were common--he was uncommon among them. This character's height, let alone build, set him apart from most of his kind. He's a towering figure, standing well above most others and his physique doesn't try to hide its prowess, it makes it very very clear what he's capable of. Those characteristics apart--he also carried the ruby faceted eyes that was infamous for breeds like his. His skin carried a warm 'glow', it was somewhat tanned but expressed a perpetuating characteristic as if it were golden under the sun.

Days ago, this behemoth had freed himself from slavers. He could have done so earlier, certainly. But he didn't feel that innate call that beckoned him back to his homeland. What was a peaceful, ordinary evening several nights ago--became a blood bath with this Manakete at the center stage. It was like a light had been flipped on in his soul, too bright to see it quite clearly, it was enough to drive the desolation out of him and replace it with rage and an eagerness to see his homeland. It was savagery at its finest. A sight to truly behold, one that could empty the stomach's of those weak of resolve. This Manakete was no stranger to violence...

Several days ago...
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Alone. For I do not hear you calling.

Alone. For I do not feel you breathing the spark of life in this mortal coil.

A despondent Aurieus stood barely clad before a group of men. They groped him. Felt his arms for themselves as if testing the truthfulness of his stock. Though his starkly colored eyes and hair did nothing to belie who, and what he was. However, this Manakete stared out as if far away. As if waiting for something, but his eyes were empty of any indication of what it might have been--food, water--a good fuck. They weren't sure rather to keep him for the rarity, or discard him because they simply weren't making money off of him. Their uncertainties, for a large part kept them from disposing of him too hastily. Even so, it would spell their untimely demise.

Twilight had settled up the wilderness about the camp set up by the brigands who held Aurieus captive. But as the fires crackled around them the flame born Manakete stirred in his catatonic state. It brought the Manakete to his feet, his long dirty red hair; full of leaves, twigs and other assortments draping down past his face overshadowing the features of his face. Aurieus began taking in great breaths, as though he simply hadn't breathed in a very long time. Meanwhile, his heart started to throb, almost painfully yet it was anxious as well. Deep in the recesses of his clouded mind an image was birthed clearly amid the shrouding and turbulent heaves. It was of home, of Rausten.

I am not alone. For I hear you calling.

I am not alone. For I feel you breathing the breath of life into me once again.

Aurieus opened his eyes slowly, and he stepped forth towards the cage's structure--the other changlings opting to now stare at him curious as to what he was up to. Aurieus gripped the thick wooden beam that kept the cage locked shut, his grip continued to increase slowly until his hands started openly bleeding. Aurieus didn't stop there though. His grip started to fracture the wooden beam until the wood had splintered in twain betwixt his hands. The door fell forwards flat releasing him from his cage. The others were in marvel of this uncommon sight. The beam had been about the width of a man's arm. Stepping out of the enclosure, they looked on anxious and wandering if he would release them as well--but he was a Manakete. That being said, Aurieus did indeed lift the wooden lock that confined several other shape-changers.

Once they poured out of their inhospitable cages, they seemed to defer a sense of leadership to Aurieus who sought weaponry of any kind. The weapon that he ultimately wound up using--strangely, if ironically--was a brazier. The rest of the captives managed to round up several heavy pieces of wood, a shovel, a farm scythe and a pitchfork. There were various other improvised weapons and this was due largely in part to the caravan having its own feed stock. Aurieus' heart was thudding excitedly in his chest and with each beat the image was seared into his every thought. He had to get home.

Gripping the brazier two-handed, Aurieus spun and launched the blazing stand like it were a fireball. It struck its mark, two of the guards became engulfed as the searing coals touched their skin, their clothes and the tents around them. Whatever could catch fire--was now just about burning. The flames worked more or less two fold; it distracted some, and panicked the others into thinking they were being attacked by an actual enemy--not their own slaves. Whilst the chaos ensued, the sounds of screaming filling the burning air around him--he could see the image of the flames climbing higher yet from a distance, it probably looked no more bigger than a common flame. It was mesmerizing and beautiful in its own way.

Aurieus had come across a small shield, it wasn't big enough for a man of his stature, but it would have to do because his first opponent came up on him. The man swung wildly and with wanton abandon. Aurieus did what he could, the sheila sufficing, every blow met with a resounding impact. But truth be told, he was always more clumsy on foot than on a horse. But these Beorc were nothing but petty criminals, and while they had experience with holding a blade--they didn't often encounter experienced fighters themselves very often. Aurieus gave the man one solid blow from the iron shield across his brow causing the human head to 'snap' violently to the left. While not dead from initial impact of the first blow it dazed and distorted the man causing him to falter and fall to the earth.

Aurieus stepped over the fallen man who now had a serious gash across his forehead--lifted his right foot and pivoted as he stomped down his victims exposed windpipe. He leaned over and lifted the sword the man had been using before his demise--a falchion. Or at least a variation thereof. The weapon didn't 'feel' right in his hand. Though it was heavy, the handle was too small and while he preferred spears--two handed swords were the next best thing. Still, he had to use it. He wasn't about to go back to using large club or some other dissimilar weapon. He left the man gurgling his last breath and continued on. His sole purpose was make it to Rausten, that was all that mattered to him now. He would kill to achieve it, he would die in the attempt if Naga meant it so.

A second brigand assaulted him with a flurry of blows not unlike the first foe had done, but these were quicker paced--lighter. This could be more problematic; He wasn't as fleet footed, and the weapon he was equipped with wasn't suited for his large hands. It mine as well have been a throwing weapon all things considered. Still, Aurieus' pride was nothing to laugh at. Nor was his temper, which, after being cut in several places had accumulated. Gritting his teeth, he was thoroughly annoyed. Enough so that when his would-be attack poised to strike again, Aurieus tensed his arm that the shield was strapped to. His bicep engorged, swelling to nearly twice its normal size. When his assailant leaped at him, Aurieus swung his arm out in a large arc catching the Beorc and sending him crashing through a tent that was ablaze.

Dropping the sword in his other hand, he freed it just in time to reach down and grab the pitchfork that one of the changelings had grabbed that had been killed. A third attacker came at him while he was still bent over. Fortunately though, the shield had obscured his grabbing the farm implement. The Beorc's sword scored a solid glancing blow as the sword had 'skidded' over the boss the center of the shield and laid gash across Aurieus' spine. Aurieus then thrust the pitch fork into the abdomen of the slaver, lifted him up while the prongs and impaled the earth using the handle. The man dangled, still alive on the pitchfork, but unable to free himself as he was unable to stand on the ground.

Aurieus was so close. So close to freedom. But a weapon he didn't expect, lacerated his face leaving several marks like those of claws. In reality, it was a multi tailed whip and each tail had iron studs that could rip flesh. Once struck, this even brought Aurieus down to one knee. Another blow came upon his already bleeding backside; several lacerations appearing as if by magic. He was now bowed forwards. With his head bent downwards, it slow rose and his eyes rekindled the animosity in him. While he couldn't transform in the literal sense, he could very well become an animal in all others. The slaver reared his arm back, jostled it a bit and slung it forwards as though casting a line.

With his empty hand,the tails twirling up the length of his arm, embedding the small iron spikes into the flesh but the muscle in his arm tensed dramatically leaving him latched on the other end. Arm bleeding, it wasn't enough pain to keep Aurieus from jerking back on the whip, further splaying his own flesh like gutting a fish in preperation yet at the same time sending the man within striking distance. The shield met the man's forehead with a sickening 'crack' that left little doubt that the man was more than likely dead. Nevertheless, Aurieus mounted the man, slid his arm from the straps of the shield, and proceeded to further bash the Beorc's skull in.

By the time he had finished, there was little to no recognition of the man. Bits of bone and brain were slathered all over its surface giving it an almost polished sheen. Whilst in his semi frenzied state, he was screaming but not in agony, oh no. This was an almost feral call, reminiscent of a dragons fearsome roar. He stood and tossed the shield aside, the camp was empty. Bodies strewn; dead or dying. Some had made it out alive. Aurieus picked and plucked the metal spikes that had done 'wonders' for his skin, leaving it shredded and bloody but mostly in tact. He then wandered around a bit, still feeling the euphoria of battle. His brain telling him to go to Raustan still, the only problem was the fact his face had been flayed and he could hardly see through the blood oozing down it.

That not withstanding, he mounted one of the caravan's many horses. They were of common stock. But one was a pelfry. This is a well bred horse that was bred for general purpose riding, war and for travel. How they obtained it, he could definitely guess. Nevertheless, it was a blessing. He finally felt as if he stood on even ground now...

Present Day
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Aurieus neared his home town, dismounting the steed he looked about--to and fro. Many would look upon him with bewilderment. Even among his own kind he was, needless to say, uncommon. But in addition to his stature, there was the matter off the blood. Most of it had dried, but there was few spots where it was still liquid in form. He couldn't say what had brought him here. Just that there were invisible strings pulling his tired body among the huddled masses. But then he caught a peculiar scent. It was Manakete, he knew that much. But this one smelled 'different'. He honed in on it, and after a bit of tracking he came face to face with the Envoy. But he wasn't alone.

He stood listening attentively, completely focused on the female Manakete. With her words, her cherished words--it became clear to him why he was so intent on getting here and what his purpose was. If the Envoy said protect this Branded, then that's what he would do. He might not have liked the vague smell of Beorc in his blood, but if it could help the Manakete race from perishing he would do his best to ignore it. As for the others, they were varied like shades of color. But standing there wounded as he was; no doubt scarred from his brief battle to escape. He couldn't help but ask himself if this would truly work.
 
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Miruru's ears continued to twitch lightly as the Envoy spoke, the little Taguel's patience running low. Miruru respected the Envoy, most assuredly, but knowing that it meant protecting one with tainted blood, it was almost enough to make the girl speak out. However, her disdainful words would have to wait, for a different Manakete, one without the regal persona of her mother, arrived and quickly ushered the group out to start their journey. Turning on her heels, the Taguel looked through the group as they began to leave. "Babies, all of them babies. Why in Naga's name would the Envoy employ babies to take this task?"

A small cloaked figure, one even smaller than Miruru, came up to the girl and asked if there was a place to grab food. Miruru looked to the tiny boy and her nose twitched lightly. *hiff hiff* Though she certainly didn't have the powerful nose of a wolf Laguz or a Manakete, Miruru could at least tell that the youth didn't hold any metal weaponry on him. The smallest smile imaginable reached her lips. "My, looks like the biggest baby of them all comes to greet me. However, though the youngest, you sure are the proudest. Any Laguz, no matter how small, is good in my books if they can avoid using the pathetic weapons of the Humans." Miruru couldn't quite tell what breed this boy was, his cloak covering any part that might give her some indication, but it didn't really matter now. What puzzled her was why he had to ask where food was. She pondered for a moment before realizing. Oh dear...be must be an ex-slave. There are far too many Laguz that find themselves forced into serving those despicable Humans. Though not one to show much feeling towards strangers, the fact that this small child had to endure such hardship was something she found saddening.

The tiny Taguel, showing more empathy than she probably ever had in her 77 years, placed a hand on the boy's head. She didn't feel ears, so he was either a bird Laguz or a Manakete. "There is most certainly food to be found. We shall go together. The Heron compound has a wide selection of fruits and vegetables. If you're a Hawk, there should be a fish stand we could visit. Either way, it is a level below. Come, we'll eat before meeting at the gate." Though the female Manakete had said this outside the temple, Miruru's hearing was strong enough to pick it up. She gave a nod to Osiel to make sure he heard that and then proceeded to lead the boy to a food stand of his choice.



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Osiel listened calmly to the Envoy, enjoying the sound of her voice. Though not a Heron, the Envoy certainly had a voice rivaling them. He focused on the woman, letting her calming emotions wash over him. Thanks to that, the Heron didn't feel a need to harm the young man standing by the Manakete's side. The Envoy explained their situation and then summoned her daughter. Osiel knew a little about the Manakete dancer, enough to know that she would take her mother's place and many were not too thrilled about it. However, this didn't worry him too much, for he would probably have long passed away before such an event would happen. As long-lived as his race was, a Heron couldn't hope to ever surpass a pureblooded Manakete in age.

The group was told to follow the female Manakete, and the calm Heron was about to when a small figure began to speak. An interesting lad, Osiel something odd about this boy, but he couldn't quite place a finger on it. All the winged man knew was that he had another young child to sing to sleep at night, a thought Osiel found delightful. Surprisingly, Miruru seemed to warm up to the boy fast, obviously due to the boy's lack of weaponry. The small Taguel mentioned that they would all eventually meet at the gate, and Osiel gave her a nod to show he had heard her. She trotted off with the boy and left the man alone. The Heron stood quietly, contemplative his next move. With the time remaining, he should most definitely bid his family farewell. After that, he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps he would fly around town once more before leaving. As the Heron slowly made his way out of the door, an interesting figure caught his attention. A very large man, covered in blood and wounds. Osiel had to cock his head to the side and stare for a few moments before realizing the man was of Manakete descent. The burly man certainly didn't hold the more subdued emotions that the other Manakete were known for.

Osiel approached the man and offered a calm smile. "My, it seems like you went through quite an ordeal to get here. Might I heal your wounds? I'm afraid I won't be able to save you from a few scars, but at least you won't bleed out." Osiel's eyes began to slowly scan the man, locking on to the spots that would probably need a stronger healer, such as the Cat Laguz from earlier. At least Osiel's healing could also soothe the man's spirit too, unlike the what a stave could do.

If accepted, Osiel would begin to sing a serene Galdr, one that told of the times long forgotten when the Laguz ruled the land of Aurelis. However, unless the Manakete had studied the Ancient Tongue, he wouldn't have any idea what the Heron sang about. All he would know was that the song was oddly inspiring for not making much sense. The man's smaller wounds would seem to vanish, the only proof that they existed would be the blood staining the spot. The larger wounds, however, would only close. The man's face and back would surely have large scars, though they would be hidden under a layer of dried blood. Osiel's last note would echo momentarily before a silence fell. The Heron, obviously more tired than he had been before singing, would address the towering man. "That is the best I can offer. I suggest finding a healer who uses staves. Said person might be able to heal that which I could not." The Heron would wait a moment to see if the man wished to speak of other things before leaving to say his goodbyes to his loving family.

If the large Manakete declined, Osiel would respect his decision. The Heron would wait a moment to see if the man wished to speak of other things before leaving to say his goodbyes to his loving family.[/hr]
 
"Babies, all of them babies. Why in Naga's name would the Envoy employ babies to take this task?"

The words were spoken, but not yet heard by the juvenile Manakete. Nay. He was stuck pondering his "mission", one set for him by the divine accordance. To him it was but murmur. One as a changling, more importantly--a Manakete he could not ignore. He was brimming with pride. It was as though Naga himself had spoken the word detailing his mission--and implored how dangerous it was going to be. It was a father forewarning his children so that they take heed and be careful. It was a warm indoctrination to a peril, one that he mentally basked in like it were no less than the glow of the sun or the softness of the lavender rains. It was every bit a force as Naga was--his words truly inspired Aurieus. They freed him from bondage, giving him the power and strength needed to break free of his cage just to hear them uttered.

That was the power Naga instilled in creatures true to his loving grace; Manakete or otherwise.

"My, it seems like you went through quite an ordeal to get here. Might I heal your wounds? I'm afraid I won't be able to save you from a few scars, but at least you won't bleed out."

The voice of the Heron came to his weary thoughts like an echo in a well or a cave. It reflected off the walls of his mind only becoming stronger. It was strong enough to break his dilapidated concentration. Something that prove to be more a feat than may initially have been realized at the time. It was true he lived on split second decisions; combat wasn't forgiving. It was kill or be killed--life and death held by a single thread and that thread had been held by Beorc who had often abused him since he was a child and taken from his parents who were slain in front of him. It made Aurieus a living shell, easily filled with many different prospects--many of which were combat related.

Locked in that hell, he was stoic most of the time. Unnervingly calm. Because he grew up this way it made him ignorant of truth and kindness. It put him on edge or at least made him suspicious. Being treated more as a 'thing' than a living inhabitant of this world definitely took its effect on his understanding of how things should really operate. He was used to things like bleeding happening. He didn't ask questions, he didn't know what to say. Life that way seemed to go on and on; life inside the bottle that was his cage, all alone. But now that 'bottle' was gone. It was just...gone. He'd often ask himself one question:

Was he just a man with broken dreams? Was he himself broken in some way?

But with this Heron's words, Aurieus looked himself over. Accounting for every slash mark, every bruise and contusion. Other's like him, other Manakete's that had gathered didn't look 'quite' like him. He was generally much bigger. While most dabbled in mysticism--an art obviously lost on him-- He was made more physical. He then looked at the Envoy as though scared, but he tried to hide his horribly lacerated face. His pride as a Manakete not being lost to him, he had come like this--a mere feral 'animal'. He felt he had offended her.

"Aurieus sorry. Aurieus no mean to offend Voice of Naga. Aurieus no mind scars scars show Naga Aurieus' deeds for him, no?" He responded diligently. "You help Aurieus bird-man?"

When the heron began singing, it confused Aurieus who had, had no training or experience for that matter in the Heron's healing technique. In fact, he tried to emulate the changling--much to the amusement or confusion of others--needless to say it wasn't on par. The Manakete's wounds closing, he began to check himself over thoroughly--amazed by this.

"That is the best I can offer. I suggest finding a healer who uses staves. Said person might be able to heal that which I could not."

"Ah! Aurieus fixed. Aurieus bleed no more bird man! How you do that?" The manakete continued to check himself over, completely fascinated with how his wounds shut proper.

He would then do something rather...unexpected. He would attempt to grab a hold of the Heron, embracing him as if a loved one. Granted, his version of a 'hug' could mistaken be a bear hug. "You make Aurieus presentable to Voice of Naga."

If he couldn't catch him, he would blink and til his head. "You make Aurieus presentable to Voice of Naga. You want no hug?"

 
Requiem turned from his absent-minded walking and faced the one who had approached him. He quickly examined the man in front of him, attempting to decide how much of a threat he could potentially pose. He was slightly taller than himself, and while not physically imposing, he could tell that the man was fit. He didn't carry himself in the manner of a hardened warrior, and seemed more likely the scholarly side of things.

"I am unaccustomed to working with others in strategy, but I suppose we could work something out" The Gambling Strategist replied, looking over the group. "But first, I'm curious. What is your opinion on our mission, and our comrades in arms?" He asked, ignoring the rather odd sight of a lesser manakete trying to hug the Heron.
 
Carte made a gesture by flicking his fingers over his neck a few times, showing light-hearted concern. "Tempers are hot, that's going to be a major problem. There's also a lot of racism brewing here. People angry at the Branded, and angry at others. Their enthusiasm can be put to good use, but I wouldn't use it as direct encouragement. While it's true many of our foes in the near future will be Beorc, what if we have to save a friend from a pack of feral Wolf Laguz? Speaking of feral wolves, that Barbarian there is very aggressive. Still, though, intervention from an ally seems to soothe his rage. I'd recommend keeping an eye on him, though. He seems trustworthy, but lacking self-control.

"The small kin - she looks like a baby herself, younger than me, yet she calls us babies - she's very racist. She gives me the evil eye often because I use Beorc weapons. I think she secretly despises all of us for that. Still, progress cannot falter in the face of tradition - they must meld together, not stonewall each other. I would never give up the way of the Taguel, but it is much quicker to cast a spell or draw my sword than it is to shapeshift. Regardless, I still brought my Beaststone. Maybe eventually she'll come around and understand the uses of the tools which the Beorc brought to us - even if they are our enemy right now.

"My other sister, Folle, is quite the jolly sort. She seems quite eager, and quite skilled. Experienced, as well. She could teach many of us a thing or two about swordplay. However, we have plenty of experienced warriors here - some more experienced with using the barbaric ax in an intelligent way, some better with a lance. I would say the aforementioned Wolf Laguz is our ax master, and our newcomer in the armor seems to be our lance master. He looks experienced, to say the least, though he doesn't sound particularly literate. Still, he is capable of articulation, so he shouldn't be too hard to teach.

"The Heron is quite the charmer. He's kind and carefree. I never imagined healers to be carefree - they're always a smart enemy's first target. Although, since he can fly, I imagine he only has to worry about Pegasi and Wyverns. The odd Griffin here and there. Still, maybe he has some insecurities we don't know about. It's best not to prod, but watch him. If something sets him off in anyway, we need to do our best to keep him from them. Since we're the Tacticians, it's our job to direct him away from such things. Our other healer, the Cat, is quite... She's quite likable, from my perspective. I've actually heard her name on the winds around here, Sari or something like that. She has a bad reputation for healing everyone, including Beorc, instead of just leaving them to die. I for one appreciate her selflessness. She's an asset to the team. Hopefully she didn't give up her ability to transform, however, as that would be very useful for a healer - just dash between your enemies and quickly heal your allies.

"Finally, the daughter of the Envoy. She's known as Gwenaviere. She doesn't seem to like much of anybody, and her religious drive, despite her upbringing, is quite faltering. In all honesty, I've heard of Beorcs with more reverence for Naga than her. Still, she's our leader. Her orders are higher priority than ours. She seems committed to this mission, however - in that she hasn't ditched us yet to go fly away. Still, our mission does seem quite vital to the existence of all Shapeshifters - although I hope there won't be any unnecessary carnage. Again, keep an eye on the racists and those sporting less intelligence than others.

"On the subject of pairing them up to fight together, we have two things to consider. First, we need to smooth out some differences before we do anything major. When we face weaker enemies, I'd suggest we start pairing them with those who they butt heads with. They might be looking to get each other killed, so the best way to prevent that is by facing enemies they have no problem with taking on their own. Maybe seeing each other fight could instill some sort of respect for each other within them - at least, to my knowledge, that is the way of the Taguel. Beorc, too, I hear. Second, when we have everyone on good terms with each other, I think we need to survey them to see who they fight better alongside. We should accept emotional reasons as well as combat logistics. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to keep two lovebirds apart just because they don't quite fight so well together. Besides, if two of our army loves each other, they'd go out of their way to make sure the other's safe. That is an advantage in itself."

Carte winded down and smiled. He felt he had articulated well enough how he feels about everything at the moment.

"So, do you have anything to share that I may have missed?"
 
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Osiel was taken aback by the man's speech pattern. Though the man had seemed the stereotypical barbarian type, the Heron hadn't actual thought the man's speech would be so...simple. Osiel could feel the happiness emanating from the man, and it brought a brighter smile to his face. It was rare for someone the Heron sang for to be so genuinely ecstatic to be healed. The large man asked how Osiel had healed him, and the winged man started to answer. "Ah, well I suppose in simple terms, I used magic." The golden-haired man closed his eyes and he began to lecture. "Dating back before the fall of Aurelis, the main form of magic was among the HerONs~!" The last part came out as a staccato as the large Manakete decided to thank the Heron with a manly embrace, completely squeezing out all of the remaining air in Osiel's lungs. Osiel, completely unaccustomed to such a situation, found himself speechless. The burly man said something, but the Heron was too busy trying not to die as he gasped for breath. However, Osiel, being the fragile Heron he was, soon worried that his spine would snap long before he suffocated.

Luckily, the man eventually released his grip, and the Heron landed flat on his behind. The blonde was frantically gulping in air, certainly an interesting sight for those who may watch. Not even Osiel could make such actions look graceful. When he finally regained his breath, the Heron rose, trying to act like that scene hadn't happened. "Well, I'm glad I could be of assistance. We shall be companions during this up-and-coming quest after all. Should you ever require more healing, or just want to hear a song, come see me. I will be glad to accommodate you." The Heron gave the colossal man a pat on the lower arm. He normally would have went for the shoulder, but the only way Osiel was going to reach the man's shoulder was if he flew up to it. "I will see you at the gate friend." And with that, Osiel lightly lifted from the ground and began his return flight home. After an explanation and kisses goodbye, the Heron bid his family farewell and made his way to the gate. He wasn't happy about leaving them, but Osiel was needed, and hopefully he could bring peace to the land and his loved ones.
 
Requiem nodded, listening to the Taguel speak. He was a tactician of the books then. "Overall, what you have seems sound." He looked back over the group, contemplatively. "Those of flight are not the only risk that are a risk though. Archers bring wings down with far more prejudice." He remarked, remembering the arrow he'd taken years ago. It was not a pleasant experience. "So any ground forces should keep a sharp eye out for them if we're to keep people safe."

"Regarding the racists, while I agree that we should put them with people that they don't get along with, whoever we put them with needs to be able to tolerate the racism without trying to kill them, while still being able to defend themselves should the need arise. Some of those we're travelling with are little more than animals, and I wouldn't trust them to behave much better."

He paused considering things "The Wolf, despite his aggression would make an excellent protector. I would recommend putting him with either Gwen, or the Cat." He said after a moment, not knowing anybody's names. "Actually, I think that's probably the first thing we should do is introduce everybody properly. My name is Requiem by the way."

He turned to face the small Taguel girl "She will most likely be our greatest concern. If you don't have any objections, I think I'd like to keep a close eye on her personally. I don't know what she's capable of, and that concerns me." He looked back towards the other tactician "You seem fairly capable, I don't suppose I could count on you to keep our branded guest safe could I?"
 
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For anyone who's eyes fell uppon Ursa they would immediatly see that he was prepared to go somewhere, he had a leather pouch hanging by his side which he had filled with the last of his food and some pelts that he had bought. The fact that he was wearing a furr-cape didn't hide it either, he was as usual keeping his two axes hanging by his hips but was also holding a war-hammer that he had bought in case they would ever meet opponents wearing heavy armour. It was as he waited for the rest of the group that he picked up on a smell that he recogniced from the temple and when he looked up to see where the smell came from he saw Osiel flying towards him or rather flying towards the gate. " Oh......Heron. " Mumbled Ursa to himself as he watched the blonde Heron fly, and he coudn't help but to hope that he would get the chance to hear this one sing a tune or two during their travels together. " Heh, maybe this won't be so bad after all " Thought Ursa to himself as he sat down and waited for the Heron to land and his other companions to arrive.​
 
"Ah, well I suppose in simple terms, I used magic."The newly appointed flighty, feathered friend to the giant. It was to late for him. "Dating back before the fall of Aurelis, the main form of magic was among the HerONs~!" Indeed, the noise was a sharp one--probably not best for the vocals. It could almost be a balking sound that chickens made when they were startled. But that's a comment for another time. For now, Aurieus was content just holding this winged man, one who he simply called "bird-man" in his simple minded dialect. Holding him right off the ground and in his unusually strong arms with his uncanny grip of his heavily calloused hands. Why, it would almost be reminiscent of a Clydesdsale jumping into your lap expecting to curl up like a cat. It simply was something unusually unfathomable.

That said...the effects of slave life were ever present.

His hands hand been worn so badly, they lost a majority of their prints. Even his palms, especially his palms didn't feel soft or supple but were hardened skin. It would be the same to compare toughened leather against a new born calf's skin, or perhaps a foals glossy fur coat. It was all simply to do with the way the Beorc slavers raised him. Beating him often, using him like a common workhorse and making him tote carts, pull wagons, handle the horses and so on. Over time he's gained many scars, not just those from his recent bout. He was hardy, and strong. Stronger than most Manakete's usually are and covered in scars from head to toe. He looked like a hardened warrior, and though he had some training, it was most just years of being beaten, broken in, and slaving the same ludicrous tedious tasks that most would simply have given up on.

Aurieus thankfully released the dead-lock that might very well have broken his spine...or spleen, or something. He then just stood there blinking as the Heron recomposed himself."Well, I'm glad I could be of assistance. We shall be companions during this up-and-coming quest after all. Should you ever require more healing, or just want to hear a song, come see me. I will be glad to accommodate you." There was two words, two and just that stuck out above all the rest. That affected him more than most others. Accomodate. Companions. He had never heard them. At least, never heard them spoken to him. It made the giant tilt his head in confusion, and in wonderment. What had he stumbled into? What called him here? And what were companions? Even though child-like, even he had questions.

"I will see you at the gate friend."He felt a tap on his lower left forearm, which was as big as man's calf. Just solid, pure muscle.

Aureius nodded. Watching the Heron lift in to the air like an angel. It made Aurieus ecstatic. He never seen someone fly before! He waved vigorously. When the Heron had disappeared from sight, Aurieus turned around. Now which gate was it again? He looked around questioningly; most, if not all had left during his interaction. The only one left, well, was the Envoy herself. With wondering eyes, a disheveled appearance that could frighten Naga himself and a scarred face he moved towards the Envoy, stopped, and then proceeded once again. Standing near the woman, he dwarfed her in both height and sheer girth. His shoulders were broad enough; it looked like she could fit inside him.

Nevertheless, his pride as Manakete and his reverence for Naga made the Manakete called Aureius nervous, even a bit afraid about his approaching this woman. So much so he began his nervous habit of tinkering with the manacle clasped around his throat.

"Voice of Naga...were Aureius go? Bird man say meet him at gate but Aurieus not know where gate is. Aureius no want make bird-man angry or sad. This first time here for Aurieus. Aureius not know, he get picture in head and told to follow so he do."
 
Carte gave a nod of agreement. His new colleague was quite educated himself. He also realized Carte's own abilities, which filled him with narcissistic glee. "I'd be glad to. Besides, I would like for him to know that I see him as my equal. The others here might not agree so much with my concept of worth, but surely this Branded fellow could use a friend in these times. As it were, you look strong enough to prove yourself to her. She'll need much convincing if you hope for her to accept you."

Carte began running scenarios through his head to make sure things ended up well later on. "The Wolf can certainly be of use to the Cat. If he keeps her safe and she keeps us undamaged, we'll not have much to worry about. Blast it, though, I forgot about the archers! Such forgetfulness would've cost us on the battlefield. Thank the gods you're here, though. Two heads, Requiem." Carte would have to remember the effects certain units had on others. Archers, Snipers, Assassins, and Warriors would be a great hazard to the many Bird Laguz here.

"There is a bird and a newcome Manakete who both ride steeds. They'd be a useful strike offensive. Their armor is significant enough that they don't need to use Canto to pull back. Their armor is thick enough to take a few hits, but if we were to go against feral Taguel or enemies wielding Beast Killers, they'd be worked over rather well - that said, we all have the same problem, save for the Manaketes and the Branded. So I say we should pair them together, except in special cases, say if someone needs a ride up, we can quickly transport two infantry if they ride with our Cavaliers."

Carte noted that there were only a few others left. There was Gweneviere the Manakete Dancer, that Heron, Folle, and... A small child. "Who's that child?"
Folle overheard the conversation, taking a moment from her giddiness at going through Carcino to pop in unexpected. "The little boy's a dark mage. Saw a tome in his robe. Flux, from what I saw. He seems pretty secretive about it. That's understandable, though, I mean, it kinda gave me the creeps. Still, though, he seems like a nice enough kid. Don't judge a book by its cover - well, unless it's a spell tome. Everyone knows about spelltomes. Still, I've met plenty of nice Dark Mages in my time. They tend to be really sardonic or really melancholic. Light mages aren't too different in that respect - they tend to be pretty sarcastic or melancholic. That really isn't important, though. Go on, go talk to the boy, maybe he knows more than he looks to."
 
Requiem nodded, slightly surprised by the sudden appearance of the tactician's 'sister'. Her commentary regarding the boy slightly annoyed him. He himself carried a book of Elder Magick, Ruin specifically. He preferred it over the anima magicks, partly because they were only as effective in certain situations, but mostly because he had a hard time handling them. He was quite skilled however with so called 'dark' magick, so that's what he used.

"I'll talk with the boy next time I see him, and don't worry about the book" He responded giving a polite nod. "Until then though" He continued, referring to the Myrmidon "Who do you think you'd be best teamed up with?" Who she chose out of the group would be a good indicator of how she thought, and would help in future strategies.
 
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Ferrus laughed nervously at the small Taguel, it had appeared that he was being mistaken for a shapeshifter. This might be for the best for now, considering her attitude towards the Branded earlier.

"I'm not a baby though…," Ferrus mumbled as Miruru patted his head. Stupid child form, but he was used to that by now. Though it had become a habit to say that to people, Ferrus no longer really bothered to prove that point to anyone. And here, trying to prove that he was actually 45 years old would most likely end in him getting torn to pieces by this dynamite rabbit.

Miruru had promised to show him around to the various food stalls among the Heron and Hawk compounds before leaving the city and she took off. Ferrus had replied, "It's a date!" and dashed after her, cursing his child form's lack of stamina. Not that he had been all that much better at any physical exertions as an adult, but he would have at least had a longer stride.

As he was huffing and puffing trying to keep up with the Taguel, one hand holding his hood over his face, a strange thought occurred to him. In all honesty, during his forty-five years of existence, this would be this first time he had ever gone anywhere with a girl. While Ferrus was nowhere near so self-absorbed as to think that this meant the small Taguel had suddenly developed romantic feelings for him during the five seconds they had spoken, he still couldn't stop himself from smirking underneath his hood. My child form must be more susceptible to emotion than I thought. Or it could be the strain of maintaining an adult psyche within a child form. He didn't know and didn't have time to think about it, he was too busy trying to keep up with the girl.

By the time they reached a food stall, Ferrus would be exhausted, famished beyond belief, and realizing that he had greatly underestimated the physical abilities of the Laguz, Taguel, and Manakete. And the worst part was he had nothing the shapeshifters would regard as currency, or did they even use currency? He did have some gold piece on him, stamped with the royal seal of Renais, but that might raise suspicions. Still his hunger overpowered his better judgement, if he was going to die, he'd rather do it on a full stomach. At the nearest vendor he handed the few gold coins he had over and asked for, "Everything that these can afford." He was just tall enough to place the coins on the counter and waited to see what he would receive.
 
Carte smiled weakly as Requiem asked his kin a question. He interjected before she could answer. "The only ones left are our leader, Gweneviere, our friend, the Heron, and the young dark mage. The dark mage can defend himself, but Gweneviere is weak, but she can use a sword and shapeshift into a mighty dragon. The Heron, however, is a healer. He is fast, but he is not strong."

Folle nodded and put her hands on her hips. "Then I suppose I should hang with the Heron, then, huh, brother? Gwen and the boy can team up and keep each other safe. Although magic tends to be pretty powerful, and he's probably really good, he's still young." Carte smirked - for once, it was actually a smirk - and held up his Elfire tome as an example. "Yeah, brother knows."
 
Requiem resisted the urge to scowl when Carte answered in her place. He'd have to find out about her a different way then. He shifted his gaze towards the rest of the group as they made their way ahead to the gates. "That sounds like a fine plan" He agreed, his tone slightly distracted. "We should probably head to the gates though. We can plan more when we make camp." He paused before visibly remembering something, "I actually have to pick up a few things before we leave though." He turned to Folle again "I don't suppose you'd be up for accompanying me, would you miss?" He asked politely.

If she did, all the better, he could use some one on one with all of the group, and of course, he was interested in getting to know her. If not, well, he still had things to pick up. That said, he could do with the company, he spent too much time alone anymore.
 
Folle looked back to Requiem and nodded. "Yeah, I don't see why not. What do we need to get?" She hopped over to the tall Manakete and laid her arm on her sheathed blade. "Think we might stop by the smith? I got my blade blessed, but it needs a more comfortable handle and a broad guard. Kind of like a scimitar, except for two hands, only guarding the forehand. You'll see what I mean when I get it forged." She walked beside the Manakete happily, a slight skip in her step, indomitable glee written on her face.
Carte, of course, had been left alone now. His kin and his colleague had both left to pursue other tasks. That left him and a few others - the Manakete Cavalier and Heron, who were conversing, and Gweneviere and the Bird Cavalier, who were arguing. Carte braced himself and headed into the fray of the Envoy's daughter and the offensible Cavalier. He hoped to sow peace, but he may have to make it through combat. A duel wouldn't be fair, considering Gweneviere's position, so conversation was the best way to settle it.

"Hey, you two. I'm Carte." He gave a proper bow to Gweneviere. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am. I am further pleased to be one of your Tacticians on this journey." He turned to the Bird Laguz and gave him a cocky grin. "Say, Bird, what's your name? I don't believe we've met before today." The obvious disparity between perceptions and receptions made it clear that Carte had a soft side for diviners - although someone might consider his display to Gweneviere to be facetious, he didn't mean it to be.
 
"A smith would be a good idea, my blade's been growing dull as well." He said giving a slight nod as they walked. His Falcata hung by his side, mostly unused lately. He preferred to use magick when at all possible. Still, the heavy one-handed blade worked wonders when trying to dispatch enemies. He always had a hard time understanding why they weren't more commonly used, but he didn't complain too much. If the enemy used them, he'd be down an advantage. Of course, the other side of the coin was that they were more expensive, simply because he had to have the custom made.


"You know miss, I never caught your name, or your 'brother's' for that matter." He remarked as they made their way through the market district. "My name is Requiem." He said, introducing himself, less than casually. If she gave her name he was quite proper and replied with a polite "It is a pleasure to meet you." If she didn't, he moved on to the next point of interest. "As for what I need to pick up, well... To be honest, it's my assistant, she's supposed to be picking me up a cane. Long treks are hard on a body, and a walking stick does more good than you would believe" He expressed as they made their way through a crowd of people "Ah, there she is now actually." He told her, pointing to the young white haired girl standing in front of a vendor on the tips of her toes, leaning into the stall.

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"Hey, C'mon! My boss needs a new cane he said! Don't be so stingy!" The young Raven girl complained, trying to get a better look inside "All I said was that your daughter had a cute butt! It's not like I was lying, come on! If I don't get this cane he's going to be maaaaaad!"

Aleria had been through half a dozen different merchant's, and none of them except this one had a cane that she felt would suit Requiem, and so she was quite excited to finally find one that had something she thought would fit him "I'll give you double what you have it marked for, please?" She asked, trying her sweetest voice on him. Finally, the vendor couldn't turn down such an offer and handed over the cane before telling her to get out and not to come back. She paid the man and turned around before catching sight of Requiem.

"Master! There you are! Look what I got!" She called out cheerfully before catching sight of Folle "Ooooh, she's cuuuute! Where'd you find her?" She asked with a grin. "You're not supposed to be finding cute girls without me, you know that! How am I supposed to compete with you if you go picking them up without me around?"

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Requiem rolled his eyes at the dimunitive girl in front of him "Hello Aleria, did you get what I required?"

Aleria nodded emphatically "Yup, a full barrel of whiskey, some rum, a new set of gambling tools, general traveling supplies, and of course a new playing table with a horse to carry it!" She flapped her wings excitedly and flew over to them "So what's your name?" She inquired the Taguel girl, ignoring Requiem for the moment
 
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Miruru ran ahead of the cloaked child, only slowing down when he was barely in view. They made it to the bird level, and she specifically led him to the Heron side first. She had a strong desire for some carrots, and the Heron's had some good ones. She stopped before the stall and waited for the boy to reach it. He walked up to it and placed some gold coins on the counter. The Taguel's eye winced as they fell. What disgusting currency. However, Miruru couldn't blame the child. He probably stole them from his slaver. Or better, he killed the slaver for them. The Heron at the stall looked at the coins for a moment before nodding to himself. He'd just trade them with a Crow Laguz later. The Heron asked what the boy wanted and Miruru took over, bumping the boy over with her hip. She looked up hopefully with eyes glistening, her cotton ball tail twitching happily. "Carrots! All carrots!" The Heron shrugged before placing seventeen carrots on the counter. Miruru grabbed 10 of them and carried them over to a nearby bench. She kicked her feet back and forth as she nibbled on the carrot, completely forgetting that it was the boy who paid for them. Honestly, she was now completely oblivious to the world around her. All that mattered were the delicious carrots.




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Osiel saw the gates ahead of him and began to fly lower. As he landed, he finally noticed the Wolf Laguz from earlier sitting alone. Osiel gave the wolf a kind smile. "My, you were fast. I presume you did not have much business to take care of?" Osiel was glad to feel that the wolf wasn't angry like before. Such bloodlust was quite draining to the Heron. Enough negative energy could actual make him very sick. The winged man looked at the dirt, wondering if it was worth getting his white robes dirty just to sit down. He decided against it, preferring to look pristine as long as possible.

Osiel's gaze returned to the wolf. He knew the older Laguz in the city, like Miruru and definitely Requiem, but it was hard for him to keep track of the younger generation. "Names might come in handy while traveling and fighting. I am Osiel." The Heron gave a bow and awaited the young wolf's response. Afterwards, Osiel spoke. "Well, we seem to have some time before the others arrive. Would you like to converse or remain in silence? Or I could always sing us a song of good fortune before we set off." What happened next was up to the wolf.[/hr]
 
Ursa noticed that the Heron landed not far away from himself and it didn't take long untill the mentioned Heron noticed him, he walked over to him and spoke about that Ursa had been quick. When he said that he presumed that Ursa didn't have to much business to take care of which he responded with a nod, for it was true Ursa had no family to say his goodbye's to and he didn't have any people he was close to within the Wolf District.

The Heron then started to introduce himself and Ursa responded by standing up and gently patted his chest saying. " My name......Is Ursa. " Compared to Osiel Ursa's speech patern sounded abit forced and while it wasn't as bad as the Manakete he had healed not to long ago he could notice that something was of. When he mentioned song he could see that a sparkle seemed to have been lit within his eyes as he nodded and said. " Yes please....A song....Would be nice... " He could see him almost flinching at the last part as if he had bitten his own tounge.​
 
Folle observed Requiem's blade as he mentioned it, noting the forward curve of the blade. She'd seen blades like it before, but not often. Then the Manakete mentioned that she hadn't given her name. She quickly perked up and placed a hand over her heart to bow slightly. "My name is Folle." He stated another formality and she just nodded. "Likewise. The kin you were talking to earlier is Carte. He's not really my brother, but he is Taguel. Even the small one is my sister, whether she accepts it or not."

Oh, this lass was exciting! Flattering, too. Folle wasn't used to being complimented in such a way by women, so she was caught a bit off guard, her cheeks becoming a bit rosy. "Uh, t-thanks! I'm Folle, nice to meet you, Aleria!" This girl was fun - Folle liked fun. A different fun from what folle was used o, but that just made it more fun! "My, my, Mister Tactician, I never expected you to be the drinking type. Gambling, too, although I bet you empty everyone's pockets with that head on your shoulders, don't you?" Folle giggled and returned her attention to the amusing crow.

"So, Aleria, are you coming with us? I can tell already that you and I are going to get along swimmingly!" Her question was put forth confidently now that she'd adjusted her wavelength to the fun crow. "I can teach you how to use a sword, you can teach me how to do whatever it is you do - which, by the way, considering your personality, sounds interesting!"
 
Aleria gave a cheerful spin followed by a very dramatic curtsy. "Well, I'm a Dancing Crow of the Bow! Swords aren't really my thing. Although.... I wouldn't mind learning the sword from such a beautiful girl" She replied in slight rhyme with a grin and a wink. Then her thoughts shifted as she caught her praising him for his supposed skill in cards. Her face flushed briefly, "Master's an amazing gambler! Not a bad strategist either, just don't let him do both together, it gets scary." She continued with a decisive nod.

"Oh hush Aleria." The Dragon-Man ordered, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to facepalm in the middle of the market. Aleria instantly silenced herself, but continued to fidget in place. Requiem shook his head and let out an exhausted sigh. "Do you know where the blacksmith is?" He asked. The crow paused for a moment in her fidgeting, before nodding her head vigorously.

"Well, where is it?" He asked, looking around for it. Again, Aleria remained silent. "Well, say something!" He said turning to her. She showed off a toothy grin "You're the one who told me to hush!" She informed him, sticking out her tongue before reaching up and tapping the tip of his nose with her finger, which of course made his nose itch. Distracted, he scratched it and noticed that Aleria had vanished once again. When he turned around he saw that she was preoccupied dancing around Folle, slightly hyper-actively.

He and the Crow had been together for a long time. He had saved her when she was young, and she latched herself onto him. After a point she began calling him Master, partly out of reverence for him, but mostly because she knew he hated the title. When word came about that he was given some sort of mission or another, she had immediately volunteered to join up with him. New people, a bit of chaos, and most importantly, a chance to get out of the city. She expected it would be a simple job, but she was tired of spending all her time hanging about his house.

"Aleria. Where's the blacksmith?" He asked again, tapping her on the shoulder. "We have things to do, you can flirt with her when we get to camp."

Aleria stopped before turning to look at him "Oh alright, you're no fun Master! I saw him over this way!" She told him walking off in the direction of the blacksmith.
 
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