Heart of the World

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kixinorbit

pigeons in a trenchcoat
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Genres
low/high fantasy, medieval fantasy, historical fantasy, sci-fi, cyberpunk, solarpunk, grimdark, gothic-horror, supernatural themes, limited fandoms, adventure
Heart of the World



  • A
    etheria: an ancient world wrought of mystery and magic. It is said that, during formation of the tiny planet, Aetheria was in turmoil. Unbalanced magic tore the world apart, pushing up mountains, shifting continents, and spitting molten rock up from the depths. The world burned, tremored, cooled, and was ravaged by wild magic again and again. And yet, despite the chaos, life endured. Perhaps the world took pity on the struggling creatures, or perhaps it's simply the way of magic, but the chaotic energy began to coalesce in the centre of the world and from it grew a tiny sapling.

    As the years passed, the sapling grew into a vast tree which would become the very heart of the world, stabilizing the chaotic energy to maintain balance and harmony in cycles of prosperity and dormancy. Civilizations grew and, eventually, all of Aetheria fell under the rule of the Taitellen Empire. Seeking to put an end to the periods of the land's dormancy, the Empire took away the protective stones that permitted the Heart of Aetheria to flourish.

    Now, the world has begun to wane and rebellion is stirring.
  • As a supportive party of the rebellion, you're well aware of the dangers that await, should you be discovered.

    Two months ago, a celebrated rebel leader was apprehended by the Imperial Guard. The man, Magister Kiernan, was a well-known scholar and one of the visionaries behind the rebel cause and his punishment adequately reflected his crimes against the Empire. An announcement was made, and Kiernan was publicly executed by way of beheading. If his imprisonment hadn't been enough to stifle rebellious tendencies, the execution surely was, and many rebels fled Taitelle to regroup in other territories. Rumours that had been circulating about another task Kiernan had begun were immediately hushed, and for two months no one has spoken of ancient Trees or dying lands.

    Until today, that is, when you discover a curious piece of parchment that could only be meant for a rebel supporter...




    5 Lekthas, 3rd Quarter of the Crone, 192 TE


    I regret to inform you that the rumours are true: the Heart of Aetheria is dying.

    I understand that a letter of this nature seems an unusual method of communicating this, but in the present circumstances, it is a necessary precaution: I cannot risk direct communication at this time. We are reaching a critical situation and action must be taken. As you read this, I am quietly assembling a group of scholars, mages, and soldiers who support the cause, and I must ask that this be kept secret, at least for now.

    We are now beginning to see the effects of our actions those years ago, and the situation is dire. Reports from coastal cities are steadily increasing, bringing messages of failing crops and emaciated cattle. Hunters are taking less prey and rates of wildlife predation have increased far beyond what is common in a dormancy cycle. Thus far, these reports have been kept quiet. The Empire was sending meagre relief efforts to the affected areas, though it quickly became far more than they could handle. The efforts are being halted, as the Emperor has decided the plight of these areas must be due to rebel sabotage and does not merit attention or aide.

    Fatalities are on the rise as magical instability increases- something I'm sure you have already seen. Where possible, these deaths are also being attributed to rebel attacks and, otherwise, ignored. They are refusing to see what is plainly before their eyes, and Aetheria and all her people are going to pay the price.

    As you know, fifty-one years ago, the Empire forcibly removed the guard stones from the Tree. In those fifty-one years, the Tree has been unable to enter dormancy and revitalize itself. The argument was that no dormancy meant limitless prosperity-- but our research indicates that without dormancy cycles, the Tree can neither regulate magic nor support prosperity in the land.

    Without dormancy cycles, I am confident the Tree will die.

    No matter how many times he is confronted with evidence, the Emperor refuses to listen. I worry he is so blinded by the threat of revolution and repercussions of what it would mean if our research is correct (which it is), he refuses to see the truth. The more we press him to take action, the more obstinate he becomes.

    Two weeks ago, our most outspoken scholar, Magister Avelissa, was sent to Portwatch to "observe the conditions there," and we have not heard from her since… I now fear the worst.

    The crystalline guard stones removed from the tree have been destroyed, save for the sample specimens that remain in our study. I plan to take these pieces, journey through the Forest of the Ancients, and return them to the Tree. Experiments with the crystals and bark samples taken from the Tree have given us reason to believe that even the smallest piece of crystal may act as a catalyst and restore what we so foolishly removed.

    This will not be an easy undertaking, especially when the Empire discovers what I am doing, as I have no doubt they will. However, it is a risk I am willing to take- and a risk that is necessary if we are to preserve the Aetheria we know and love. Should the Heart of Aetheria be lost, so too shall we.

    Please send return word using the same enchantment by which this message was concealed. If you are interested in furthering your support, I will then contact you with the date, time, and location of our first gathering to discuss options and concerns, and determine how best we may proceed.

    For dissolution, harmony, and a free Aetheria!

    - Kiernan


    6-3-1, 193 TE

    If you think we're giving up because of a little public execution, you are sorely mistaken. To those who wish to actually make a contribution to the world that enables your existence, be at the Randy Gander in the Taithros outskirts by sundown on 21/3/1. Request a room with Chasma-- and don't be a transparent fuckass. If you're followed, you're shit out of luck. Bring ideas, a pack, and a can-do attitude. No one else is going to save our asses.

  • Hello and welcome to Heart of the World!


    If you're looking for a fantasy save-the-world adventure with rebellion, a heist, and hippie communes, you've come to the right place! Take a look around and please be sure to read the rules! If you have any questions, let us know!

    GM
    - @DinoFeather
    co-GM
    - @Lillian Gray

    Rules and Guidelines

    Adept Writers
    - Please be able to produce several solid paragraphs with relevant content and demonstrate a knowledge of the English language.

    Active Players
    - We're asking for a minimum of one post per week to keep people active and interested! However, if something comes up and you need more time, or if you'll be inactive for a period but are still interested, please let us know-- real life always comes first!

    Respectful Players
    - Drama? In character only! We're looking for good attitudes and respect for others. It's okay to have conflict now and then, but it will be resolved in a mature and respectful manner, or you're outta here. If you have an issue, please come to us.

    GMs in Control
    - Please do not attempt to hijack the plot or attempt to spin the story to be only about your character. We aim to involve everyone, and if there is a special plot point you'd like to explore, please speak to us about it for approval. GM word is law.

    Player Autonomy
    - Do not control other peoples' characters! Also, please don't conflate what you, the player, knows with what your character knows.

    All Iwaku Rules Apply
    - If you are unfamiliar, please go review them!

    Creative Contribution
    - Want to help us flesh out the world by adding a bit of your own content? Awesome! Have an idea you think we should try? Let us know! We want to hear from you, but we do need to approve ideas before they're just added in to the world.

    Sense of Humour
    - While there will be serious moments, injury, and possibly even death, this is not intended to be a dark or "edgy" RP.

    Mature Players
    - Preferred* There won't be graphic sex scenes in posts and what-have-you (PM the person, if that's your jam), but there will be strong language, violence, and lewd allusions.

    And most importantly-- HAVE FUN!​



Characters
  • Ilex Cassine
    Nymph | 22 | Taithros
    Name:
    Ilex Cassine

    Nickname:
    None

    Race:
    Nymph

    Age:
    22

    Home Territory:
    Taithros

    Profession:
    A little bit of everything: lockpick, thief, sailor, skald ... He's truly a jack of all trades.

    Description:
    Ilex is a fairly average 5'10", with a frame more suited to running and climbing than lifting weights or clocking chins. His skin is almost deathly pale, his hair a shade darker than paper. Two, large green eyes are the main draw of his boyish face, followed by an ever-present smile. Upon close inspection, his skin is nearly papery, like a thin bark, and it is soft to the touch, but not the consistency of human skin. This is most evident at the bend of his joints, where it somewhat flakes away to reveal a fresh, greenish layer, with a feel almost like thick petals, while the callouses on his hands have a much harder, barklike consistency. He is very humanoid in comparison to his other nymph kindred, able to pass off as a human from a distance relatively easily. Depending on season, sometimes he has small, trumpet like flowers sprout under his hair.

    However, like the rest of his nymph kindred, his body is beginning to fail him. His skin is a less healthy white, instead shading to a shade of gray. It is obvious that this is a sick nymph, whatever his smiling face might say.

    Personality:
    Ilex takes almost nothing seriously. He is puckish by nature, prone to cracking jokes and enlivening others - and distracting them, as well. He is highly charismatic, with a slight flair for the dramatic, and he enjoys a good show as much as anyone else. He is likewise a fantastic liar and prank, finding it fun to watch others deal with the confusion he instills just for kicks. He does understand when enough is enough, however, and he is sympathetic to the sufferings of others. He has a little bit of a wild streak, tending to go off on his own and do a bit of a job solo, especially to sate his own curiosity, a near compulsion to know things which others wish to hide. That said, his myriad of jobs - many of them illicit - has granted him a rather cunning mind, always thinking several steps ahead.

    Bio:
    Ilex Cassine was born in the manner of most nymphs - through their union within a single tree. However, unlike most nymphs, he was not just born anywhere - he was born in the heart of the Empire, in Taithros - not from just any tree, but a datura. From the very outset, it seemed his parents had planned for him a purpose already in mind. That plan, unfortunately, was never articulated, as Ilex was left, orphaned, on the streets. He matured quickly and learned hard the world of the capital city. A nymph like him stood out, and without his parents to guide him, he was left to his own devices. The pecking order was not kind to him, as a sickly nymph with no one to look out for him, until one day he was caught stealing.... and offered a job.

    From that point on, he grew a reputation as someone who had... a particular brand of skills. The underground world of Taithros, of its beggar children, of its night women, of its contraband goods and its nobles with their wants, soon became his playground. To those willing to learn the ropes, so to speak, the doors opened were endless. Always there was crime to be had, needs to meet. He did a little bit of everything from that point, keeping his ear to the ground for better and better contracts, though nothing that would necessitate his hands getting too dirty. It was through this network that he first heard about Kiernan's Rebellion, their attempt to revive the World Tree and right the rocking ship they all happened to live on. Of course, despite his image and less-than-shiny background, Ilex had no desire to see famine sweep the land, for the continent to be plunged into lawless darkness. Instead, he decided to offer his... unique services... to the rebellion instead, knowing that eventually they might need someone who could smuggle them around.

    And on top of that... this may be a way to get back in touch with a people he had never known.

    Magic:
    Elemental earth magic (beginner)

    Skills:
    - Lockpicking/breaking
    - General person-to-person combat, with and without weapons
    - Strategy and planning
    - Networking
    - Juggling (just for fun)
    - Knot-tying (it is a surprisingly useful skill)


    Strengths:

    - extraordinarily even-keel even as plans fall apart
    - able to improvise
    - works independently very well
    - an amazing liar
    - good for morale

    Weaknesses:

    - tends to underestimate enemies and fortifications
    - currently not at his physical best
    - a fan of fancy plans -- which can get out of hand quickly
    - lets his curiosity get the best of him far too often

    Romanceable:
    No. c: Sorry.

    Artist:
    awanqi


  • Kholas Abalyshevska
    Goblin | 33 | Taitelle
    NAME

    Kholas Abalyshevska

    NICKNAME

    Kho
    Sunshine (Used exclusively by Linnae)

    RACE

    Goblin

    AGE

    33

    HOME TERRITORY

    Taithros, Taitelle

    PROFESSION

    Healer; Organizer of Rebel Remains

    DESCRIPTION

    Tall for a goblin, Kholas stands just over five feet in height, though he still is comparably small to most other denizens of Aetheria. His complexion is green-toned with darker markings over his head and back. Vast, bat-like ears protrude from the sides of his head, with his right ear bearing several piercings. Though he has a flat and rather serpentine nose, the rest of his features are sharp and angular, giving way to dark, silken fur around the edges of his face and jaw. Bright crimson eyes are often lined with kohl, a trend shared by many goblins from Khal Miras.

    Possessing a small and lightweight frame, Kholas highly favours dexterity over strength, though he certainly doesn't look the part of an athlete. Perhaps somewhat unbefitting a healer, he wears his clawlike nails long, though they are kept meticulously clean. Generally well-groomed, he is fond of darker, heavily-saturated coloured garments, which are sometimes accented with small "souvenirs" from his work. A large, carved wooden skull can generally be found lashed to his right shoulder, the enchanted stone inside serving as a magical reservoir of sorts.

    PERSONALITY

    Though not as callous as he might have you believe, Kholas isn't exactly overflowing with warmth and generosity. Perhaps the kindest word one would use to describe him is "incisive," though most would settle for something closer to "acerbic." Results driven, Kholas is tireless in his work, be it his practice of healing, his research, or his efforts with the rebellion. With a record of achievement he has no intention of relinquishing, Kholas is relentless in pursuit of his goals. Shrewd, clever, and confident in his own abilities, the goblin can sometimes come off as conceited, though he has the ability to back up his claims. He has little patience for those he perceives as close-minded or melodramatic-- and even less patience for those who cannot say what they mean. Though not the kindest or most morally upright individual, Kholas can always be relied upon for honesty or a practiced hand in matters of healing.

    BIO

    Born and raised in Khal Miras, Kholas was fortunate to discover his magic abilities early on. Tireless study and relentless practice saw him rise quickly through academies and gain entrance to the prestigious Magesteria Academy in Taithros, first as a student and again as faculty. While his main focus was magical medicine and healing, he also began extensive research in channelling abilities. Afflicted with an unknown ailment that causes periodic pain, fatigue, and weakness, he was sometimes forced to rely on others to provide him with magical energy when his skills as a healer were needed. Wishing to be more self-reliant and to contribute to the collective knowledge of the Academy, Kholas threw himself into his work on developing methods of storing magic.

    With a partial success, his research was deemed to be of great interest to the Empire, and he was given extensive resources and a team to help him further develop his magic "reservoirs." It was through his research that he discovered shards of the guard stones were still preserved in the Academy, and also how he first met Kiernan. Academic interest turned to friendship, and Kholas began aiding Kiernan in his efforts to better understand the guard stones' relationship to the Tree and its magic. When messages of blight and fading lands reached Taithros, Kholas was quick to back Kiernan's claims and support his rebel cause. Because of his staunch and outspoken support of the known rebel leader, Kholas was forced to flee the Academy when Kiernan was arrested, leaving his work behind.

    Though it took some time to regroup with Linnae, an unlikely friend introduced to him by Kiernan, Kholas vowed to carry out Kiernan's vision of restoring the Tree and eliminating the Taitellen Empire.

    MAGIC

    Restorative - Healing & Channeling

    SKILLS

    • Anatomy and medicine
    • Planning and information-acquisition
    • Innovation and problem-solving
    • Potion and poison-crafting

    STRENGTHS

    • Exceptional healer
    • Resourceful and quick-thinking
    • Relentless in pursuit of goals

    WEAKNESSES

    • Lacking physical strength and periodically enfeebeled
    • Routinely overworks himself
    • Sardonic and abrasive

    ROMANCEABLE

    Yes

    Artist:
    Nicholas Kole


  • Laceae
    Nymph | 45 | Taitelle
    Name:
    Laceae Magnolia Obovata Asiaticus

    Nickname:
    Lia
    Buttercup (by family)
    Maggie (by family)

    Race:
    Nymph

    Age:
    45

    Home Territory:
    the woods west of Thaemar

    Profession:
    Herbologist, Healer

    Description:
    At a quick glance, this nymph in her outerwear is easily mistaken to be human, though perhaps a short one. Her smooth, blush skin and her meager height, just a few inches above four foot, have tricked many into believing the young nymph to be a human adolescent. But just beyond her neckline, her petal-soft skin transitions first into a sensitive, leafy green and then into a rough, flaky bark around her extremities. Laceae's fingers are twiggish, with bark that splits around her joints to reveal the pale pith inside, and her bowed calves are even darker in color and somewhat thicker skinned. Like an exoskeleton, this bark also follows up her spine to the base of her neck. From there grow the thin branches framing her scalp from which bulbous blossoms grow in pale pinks and oranges. The flowers and their leaves weave through her white hair, which grows sometimes so thick that it smothers the flowers with its volume. Smaller flowers bud and bloom along her hands and legs, the same pale tone of her hair. Her eyes are amber in color.

    Laceae's bowed legs are only one of several physical defects she possesses, though they're perhaps the most obvious. Her spine has a slight curve and her shoulders uneven, though not enough to affect further affect her gait. Several of her fingers also lack the flexible interior pith and are instead tough, immovable bark. She suspects that she would be a few inches taller had she a straighter back and legs. Additionally, the greenish skin on her upper left arm and shoulder are dark and tough with scarring. She prefers to dress in lightweight clothes, as scratchy fabrics irritate her softer skin, and heavier ones damage the flora around the upper half of her body. One allowance she makes is for a gifted, sleeved cloak which she wears into large cities and cooler climates.

    Personality:
    At her core, Laceae is a mother. She carries strong maternal instincts that carry into her medical career, resulting in unusually fierce, protective behavior over her patients. Over time she grows to feel similarly about companions and friends, and treats those close to her like an extended family. This extended family is massive, and ever growing. Her interest in travel has shown Laceae all around the world, and she adds each new friend to her mental connections catalog, many of whom she loves like children, siblings or aunts/uncles. She loves easy, and hard, and takes betrayal very personally.

    What Laceae lacks in body she makes up for in zest. Shes an outrageously joyful spirit and a loud personality, which often manages to make her seem bigger than she is. Her strong presence is largely attributed to her confident manner of speaking--without yelling, she manages to project her voice in an authoritative way that manages to avoid sounding rude or commandeering. A bubbly and typically positive attitude give her a few more inches to boot. Since she was young Laceae was always an outspoken individual, even sometimes to her own detriment. She sometimes lack the foresight to hold her tongue, and holds the belief that honesty is always the best policy, even when the truth hurts. Abundant with confidence, she is fearless pursuing her beliefs and goals.

    Bio:


    Laceae grew up in a small grove near the woods west of Thaemar, occupied by herself, her mother and her many siblings. Her mother, unusually involved and maternal, was the glue that held their family unit together, teaching her children to garden and grow the many herbs she'd gathered on her adventures across Atheria. She would tell stories to Laceae of great adventure, where Laceae herself was always the heroine saving her mother's fictional worlds. When she began to grow ill, their family began to grow apart. Several of Laceae's elder siblings moved on to live more solitary lives, while her siblings with youth grew more separated from their previously tight knit family life. Their grove garden began to wilt. Desperate to heal her mother, Laceae first tried to use her weak healing magic to treat her mother, and when her efforts failed, enlisted the help of Thaemar's greatest healers, but none could slow the progression of her mother's illness, and she eventually died.

    Laceae was riddled with misplaced guilt, and helplessness. What good was her magical gift if she couldn't save her own mother's life? Distraught, she impulsively decided to return to Thaemar with one of the healers, who took her on as an apprentice in the city. Though he couldn't teach her much in the ways of magic, he began her traditional education in medicine. Not long after her arrival in Thaemar, she grew thirsty for more knowledge, and for more opportunities to help others in need. She began to travel from city to city, learning from the healers as she went and catching rides from caravans and messengers to save her the exhaustion of walking the roads with her ambling gait.

    Eventually her travels brought her to Tórlinn, where she settled down with a medical crew tending to the mine workers. Here she met Shaela, a young horned woman and single mother to a half human half horned daughter, Raycene. Their love was hard, and fast, and short; Shaela fell to black lung, and too stubborn to quit working, it became deadly too soon to be treated. Laceae did what she could, healing with her novice magic and with her homebrewed medicines, but after only a year together, she passed away, leaving Raycene in Laceae's care.

    Once more feeling like a failure, Laceae took Raycene with her to Taitelle, where she sought a proper magical education at the Academy. She met a small group of nymphs displaced from Eldan by the cropland expansion and took up residence with them. She found sweet commonality in living with working nymphs, and in sharing their pains over the slow poisoning of Alterra's environment. It seemed every day more people came to the city seeking refuge and food that there simply wasn't to be had. Laceae took to offering free medical care to such refugees, creating her own medicines from the herbs in her garden. She eventually found herself taking on a role more involved than that of nurse; unwilling to watch young children starve, she adopted several more youths into her shared home.

    In the capital, Laceae was introduced to imperial politics, and before long began to hear whispers of rebellion. At first, she vehemently avoided these whispers and the people who spoke them, unwilling to become involved and risk the safety of her family. It was when Raycene was arrested due to rebel involvement that Laceae experienced a shift of opinion. Her home became a halfway house for those wanted by the Empire, and she used her magical gift with earth to coax her garden into growing faster and stronger so that she could feed her many charges. Some of the Eldan nymphs she originally sheltered with supported her; but others disagreed with the risk she was taking, and left to live in Estura. Although it pained her, she sent several of herbadopted children away too to live with family in her homeland grove.

    Initially when Laceae received the letter, she felt skeptical. She was playing her own part, and couldn't abandon her children and family. It wasn't until a rebel refugee told her that her daughter Raycene till lived that she made up her mind to accept and take a role in saving the world. Her mother, she felt, would be proud.


    Magic:

    • Restorative: Healing and Enhancing
    • Elemental: Earth

    Skills:

    • Herbology & Botany: skilled with identifying, utilizing and growing various flora, particularly medicinal plants and herbs
    • Culinary: though a vegetarian, Laceae has a knack with food and a strong palette, particularly with pastries (though her sweet tooth isn't quite to everyone's taste)
    • Tinkering: when life gives Laceae lemons, she experiments with them! She often uses homespun tools to help her with life's everyday activities. Among her favorites are a glove to help her grip her sewing needle, and the "arm-extenders" she uses to cook while keeping a healthy distance away from the fire (one can never be too far away from a flame!). Not all of her gadgets are particularly sturdy, however...
    • Medicine: Laceae has been studying and using traditional methods of medicine since before she began to study magic. She has a strong understanding of physiology and pathology, making her particularly well suited to treating disease and infections, but is also practiced in tasks such as bone-setting, diagnosing and some surgical procedures.
    • Sewing

    Strengths:

    • Empathetic and motherly: Laceae makes a particularly good nurse to the sick and injured, not just because of her medical skills but because of her empathetic and caring attitude
    • Creative: being somewhat maladapted to the world, Laceae had to grow accustomed to finding her own solutions to everyday problems.
    • Natural navigator
    • Collected
    • Astute

    Weaknesses:

    • Maladroit: Laceae, unlike others of her kind, lacks physical agility and can struggle with dexterity due to her bowed legs and the stiffness of some of her fingers. While she still possesses stamina, she struggles with maneuvering obstacles unaided in unfamiliar environments, and walks with a visible limp. She refuses, however, to carry a cane or any sort of walking aid.
    • Gaps of knowledge: though a great doctor, Laceae is primarily accustomed to family medicine. She is not particularly skilled with poisons, curses or battlefield care and may struggle without her handy medic kit
    • Combat deadweight: that is to say, Laceae has never received combat training and doesn't want to. She will defend herself, but isn't inclined to carrying a weapon and would rather flee or hide than attack
    • Blunt
    • Pyrophobic

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    Lourdes Saraiva

  • Linnae
    Nymph of Aquifoliaceae | 75 | Estura
    Name:

    Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae

    Nickname:

    Holly
    Brambles (used exclusively by Kholas)

    Race:

    Nymph

    Age:

    75

    Home Territory:

    Outskirts of Caelora, Estura

    Profession:

    None

    Description:

    For a nymph of her species, Linnae is somewhat stunted in height, being only 5'3" from her heels to the branch like 'hair' on her head. She blames it on the current situation with the guard stones. Her skin is soft, and closer to actual skin than bark, and a pale olive in color. Linnae has dark ruby red eyes. At first glance, she does appear more humanoid than some of her brothers and sisters, although the supple twigs coming from her make it apparently plain that she is anything but human. During periods of growth, short green leaves sprout from the twigs and sometimes produce small holly berries.

    Do not eat the berries. Holly berries are poisonous and Linnae will be annoyed.

    Having spent so much time mingling within Taithros in order to stay close to Kiernan and the rebellion, Linnae grew comfortable with the idea of donning layer upon layer of the garments typical humans wore in order to blend in. Within any densely populated city, Linnae wears the long robes of a scholar, with a delicate mantle to cover her head - one of the few personal effects of the nymph's. Anywhere else, she prefers something that is easy to move in. Outside the city, Linnae will typically wear a sleeveless tunic tied at her waist, with leathers and flat sandals.

    Personality:

    Years of witnessing the destruction and vandalism of the Forest of the Ancients, and its precious Heart, have made Linnae wholly distrustful of all races and left her with vehement opposition to Taitellen rule. She regards strangers with skepticism and often times an air of hostility that does not go unnoticed. To friends and allies, Linnae is actually quite relaxed and temperate in nature, although it takes time before she considers a person to be close enough to be called as such.

    The Nymph is not cruel. She is guarded, cautious, and harbors feelings of disapproval not unlike those living within the larger capital cities of the five greater nations. However, it can be difficult to see past her initial persona. Once allied with Linnae, she is incredibly loyal and wants nothing more than to provide whatever assistance she can. Then - she is friendly, warm, and would do nothing short of take an ax to the arm to see her family safe.

    Bio:

    Linnae was born not long after the removal of the guard stones was deemed necessary, and was a young sprout of a nymph when they were removed from the innermost center of the Forest of the Ancients. She claims to have few memories of the event, blocking them out from the chaos within the communities of nymphs in the wooded areas around and within the forest. But that claim is a lie. Watching, feeling it in the dirt and in the trees, as men came and shattered the enigmatic stones. That kind of horror as the very world she knew fell apart bit by bit, those kinds of memories were impossible to forget. She could feel the effects in the years after whenever she ventured too far from the forest itself, and at first she brushed it off as nothing more than discomfort being so far from home. But the lethargy, the rumors from the far-reaching isles, Linnae found it too difficult to ignore. It wasn't until almost two decades later she met a most curious man, a teacher.

    He explained how he felt he had made a grave mistake in helping to remove the guard stones, and she felt inclined to believe him, but offered no help. Had less time passed, she might have held enough fury to end the man's life right then and there. Unfortunately, he was found and taken to Taitelle before he was able to carry out the vaguely detailed mission he had shared with the nymph. The then curious Linnae followed. In the years that followed she met his student, Kiernan, finding his company to be tolerable despite the city he hailed from. Linnae began to spend less time near the center of Aetheria, and more near the outskirts of the very city she hated. In time, she was introduced to Kho, and an odd friendship was formed. The rest, was history.

    Magic:

    ❧ Subliminal - Soothing & Hypnosis
    ❧ Elemental - Earth

    Skills:

    ❧ Gardening
    ❧ Botany
    ❧ Deception

    Strengths:

    ❧ Devoted ally
    ❧ Attuned with nature
    ❧ Physically strong despite small stature

    Weaknesses:

    ❧ Distrustful of strangers
    ❧ Declining health tied to the Heart of Aetheria
    ❧ Highly susceptible to heat and flame

    Romanceable:

    Sure if you want to bark up that tree...I'll be rooting for you.
    Yes. The answer is yes.

    Art:
    Credit to SEPHITROTH ART

  • Malik

    Human | 34 | Stillharbour, Ventha
    NAME:

    Malik Shendoa

    RACE:

    Human

    AGE:

    34

    HOME TERRITORY:

    Ventha

    PROFESSION:

    Previously, loyal soldier of the Taitellen Empire. More recently, deserter.

    DESCRIPTION:

    Standing at 6'2", Malik is on the taller end of the human scale, with a stocky build that even a year on the run couldn't quite diminish. His stature has traditionally been useful, what with the longer reach that comes with it, but he's gotten into the habit of slouching and keeping his head down since his desertion. Standing out in a crowd when one is a wanted criminal is bad, after all. A pair of old scars mar the right side of his face; one cuts through his eyebrow and curves uncomfortably close to his right eye, and the other slashes down his cheek and through his signature black-and-silver goatee. His eyes are a pretty blue-green, pale green around the pupil that shifts into blue around the outer edge of the iris. Black runic tattoos are usually hidden beneath the armor he wears far too often these days and the only other notable scars he bears are on his chest.

    PERSONALITY:

    Though the last few years have put a sizable dent in Malik's previously bold outward personality, there's no doubt that he remains an extrovert. He's patient and warm, the sort who makes a good listener and conversation partner...provided one doesn't mind his particular brand of blunt humor, of course. Malik was raised around sailors and dockworkers and spent his adult life surrounded by the common soldier - if someone is looking for politeness, manners, and a lack of cursing, they'd best look elsewhere. Something else that tends to come across soon after one meets Malik is his stubborn nature, as that stubbornness underlines many of the things he is and does. It makes him a dedicated ally and all the better at defensive magic. It also serves as the reason he spent so many years working for the Empire.

    BIO:

    Born to a pair of dockworkers in the ever-expanding port of Stillharbour, far in the south of Ventha, Malik had a simple and rainy childhood. When Malik recalls it, he usually tells of imagined adventures on the beach and watching all the comings and goings in the harbour with childlike wonder. When his parents recall it, they describe how adventurous and troublesome their son was with a fond sort of exasperation, and highlight his fascination with scaling Mt. Kinsae, which still looms threateningly over the island. Whichever version one chooses to believe, before Malik was twelve years of age he could tie an excellent whipping knot and had already collected a few scars.

    The pressures of adulthood began to press more on Malik as he grew into his teenage years. After eight months spent working on the docks with his parents, Malik came to the conclusion that life in Stillharbour wasn't quite right for him any longer. At age nineteen, he decided to enlist in the military. Serving the Empire that managed to remove the guardstones sounded like a truly excellent idea back then, and Malik is grateful for that chance to pursue magic, but sometimes...he wishes he'd thought to stay in the city of his birth.

    Four years after he joined the military, Emperor Ruslan died, and within a year the Sovereign Treaty was retracted by his replacement. Then only twenty-four, an apprentice Runic mage and a dime-for-a-dozen soldier, Malik had his first thoughts of rebellion. But he was a willful child that grew into a stubborn man, and he refused to abandon his choice of career. It took seven more years of carrying out Emperor Petros' increasing cruelties on the population for Malik to snap and abandon the banner he'd faithfully served for so long. He was lucky enough to trip over the Rebellion a few months after his desertion, and threw himself into proving himself to them with all the fierce loyalty he'd previously had for the Empire. Subtle he was not, but he was a fighter, intimately familiar with the Empire's tactics and training. A useful asset. Then Kiernan was killed, and everything fell to pieces.

    Malik has wandered for the months since, careful and cautious. It's dangerous to be a deserter in these times.

    MAGIC:

    Runic - Defensive, Warding
    Runic Tattoos
    - A set of three runes are inked across the outside of his left forearm to ease the summoning of his shield, and the backs of both his hands are each tattooed with a circle of defensive runes. The runes are functional, but artfully done; Malik likes to believe that form and function aren't mutually exclusive.

    Warded Amulet
    - Though it isn't so much an amulet as a smooth river stone hanging from a leather thong, it's marked with a ward which vibrates the stone whenever something moves within a short radius around Malik. He has to deactivate and reactivate it periodically to prevent the ward failing on its own.


    SKILLS:

    Magical combat, swordsmanship

    Ropework

    Planning and laying out fortifications & defenses


    STRENGTHS:

    Physically strong

    High levels of endurance and general sturdiness

    Dedicated

    Patient, nearly unflappable

    Considerate and empathetic


    WEAKNESSES:

    Too heavy for agility

    Terrible sense of manners and propriety

    Stubborn

    As subtle as a sledgehammer

    Worries about everything


    ROMANCEABLE:

    No

    ARTIST:

    Marccus, on Tumblr.

  • Melsinde Blackfinger
    Satyr/Female | 37 | Venthas
    Name:
    Melsinde

    Nickname:
    Melly, Mel

    Race:
    Satyr

    Age:
    37

    Home Territory:
    Venthas

    Profession:
    Chronicler; storyteller

    Description:
    Melsinde stands a petite 5'2", her horns barely pushing her to 5'5". Her build is best described as slender, with thin arms, spindly legs, and a swannish neck supporting a thin face. The satyr has a set of narrow hips, leading to a set of shaggy goat legs, as is the custom for her race. Her hooves are neatly kept, the fur a light speckled gray and black. Her skin is fair, with slight freckling and scarring from a storied life, and her coloring is light, with fawnish brown hair and light brown eyes. Her hair is often down, free-flowing around her face, falling to her shoulders. Melsinde's voice is a soothing, even alto, with a slight scratch from years of smoking a long pipe.

    She carries herself with regal, if a bit stiff, bearing, a countenance of confidence. Her clothing style is often in grayer tones, with flowing blouses and skirts covered by a well-worn, brown traveling cloak smelling heavily of tobacco smoke and earth. Her horns are well maintained, about two feet in length curving away from her face, often decorated with chains. Her fingers are ink-stained from long hours writing with quill and parchment. Her every move is languid, careful. Poised best describes her appearance.

    Personality:
    The single word that sums up Melsinde's personality is 'even-keel'. The satyr is calm to an almost catatonic degree, finding little to ruffle her feathers. Panic is not in her vocabulary, managing to keep her cool in trying situations. That is not to say she lacks emotion - merely that she processes events carefully and methodically, before finally digesting the events in question. Her sense of humor is wide, stomaching all manners of japes. There is little that offends her sensibilities. That said, she does have a deep, simmering anger when sufficiently disturbed, and she holds grudges for quite a long time.

    Bio:
    Melsinde is somewhat of an outsider, even among her own race. Hailing from around the Briar Glen, as a young satyr she was found by shepherds, alone and lost, somehow separated from her family. Moved by her apparent distress, the old shepherd couple took her into their home temporarily, knowing that there would no doubt be another group of satyrs to come through. However, time dragged on, and Mel soon became a part of their family.

    Yet, even with her adopted human family, there was a burning need to know what had happened to her biological parents. A wanderlust and desire to travel seemed inborn, faceted by the structure and discipline of shepherding with the couple that had raised her. When her adopted father finally died, she stayed for the funeral, though the rest of the family seemed unsure what to do with this additional member. Aware that she was an interloper in her own family, she chose to leave her elderly 'mother' in her foster sisters' and brothers' care, to search for her family... and perhaps run from a grief she had not totally processed.

    She traveled to Briar Glen at the age of seventeen, speaking to groups of satyrs in search of her family. However, so much time had passed, and she found the satyr almost as confusing as her adopted human kin. Eventually, she did find her lost satyr folk, and while they thought her as odd to them as they were to her, they accepted her with open arms, glad to have found a lost daughter. There seemed a lingering sadness in her, nevertheless, that would not abate. The lack of structure to satyrical life was difficult for her to adjust to, having grown used to often herding sheep, soothing sick animals, fetching hay and water. She eventually left them as an adult, feeling that there was still something missing to this life.

    Heading to the heart of the empire, she attempted to enroll in a school, and immediately she was enthralled by the act of penning stories, real and imagined. As part of the university in Taithros, specifically in the College of Annals, she soon found herself recording the rebellions and disasters going on in other parts of the empire, sojourning to bear witness to others' stories - but forced to write them in the Empire's favor, despite what she may see. She traveled, listening to and asking about the stories surrounding rebellion, loss, and hardship.

    This led to a vested interest in Kiernan's rebellion, hearing through the grapevine that there was a man looking to replace the Guard Stones that had been removed from the Tree. Painstakingly, she sought to build trust with the resistance force, feeding them information much sought after through the libraries she had access to, using her network of contacts to tip them off about patrols. In the meantime, she has helped to compile their information, curating the story of the rebellion - and the expedition to revive the Tree.

    However, a black cloud fell over when Kiernan was found out and sentenced to execution. Melsinde Blackfinger was requested to bear witness, to pen the proceedings and the event in question. She was present at his beheading, with a front-row seat and no choice but to pretend to be an impartial observer of the Empire. She can only hope that the presence of a friend gave him some little comfort.

    Magic:
    Subliminal: Illusory branch - Projection (only). Adept. She has been working on a way to store magical energy through a glass box that would later project events as seen through the eyes of the observing magician. It is a very slow process, however. She is particularly good at projecting memories, but only for short bursts of time. The effect is a bit like a vignette, with blurred edges and the most important or well-remembered elements standing out in stark clarity. She can also project multiples of herself within 20 feet.

    Skills:

    + Smooth Talking
    + Excellent audiovisual memory
    + Deductive reasoning
    + Can read and write


    Strengths:

    + Emotional stability
    + Great sense of hearing
    + Gifted in persuasion
    + Very good with maps
    + Perseverance

    Weaknesses:

    + Strictly non-combative
    + Easily distracted, especially by a good story
    + Little stamina
    + Physically average
    + Procrastinator/Perfectionist

    Romanceable:
    No.

    Artist:
    Aditya777


  • Miri Vaunea
    Horned/Human | 23 | Wyndfel
    Name:
    Miri Vaunea

    Nickname:
    None

    Race:
    Half human, half horned

    Age:
    23

    Home Territory:

    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Silk merchant/Drug Dealer Psychedelic Fungi Seller on the side

    Description:

    Miri, like all half-breeds, takes after her mother, a human. She keeps her red, curly hair cut short to just below her chin because if she lets it grow longer, it tends to get out of control. She has light, freckled skin and wears large round glasses. From her father, she inherited two small horns that grow straight back from her temples, curling slightly upwards at the ends and blue eyes. Although her father was average height for a horned, her mother was fairly short. Miri is somewhere in between them around 5.5". She has 7 total ear piercings, 2 in each of her lobes, 2 in her left helix and an industrial in her right. Her body is covered in tattoos of various plants and animals, mostly on her back and legs. Most of them are kept covered except for a small tattoo of a mushroom on her left wrist and an opium poppy on her right.

    Personality:

    Miri somehow has an amazing memory and is extremely forgetful at the same time. She can recite a book word for word after reading it only a couple times but forgets things like appointments and important dates regularly. She gets distracted very easily and is extremely curious. Things about fungi pique her interest the most, but she loves learning about just about everything. In her free time, she enjoys cultivating her collection of fungi and drawing detailed diagrams. Cheerful and friendly, she tends to be overly talkative. Miri isn't afraid to say what's on her mind and can be very blunt. She is a very straightforward person and can have a hard time understanding people who are sarcastic and is a bit gullible.

    Bio:

    Miri's mother was the daughter of a wealthy silk merchant from Tumana. Her family often went on vacation in the Wyndel mountains near Tórlinn in the winter, which is where she meat Miri's father. She attended the Magisteria Academy, specializing in Runic enchantments and warding. After graduating, she turned down an apprenticeship and settled down with her horned lover in Wyndfel. The two of them love children. Miri has 9 younger siblings and the twelve of them all work together to keep their family business of selling enchanted armor, clothes and wards afloat. Miri proved to be horrible at both silk making and her father's trades of smithing and leatherworking. She did, however, have a talent in enchantments and wards. After finishing her work, Miri would often wander into the mountains around their home to avoid babysitting duty. She often spent several days at a time in them and soon, grew a special fascination for the fungi that lived there. Miri began cultivating her own mushrooms and soon became notorious among the community for selling psychedelics. Although she grew poppy, she never sold opiates. She only grew it because she found it fascinating that such an innocent-looking flower could produce such a powerful drug.

    As rumors of rebellion began, Miri's mother received a letter from an old classmate, asking for her help. Initially reluctant, she and her husband began secretly supplying the rebellion with enchanted items after seeing the effects of the crystals' removal on their home. After Kiernan's arrest, however, Miri's mother cut off all contact with the rebellion, afraid of putting their family and young children at risk. Her father reluctantly agreed and left the letter he received a year later on his desk unopened.

    Meanwhile, Miri, who spent much of her in the mountains, was among the first in her village to notice and voice her concerns about the dying vegetation. She began to become resentful of the empire. When Miri found the letter addressed to her father, it was the first time she had ever heard anything about her family being involved in the rebellion. She made the decision to join and left home.

    Magic:


    Runic - warding and enchantment

    Her poppy tattoo is a ward against subliminal magic. It doesn't make her immune but does help make her more resistant. Her mushroom tattoo is a ward against poisons. Unfortunately, she messed it up when making it and it also prevents her from getting high and drunk. Although she can do both enchantment and warding, her specialty is in wards.

    Skills:

    • Mountain survival skills
    • Growing and identifying fungi
    • Photographic memory

    Strengths:

    • Learns quickly
    • Skilled at Warding
    • Patient

    Weaknesses:

    • No combat experience
    • Easily Distracted
    • Can be forgetful

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    NA


  • Pan Tall-Bones
    Satyr | 21 years | Wyndfel
    Name:
    Pan Tall-Bones

    Race:
    Satyr

    Age:
    21

    Home Territory:
    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Miner

    Description:
    Pan towers above his Goblin peers but is himself of unremarkable height at 5'7", though his profession keeps him solid and strong. His exposed skin tone tends to the light tan, while his fur tends toward a walnut brown. Scars shallow and deep etch his skin, as a smile perpetually etches his face.

    While he goes about in mining leathers on the usual, Pan does wear a mixture of hide and heavy bark armor to fend off the more territorial, mountain-dwelling creatures that occasionally seek to win back the caves the mining Goblins intruded upon.

    Personality:
    Pan is almost a prototypical 'good-ol-boy'. Raised to seek out those in need and aid them where he may, he is patient and trusting. That trust comes easily but is re-earned painstakingly, and he has no use for liars. His strong sense of justice has more than once prevented him from coming to a point of empathy, and bridges have been burned because of it, and sometimes literally. Mostly uneducated but a hard worker, and with an almost unerring sense of direction, Pan has made himself an asset to his adoptive family

    Bio:
    Raised from birth in the little-regarded Goblin mining village of the Heights in the Black Mountains between Estura and Wyndfel, Pan Tall-Bones was born to a refugee Satyr woman fleeing a fear she refused to ever name. He never knew her, she having survived his birth only long enough to wean him, leaving an old Goblin maester to adopt him and raise him with his daughter. Yigwit the Maester taught him as much as he could about mining, and Pan became valued in the community for his size, being therefore much more efficient than the average Goblin at their mining. Moreover, he was far a more threatening presence to the cave-dwelling predators and mountain stalking monsters than his fairly short family, which only made him more popular.

    Yigwit called Pan into his hut one day with a grave expression. The world was dying, he said, and its one vocal proponent had been killed for daring to say something about it. Pan, furious at this injustice, asked how it was Yigwit even knew about all this. The Maester, it seemed, had been in contact with Kiernan, the man in question, and being something of an expert on all things Stone, had been advising him on the subject. Moreover, Yigwit explained, Pan's foster-sister Periwinkle had discovered the week previous a metal that enhanced twofold the effects of runic magic that it was charged with. The rebellion, what remained of it, could surely use the material in their weaponry, Yigwit surmised, but they had to know about it. Pan accepted his task willingly, and packing his bag with two samples of the metal, one blank and one charged with defensive wards, supplies, and strapping an axe forged by Periwinkle to his back, he set off for Taithros.

    Magic:
    No magic

    Skills:
    Pan is a miner by trade, so his skill set mostly falls under that purview. He is also reasonably handy with weaponry, if never properly trained.

    Strengths:

    • Strength (literally; breaking and hauling rocks for a living will do that)
    • Agile climber
    • Proficient and creative cook (to a goblin palate, anyhow)

    Weaknesses:

    • Struggles understanding anything more complicated than a wheelbarrow
    • Uneducated and mostly illiterate
    • Ignorant of the world beyond his borders

    Romanceable:
    ...Yyyyyes?

    Artist:
    https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/asset...a-bonacini-schizzi-uomo-bestia.jpg?1492373841

  • Penelope Pexori
    Horned | 26 | Bard
    Name:

    Penelope Pexori
    [spoili]Prudence Hawthorne[/spoili]

    Nickname:

    Penny

    Race:

    Horned

    Age:

    26

    Home Territory:

    Tórlinn, Wyndfel

    Profession:

    Bard

    Description:

    Often times, you'll hear Penelope strumming a tune on her worn down lyre before you ever see her face. Her melodic voice is often described as being soothing, and pleasant to one's ear. She stands tall at an even 6'0" with sharp features and a permanent smile etched onto her face. She often wears the same deep purple coat, a gift she is sincerely grateful of. Otherwise Penelope can be most often seen wearing tunics ten sizes too large, cinched with thick belts to keep her figure about her. Two horns curl horizontally away from her forehead, tips pointing towards the sky. Her skin is an ashy gray tinged with a light blue color. From head to toe she is covered in minor scrapes and burns, the most obvious she keeps under wraps around her wrists and arm for when she is performing. Penelope has thick black hair with a few interwoven braids, and two bright blue eyes.

    Always at her side is a large black and gray cat named Jack.

    Personality:

    Penelope is good-natured at heart, an altruistic soul with the best of intentions and nothing to her name but the shirt on her back and the lyre in her hands. She'd give her last coin to a complete stranger for no better reason than because they'd asked. Although her generous nature makes many think the horned woman is a bit of a pushover, she is anything but. A girl still needs to eat, after all. Despite the open friendliness she displays, the horned woman never talks much about herself, preferring to keep her own life private.

    She tends to dote on her friends at every opportunity. And to Penelope everyone is a friend as soon as she knows their name. Penelope isn't one to display weakness, and has a difficult time accepting help from others. Call it pride, she just doesn't feel comfortable taking more than she needs. Considering her personality Penelope tries not to think about the obvious hypocrisy.

    Jack is the best. He's a sweet cat with so much love. Air biscuit master.

    Bio:

    Born in Tórlinn, Penelope Pexori was born Prudence Hawthorne to a well to do couple in support of the Empire. She spent the early years of her life in her mother's shadow, who worked the medical tents outside the larger mines and assisting those who had been injured mining or smithing. Her father was a soldier for the Taitellen Empire and his loyalty to the military was unquestionable. In time, he earned a promotion and the family was relocated to Taithros. It was during this stressful move in which Penelope first discovered her innate ability for healing. While her father was ecstatic, her mother showed signs of unease with every improvement the young girl made. At the age of fourteen, her father had her enrolled in the military to hone her abilities and support the Empire. Her mother didn't approve. Her parents constantly fought over whether or not it was appropriate for her to be enlisted at such a young age. Then, one day, her mother fell ill and within days lost her life to an unknown ailment.

    It wasn't until years later Penelope finally learned the truth. In a drunken episode, her father finally admitted he had poisoned her. It was for the good of the Empire, he had said, and that she was not a true supporter of their Emperor. When Penelope discovered her father was behind her mother's death, she was devastated. The last two years of her life she'd spent in the military on her father's order and decided she had to leave at the age of sixteen. They argued, they fought, and in the end Penelope stabbed her father in his sleep and ran without looking back. Penelope isn't sure if he's alive or dead. She hardly cares.

    It was on the road to nowhere she encountered Octavius and Beaumont. They were kind enough to let the starving girl travel with them, even going so far as to help her find a place in one of the many schools at Khal Miras dedicated to fine arts. It was Beaumont who encouraged her to take up the life of a bard after listening to her sing on the road. She dedicated her life to spreading joy and helping others, just as the two strangers had for her.

    There are very few people in the world who know of her actual history in Taithros. Penelope tells everyone she grew up in Khal Miras and her parents died when she was young to avoid the sensitive topic, and no one has questioned her otherwise.

    Magic:

    ❖ Restorative - Healing, Purifying

    Skills:

    ❖ Swordplay - Being in the military, even if only for a short while, came with some perks
    ❖ Identification of poisons and toxins - Training in the military has given Penelope the advantage of a wider array of knowledge of common poisons and toxins
    ❖ A variety of musical instruments, favors the lyre - She can play many instruments but this one is her favorite and the only one she owns
    ❖ Cooking - The young woman enjoys learning new recipes and is an excellent on the spot chef

    Strengths:

    ❖ Charismatic - friendly to anyone she meets and radiates confidence in her speech
    ❖ Purification - the branch of Restoration magic has always come naturally to Penelope
    ❖ Good natured - honest intentions, is always willing to go the extra mile for others

    Weaknesses:

    ❖ Hot headed - Hot tempered and foul mouthed, can be easily set off if one can find the right sore spots
    ❖ Lost - Directionally challenged despite her ability to navigate difficult terrain
    ❖ Reckless - Emotions tend to blind Penelope from rationalization, she has little regard for the consequences

    Romanceable:

    Absolutely.

    Art:
    Credit to WingBuffet Twitter

  • PHINEAS
    Human | 36 | Taithros, Taitelle
    Name:
    Phineas de Pemos

    Nicknames:
    Fin, Finny (for his lovers only)

    Race:
    Human

    Age:
    36

    Home Territory:
    Taithros, Taitelle

    Profession:
    Ghostwriter (and impromptu advisor)

    Description:


    Phineas is an impressive specimen of man, gifted with a stature of 6 ft and impeccably handsome features. His body is lean and in good form, though to say he was athletically built would be a generous statement. He is meticulously well-kept, with nary a hair out of place on his head nor on his face. His hands and skin are surprisingly soft, a key indicator of the pampered life he has lived up until this point. When he walks, it is with a slight swagger, limbs loose and relaxed as if he hadn't a care in the world.

    His outer garments often betray him as someone of wealth. Try as he might, his penchant for finer things prevent him from wearing anything of poor quality. He tends to wear long tunics and high-collar shirts, staying away from the over-the-top robes his contemporaries insist on wearing. A steel sword hangs always at his side. At the hilt of the sword is scratched out hole where the family emblem used to sit.


    Personality:


    Endowed with a spritely and vivacious spirit, Phineas is not one to remain stagnant in his persona. Loving both life and all that comes with it, he lives each moment to the fullest, with a heady energy hardly found in men his age. He is a passionate man, whether it be in his love, his work, or anything else he sets his attentions too. Perhaps passionate to a fault; in his pursuit to experience all that life has to offer, Phineas is susceptible to making reckless decisions on a whim. He fancies himself a heroic adventurer of sorts and does not seem to realize that he is not, in fact, invincible.

    But he can be quite chivalrous. Phineas' immense respect for the opposite sex has put him in the mindset that they must be treated well at all times, as one would care for their own wife. He loves all women deeply and is quick to pursue it; race matters little to him. His affection towards them has spawned him no small smattering of lovers (and perhaps children) throughout Taithros, although he does not confess to committing to any of them.


    Bio:


    Phineas has never worked a hard day in his life. Being born to the Pemos family name came with automatic merits: endless coffers, elite education, and the immense privilege of being part of one of the oldest families in Taitelle. His parent's specific branch of the family oversaw tax collections for the main district of Portwatch and its surrounding residences. As the youngest of three, it did not fall on Phineas' shoulders to continue the family empire. Instead, for a time he was pushed to pursue a career in the Imperial Guard. Back then, his skill with a sword seemed promising. Delighted, he felt his calling was to be a valiant knight and signed up with the Imperial Guard as soon as he was able to. The experience was tragically short-lived. He never spoke of what happened to anyone, but sources claimed it involved a sword, his foe's severed arm, and his face planting itself into the ground. Phineas wisely decided on another career.

    He moved on to his next best talent: writing. It turned out that many high-ranking army officials and politicians were quite lacking in literacy and paid a pretty coin for someone to write speeches and letters for them. They needed something to infuse their image with intellect and charm, both of which Phineas possessed in apparent abundance. The demand for his written art placed him in a social sphere close to the Emperor and his associates, and by his 2nd year living in Taithros, he had firmly established himself as a fixture in Taithros' elite society. Around this time, Phineas made a sizable contribution to the Magisteria Academy, where he would meet his soon-to-be good friend Magister Aona. He often attended her lectures on the guardian stones, and in private they discussed the state of the world and the wide scale corruption he witnessed when associating with his "high-class" friends. It was Aona who finally introduced him to the rebellion.

    Phineas took her invitation to heart. He accompanied her to a small meeting of five, and although met with open hostility, he quickly pledged his support. The rebel cause utilized him to write anonymous and highly discreet missive to try and rally further support for the rebellion. Further, he would incorporate their words into current works he published. A rebel could identify a coded message from other literary works by a distinct watermark in the bottom right corner; after performing a short spell, the true words reveal themselves. He continued this work up until Magister Kiernan was executed. After that, he sought out Aona at the Academy but found her nowhere to be found. She had disappeared without a trace, and Phineas feared for the worst. Two months have passed with no word yet from her. It is his ardent hope that he will find her safe from harm at the next rebel's meeting.


    Magic:

    • Illusory (Glamour) - Adept, middle tier skill. Something that has more than once saved him from capture from would-be foes and spurned lovers.
    • Repel Enchantment - This enchantment on his sword allows any debris--blood, flesh, dirt--to be repelled instantly from his sword, keeping it clean at all times. A petty thing to most people, but necessary for Phineas.
    Skills:

    • Grand Orator - His immense skill with both spoken and written words allows him to give voice to the cause, as well as provide rousing speeches for low morale.
    • Bladesman - Phineas is an average swordsman, although he hardly utilizes it, preferring to spare weapons until no other recourse can be taken. The blade at his side is mostly for show.
    • Blockhead - He has a higher tolerance towards subliminal magic than most, and can sense when someone is employing it against him. In addition, his skull is very hard. Avoid headbutting him.
    • Sharpshooter - As with most things, he was tutored in archery in his youth. Phineas still retains a high level of skill as an archer despite his reluctance to engage in battle.
    • Escape Artist - He's had much practice over the years of breaking free from constrainments. Armed with a meager lockpicking skill and flexibility, Phineas is able to worm his way out of most traps and cages set upon him by others.
    • Mirror Image - His most impressive skill is the ability to mimick the movements, mannerisms, and occasionally voice of a subject after quick study. Combined with his illusory magic, he is able to create a convincing doppelganger of another man.

    Strengths:

    • Wealth - Being of the Pemos family, Phineas possesses a considerable amount of money, as well as the deeds to certain holdings in the territory of Taitelle, as well as one in Estura.
    • Links - Both his line of work and his family have provided him with valuable connections with both government and army officials, although whether they will provide much use is questionable.
    • Humble - Despite his status in life, Phineas is reasonable in his view of himself, thinking he is no better than any other fool put on this planet. His lack of an ego allows him to function well in team capacities.
    • Renaissance Man - Having gained a general education of most studies as a youth, Phineas is a cultured, intelligent man. He retains knowledge easily.
    • Big Heart - Phineas is an affectionate man and loves freely. He is known to be a fantastic lover.

    Weaknesses:

    • Gore - Phineas has a strong reaction to anything bloody or gory. He simply cannot stomach it; he will swoon.
    • Magic-less - Offensive and defensive magic never quite took to him, so he's quite ignorant and ill-prepared for it.
    • Lustful Eye - Beautiful creatures, predominantly women, distract him, to the point of abandoning tasks entirely. His insatiable desire for companionship can be a hindrance to others.
    • Noncommittal - Phineas is fiercely independent and wayward. Nothing can tie him down permanently, which makes him a flight risk if a situation turns hairy.
    • Rich Boy - Having lived a life of ease, he is unused to hard work and rough, poor travel. He stands out easily as someone of higher birth no matter how hard he tries to blend in.

    Other Info:

    • He's an absolutely atrocious flute player, but will insist on playing at any given opportunity. His response to criticism is that he's still "learning"-- despite the fact he's been playing since childhood.
    • Phineas is currently engaged to a rich heiress from Portwatch. He has been dodging the wedding for years now, which has moved his would-be bride to hire men to hunt him down and retrieve him. They have yet to succeed.
    • The Pemos family is widely despised by the common people for their widespread corruption and their collection of taxes for the Emperor. Although Phineas is cut from a different cloth, he often refrains from admitting his true identity upon first meeting individuals, especially fellow rebels.

    Romanceable:
    Yes, in every way

    Artist:
    (Include credit for FC artist, if applicable.)


  • Rahne O'Braoin
    Human/Female | 25 | Wyndfel
    Name:
    Rahne O'Braoin

    Nickname:
    None.

    Race:
    Human

    Age:
    25

    Home Territory:
    Wyndfel

    Profession:
    Ex-Soldier

    Description:
    Rahne stands proudly at a rather modest height of 5'4,the average for someone of her age. She has a strong, lean, well-muscled figure that screams fighter. As if they weren't enough, her body has various scars, across her arms and even the bridge of her nose and eye. It's quite rare to see her without some sort of injury. Her somewhat fair skin is often marred with bruises, or her fingers wrapped in bandages. Her hair is a salamander shade of orange and is kept straight and somewhat long, descending just past her shoulders. Her eyes are teal blue.

    Personality:

    Rahne is not the most intelligent person. She leaves much to be desired as far as formal education goes. She can handle the most basic of maths (so long as she can use her fingers), and she can read, though she isn't the fastest. Beyond that, she knows nothing, and even within that, she finds herself struggling often. She finds herself struggling when it comes to the nuance of social interactions, often misunderstanding a situation entirely, or even being fooled.

    But for what she lacks in intelligence she more than makes up for in ferocity, conviction, and heart. She's a stubborn and unyielding girl who, when convinced that she's right, is nigh impossible to convince otherwise. When she commits to something, she commits wholeheartedly, sticking with her decision until the end, even when the going gets tough. She always says what she means and means what she says, even if it comes across as offensive. She means well and tries to do right by everyone when she can.


    Bio:

    The eldest child born to her parents, Rahne was born and raised in Rola. As a child, she would go outside to play and often come back with scrapes and bruises from fighting with other kids or trying to do something dangerous to impress others as well as herself. This worried her parents to no end, and eventually resulted in her father to bringing her to assist him with logging, making her use her energy for something more productive than scrapping with other kids or pulling some dangerous stunt. The work was tough, but it was simple and rewarding, and Rahne quickly grew to appreciate it. But as she grew, her appreciation for the work was dwarfed by a sense of wanderlust, a desire for adventure.

    As Rahne grew older she began to grow bored with her life in the small town. It was pleasant, but it was repetitive. The days began to run into one another and she found herself unhappy with her life. It was on her 19th birthday that she made the only decision she could think of to get out of Rola and explore: enlist in the military. Unfortunately, her first few years as a soldier weren't what she thought they would be. While she was no longer bored with her life, it was far from how she thought it would be. While she had always pictured her life as a soldier as one of heroics and adventure, the cruelty of the empire did not sit well with her, affecting her sleep and even her appetite despite never partaking in the actions. Just sitting idly by and working with those who would follow through with any order, no matter how cruel was enough to make her regret her decision to enlist. She lasted only three years in the military before she defected.

    It wouldn't be long before she found herself shacking up with the Rebellion. To her, it was an easy choice to make. What the empire had become could not be allowed to stand any longer. If rebellion was the only way to bring about change then so be it. The only thing she could offer was her sword and skill, who would turn down another body to throw at the enemy?

    Magic:
    Runic - Offensive.
    Runic Belt - The runes engraved on her belt increase her physical abilities, allowing her to be stronger, faster and resist fatigue longer than she normally would. She can even take a few more blows than normal so long as the leather belt is wrapped around her waist.


    Skills:

    Swordsmanship
    Hand-To-Hand Combat
    Intimidation

    Strengths:

    Sturdy and Enduring
    Dedicated and strong willed
    Bold and unyielding
    Open and honest
    Agile

    Weaknesses:

    Rather stupid
    Terrible leader
    Speaks mind without thinking of the consequences
    Stubborn as a mule, not very flexible when it comes to opposing viewpoints
    Headstrong and rash
    Prideful

    Romanceable:
    Yes.
    Artist:
    Art is by Morry!


  • Eulalia Belemoux
    Lamia | 28 | Southern Luras
    Name:
    Eulalia Belemoux

    Nickname:
    Ula

    Race:
    Lamia

    Age:
    28

    Home Territory:
    Southern Luras

    Profession:
    Jeweler

    Description:

    When standing upright, Ula stands at an average height of 5'7" with a slim build. Her midnight-black hair falls past her waist and is often pulled back into a loose braid when she is working, revealing a pair of pointed ears. Her peachy skin is often decorated in various necklaces and jewels, a sign of pride of both her family and her own work. The toned muscles of her stomach slowly give away to iridescent black scales that seem more blue in the right light.

    Her full lips hide sharp teeth that she flashes liberally when irritated. Freckles span across the bridge of her nose. Her bright emerald eyes are narrow, framed by long lashes and dark eyebrows that are often raised in silent judgement.

    Personality:

    Ula had learned quickly that people didn't like her based off of her family line. Who could blame them? Her family had profited off of the Empire for generations. She wears this prejudice like a badge, keeping her chin high and never apologizing for the family that she was born into. Her pride is often her downfall, as she refuses to admit that her family was in the wrong for opening up trade with the Empire.

    Her enemies would describe her as two-faced while her friends would describe her as resourceful. She is fiercely loyal to those who gain her favor. Her allies' enemies become her enemies. When she isn't playing a part, she truly enjoys the company of others and finds it easy to relax around those that she trusts.

    Bio:

    Ula had always been ambitious, even as a child. Half of her time was spent watching her father twist shining metals and jewels into beautiful chains and bracelets while she spent the other half studying magic with her estranged cousin.

    Long before Ula was born, when Merizoc surrendered control to the Taitellen Empire, her family had been one of the few to benefit. They had taken their fine jewels and carefully crafted silks and begun to send those most comfortable with leaving their home territory to Taithros to trade. Their business had gone as far as providing carefully crafted jewelry for officials in the Empire. Her father had been the one to take their goods to the capital, a job that was to be passed onto Ula one day. As a young lamia, she'd accompany her father on long expeditions to Taithros to trade. She'd been fascinated by the Aetherian Market, from the different species that dwelt there to the wide variety of goods.

    It was when her father was falsely accused of conspiring with the rebellion and promptly arrested that the market lost its luster. She'd been 19 and unable to convince the guards that her father was innocent before she was forced to return to Merizoc.

    Upon returning home, her cousin approached her with an offer to join the rebellion and save her father. Her association with the rebellion began as a way to get her father back but slowly became a cause that she was loyal to. She hadn't realized that the Empire's actions had truly damaged the rest of the world. While the search for her father didn't yield any results, she did find a sense of belonging in the rebellion.

    She continued her father's craft of creating beautiful jewelry to sell, only this time she used her constant traveling to deliver messages for the rebellion. Despite her father's arrest all those years ago, her family still remained a renowned trader in the Aetherian Market. Her facade as the vain and materialistic daughter of the Belemoux family served her well, allowing her into upper class circles.

    Although she fights for the rebellion, in the end her loyalty is to her family and to making the Empire pay for taking her father from her.

    Magic:
    Subliminal - Alteration


    Skills:

    • Metal working; Ula is very good at creating accessories and light ornamental armor.
    • Gem identification; Ula can properly identify and work with most gems and precious metals.
    • Hand to Hand Combat; Ula learned how to defend herself once she realized that playing the role of a spy can be dangerous.

    Strengths:

    • Charisma; Ula's tongue is as silver as the metals that she works with.
    • Speed; Ula is fast and relies on this heavily during fights.
    • Adaption; Ula is very good at 'shedding her skin' and becoming whoever she needs to be for different social situations.
    • Connections; Ula has many connections from her time at the Aetherian Market.

    Weaknesses:

    • Endurance; while Ula may be fast, her stamina keeps her from maintaining her speed for too long.
    • Cold Climates; Ula cannot handle cold climates and finds it difficult to accomplish anything, even if she is wearing enough layers to be warm.
    • Ranged Attacks; due to her nearsightedness, she cannot see ranged attacks until they are literally upon her.
    • Pride; Ula does not take criticism about herself or her family very well and is not easily swayed on her opinions, even if she's wrong.

    Romanceable:
    Yes

    Artist:
    wlop

 
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Melsinde Blackfinger

The satyr's attention was stolen back to the diminutive goblin who walked over to question Linnae, Mel quietly plucking small pieces of fruit. She had not noticed just how hungry she was until this moment, what with the hubbub of trying to find Linnae's cottage, to managing the household with its overburden of people, to the need to make sure that the poor nymph didn't work herself to death. Now that she was sitting here, getting a bite, her stomach was a bit more open to complaint.

The goblin turned his attention to her with a rather pointed question, one she needed no further elaboration for. Her nod was solemn, a subtle smile on her full lips. The shards are safe. The relief was almost palpable, and the look on Kho's face made the entire trek to the cottage worth the trouble it had brought. It was so rare to see the goblin relax, even the smallest bit, but with the most taxing part of their endeavor now completed, they could proceed without hindrance.

That was the hope, at least.

The healer spoke to the group at large, and Mel listened intently, her eyes passing over the multitude. They were still missing several people - Pyre, Atlak, Malik. That was more than concerning, especially with the city no doubt locked tighter than a camel's nose in a sandstorm. If they did not return.... they would have to continue without them. There just wasn't much time.

Hearing one of the women speak - a new face - she smiled and decided that perhaps it would do to keep others busy.

"Well, if you have already started, I see no reason to stop, Miss....? My name is..."

She hesitated. Should she give her real name? Well - in for a penny...

"Mel," she answered finally, standing up. "Linnae, perhaps, can point us to some things to cook with. I'm sure everyone is famished. I know a few Luran recipes for large groups... Soup might work best given the number of people about. Won't be anything fancy, mind you, but I can't say we have the pickiest eaters here, besides perhaps Fin."

@ItariChan @DinoFeather @Lillian Gray
 
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Laceae was immediately struck by the bustling presence in the tiny cabin. There were few faces she recognized, and fewer still she had names for; the goblin, slumped in the corner, she knew from the Academy to be Kholas, and the horned, whose name went something like Blue, or maybe Boo... The others were a motley group and somewhat diverse, mostly horned and satyr at first glance, and foreign. Hefting her bag in her hand--oh, how carrying it through the words had begun to make her shoulders ache--she moved further into the room, looking for the most comfortable place to stand while she gauged the situation. Surely, if Linnae trusted them into her home, they were trustworthy enough, but the nymph seemed dazed as she hustled around her home trying to tend to her guests, and Kholas appeared unconscious.

Fortunately, a satyr appeared to take charge, gently urging Linnae to sit as she began to brew tea and organize food for the group. Laceae first noticed her stark beauty; even though the others seemed breathless and haggard, the satyr was oddly composed and regal, behaving more like she was about to serve petit fours on porcelain to diplomats than tea to rebels. As Laceae moved to sit beside Linnae, she pondered how such an elegant woman came to join a rebellion.

Her case sounded a gentle click as she rested it on the floor. Pulling her cloak from her shoulders, she sat down beside Linnae, folding the fabric carefully and setting it atop her case as she did so. Shortly after, Kholas began to stir, before inquiring about the newcomers. She gave a nod when Linnae introduced her, but otherwise remained quiet, instead simply listening and attempting to match names to faces.

"And the shards?" Her interest was piqued. She caught the brief exchange between Kholas and the beautiful satyr, the former who then confirmed her thoughts; they have the guard stones. Her heart skipped a beat.

After Kholas finished speaking, she turned to Linnae: "This is more than I was expecting. I don't suppose the explosion at the Academy was on this end?"

Despite bursting with questions, Laceae forced herself to take a moment to breathe and consider which were most important. Best not to harass Linnae with inquiry when she looked this worn. "I apologize for my late arrival. I'll admit, I had... doubts. But, it seems your group has pulled off the most audacious heist this city has seen, by some miracle," she glanced around the room. "You'll have to tell me how you found such a assemblage later. For now," she gestured to Linnae's injured hand, and extended her own. "May I?"
 
PAN TALL-BONES​
x

It was a nice speech. Probably. Pan didn't have much to compare it to; a miner driver's 'speeches' were usually succinct and sarcastic, encouraging everyone to stay alive just one more day, that their efforts could keep their small band of a village functioning. Which, now that he thought about it, was not unlike Kholas' speech at all.

New faces, with new voices. All, apparently trusted. All, with the quiet breath of slowly relaxing tension. All, looking like a frightened rat having just reached his hole with his scrap of cheese, coming so close to the cat's claws.

But not all the rats had escaped, it looked like. Pan scanned the room, blinking confusedly at the stranger faces while smiling happily at the familiar ones. Rahne in particular had given him a rush of joy as she nearly strangled him, and he had wrapped his arms about her waist as she was otherwise occupied doing so in a great hug, lifting her a full foot off the ground. Even Kholas, the angry, grumpy one, was a glad sight. Yet so many hadn't been so lucky as he, and it seemed the cat has managed a scratch or two on more than a few of his friends.

But not all the rats had escaped. Or so it looked. Malik. Atlak. Kacius. The Satyr's brow furrowed in self-abuse. Why did he pursue that idiot drunk? He should have stayed with his team. Maybe, then, Kacius- Or maybe he should have ignored Malik's stupid command to run and followed him back inside, to help! Or maybe Atlak- Pan lowered his head, hand to a temple in desperate thought as he sought some justification for how things had gone. Surely there was something that he should have done to aid the Centaur.

Kholas to asked for those who needed healing or could help around, and Pan knew that he would be merely a boulder in the tight house. Rising from where he'd sat on the floor, he squeezed his way back outside, telling himself that he was providing a watch against any spy from the Empire while doing his absolute best to ignore the badgering thought that he had been absolutely no help whatsoever thus far, and had in fact likely caused more trouble than might otherwise have been. He sat on the grass not far from the front door, picking at the green blades and blinking against the wetness that was appearing on his cheeks.

 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Linnae's Cottage
Collab With: @Kuno
Mentions: @Red Thunder @Doctor Jax
Hoping it wouldn't be considered overly rude to multitask while speaking with the newcomers, Kholas again motioned them toward him as he collected a bowl and rag from the small counter. He was interested to hear from all of them, though as Miri was readily introducing herself to the group, he hardly thought she needed encouragement. He could speak to her more formally later on. At the moment, he was more interested in the horned pair and the nymph who knew Linnae. Listening to the conversation as he took a pitcher of water and sliver of soap from beside the washbasin, the goblin moved to where Melsinde was preparing tea. He was grateful she'd taken over for Linnae, giving the nymph a chance to rest.

Taking the kettle the satyr had just used to boil water for tea and refilling it with the pitcher, Kholas set it back onto the stove to heat. As the others spoke of a meal, Kholas looked once more about the cramped interior of the small cottage. He was still feeling rather overwhelmed, not only by their success but by the fact that they'd stayed with him and Linnae even after the calamitous fire at the Academy. Surely they could've distanced themselves, found alibis-- stealing the shards was one thing, but now their party was responsible for the destruction of a part if not all of the Academy, depending on how long it took to extinguish the flames. Not only were they wanted for treason, but for acts of terrorism. Petros was not going to be lenient in his pursuit.

And yet, here they were.

Perhaps, he thought, kneeling to rummage out the old copper soup pot from a cabinet, placing it on the counter for Melsinde, they didn't fully understand what the consequences of their actions would be? Or did they care? Surely some of them were oblivious, but not all of them could be…

Pulled from his thoughts by Melsinde speaking of fancy meals, Kholas merely shrugged. If anyone was expecting gourmet meals on the road, they were in for a very rude awakening. Unable to stop himself at the satyr's words on picky eaters, Kholas suppressed an amused snort and turned away to extricate a ladle from a drawer. "I've a feeling," he murmured under his breath to the cutlery drawer, "Phineas wouldn't say no to goat."

Producing a ladle and depositing it into the copper pot, Kholas collected the kettle from the stove and tipped the steaming water into the bowl, which he carried back to the counter, rag draped over a bare shoulder, to meet Beaumont and Penny.

Coming first to intercept Kholas was neither Beaumont or Penny, but Phineas. It seemed the frenetic energy following their daring escape had yet to wear off, and the taller man approached with a bright smile and even brighter eyes.

"Kholas! Kholas, a word, please. Glad to see you look well. Listen…"

Fin had kept mum following their entry into the, say, less than appropriately sized home. Too many faces crowded the area — some new, he'd noted blearily — and he'd placed himself in a small nook where he'd be the least cumbersome to others around him. A mistake, really; once he had sat down, the rigors of their flight had set in, and he'd begun to drift away in thought, the conversations around him petering away, the socialite being out-socialized by all his contemporaries. Until Kholas had mentioned Wyndfel, and the nobleman had roused awake — both mentally and physically.

"Am I to understand that you are taking everyone to Wyndfel? I mean…all of us? Where—" At this point, the man's voice lowered to such a degree that only the goblin could hear him, "— where exactly in Wyndfel are we going?"

Leaning backwards somewhat at the rapid approach of Phineas' smiling face, Kholas gave the man a bemused look at his comment on "looking well." Perhaps Phineas had different standards on such matters, but the goblin shook off the comment in favour of a wary expression.

"Yes," he said slowly, still scrutinizing the socialite's over-bright smile. "I do have a tendency to say what I mean."

Admittedly, he hadn't bothered with many details, preferring to have everyone settled, healed, and fed before elaborating on the plan. He also wanted the opportunity to speak with the newcomers before announcing detailed travel plans to potential spies. Silent for a moment, he removed the rag from his shoulder and dropped it into the bowl of hot water, watching the cloth darken as it sank.

"Tórlinn," he said finally, his voice just as hushed. "We're to meet someone there who, if all goes well, will be joining our cause. We're going to need reinforcement in this venture, and she may well be able to get us the support of Wyndfel." He paused, studying the man's face for a long moment. "Her condition is that we must get the shards as proof of our success and commitment— understandable as her shift in alliance is essentially a declaration of war against Taithros. However," he added in a more conversational tone, dropping his gaze back to the bowl and scooping up the rag to wring it out, "all of us don't have to go. If you'd prefer, we could drop you back in Taitelle. I'm sure there'd be a warm welcome."

"Mm, yes. Perhaps too warm a welcome." Something had shifted in the nobleman's smile. "Well, there's safety in numbers, or so the saying goes. I suppose we'll get whatever news we need about the Empire's movements from your associate."

He thought about his carriage arriving in Kelna, unaccompanied by his own person and undoubtedly a good decoy. He wondered how long before others would begin to worry. He wondered how long before news would be sent to Portwatch, or worse, into his brother's hands. Would a certain young lady be waiting for him in Tórlinn with a trap and key of sorts? All his secrets being tossed about, like feathers swirling away on the wind? He tried his best to remember who stayed there in town.

Absentmindedly, he patted Kholas's hand that rested on the counter. "Thank you, Kholas. I was just curious."

"Indeed," Kholas replied somewhat blandly, though he threw the nobleman a look as he patted his hand. Withdrawing his hand from the counter, he lifted the wet rag to his face in an effort to wash away the soot, kohl, and flecks of dried blood that had collected at the corners of his mouth from where he'd bitten Jarlin. What an evening it had been, he thought, still scrubbing at his face and wishing Phineas would wander off before any more questions could be asked.

The goblin was feeling somewhat uneasy with the man's questions, wondering exactly what his real intentions had been. How much did he trust Phineas? And had he said more than he should? Had he wanted to slip off to somewhere else, perhaps to inform Petros of what had transpired?

At these thoughts, Kiernan's voice came unbidden into his mind, speaking in an amused but patient tone. "What does it take to make you trust people, Kho? We aren't alone in this."

Yes, and look where that got you
, he thought bitterly.

Still, Phineas had risked his life with the rest of them. With a sigh, Kholas looked back up at the man, determined to say something in the way of thanks. Instead, his attention was drawn to the door as Pan slipped outside, looking utterly dejected. This wasn't what he wanted to deal with right now, but a twisting of guilt tugged at his stomach and he dropped the rag into the bowl with a faint splash and a grumbled curse.

"Excuse me for a moment," he murmured to the horned pair and Phineas as he brushed past them, following the satyr to the door. What he was going to do now, he hadn't the slightest idea, but the residual guilt from his temper at the young satyr the previous evening still lingered and he felt grudgingly obligated to say something.

When Pan didn't turn as Kholas stepped out onto the grass, he cleared his throat. Still having no earthly idea of what he was going to say, he stood awkwardly for a moment, simply staring at the satyr, then glancing around the small, empty clearing. "Look," he said after a long moment, still staring off into the trees, "I, ah… I owe you an apology, Pan." Again, he paused, mind reeling for something, anything that didn't sound biting or insincere. "I understand that I am not the most… pleasant at times, and what I said to you yesterday was unkind. We—" he flicked an ear and shifted his gaze to meet the other's, "that is to say, I appreciate you being here." Staring for a moment longer, Kholas chewed his lower lip for a moment then laid his ears back against his head. "That's all," he added unnecessarily before turning to head back inside.

"That's not all," came Fin's voice from behind them. Phineas, too, had noticed Pan's departure and followed, only to freeze in the doorway, inexplicably touched by Kholas' apology. He couldn't help himself; seized by a foolish sense of camaraderie, the tall man looped his arms around the goblin and satyr, trapping them in an affectionate embrace.

"Why, tonight, gentlemen, we've made history!" He exclaimed excitedly, "Kholas, with your excellent planning...and Pan, Pan! Gods, I never would've been able to break through that gate without you! A damn good thing you joined me and Mel. You handsome devils, you. What a team, eh?"

Not having made a quick enough exit, Kholas found himself suddenly pulled against Phineas' side in an uncomfortably-tight one-armed hug. All thoughts of apology evaporated as his slim form went rigid and he snarled up at the nobleman, his ears laid tightly against his skull in annoyance. "Fuck off, Phineas," he growled under his breath, squirming in attempts to pull free of the man's hold on him, which merely ended with Phineas' arm looped around his neck.

"Oh, would you let go!" With some effort, and much thrashing and cursing on Kholas' part, he yanked his head free, glowering at the pair of them. Reaching up to adjust one of the many hoops dangling from his ears, he slunk back into the house, throwing an angry glare over his shoulder as he vanished indoors.

 
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Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae


Mentions:

Date | 22/3/1
Time | Dusk
Weather | Raining
Mood | Cautious


With her focus split into three directions, Linnae wanted to divert her focus to the back of her eyelids. It was very late and they all needed a good rest after the stunt they'd pulled. In all her years she'd never wanted to crawl onto her rickety old bed so badly and lose herself to the threadbare quilts. But, that was neither an admirable trait of a leader nor an action she could take any how. She still needed to assess if anyone else was in more dire need of a bed than she was. So far most of them seemed to have made it out without much more than a few minor scrapes and burns. Her ruby colored eyes gave it one last longing gaze before addressing Melsinde.

She found a few pots and pans, pulling most every piece of cutlery both useful or not from its place to accommodate the sizable group she was attempting to feed. Laceae's sweet voice kept her from losing herself to a new task and Linnae was happy to see her, truly. Had the nymph not said anything it was far too likely the older of the pair would have continued to fuss about with her arm strapped to her chest for the rest of the night.

It didn't bother her now that some time had passed. There was only pain when she tried to flex her charred fingers. Looking down upon her closed fist, Linnae realized just how bad the wound looked. Her arm had still been inside the white cherry tree when Moysei had set it on fire, consequently doing the same to her own arm from the wrist to the ends of her fingertips. She grimaced. No wonder Kholas had been so alarmed. The very bark of her skin looked like it had been used for a bonfire.

"I-" Linnae started, "Please, do not trouble yourself." Linnae retracted her hand and smiled politely. There was still so much to do, beds to prepare, food to cook. "Perhaps you could help me pull some potatoes from outside? See if there's anything else close to sprouting, if not, I'm sure I have some seeds nearby we can magic forward."

The two had been so busy scouring her cupboards for utensils, Linnae hadn't noticed Kholas' absence until his sudden return. He looked grumpy, although that in itself wasn't unusual. The goblin wasn't exactly known for his positive outlook.

Maybe she needed to stay inside with him then? Damn it all. She wanted to be in too many places at once.

She took a hesitant step towards the door and motioned for Laceae to follow. It was getting too crowded anyways. Maybe that would improve Kholas' mood, having less people inside. There was far more space behind the house anyways. If she could fashion a table of sorts... Her mind was racing with possibilities of how to arrange space for the group.

Linnae shook her head. Focus.

It was difficult to remember what she was supposed to be doing. Outside? Right. She had been going outside. With Laceae!

"Melsinde, you're more than welcome to join us if you like, I'm not sure what you'll need." Linnae offered.
 
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Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Linnae's Cottage
Mentions: @Red Thunder @Doctor Jax @ItariChan @SkittlesAndSpike @Lillian Gray @Rainjay
Shutting the door with slightly more force than was necessary, Kholas drew up short at catching sight of Linnae approaching. It appeared that she still hadn't allowed anyone to fix her hand and wrist, and he fixed an icy stare on her as she spoke to Laceae and Melsinde.

"Melsinde can do as she pleases," he said tersely, jabbing an accusatory finger at the nymph, "but you need to sit your ass down. Now." Turning his attention on Laceae and the case that rested nearby, he continued, "Assuming you're also a healer, fix this one. If she won't cooperate, we'll find something to tie her down with." He gave Linnae another burning look as though daring her to disagree.

As if expecting some form of silent sabotage, Kholas glanced around the cramped space for the soldier. "Rahne," the goblin called over the din of voices, "could you come over here? If Laceae needs assistance with anything," he glared pointedly at Linnae again, "help her out."

"Fucking bedlam in here," he muttered as he turned away from the nymphs and gestured to Miri with a "you, here," and motioned for her to follow him outside. "You two," he said, indicating the young woman and the satyr, "potatoes. And whatever else we can throw together in a stew to feed everyone." Not deigning to give Phineas his attention, the goblin ducked back into the cottage without another word.

Returning to the counter where the bowl of water rested, he collected the rag and gave Linnae another long look before continuing to wash his face.

 
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Miri grinned at Mel, "It's nice to meet you, Mel! I think a stew would be good. It's easy and well suited for large groups." She stood and put the pots and pans Linnae had taken out on to the stove. Then, she made neat stacks of the assorted cutlery she was taking out. She wasn't sure what to do with all of them. Linnae seemed to be taking out anything she could find. Another nymph came up to Linnae and offered to heal Linnae's hand, Miri frowned at Linnae's refusal. "Is she always like this?" She asked Mel. It didn't seem very logical to her. Surely it would be important for everyone to be in their best conditions before continuing on their journey? "Things would be easier for her if she took care of herself more."

Linnae had been about to step outside to get potatoes when the goblin came over. He was still angry. Miri wondered to herself if the poor man was ever happy. He didn't look that old for a goblin, but all of that scowling would surely give him wrinkles. Plus, she was pretty sure that being angry all the time was bad for your blood pressure. Maybe she should offer him some mushrooms for that. After threatening to tie Linnae to a chair, Kholas pointed at her and a nearby satyr, instructing them to get potatoes and "whatever else we can throw in a stew."

Miri's eyes lit up, "Does this mean," She ran up to Kholas and took his hands in hers, "I have permission to pick the mushrooms outside?! Thank you!" She gave the angry goblin a peck on the cheek before cheerfully grabbing the satyr in one hand and a basket in the other and going outside. She hummed happily to herself as she made her way over to the small potato field. She handed the basket to the satyr, "Here you can pick potatoes and I will pick... other delicious things to go in the stew."

She ran off to the nearest patch of mushrooms and began picking the best for stews while talking quietly to herself, "Oh chanterelles! These will be great... I wonder if she has any shiitake or oyster mushrooms... Oh! These would be good too..." After filling her arms she went back over to the satyr and dumped her beautiful bounty into the basket. "Look at them." She said smiling, "Aren't they just amazing? I got some shiitake for the little goblin too. They're supposed to help with blood pressure. He looks like he needs it."
 
Despite all the ruckus, Rahne was very close to falling asleep and might have it wasn't for how hungry she was. After her embrace with Pan, she had settled down on the floor with a heavy sigh of relief, slumped over with her back against the wall. The mission was a success, but it wasn't an easy one. While she didn't win her fight, something that left her feeling more than just a little disappointed in herself, the chaos afterward left her energy reserves low. While the brief excitement of seeing that nearly everyone had made it back had given her a burst of energy, it had also left her feeling more tired than before. But despite all of that, the moment she heard Kholas call for her, she pushed aside her exhaustion and jumped to her feet, giving either side of her face a gentle slap as if to chase out her tiredness with the slight sting on her cheeks.

"Aye, Kholas!" She responded to the goblin as she made her way over to the Nymphs. "Don't worry, she ain't goin' anywhere til' she's good as new!" She walked behind Linnae, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. There would be no moving now that Rahne was on the scene! "Once yer' all fixed up, ye' can get to cooking those 'tatties if they're all ready. Ah' think Ah'mma die if ah' don't stuff mah' face soon enough. Just about did over there!" And she definitely would after she got something in her belly. "Fer' now, just take it easy, an' let her fix ya' up."​
 
Melsinde looked a sight - a graceful satyr in a small, homey kitchen, attempting to wrangle her many helpers. She seemed more amused than put-upon, happy to help the nymph who was in such disarray. She gave Rahne a wink and an 'ok' sign with her hand, pointer and thumb in an 'o' with her other three standing out. She quickly poured the girl tea, walking over with a cup to set beside her on the table.

"Can't have you falling asleep just yet. Linnae, don't you worry - we'll have everything together. It's no bother, I assure you."

With that, she began to take stock of the things around her, most of it already set out by the intrepid hands of Miri and Linnae. Her eyes slyly crinkled at seeing Kho kissed by Miri, a hand over her mouth as she attempted not to titter. He wouldn't appreciate that in the least... On top of that, she hadn't missed the little talk he'd given to Pan about something or other, only to be accosted by yet more affection from Fin. The poor goblin was drowning in other people's well-wishes, and no doubt he was not used to it.

First thing was a roux, made with some oil, some flour, just a bit of salt. It was paramount she not burn it - a burnt roux would meant a burnt stew. Satisfied with the results, she began to add other things to the mix - onions, shallots, some greens, sprigs of thyme. For a moment, a bit of homesickness did overtake her. It was at this point Blaine would have walked up behind her to loop arms about her waist and ask what she was feeding him this time. Alas, he was not here to add his warmth or his touch, and she would have to make do with the heat of the stove and the swirl of a wooden spoon in the pan.

Finally, she was aware that Linnae had spoken to her, she'd been so lost in her task!

"Oh, I am so sorry, I was a bit caught up. Yes, if the Miss here could grab perhaps some parsnip, carrots, some turnips, anything with a 'woodier' texture, that would absolutely be delightful. I have to keep stirring or else it shall burn, I'm afraid," Mel said, turning her head back to look at the other nymph and give a smile. "It would be greatly appreciated. Though, of course, I do think that Lin's arm needs tended first. This can wait."

Her eyes cast back momentarily to see Fin sitting in a chair in the corner, exhausted, and she briefly felt a pang of worry. Well - the sooner this food was finished, the better. They needed food in them, and then some sleep - and then off to Wyndfel with them all. Divines help them. As if aware of her thoughts, the Shards seemed to sit heavier in her clothes, a hand subconsciously brushing them to ensure they were there.

@Rainjay @SkittlesAndSpike @Lillian Gray
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: kixinorbit and Kuno
Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 23/3/1
Time | Night/Early Morning
Weather | Mostly clear


  • It was all Linnae could do not to groan. She was almost eighty years old, and yet she was being commanded to relax in her own home. Her eyes followed the chaos across the room. The two newcomers sat quietly in the corner, the woman strumming playfully on an instrument she'd procured while a cat wove between their legs. Phineas and Pan seemed to be paired off nearby, looking content about something said outside. Linnae hadn't heard. Everyone else had gathered far too close for her liking, making her feel a bit claustrophobic. Even with Kholas and Melsinde standing near the stove, with Rahne, Miri, and Laceae within arm's reach-- Linnae couldn't so much as breathe without touching someone else's skin.

    She still had beds to make! Food to prepare, packs to pull and an area to survey. Surely she could leave for a moment? Surely?

    When she looked back to Kholas, washing his face in a bowl of water, she felt a sense of guilt. Maybe he was right. It wouldn't hurt her to sit down for a minute or two and just rest. Everyone else had settled in to some kind of groove already and she was only disrupting it.

    Uncurling her hand was uncomfortable to say the least. It cracked as she straightened her elbow, blackened pieces jumped off of her joint with every noise. That couldn't have been good. When she tried to move her wrist she found that it had locked in place. Linnae glanced sidelong at Kholas, hoping he wasn't watching the disaster of her own self examination. Her fingers hardly reacted when she tried to make a fist, twitching in place instead.

    Shit.

    "Laceae, darling." Linnae sighed. "Would you perhaps...?" She nodded her chin towards her blackened hand.

    The nymph cleared her throat, waiting for the other to acknowledge her before turning and speaking to Kholas again. She could only look past him, finding that looking him in the eye was awkward given how she'd ignored her arm for so long. But, issue resolved, or at least in the process, they could move on.

    "Kholas, all the packs are upstairs. There are three, four beds, I can make more outside if need be. Do you think anyone followed?" It was an honest question, one anyone was welcome to answer.

  • Notes and Noises:
    • Currently at Linnae's home:
      • We all made it!
    • So, Pyre set the Conservatory on fire.
    • It's dark now, nearing the middle of the night, so be wary of where you're going and don't get lost.
    • Once dinner has been made, find a cozy spot and get some sleep! It's going to be a long night!



    The Plan:

    Plan's gone to shit. Run for the hills.

    With the disappearance of Atlak, Kacius, Malik, and Moysei, Kholas' had given instruction just to get the shards out safely. Those who are able to make it out of the city were told to go to Linnae's home, previously shown on a marked map back at the Randy Gander. It is a few hours walk to the Northwest of Taithros.


 
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PAN TALL-BONES​
x

It was a distraction. Merely something to take the mind off the loss, even if no one would, or could, admit it.

Pan eyed the potato critically, as much as he could muster, checking its development. Good enough. With a tug, it came free without complaint or resistance, and he tossed it in the basket. It bounced slightly as it impacted its brothers, other potatoes similarly harvested from where they grew in the soil, strong and green. Or … brown. But they offered no complaint, content with a lot decided for them.

The Satyr stared at the pile dumbly, knees still braced against the ground and hand still grasping the stalk of the poor plant. Kholas' apology hadn't reached him; his Goblin's treatment of him when he'd first arrived was far from even the last thing on his mind, and the forced manner in which it was apologized for had only served to remind Pan of his ill-placement so far south from home. And Phineas' bad timing hadn't helped.

Blinking, his mind clearing just enough to once more take up his task, he reburied the potato plant to the base of its stalk; he'd been sure to leave at least one good sized potato to keep the thing growing. His calloused hands pressed the dirt about it with care.

Why had Fin come out? He was nice enough, sure, but the man's hug had only made Kholas glare at Pan again. Did anyone really want him around? Or would they miss him as little as they apparently missed-

His peripheral caught the approach of his newest acquaintance, her smiling and exuberant face sunlight to the darkening thoughts. Muh...Muh… What was her name? Marty? Murtree? Brow furrowed in deep concentration, and his lips pursed.

Then, as she finally drew near, it came to him, and Pan's face relaxed into a weary smile. Merry! That's what it was! Merry! Fitting; she seemed a very merry girl, indeed.

"Lookin good, Merry, sure." He nodded, examining her take against his own. Mushrooms and potatoes. It would make a fine soup. But it needed something else. His gaze drifted back the way Miri had come, and he saw it. Well, he saw them, his two favorite additions to nigh on any board he might make: dandelions, and milkweed. "Jus needah fyew thins more."

With a small trot, he made his way to the small grove of plants he'd spotted. Dandelions, of course, were easy, and most everyone liked them. But milkweed … that would be a harder sell to the non-gobliny folk. Goblins, being obligate carnivores, they would sometimes get struck with...well, stomach issues that would leave them inconvenienced for nearly an hour after dinner; Pan grimaced as he remembered the discomfort of...that. But Yigwit had taught him long ago that a bit of crushed milkweed root would help solve that issue, no problem.

"We neesum dandies," he called over his shoulder, assuming his companion had followed. "Jus grab tha whole plant. Ahm gettin us some seas'nin."

And he yanked up the nearest milkweed, ignoring the white sap that sudden suddenly appeared on his fingers from crushing the seedpods.

@ItariChan


 
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Laceae made a slight frown as Linnae stood, but made no move to follow her, even after the nymph beckoned. She opened her mouth to speak, but the goblin beat her to it; his scalding eased the crease in Laceae's forehead and even brought a small smile to her lips.

Rahne, it seemed, was human, with a distinguished accent that Laceae remembered from some of the miners in Tórlinn, among... others. The lump she suddenly found in her throat caused her voice to slightly crack when she spoke: "It seems--ahem," she cleared her throat, "It seems not," she said to Linnae. "The woods were empty on my way here; when I left, most of the city seemed rather preoccupied by the spectacular inferno you made out of the Academy."

She inclined her head towards the table. "Sit." As she waited for Rahne to steer the nymph to a seat, she cast a glance at the the satyr. "Melsinde," she said, the name rolling off the tongue in such a pleasurable manner, "I'll be happy to help, soon as Linnae is resting." Spending some time in a garden and the kitchen frankly sounded like paradise right now. For a moment, she considered steering Linnae outside, but decided against it--she wasn't quite as sure that nobody in the boisterous group had been followed as she'd sounded. After all, they were making enough noise to wake up the entire forest.

"Here," she extended her right hand, carefully taking Linnae's wrist and resting the older nymph's hand over her own. Seeing the damage up close made her wince. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that she hadn't joined the group sooner. She traced her fingers with practiced featherweight lightness over Linnae's blackened skin, from her fingertips to her wrist, around the joint and back. Once satisfied, she placed her left hand over Linnae's wrist. "It will scar, but hopefully not so much your mobility is affected. Your fingertips, mostly. And I'll need to set this wrist, and bind it, and you will go easy on it for a day or it else it might as well be kindling. Understood? There are plenty of hands in here that one won't be missed."

"Rahne, would you mind fetching some bandage from there?" She nodded at her bag. "It's to the top. And the small silk pouch. Some chamomile and valerian root to the tea might help us all relax."

Full attention on Linnae's hand, she began to heal. Several more blackened flakes would come off, too far gone for healing, but the derma below could be urged to grow into a patchwork of new skin to take its place and protect the damaged nerves. As she did so, she shifted her own hands upwards to Linnae's wrist, feeling around carefully before encompassing it with her fingers. "This may hurt," she said matter-of-fact before realigning the nymph's wrist with one fluid gesture.

"So tell me," she said as she continued her work, "What's your plan going forward? I hope there is one,"
 

Petros Taites | General Setting
23/3/1 193 TE | 1 AM | Taitelle Palace/Linnae's Cottage | Damp and Chilly
@everyone

The wine goblet smashed with a loud tinkling of glass as pieces fell, littering the floor in shards of the once-elegant vessel. Before the shards had even settled, the wine decanter followed, showering the floor in a second layer of glass. A shriek accompanied the shattering glass, very nearly matching the ear-splitting pitch.

"How?!" Came the demand, anger emphasized by the overturning of a heavy wooden chair. "How could you let this happen to my Academy?!"

"M-my Lord," stammered the captain of the palace guard, his eyes downcast, "we suspect it may have been the work of Moysei Pyre-- in an attempt to rob the Academy. We found what we suspect to be his body in the North Conservatory's ruins. B-but..."

A golden goblet struck the wall with a clang, just to the left of the guard's head and he flinched slightly, his eyes still fixed on the wine-soaked rug.

"But what?!" Shrieked Petros, taking a step toward the man. "But what?

"B-but," the man said shakily, "but we believe several of his accomplices escaped, including Kholas A-abaly...s-shevska. We...we believe he and several other rebels were attempting to steal the g-guard stones."

"What did you just say?" Petros pressed the guard, his eyes narrowing warily."They were attempting to do what?"

"My Lord, we have yet to confirm-"

"Attempting to do what?" Petros demanded again. "Spit it out before I have done to you what I did to that traitor, Tennin."

"My L-lord, they w-were," the guard stammered fearfully, "that is, they succeeded in stealing the guard stones."

The words had only just left the man's mouth when Petros' fist was sunk into the man's cheek, causing him to take a step back with a wince. The blow, it seemed, had caused an amount of discomfort to the Emperor, and he stepped away with a yell, rubbing his knuckles and kicking over the table that had once held his now-scattered drinks. Having successfully kicked over or thrown everything within his immediate reach, Petros again rounded on the guard who'd had the misfortune of giving such unpleasant news.

"How did that rebel shit get away with the shards? Why didn't you stop them?!" Pacing as he screamed at the man, he yanked at the ends of his lank hair. "You have one job-- and I can't even rely on my soldiers to do that right!" The man was utterly apoplectic now, his normally-ruddy complexion a brilliant scarlet as his yells echoed around the grandiose chamber he was quickly destroying. "Do you know what that means? Do you know what they can do with those shards?!"

Now within range of a candelabra, he threw it over with an almost piglike squeal of rage and two servants hurried forward, heads bowed, to snuff out the flames and rescue the rugs from the spilling wax. One of the servants, a young woman with straw-coloured hair, drew too near in her hurry to clean up the wax, and Petros lashed out at her with a slippered foot, causing her to yelp and stagger backward, falling onto her knees in a bow, her forehead pressed to the floor.

Rounding on the guard once again, a vein pulsating in his sweat-streaked forehead, Petros Taites grabbed the man by the collar of his uniform and stared into his downcast face. "Find Kholas and the rebels," he said, spittle spattering the guard's face, "if you have to tear this city apart. If you don't have those shards back to me in two days' time, I will have your miserable head."

"Y-yes, my Lord," the captain said, giving the slightest of nods.

"Now get out of my sight!" Giving the man a rough shove toward the door, Petros turned back to the room he'd so recently been bent on wrecking. Seeing that it was still in disarray, he turned his head to the two servants, still scraping away the remains of the wax. "Well?!" He demanded, giving them both such a start that they visibly jumped, "why the fuck haven't you cleaned this up yet?"

---

The crowded cottage was soon filled with the tantalizing smell of simmering stew and the soft clattering of dishes and cutlery. It was a bit of a scramble to get everyone served without crashing into something or knocking anyone or anything over, but the party managed well enough. A lighter atmosphere settled as the food was served, the hot stew no doubt serving to ward off the chill damp from the recent rain and taking the hunger-induced edge off nerves and tempers.

After everyone collected a dish and various cups of tea, the next challenge was to find a place to settle in to eat and arrange a place to rest a few hours before they set out in the early morning.

 
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It wasn't inedible. It was certainly not disgusting. It was just, well...different? Exotic? The stew was…the stew was…

Well.

Phineas stared into the bowels of his bowl, peering at the last bit of vegetables left inside. He was prepared to finish it; he was, among many things, a gracious guest, and would do whatever it took to make sure the host - or hostess - was not offended. He'd made a cheery enough effort of eating it when other's eyes had landed on him. Now that he was back in the relative seclusion of his corner chair, he felt all motivation to continue on shrivel away into nothing. It's not you, it's me, he would say if confronted. And indeed, it was true. He was sure the stew was plenty good for those who had, say, less exposed palates. He, on the other hand, was...he was just...just...

Well.

Sorry Mel, he thought ruefully, discreetly placing his bowl to the side. He would blame indigestion if it came down to it. It would only be a half-lie. Settling back into his seat, he leaned back, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. He had the same mistake of sitting down again, and sleep continued to smack against him in relentless waves. It wouldn't do to rest without getting the others situated first. There was the matter of who would go where, what supplies were needed, this and that...All of it a tedious bit of humdrum nonsense. At this point, he would sleep on the floor without hesitation.

Phineas sighed. He glanced downwards, raising his brows in mock surprise. "Well? What about you, my friend? Aren't you bored with me yet?"

He was met with the unblinking stare of Penelope's cat Jack. The cat seemed to be fixated on something on his face - his facial hair, perhaps. He twitched his lips, his mustache jostling jauntily up and down, and watched the feline's pupils expand, earning a light chuckle from him.
Before he knew it, he was plucking him up into his lap, scratching the cat just behind the ears. Pleased, Jack rubbed up against his hands, and Phineas smiled softly to himself.

It was not lost on him that, so far, the only one who seemed to appreciate his affections was a cat, though he chose not to be melancholy about it. Kholas was just an all-around surly character; the timing hadn't been right either, he supposed. No, that wasn't right. There was no right timing with that one. Best he set his mind to that now. He'd been stung twice and would not be lining up for a third shot anytime soon. Not willingly, anyways.

"My, you're a cute one, aren't you, Jack?"

Jack purred quietly as Phineas stroked his chin. He exhaled softly. "I should take you home with me."

His father had adored animals. That had been his calling card, really. He'd taken in horses, cats, dogs, birds, and pretty much any other animal that had had the audacity to be roaming about the streets with no shelter. A snake, too, at some point, though his mother had made sure the experience was short-lived. He dared to wager the old man had loved his pets even more than he had loved his children. The old kook. He hoped there were plenty of horses for him to wrangle in whatever afterlife he'd bribed his way into.

Fin's head came to rest against the back of the chair, his thoughts drifting. His eyes became half-lidded.

Tórlinn, Tórlinn, Tórlinn...Of all the places to go. Who did he know in that vast mining city? He remembered staying there on holiday some years back...Now that he thought about it, he had been there only two years prior, visiting with his sister on some social call. Had they stayed with Lord Bernmore at the time? The man with the wandering left eye. Yes, he remembered him.

Ah, if he just closed his eyes, he could picture him now…A bit of a piggish fellow, with a fair blonde beard sprouting from his chin. A laugh so boisterous that it elicited joy from others...

Within seconds he was asleep. Jack, having found a good, warm resting spot, stretched out his paws and settled in, watching all who moved about the room with muted interest.
 
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Linnae Ilex Aquifolium of Aquifoliaceae
Date | 23/3/1
Time | Night/Early Morning
Weather | Mostly clear

  • Don't forget, we'll need to cover our tracks.

    So tired. Linnae's eyes slowly opened, the cacophony of mismatched wood and metal clanging on metal and wood from bowls and plates, cups and platters from every which cupboard and that, and she remembered through the overwhelmingly powerful call of a good long rest that she still needed to conceal the path to her small home. She stretched her legs beneath the table and kicked something. A hoof, or a boot maybe? The nymph bowed her head, looking around the table to see who she might have offended, but no one reacted. All was well.

    She smiled sheepishly and rose from the table. A few leaves fell away from her head and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. A bit odd, considering it wasn't quite time for the seasons to change, but with her arm still scorched and clutched to her chest she couldn't help but chalk it up to her ailing health. Linnae placed her good arm on Kholas' shoulder and leaned down low so her lips hovered near the rings at the base of his large, bat like ears.

    "I've got to cover the house, I'll be back." She explained, giving him a light squeeze before heading out the front door.

    At the threshold, she hesitated, and turned back. She knew better than to go alone, especially if they had been followed. Phinneas was fast asleep, and the newcomers were in their own little world. Perhaps Rahne wouldn't mind, she'd helped bandage up Linnae's arm earlier, Kholas would probably like it if someone with a bit more strength accompanied the nymph in her weakened state.

    "Rahne?" Linnae called. "Would you come with me? I need to cover some tracks. That is, if you don't mind." She flashed a polite smile.

    "Huh?" Rahne heard Linnae, but did not immediately comprehend. The only thing that was keeping her conscious for the moment was her desire for food. There was no way she was falling asleep on an empty stomach! Then she'd be up early with a belly aching that wouldn't quit and a sour attitude that no one in the cabin deserved to be victim to. Once her mind fought through the grogginess and made sense of the request, the tired look on her face melted away. "Aye! Ah'll come with ya! No sense in ya' goin' out alone no how, anyway!"

    The redhead slapped either side of her face before patting her tummy. She quickly stepped over to Linnae, ready to get to work. "If ah' stay in here anyway, ah'm gonna pass out n' miss the scran', an' ah' dinnae want that." Quickly, she looked around the cabin, curious about who, if anyone, had fallen asleep. Upon noticing the sleeping Phinneas, she couldn't hide the small smirk on her face. Maybe she could eat his portion, if he didn't wake up to eat, the poor sucker.

    "You can lead the way. Ah' don't wanna get lost again." She turned back to Linnae, smirk shifting into a grin. "Make sure yer' cabin stays nice n' secret."

    "Are you certain?" Linnae asked apologetically. She hadn't meant to tear the boisterous ex soldier away from a meal, but, if she was able and willing, Linnae did need the company. "Thank you, Rahne. I'll see if I can't find you something a little sweeter, some fruit..."

    They were outside soon after, Linnae keeping a slow pace as she tried to think of the best route to take in order to cover the most area. It was nice to feel the dirt against the soles of her bare feet again, and not the cold tiles of the Academy. This was natural. Where she belonged. But for every move they made, they would only need to retrace their steps to cover it up again, so they would need to be careful about where they stepped.

    Linnae led Rahne a small ways out past the cabin until it was mostly hidden by tall fir trees and a mess of thorny bushes. She had noticed earlier that most of them were either dead or dying. Their thorns had thinned to nothing more than hollow needle points which broke as she passed them by, barely scratching the surface of her skin. The nymph leaned down in a mess of unhealthy looking bramble and toyed with a handful of branches. She needed to think. Why was that so hard. She was just so tired.

    "If we go around the brambles, that should cover most of it. I came in from that portion of the woods, there. I… I think."

    Linnae's brows knitted together as she struggled to remember. Penelope and the other one, Beaumont? Yes. They had come across several ponds, which were on the Northern side, so they had to have come the long way around. She turned, it was a little further behind them yet. Was that right? How was it she was forgetting her own woods? It seemed like such an impossible thing to forget, and yet, she was struggling to recall which way they had come from.

    "Where did you arrive from? We can start there, work our way around." Linnae declared. She stood back up and let the mess of brambles in her hand fall back into the rest of the decaying foliage. "It should be enough. Then we can get you some stew. Hm?"

    "Some Stew? That sounds damn right ta' me." Rahne's expression lit up even more. "Ah' thought we was just gonna roast the 'taters, but stew sounds even' better." She only hoped that by the time they were finished here, they'd be ready back at the cabin. But first things first, no tracks left behind. Otherwise, her next meal could be her last.

    "Ah' arrived from..." Rahne trailed off, her head twisting to the left, then the right as she struggled to remember from what direction she came from. "Ah' came directly to the cabin, was able ta' run right up to Pan and the others, so Ah' made a beeline right for ta' cabin, so coverin' it up shouldn't be too..." She paused in her speech once more, a sheepish smile gracing her face. "Actually, ah' I got lost on my way ta' the cabin, did a helluva lot 'o wanderin', so my trail goes all over the place." It was the main reason she was so tired, now. Thankfully, her legs were no longer screaming, and the barking of her feet had dulled to a quiet whimper. "So my tracks shouldn't take too much ta' cover up. We should be back before long."

    "That's alright, Rahne." Linnae smiled, understanding marking her otherwise tired expression. "I got lost, too, and I live here. Just show me the way and I can make the dirt a little less…"

    Linnae turned her foot so that she was shifted, standing on the ball of her heel and the surrounding earth began to shudder. As she moved forward, each time extending her toes towards the dark morning sky, the earth erased the track behind her and small grass sprouts came forth from the ground. With the first few tries, she felt a bit woozy. After so much time with Kholas inside the city, it had been some time since she had used so much magic in one day. However it was effective. Looking around her itt was impossible to tell she'd been standing on the path at all. She stood next to Rahne and even made the excitable young woman's tracks disappear.

    "You go first, I'll follow. Then, a meal." Linnae held out her hand, extending a pinky. "Promise." She lowered her hand.

    "Deal." Rahne lowered her hand to meet Linnae's, pinky eagerly extended. She curled the digit around Linnae's before lowering her hand a little, locking the pinky promise in place. "Ah'll be as quick as Ah' can! Ah' know ya' just got fixed up an' all, so the sooner we can get ye' back to the cabin and off yer' feet, the better."

    Releasing the Nymph's finger from her own, Rahne turned away from Linnae, surveying the area and comparing it to her memory the best she could. Without too much delay, she started forward, walking in the direction opposite of her arrival at the cabin. "Ya' got hurt pretty bad back there. Ah' was sleepin' fer' most of it, but Ah' really thought Kholas was gonna bite yer' head off, the way he was lookin' at ya when he called me!" She couldn't help the short laugh that followed, not that she really tried.

    "Well, I should have paid more attention to such an injury. I'm sure you are well aware, but as a nymph I don't respond well to being set on fire." Linnae reacted to Rahne's laugh with one of her own. "It's alright, you can laugh. Kholas was. Well. He was a bit upset wasn't he?"

    Linnae chortled to herself as she trailed behind Rahne. She was grateful for Rahne's company. I was nice to have someone whose primary focus after the long day wasn't about what they'd lost or gained, but about the hot bowl of stew waiting for her back inside the cabin. It was wholesome and an entirely welcome feeling

    They did a small walk around the perimeter, covering up footsteps as best as she could from the cabin to the first emergence point. There were multiple tracks, some human some not. No, Linnae noted. Most of them appeared to be from the first group. That must have been Fin, Melsinde, and Pan when they had come through. Rahne's tracks were still off to the side, not far off. With another tap of her heel, the dirt around her trembled and the soil was smooth. Linnae followed close behind Rahne until they came upon Kholas' own distinct set of tracks, and then Linnae's, and Penelope and Beaumont's. Each time Linnae would do what she could to hide the tracks by shifting the dirt.

    There were still supposed to be more, and she felt a pang of guilt. The nymph kept hoping that they'd turn the corner and there'd be one more unexpected set marking the trail. Just one. Scorched, hooved, human. The three companions they hadn't heard or seen since the Academy had gone up in flames.

    "Rahne?" Linnae piped up after they'd made it a decent ways around the perimeter, still walking her strange toe- to-the-sky-walk. "I'm sorry, about-" Was it too much of the nymph to assume they were close? They had come together. They certainly seemed close. "I'm sorry about Malik. Were you close?"

    "Ah..." Though Linnae could not see her fading smile, her change in mood was more than obvious in her tone. "Thanks, means a lot ta' to hear that." For perhaps the first time since joining the group, her voice was devoid of the pep it usually carried, and, in its place, was unease, and an uncharacteristic shakiness.

    "Aye, we were pretty close, me n' Malik. Like two peas n' a pod. Ah' joined up with the rebellion because o'him. When ah' joined up with tha' Military, he was my commandin' officer. Dinnae take too long for him ta' gain my complete trust. He was tough as shit, too." She looked down, kicking at the dirt with the toe of her boot as she walked. She couldn't begin to count the amount of times he'd saved her, on and off the battlefield. She'd always felt invincible with him. The two of them were the perfect team.

    "Both o' us were sick of the empire after awhile, and when he said he wanted ta' leave, ah' didn't hesitate ta' go with 'im. Wasn't long before we found ourselves on the right side o'things this time." Her grin returned, softer but nonetheless present, and along with came a few stray tears. "This was gonna be a way ta' make up for being on the sid o'devils for so long."

    The nymph felt her chest ache listening to Rahne's voice fall. She sounded so melancholy compared to the upbeat woman she'd introduced herself as. Linnae hadn't meant to make her upset, she'd only wanted to express her condolences, maybe let her talk if she needed now that they were alone in the woods. There was no one around to hear if Rahne wanted to curse the Empire for separating the pair of mercenaries. Her story was only one of many, echoing the story of hundreds who had abandoned their faith in the Empire to join Kiernan's cause. While Linnae wanted to praise Rahne for her decision she knew the moment wasn't right.

    "Oh, Rahne…" Linnae skipped a few paces ahead, forgetting to erase her tracks so she could walk side by side with the red haired soldier. She slipped her good hand in one of Rahne's without a word and continued her odd walk. There weren't any more tracks but the ones they were making and it was high time they returned so she could get a well earned meal.

    "If it means anything at all, I am… we, Kholas and I, are grateful you answered the letter." Linnae squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I am grateful you are here with us still."

    The redhead was surprised by the hand contact, but more than grateful. She grasped Linnae's hand, giving it a firm and thankful squeeze while her other hand wiped her face, removing the tears that had made their way down her cheeks. "Thank ye, Linnae. That does mean a lot ta' me." She flashed a teary-eyed grin at the Nymph. "Ah' don't regret answerin' that letter for one damn second."

    She raised her hand and thumped her chest gently. "Especially now...now more than ever, ah've got ta' see this through to the end, more than ever. Fer' everyone else, for myself, and especially for Malik." It was more personal now. She was sad for her friend, but the sadness could wait. This rebellion came first.

    "I think he'd be very proud to hear that." Linnae smiled softly. She could see where they started, marked by the subtle dried bramble patches. The cabin could hardly be seen, but the telltale sign of the smokestack above the trees gave them away. Almost imperceptible against the sky, Linnae wasn't all that worried so long as it was out before dawn.

    "Let's get you that stew."

  • Notes and Noises:
    • Currently at Linnae's home:
      • We all made it!
    • So, Pyre set the Conservatory on fire.
    • It's dark now, nearing the middle of the night, so be wary of where you're going and don't get lost.
    • Once dinner has been made, find a cozy spot and get some sleep! It's going to be a long night!



    The Plan:

    Plan's gone to shit. Run for the hills.

    With the disappearance of Atlak, Kacius, Malik, and Moysei, Kholas' had given instruction just to get the shards out safely. Those who are able to make it out of the city were told to go to Linnae's home, previously shown on a marked map back at the Randy Gander. It is a few hours walk to the Northwest of Taithros.


 
Between Two Ferns
Collab between @Doctor Jax and @Red Thunder

Melsinde took it upon herself to ladle the stew out for the houseguests, overseeing the dispersion of the resistance members. Momentarily, there was the realization that she was giving out stew to a group slated for death, wanted by the Empire for treason, and they happened to all be under a nymph's roof out in the forests about Taitelle. It was a surreal experience, for certain. Now and again, a hand passed over the small pocket the Stones sat in, a nervous tic to ensure that they were still indeed where she had put them.

Before long, everyone had a bowl, a drink, and a seat, and she looked about. A small smile crossed her face as she saw Fin asleep on a stool in the corner, and with her own bowl in hand, she walked over with a blanket pilfered from a pile. She laid it over him, moving his bowl to a table. And of course… he left the vegetables at the bottom. She had to smile and shake her head at him. Frankly, it was a wonder he had eaten any of it to begin with…

It was, however, no wonder that the small house was one guest short of the lot that had taken a bowl. As surreptitiously as he had before, Pan had fled the company of his acquaintances, seeking instead the cool green on his backside, the quiet murmur of insects, and the white, blinking eyes that dotted the night sky so very very far away. There was a peace outside that he couldn't articulate, a peace in the forests that, on experiencing it, he realized that he'd been missing his whole life.

Foregoing the spoon, he tipped the bowl up and into his mouth, allowing the tide of the broth to sweep a bit of its contents into his mouth. He chewed appreciatively. Despite his own involvement in its preparation, he always did love the food he prepared. It was warm but invigorating, soothing but bracing. It reminded him-

His spirit sank a bit, the small comfort he'd given himself with his contribution to the group lost in regret. He'd basically abandoned his sister, too, to do Yigwit's task. He had to, he supposed, swallowing his mouthful, but that didn't change his heart. Quickly gulping down the rest, Pan lay back into the grass, hands behind his head, and stared unblinking into the self-forgetful vastness of the glittering darkness above.

"I see you're sitting alone. Would you mind some company? I understand if you don't."

The female satyr hovered near the edge of his vision, choosing to allow him space. It was one of the things she had long learned of others - allowing them the courtesy of whether they wished to engage. It was when someone was comfortable that they afforded the most information - the most openness of true thought. She had not missed his crestfallen demeanor, or his lukewarm reception to Fin and Kholas' attempts to cheer him up.

"Hm?"

Rapidly blinking, Pan turned his head to see Melsinde towering over him. A first, one that he'd thankfully not have to get used to. He smiled imperceptibly at the notion.

He shuffled to the side, needlessly making room on the spaciously wide lawn for his guest in an effort to let her know that she was welcome. Satisfied that she'd gotten the point, Pan looked back to the stars.

"Thissus all new t'me, Melsinde."

The fighting. The running. The arson. More to the point, lying on the grass, having eaten a plentiful meal from a bounty harvested at leisure from the earth. The quiet of the night, a quiet of rest rather than exhaustion. All these things, he'd not known on the Heights. But these last two… these he keenly felt the absence of in the midst of their sudden presence, and it was this feeling of belonging to this world of green and plenty that he now referenced. He paused.

"Ih's nice, though."

Mel sat beside him, nodding her head. Her thoughts roiled as well, this being the first time she truly had the space to digest the events which had transpired.

"Well, I can't say it is new to me. Not so much the… destroying schools, or setting fire to precious buildings, but cooking in a small house away from the city. I am glad you find it nice. I, too, find such calming."

She paused another moment, looking at the stars above them, peeking through the clouds.

"Yet, for all that this is nice, you seem troubled. Is something worrying you?"

Pan remained silent for nearly a minute, failing even to acknowledge her question. Instead, he scratched a horn, pulled loose a blade of grass, and stuck it between his teeth. He chewed it pensively.

"Ah did lotta stuff Ah'm ragrettin', Melsinde," he replied at last. "Runnin' off an' leavin' Kacius'n' Pyre'n Linnae to run down th' lush. Not followin' Malik back to rescue'm what wasn' comin' out."

He paused, having finished chewing the grass blade to grab an actual handful of flora off the ground. Slowly, he dropped a bit into his mouth.

"Ah'm worried what they was left tah. Wha' we left'm tah."

Mel lowered her gaze as she listened to Pan's concerns. Yes, she was familiar with the concept, a malingering feeling that there was more that you could have done, should have done. A sort of esprit d'escalier, but for the good of others, rather than a stillborn insult. She toyed with the grass beneath her fingers, plucking flowers and weaving them together.

"That is regrettable. I will not pretend that there were not better things we all could have done," Mel said quietly. Her thoughts turned slowly over the events that had transpired. "You have every right to feel as you do. But, we did what we thought was best at the time. With what we had, where we were. Sometimes… sometimes, there are no good decisions, and we live with the choices we make."

The daisies and violets chained in her fingers. Her eyes were trained downwards, on her impromptu creation.

"Once, as a scribe, I watched as a town succumbed to a sudden sickness in Venthas, and I grew… I grew very ill. The family I stayed with withered, one by one, and somehow, I survived. I cannot know if this was my own doing, some twist of fate, or a bit of both. I had the care of a very good doctor from the Empire, but I had convinced him to treat the family with whom I stayed as well. I do not know if I had done all I could, as they were poor and quite frail already, but…"

She shrugged her shoulders, a half-finished wreath in her hands.

Tha's very diff'rent.

He nodded, not really agreeing. But Pan understood her point, he thought: regardless of actions taken or not, he couldn't do anything now. Not about...not about them. Nor could he really do anything about the stones, whomever had them. Deciding that was for bigger brains than his; his place was to do as told, and not make decisions himself, a resolution now set in his mind after the short discussion.

All this took far longer than perhaps it should have, reaching the conclusion after indeed a great deal of mental exercise. Finally, Pan propped himself on his elbow and looked over to Mels.

"What's it like, bein' a Satyr? Ah know how t'be a Goblin ; Ah'm fair good addit." He popped a grass blade free, looking at it awkwardly, as if selling words to say on its face. "But Ah ain't. An' Ah dunno how t'be wha' Ah am."

Mel raised eyebrows at him with incredulity, and she gave a short laugh of her own, shaking her head.

"You poor dear. Of anyone to ask, I am perhaps the worst. When I was but a kid, I was found by human shepherds, and I spent my earliest years with Man first," Melsinde professed. "I did reconnect with others of our kind when I was a youth. But by then… they were odd to me as well. It is hard to say how to 'be' what you are. After all - in my mind you are your history, your story, and if you were raised about Goblins, why… for all intents and purposes, you are one!"

But she knew that was not a satisfactory answer. She drew her knees beneath her, holding out her wreath for inspection.

"Satyrs, we— they, I guess…. they're very free folk. No attachments. No obligations. There is the here and the now, and that is what matters. The past is no longer here, the future is not yet, so there is no point to dwell on it. They're very merry. Oh, they love music, of all kinds, and dancing, and crafting, whiling away time. A carefree existence."

Quite simply - nothing mattered too much. But Melsinde could never ascribe to such a lifestyle easily. There was just something more she craved beside a life of whittling and whistling.

"Hm. Ah was all ways malerky at dancin'. Won't say ih don't sound nahce, though."

The bit of grass Pan held, he stuck in his mouth, chewing it pensively as he lay back down, viewing once more the reeling stars above. In slow circles, they danced, knowing their place in the movement of the black vastness above. It was as if they heard a music he could not, and they moved without care for anything else besides it. No regret for the past, no fear for the future. It seemed nice.

But he was no star, ageless and glimmering and beautiful. He was a Satyr, and he was damn tired. Watching the stars had made his eyes heavy, and he took a deep breath of awakening.

"Bu' you was there, too, Ms. Melsinde." Pan pushed himself to sit hunched and cross legged. He looked to her curiously. "You'n okay?"

She had not expected that question herself. The satyr looked down at the unfinished work, her eyes downcast.

"I believe that I will be," she answered truthfully, looking back up with a weary smile. "It was not easy… to find that others had not managed to follow us. To make it here. I am… not unfamiliar with the feeling however."

She was quiet for a bit longer.

"It is difficult. To sit and watch as a friend is in danger, and to be unable to help," Melsinde admitted, laying back in the grass to stare at the stars as well. "But I survived it. And I think I shall survive this, too. Thank you for asking, regardless."

Pan could only nod. What else was there to say, really? If she had wished him to know more or say more, she'd have said so. Laying back down himself, hands behind his head, he closed his eyes and swiftly drifted off to sleep.

Mel herself could feel that the world was beginning to draw to a close. She jerked awake suddenly, and she realized that her body was screaming for sleep. Looking over, she eyed Pan with a small smile. She had no idea if she had helped… but hopefully he knew he had an open ear. She got up off the grass, walking back to the house.

And came back out with a blanket for the satyr, draping him, before walking into the house.
 
The stew was delicious, even though she had questioned the decision to add milkweed and dandelion. The mushrooms were particularly excellent. A perfect selection for stew and cooked to perfection. Since the little house was so crowded, it hadn't taken long for the small table to become full, so Miri sat on a chair near the door. Miri hadn't realized how hungry she was until she started eating, and despite finishing her stew down to the last drop, she was still hungry. With so many people to feed though, it felt rude to ask for seconds. Plus, Linnae and the red-head had gone out to cover tracks and hadn't even gotten a serving yet. She glanced around the room. One of the humans, the old one, had fallen asleep. What was his name again? She had been introduced to so many people in quick succession, she found it difficult to keep all of their names straight. Melsinde gently took his bowl of almost untouched stew and placed it on the table. It would be rude, she thought, to eat the rest of his stew without asking. But wouldn't it be even ruder to wake him from his sleep? She bit her lip slightly while staring at his bowl on the table and pondered her small moral dilemma. Eventually, Miri quickly walked over to the table and swiped the bowl of stew and retreated back to her chair. She ate her pilfered stew with relish. He had left all the best parts behind.

After finishing, Miri rinsed off her bowls and utensils in the sink and then stacked them neatly to the side. Then she walked around the small cottage, picking up dirty dishes and taking them to the sink to be washed. There was a terribly large amount of dishes, and it seemed that most everyone was too tired to wash them. But if they weren't done now, there would be none to use for breakfast in the morning. She hummed a local drinking song to herself as she cleaned. It's energetic tune helped keep her spirits up. Miri had noticed that once everyone had arrived, a gloomy atmosphere had settled over the cottage. She couldn't blame them. They had lost several people while retrieving the stones after all. But since Miri herself had never met them, she felt a bit disconnected from the sorrow half the people here seemed to be feeling. Hopefully with a good night's rest everyone would be feeling a little more cheerful in the morning.
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Linnae's Cottage
Collab With: @Lillian Gray @ethicalslut
It had gotten a little too hectic. Penelope would have sworn up and down, cross her heart and swear on her lyre, that she tried to approach the frustrated little goblin but there was so much happening in the busy home that the horned woman didn't think twice about staying put next to her mentor. Even the nymph they'd followed here, Linnae, seemed to be a bit out of sorts. To pass the time she strummed a few notes on her precious lyre, no tune really, just keeping a pleasant noise going. When dinner had finally been called, her stomach grumbled. Whatever was in the pot made her drool hungrily. Penelope set down her lyre and relieved herself of her heavy pack, glad to partake in the meal.

"I'll grab you something, Beau. You just sit tight." Penelope smiled cheerfully and tapped Beaumont's leg before meandering off to collect two mismatched bowls, one for each of them.

She passed one of the bowls to Beaumont and kept one for herself, retaking her seat near the front of the house. It was out of place, and they were both new faces. They figured it was likely best for them to stay out of the way so no one felt too uncomfortable with them there. Suspicion among even other rebellion members wasn't all that uncommon, and certainly not unwarranted. But-- no need for such negative thoughts! Penelope shook her head and began to sip at the broth, doing her best to keep her spirits up. Her eyes passed by Jack, napping comfortably on the lap of a noble-looking fellow. Penelope smiled into her stew.

As everyone had begun to gather near the stove, the small space growing ever more cramped, Kholas slipped away from the crowd and retreated to the bench where his packed belongings rested. Having finished wiping down his arms and face, he peeled away the damp cloth that had been wrapped around the cut on his hand. The glass had cut him quite cleanly, and it took only a moment to knit the wound closed. Opening his pack, the goblin fished out a clean, dark tunic and pulled it on, then withdrew a small wooden box. Repacking the carved skull and sliding his bag back beneath the bench, Kholas slipped outside with the box clutched in one hand.

He returned about ten minutes later, collected a bowl of stew, and dropped down onto a vacant stool near the unfamiliar horned pair. Finally, it seemed, he would have the opportunity to speak with them.

"Well," he said with a low, somewhat tired note, "it seems we can now get around to introductions." Scrutinizing the pair as he spoke, Kholas idly tapped a long nail against the side of his wooden bowl. "What brings the two of you to the rebellion? I don't recall letters being sent to either of you, as neither of you is familiar to me."

Needless to say, he was wary of the pair, especially with their timing and their happening across Linnae so soon after the fiasco at the Academy. He was about to say as much, a bite in his voice, when Malik's words came to him from the night before.

"You need to do better."

A surge of guilt welled in his chest, and he forced it down with a slow exhalation of breath, eyes momentarily closing. When he opened them again, he faced the pair with a more open expression. If they had found their way here, they had to have a letter. The likelihood of the Empire setting spies on them before they even really knew what happened was low. If anything, the pair had likely been slowed up by the rain, which was why they were late. Perhaps it was good fortune they had encountered Linnae. Either way, he owed them the courtesy of an introduction before making demands of them.

"Apologies," he said. "It's been a long day. Week. Months, really." He cleared his throat. "My name is Kholas Abalyshevska. I believe you became somewhat acquainted with Linnae on the way here. I hesitate to say we are 'in charge,' but I suppose that's the most accurate way to describe our present situation."

"It's alright, I don't blame you for being cautious." Penelope forced a strained smile."My name is Penelope Pexori, I was a student at the academy in Khal Miras. I studied musical arts, although I did spend quite some time with restorative magicks."

"Really?" Kholas arched a brow in interest, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice. "I attended that academy before I was given scholarship to the Magisterium. Who did you study restoratives under?"

"Professor Svetozar Rozhdestvensky, the third." Penelope turned up her nose and mimicked an old and thick accent meant to imitate the professor when he was irritated. She smiled brightly before lowering her nose and staring into her stew, thumbing the edge of the cup. "He was brilliant. But, I was too far behind and couldn't continue." She hummed. "That's alright though. I'm lucky to have studied under someone like him. But-! Enough about that. This is Beaumont. Beau?"

Penelope turned to the other horned, nudging his side to get his attention.

"Hm? What?" Beau responded not nearly quick enough, eyes clearing as he was brought out of his thoughts and back into reality by his apprentice. Indeed, the professor had been more than happy to sink into the recesses of his mind in the presence of so many strangers. There was a time where Beau would've been more than happy to throw himself into the fray, but that excitement, that willingness… as far as Beau was concerned it all left with Octavius.

"Ah yes. Introductions… of course." He would go on to say as the situation dawned on him painfully late. The professor paused once more in a moment of thought, continuing only after clearing his throat and extending a hand. "Beaumont Benedetti. I teach sprightly young artists in Khal Miras like Pen here. A pleasure."

Having given a nod of acknowledgment to Penny at the recognition of the old professor, Kholas lapsed back into silence as the other horned introduced himself. Save for an arched eyebrow at the mention of teaching artists, Kholas' expression remained quite passive. So, they were both from Khal Miras. Interesting.

"Well," the healer said, fixing his eyes first on Penny and then on Beau, studying them both for a moment, "what brings you to us? We had a few contacts in Khal Miras, though I regret to say three are dead and the rest have gone rather silent." Pausing, he looked down at his hand, surveying the thin red line of his recently-healed cut. "Did you receive instructions that brought you here tonight? I don't know that I recognize either of your names." Despite his words, there was no accusation in his voice-- only traces of weariness and a tempered sort of placidity.

With a worried expression, Penelope turned to Beaumont with her mouth hung open. Did she tell the truth? A lie? She wasn't certain Beaumont wanted to talk about the reason they'd crossed Aetheria on the off chance they'd find a goblin with some unusual piercings who was accompanied by a nymph. It was such a long shot she half wondered if Kholas would even believe them about the letters they'd found, about Octavius' secret, and that last letter and something about some Gander.

"Ah, you see--" Penelope gritted her teeth together awkwardly as she tried to explain their presence.

"Octavius. You were in correspondence with my husband Octavius before he died." Beaumont interjected, the bitterness in his gaze betraying the steadiness of his voice. "By chance, I found letters long-hidden, plans, the latest mentioning a meeting. The one you all must have had before… well, finding yourselves here. A hut deep in the woods."

Ah, thought Kholas. Yes. There it was-- the pause, the moment of awkwardness he'd half expected when he'd asked how they knew. Watching the horned woman grit her teeth, seemingly unable to answer, Kholas flicked an ear though otherwise remaining quite silent, expectant. Was he about to hear an excuse? A fabrication or--

At Beaumont's words, the goblin froze, his eyes fixing on the man, slitted pupils contracting in a momentary expression of sheer mortification.

Oh, fucking fuck.

That was not what he'd been expecting. Not in the least. Here he was, expecting some blundering tale or even embarrassing lie and he gets sucker-punched by a dead husband. Well, at least he hadn't been a complete and total ass to them, though that did little to ease the knot in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he said almost automatically, pausing to think. It was almost impossible to do right now. What was usually so easy for him had become so difficult lately that he frequently wanted to scream. He was a thinker-- that was what he did-- and now that everything had gone to shit, he was sore pressed to string two thoughts together in a way that didn't either offend someone or get them killed.

"I had great respect for Octavius," he said after a moment, "he was a good man, and I'm sorry for your loss." He flexed his long fingers, ear again twitching. "Shallow words that I suspect you're sick of hearing," he added, still staring down at his hands. For some reason, he was unable to look at the fine-featured horned man, afraid of what he might see in the other's eyes. The conversation had stirred something else in the back of his mind and he felt a morose tug, as though he were confronting the death of Kiernan all over again. He shoved the thought back to the dark crevice it had slithered out of and surveyed the horned pair with an expression of resumed calm.

"Now that I've put my foot in my mouth," he said, his voice giving no indication that he'd had any sort of internal conflict whatsoever, "I'd like to thank you both for coming. Given the state of the Academy, which I'm sure you saw on your way here, I doubt I need to tell you this whole ordeal may be rather dangerous."

Penelope held the cup of stew in her hands, the shift in conversation had dissolved her appetite and she lowered her head as Kholas offered his condolences. He wasn't the first, but he may have been one of the only honest ones about the respect he held for Octavius' true intentions. Intentions that the deceased hid from Beaumont and Penelope herself for countless years. To meet someone who truly knew him was both unnerving and confusing, but to know Kholas still held him in high regard was a relief.

She forced herself to smile, setting the cup aside and folding her hands in her lap. "We understand that. But we are here, yeah?" Cocking her head to the side, she flashed a toothy grin and leaned forward ever so slightly. "Maybe you can teach me a few things. We're very charming, I assure you. Just don't ask Beau to cook, or me for directions, and I think we can be of some use to you. If you'll have us?"

The horned woman extended her hand to Kholas with a genuine smile.

"Deal?"

"I suppose you are," Kholas mused, biting back a reply of would-be sarcasm. At her request, the goblin considered the woman for a long moment, then slowly extended a thin hand. "On the off chance we have the time and I have the energy, yes, I will do what I can for you. I don't know that I particularly miss having students, though I've never been an ideal professor. Nevertheless, I will try."

With that, he gripped the woman's hand in his own and shook it.

 
Penelope Pexori
Now that's settled...

Penelope waited for the goblin to depart before letting out a long held breath of relief which was quickly followed up by a string of nervous giggles. They'd made it, finally. Without much more than a stack of papers they'd made it from the tip of Taitelle to Taithros with very little struggle other than the horned woman's sense for direction. She'd only gotten them lost for half a day before Beaumont found it wise to take over from then on. Still, they had made it on time to meet up with Kholas and Linnae, spotting them from letter alone.

She couldn't believe their fortune. If this was only the beginning, Penelope couldn't fathom how the fates wanted anything but success from the ragtag bundle spread out across the floor of the cottage. Phineas, the one who looked very much like Octavius, had fallen asleep sitting up. A red haired woman had followed suit with a bowl of stew sitting right in front of her face which elicited a smile from Penelope, not that it was difficult. The nymph though, Linnae, hadn't sat down since they arrived unless forced by another's hand. One of the satyrs returned, Mel... Melisandre? No, Melsinde. Linnae handed her a blanket and motioned around the room, speaking too quietly for Penelope to hear without being intrusive.

Once the satyr had the blanket, Linnae honed her focus in on the two horned guests and made a beeline for where they were currently tucked away in her small home. Clutching her arm close to her chest, Linnae rested her palm on Penelope's shoulder and leaned in to speak quietly.

"It's time for rest. We've all had a long day." Linnae whispered. She didn't want to wake Phineas or Rahne. "There's space in the attic, if you don't mind the clutter."

Eirini, who had been noticeably absent throughout the chaos, appeared on Linnae's shoulder with a squeaky yawn. She stretched her tiny arms towards the ceiling, one grasping on to Linnae's brambles for support so she didn't fall. Even the sprite was tired. Linnae let out a soft gasp of acknowledgement before taking her hand from Penelope to cup the sleepy sprite in her hand.

"Is that-" Penelope's eyes grew wide with childish delight. She'd never seen a sprite before.

"Yes, but for now, rest." Linnae urged the horned woman. "Penelope and Beaumont, correct? Come, up you go."

"But- I could-" Penelope tried to argue, but one stern look from the nymph gave her the impression it wasn't worth the trouble. "Alright! I'm going." She got to her feet and soon found herself climbing the retractable ladder into the attic. Her pack was the first thing to join the rest of the clutter, then her shoes, and Penelope sprawled out across one of the bed rolls that had been prepared. It wasn't a bed, but it was the next closest thing and that was just enough for her to consider it a slice of heaven.
 
Kholas Abalyshevska

Location: Linnae's Cottage
Collab With: @Spectre of the Fade
Mentions: @Red Thunder
Somewhat relieved to be excused from his faux pas in the introduction with the horned pair, Kholas moved away from where they were seated, making a quick sweep around the cottage. Most everyone had found a place to sleep and, at Linnae's urging, Penny and Beaumont were making their way up to the small attic. The nymph had also confirmed that she'd dealt with the footprints leading to the cottage, for which Kholas was grateful. That, combined with the wards he'd placed, should do well to keep them safe enough.

Until morning, anyway.

He would've much preferred to spend the day resting, planning, and preparing and set out at dusk to avoid as much attention as possible, but seeing as how Pyre had fucking exploded a portion of the Academy, their options had been reduced to "get as far as possible as fast as possible." Petros was likely, at this very moment, throwing an imperial tantrum and demanding a search of the city. Though temporarily hidden, it wouldn't take long for a patrol to find the cottage.

Blowing out the candles that were winking light from the table Miri had cleared, Kholas settled himself on the small bench against the wall, sliding his pack from under it once more. In the dim light of the single remaining candle, he rummaged in his pack and withdrew a wool blanket. He continued to shuffle through the bag's contents and was slightly surprised when his fingers brushed hard, cool discs of metal. In the chaos of the evening, he'd all but forgotten Pan had brought the strange metal, though now wasn't an ideal time to experiment with it. That was best reserved for the skilled smiths in Wyndfel.

Finally, his fingers closed around what he'd been searching for, and he laid the soft leather pouch on the bench and once again slid the bag back into place. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he settled sideways on the bench, leaning back against the bookshelf it was butted up against so that he could face the door. As comfortable as he was going to be for the time being, he slipped open the leather pouch and withdrew a long, thin pipe, a snuffbox, and a small flint striker.

Soon, velvety coils of sweet-scented smoke curled about the goblin's head, the thin pipe clamped in his teeth as he reclined, losing himself in rather piteous thoughts. He had never been particularly prone to brooding-- generally too absorbed in his work to do much of anything else-- and this fatigued idleness was still new to him. He was finding that it didn't suit him in the least. He missed his research lab, his books, his study… And he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for those he'd lost tonight.

He could do fuck all for them now of course, but that didn't ease his feelings of responsibility and guilt over their missing party members, especially the solider. It was clear he'd been close to Rahne, and despite their previous conflict, he felt an innate sense of loss for the man. Pyre was, well... Pyre. He and he alone knew why he'd chosen to set the place on fire and nearly kill them all in the process. Atlak had been earnest, in the very least.

Where were they now? Captured? Dead?

Drifting down into the haze induced by the moonwort, he willed his mind to be still long enough for him to rest.

-----​

Kholas' wards were disturbed just before dawn. Buried in the grey light and deep shadows cast by the trees, a lone figure lumbered through the forest, their sights firmly set on the cabin.

It'd been...it'd been a long fucking night for Malik Shendoa. The Academy, exploded. The fire mage, dead. The centaur archer, captured. Malik himself had spent the night in a ditch outside Taithros - located a bit too close to the road for comfort - with a couple of arrows sticking out of him. He couldn't recommend the experience.

One step, two. Dozens before that, but maybe it felt a little easier when he kept the numbers low. Malik kept his breathing even, pressing onward in spite of the fact that every movement aggravated his injuries. He'd been shot twice in his escape from the academy; one arrow hit the back of his left shoulder, while the other dug into the meat of his left thigh. He'd snapped off the shafts after he'd disappeared into the back alleys, hoping to arouse less suspicion as he escaped from the city, but the arrowheads remained buried in his flesh. The one on his thigh was especially infuriating. Or, well, it'd been infuriating when Malik still had the energy to be angry. Better than bleeding to death, though.

Three steps, four. He brushed against a tree he hadn't even noticed and took the opportunity to rest his uninjured shoulder against it, letting out a gust of air. Couldn't be far now, but Malik's only focus was on pressing onward. Another breath, a shift of his weight and a twinge of pain from his leg, and he was moving again. Five steps, six.

-----​

Somewhere between lucid dream and wakefulness, Kholas became vaguely aware of a hot, tremoring sensation emanating from an inner pocket of his shirt. It took only a moment for the goblin to snap from his haze, his eyes wide and ears erect, swiveling about to catch any sounds. Something or someone had tripped one of the wards he'd placed around the cottage.

Slipping the ward from his pocket, he examined the thick slip of paper, gazing down at the single red sigil that glowed dimly upon it. So far, only one being had crossed the warded perimeter. Surely a patrol would bring more? Was it some forest animal wandering about-- or perhaps a returned ally thought lost?

Or was it a scout?

Gripping the paper ward lightly in one hand, Kholas laid his pipe down on the bench and got to his feet, quietly picking his way around the sleeping people strewn around the cottage.

Silently, he pressed open the cottage door and stepped out into the garden, avoiding the sleeping Pan who was draped under a blanket on the grass.

This was, by all accounts, completely fucking stupid of him. If his luck was any indication, the ward had been tripped by a scout and he was about to be arrested-- and worse. This was the kind of thing he would've come undone about, should Linnae have gone out alone to investigate. Stopping before he'd completely left the garden, Kholas stared into the darkness of the trees, his large crimson eyes scanning the shadows, pupils expanded to take in what little moonlight managed to pierce the clouds.

There!

Ears flicking at a sound, the goblin spun so quickly he felt a momentary twinge of dizziness induced by a combination of moonwort and fatigue. He froze, staring into the dense treeline. Then, suddenly, he caught the outline of a figure.

Judging by the size and shape, it was a human-- and he could tell by the way they were moving, they were injured.

Cautiously, Kholas stepped toward the shadow, his bare feet pressing uncomfortably in the sodden, mossy earth.

"Stop right the fuck there," he hissed, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Who are you and what do you want here?"

Malik stopped dead at the familiar voice, a tight knot of concern in his chest loosening. Kholas. Good. He'd made it. Made it far enough, at the least. That realization came with a staggering sense of relief, all the more powerful in Malik's current state.

"It's Malik," he answered, the sound weak enough he swallowed and repeated himself. "It's Malik. Pyre-Pyre's dead." The fire mage's body, barely recognizable given that he was buried under rubble while the academy burned around him. That was all Malik could find when he ran back into the academy. "Empire's got Atlak." The smell of dirt and smoke and horse shit while he pressed against the wall of the ditch, the voices of a pair of gossiping soldiers barely carrying to his ears over the clank of their armor. Their careless discussion of their marching orders might have gone unnoticed by their commanding officer, but Malik heard enough to get the gist. "Don't-can't go north."

There. Done. Message delivered. Malik sagged, resting his right hand on a sickly looking tree in an attempt to steady himself. He could see the cottage, could make out a familiar form standing at the edge of the garden. He'd come this far. Just a few more steps. With a push and a grunt of complaint, the soldier lurched forward and closed some of the distance between himself and the goblin. The soldier looked...rough. Dirty. Dried blood caked his face - the source was uncertain in such low light, but it seemed like a cut marred the bridge of his nose.

Kholas' mouth dropped open slightly as the other came into the dim moonlight, allowing the goblin to take in the sight of the man. A flood of emotions swept through him at the soldier's unexpected appearance, but his healer's sense of obligation fought its way to the forefront.

Quickly crossing the rest of the distance to the battered soldier, Kholas slipped the ward back into his pocket. He looked up at the soldier for a brief moment before reaching out to offer what support he could.

"Ancients, Malik," he muttered, still taking in the state of the man, "what, did you crawl through a fucking ditch after getting beat to shit?" Despite his words, there was a definite note of concern in his voice and he attempted to help the other walk toward the cottage.

"Good guess," Malik offered with a quiet snort of amusement. The goblin had got it in one. He did his best not to crush the healer, but he sorely needed the assistance. "Everybody else make it?" With his mission completed, he could let his exhausted mind wander, and the first thing that cropped up was worry. Worry for Fin, and for the fates of all the others he'd met at the tavern just the other night, but Rahne...He didn't know how well he'd live with himself if something had happened to Rahne.

"Yes," Kholas managed, staggering somewhat under the man's weight. "Everyone else is fine." For now, he ignored the comments about Pyre and Atlak, focusing solely on getting Malik indoors. "Right now," he said, voice strained as the other leaned down on his thin shoulders, "we need to get you inside so I can take care of this mess."

When they were close enough that he wouldn't need to yell, Kholas turned to face the sleeping satyr.

"Pan," he said, "wake up. Pan!" He called again, "I need your help-- we need to get Malik inside. Now."

 
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