Riders of Verlendia | IC









Oleander, Milo & Mae'lyrra



At first she had been surprised. The prospect of basic hospitality had made her look forward to entering the village of the metal Nera, but that was not what awaited them. They were received with far greater honor and kindness. They were served food fit for royalty and at first it had left Mae’lyrra completely speechless. Everything was delicious and tasty. The wine and ale they were offered was flavorful and warming. Some of it reminded her of some of the feasts they held among the Sunfeather tribe. It made her miss her people and Maglin. And then her thoughts wandered to the harvest festivals in the Painted Mountains and sadness washed over her. Every time she thought of what had happened there, Mae’lyrra had to remind herself that the people were rebuilding and they would survive.

She was seated at the table with Baloryx in her lap. He curiously let his snout move toward her plate each time she took more food. From time to time she would throw him a piece of meat which he devoured gratefully. Baloryx didn’t say much. He was more quiet than some of the other hatchlings. Most of the time, when he did speak, you could hear a rumbling coming from somewhere in his chest. Only when agitated or when playing around would he occasionally screech. To her great surprise and satisfaction, he remained relatively calm as they ate.

Every time her cup was empty, someone would fill it and when her plate was empty someone would offer her more food. Mae’lyrra ate until she was full before she politely said no. Some of the Nera asked about her home and her garb, wondering where she came from and what her people were like. Likewise did she ask them questions about themselves and their traditions. One of her great joys in life was to meet new people. And the metal Nera she had never met before.

Clunk!

With surprisingly little to announce her arrival at the table, Oleander had half set half dropped an empty metal mug from her standing height straight down beside Mae. Swaying ever so slightly with a stupid grin plastered across her face, she suddenly buckled and dropped to her knees, putting her at a somewhat appropriate level for the table. Pushing the mug forward, she motioned for a refill to no one in particular before realizing she’d planted herself next to the tribal two-leg. Mae’lyrra.

Apart from witnessing some of her magic, Oleander had done fairly well at avoiding the woman. It wasn’t difficult to tell she was from Maglin, Oleander’s former Herd had ranged enough to know all sorts in their territory. The garb, attitude, and tone was just too much of home for Oleander to deal with. Mug refilled, her eyes narrowed as she took a drink, acting as if she just hadn’t noticed the woman and her dragon beside her.

"N-no, no M-misty! No chewin'!" Milo skittered from his seat rather suddenly, as the smoke grey dragon scampered from his lap to nibble on a tray of roasted fish across from Mae'lyrra and Oleander. Flushed about the nose, the Amalfi dragged the dragon back into his lap and wide eyed, sank back in his seat, "Sorry! Sorry! Got away from m-me!"

With her head tilted and a smirk playing about her lips, she had studied Oleander. It was clear to see that the Esquirian had enjoyed herself. That in itself was nothing Mae’lyrra looked down upon. On the contrary, her people enjoyed a good celebration and good wine. But before she could say anything, Milo and his hatchling had caught her attention.

“Best keep your beast under control.” Mae’lyrra said in a serious tone and fixed her eyes on Milo. But then her expression became soft, she smiled and gave the young Amalfi a wink. Baloryx perked up and stretched his neck to look over the table and sniffed the air, studying Mist Catcher. Mae’lyrra turned her attention to the two dragons and gave a light chuckle. “We should count ourselves fortunate to have been received so graciously as we have by our hosts.” She looked up at Milo and then at Oleander at her side. “I can’t imagine we’ll encounter the same hospitality everywhere we go.”

Blinking slowly and not saying a word until she drained the mug, Oleander placed the mug back to start the process of getting refilled once more. Fingers poking at it in an attempt to reach the edge of their table. Normally she’d have a fair bit to say about that, especially since the Nera so far had been the best host she’d experienced since interacting with the Two-Legs. Instead she kinda looked up and away, making a show of checking for her musket secured on her back. “Aah suppoose sae…” Her response slurred and curt.

Shrinking into himself, Milo reached up to tug at his ears, nodding, "Sorry! I… ain't never had nothin' to k-keep under control. Promise I w-won't lose her again, M-miss…" lowering his gaze, he held Misty a little tighter to him and under his breath whispered, "You'll cost m-me my tooth, little one…"

“Oh, young Milo.” Mae’lyrra shook her head gently and then sipped her own wine. The young Rider seemingly always apologized, desperate to do nothing wrong. But it was hard to blame him. She was nervous herself, and she had seen more years than he had. “You’re doing fine.” She reassured him before she picked up a grape from her plate and popped it into her mouth. Then she looked at Oleander, wondering if those three words would be as close to praise as she would ever hear from her.

“It is a remarkably fine feast. Unlike any Two-Leg establishment for miles, I’m sure.” Mae’lyrra said teasingly, with a smirk soon taking over her features again. All the while, she fixed her eyes on Oleander.

Tension began worming itself into Oleander's attitude for the first time since Haloke negotiated with the Breakers this morning. Mae, the tribal, was staring right at her and casting out little bait lines of conversation. The Two-Leg wanted to converse, maybe to try and build some sort of connection between the two of them based on their origins. But then again, how would Mae have known anything about where she had come from? Had she let some sort of primitive custom show? None that she could recall, for sure.

“Ah’m shore...shore smaoineachadh… tae think th’ yew shudd’nae nuu wh’ be ah fin feeast. Nae ah lad o’ lass ruuten en th’ dirt tae be seen n’ae ah’ Seer pruclamatan th’ greatness o’ et. Cannae be gret th’ ken et?

(I’m sure, I’m sure to think, To think that you should not know what makes a fine feast. I don’t see couples pairing up to breed in the dirt and a shaman seer proclaiming the greatness of it. Can’t be that impressive to you then can it?)

A bit harsh in her words perhaps but Mae was making her anxious, the more she looked at the woman, the more she saw what she hated in herself. She looks away, attempting to focus on the young beastie she’d born on her back earlier in the day watching his panicked exterior. Nothing like the Amalfi she knew back in her range. Meek and small, the ones that she’d hunted had been fearsome beings of strength and rage, ready to tear even their strongest of hunters apart if cornered. The evening was starting to sour at the edges, Oleander quickly grabbing the once again filled cup to remedy things.

Looking up, Milo blinked between the two, his eyes settling on Oleander with that same wide eyed awe, before very quietly, he noted, almost in whisper to Mae, "I don't think I speak that language, M-miss…"…

Although she had been taken aback by Oleander’s words, she was now struggling not to laugh out loud. Mae’lyrra smiled brightly at Milo and then reached her hand out to let it rest against his cheek for a moment, giving it a pat and a gentle squeeze. “None of this Miss nonsense, now. You make me feel like an old crone.” And then she withdrew her hand. “Mae.”

A moment passed in silence as she studied Oleander, wondering just what she had said to provoke such a response. She drank more wine, set her cup down on the table and shrugged. “We don’t breed in the dirt.” Her voice was stern at first, but when she spoke again it was gone and again tinged with amusement. “Most of us have the decency to find a haystack or crawl under a wagon.” Mae’lyrra didn’t like it when people insulted her tribe or the shaman, but it would take far more than the drunken words of an Esquirian to sour her mood.

Oleander winced as she continued to drink, her expression slowly morphing into something more akin to a tortured grimace than a merry smile. She was being outright mocked at this point. A little voice in the back of her mind repeating ‘she knows’ over and over. Attempting to stuff down the loudest of her pitiable fears, Oleander shrugged. The high she’d been riding with the admiration the Nera had shown for her weaponry was crashing down, all from a few words from a person that did naught but remind her of what she came from. Even if service to her al Noe was coming quickly at this spot, Oleander was in no state to fight, so flight would become the best option.

“Ah’nae shood be hare, nae ahting boot foosin efah cannae sawnter” Swaying as she put the mug down and started to her hooves, her knees quickly caught the edge of the heavy table. Unable to knock it over fully, Olee stood half trapped by front legs still bent under the metal sheeting and her rear legs locked straight. Incapable of holding the awkward angle for long, she began to teeter to her side, ready to collapse and bring an ignoble end to the young Amalfi and his ward.

With a squeak, Milo's hands shot out to steady the Esquirian, palms flat against her flank as he gave a panicked look to Mae, Misty scrambling up his arm and around his collar, hissing lightly.

Darting up, Mae’lyrra did as Milo and helped steady Oleander who was far more unsteady on her legs than she had thought at first. For a brief moment, she wondered if it was a benefit to have four legs when you were this drunk, or if it was twice as difficult to stay upright because there were more limbs to control. “Steady yourself, friend.” Mae’lyrra said, obviously amused at the drunken state of the Esquirian. “Milo, be a dear and pour a mug of water for Oleander.” She spoke to the Amalfi, resting her hand on his shoulder briefly. Her attention was still on Oleander though.

“AhNAE be needan wooter n’ ah nae be needan hulp fae th’ lik o’ ah’nooth premataive surt.” Not totally understanding what was happening, Oleander began to resist the efforts of Mae, attempting to slap her hands away. The tightly wound braids in her hair loosening the dark locks to fall where they may. “Dinnae titch me ye tw-shank huvin lass bairn o’ dairt ‘n’ beastie n’ exile o’ hair kin! I dinnae waanet!” Forcing herself up to her legs, she stood shakily, world spinning as she spiraled. “Whitfir ye’ leeye Heahrd Mae? Whitfir ye be’wit tae kin wha sae th’fir better’un us? I sae nae! Whitfir ye’ooglin, play’e toons n’ lae me be!”

(I don’t need any water and I don’t need any help from the likes of another primitive sort! Don’t touch me ye two-leg having woman born of dirt and beast and exile of her kind! I don’t want it!...Why did you leave Mae? Why are you forced to be with others who claim to be better than us and are but aren’t?...What are you looking at! Play your music and leave me be!)

Milo scrambled to find a pitcher and without much thought behind the action, he poured it into a mug and turning, flung it at the Esquirian.

Confusion became apparent on her face. She had been called many things in her life, but exile was not one of them. Dirt and beast were not bad words to her as she lived in close connection with the earth and animals. Primitive she had been called countless times, but it had been many years since she learned not to take that as an insult. It depended on who you asked. Sure, there were some things about the Sunfeather tribe that might seem primitive to others, but Mae’lyrra failed to see the negative side of that. It seemed Oleander had already made up her mind on what to think of her and her people, though she was still unable to make much sense of her ramblings. When Milo turned and flung the water at Oleander, Mae’lyrra took a step back. She clearly didn’t want her help and she figured that if the Esquirian was so set on making a fool of herself, she would let her.

Before the young Amalfi could express his apologies and worries, she stepped toward him and patted him on the back. She positioned herself slightly in front of Milo, ready to shield him from Oleander’s wrath. Baloryx who was still on the bench where she had been sitting moments ago let out a sharp breath and stretched his neck to look at the scene.

Much like water being tossed on a fire with great flash and little substance, Oleander’s ire was drowned in an instant. Frozen in place, water ran in little streams from her face to be soaked up in her doublet. The nubs of her antlers showing through the hair now plastered by water to her head, Oleander reached up to check them both in a motion born of her being unsure as to what to do next. “A’m awl weht…” She stated the obvious to herself, as if doing so would help her try to get a grasp on the now wet, spinning world around her. “Cuid ye be ah’braw sairt o’ lass ‘n’ git me ah’nooth dram o’ ale? Bidh mi ann am fiachan ” She pointed a weak finger at Mae and Milo, the strength of her directing digit matching the half smile on her face.

(I’m all wet...Could you be a kind woman and hand me another mug of ale? I’ll be in your debt)

As soon as the water had left the cup, the cup left his grasp and Milo's hands had clapped over his mouth, and they remained there, as a beat of silence passed. When Oleander spoke, his wide-eyed gaze shifted from mortified shock to confusion, and still shielding his face, he looked to Mae.

None of this had served to help her confusion. Mae had the same expression on her face, although a smile had threatened to take over. For a few moments she just stood and stared at Oleander, wondering just what had come over her. Eventually, she mustered enough focus to answer the other woman.

“If you want more ale and wine, you’ll have to ask someone else to serve it.” Her expression was a little stern at first as she knew this might upset Oleander again. Then she offered her a smile again. “While I am usually not one to deny a friend a drink, we all do have our limits. And here there is neither wagon or haystack for me and my primitive sort, where we can crawl up and sleep away the stupor.” Mae’lyrra couldn’t resist teasing her. Before Oleander could respond, she quickly added: “If you’ll want water, I’ll gladly get you some. My aim isn’t half as good as young Milo’s is.”

Staring quizzically at Mae, Oleander was unsure as to what to do next.. Her tail flicked in irritation, more so at herself than anyone in the vicinity as she waved aside the taunting concerns. “Ah’l nae be eaten yer hay o’ pul’en yer wagon, ah’juist dinnae ken whit tae dae wi’ mahsell. “ She beckoned for some more water. “En ah dram th’s time please.” She shot a look at Milo, considering what he might look like dunked in a barrel of ale. “Jes yin mair n’ a’ be oan mah wey, whaur a’m tae be goin, ah cannae sae bit shuid be fin.” Staggering away from the table and glancing back in hope that she’d be handed something to sip on while she meandered through the settlement.

(I’ll leave your hay be and won’t pulling any waygons, I’m just unsure what I’m supposed to be doing with myself….In a mug this time please. One more drink and I’ll be on my way, not sure what way that is but I’ll be fine)

Still staring, one paw still clamped over his mouth, Milo reached with the other and carefully lifted a mug, holding it out, mostly of its contents sloshing to the table as his quaking grip faltered with fear.

She watched Oleander move away from them and felt her heart sink in her stomach. During their conversation, one-sided as it may have been, Mae’lyrra had been trying to figure out what was going on in the mind of her companion. Now she found herself wishing that the outcome had been more positive than it was. Sighing, she turned to Milo and shrugged.

“Worry not, my friend. Our Oleander will be fine.” She assured him and then gestured toward the table again. She moved herself to the bench and took a seat. “Have you eaten your fill?” She continued. “We might as well fill our stomachs. There is no telling when we’ll be treated to such a fine meal again.” Mae’lyrra popped a grape into her mouth.

Milo, however, after handing over the mug had carefully clambered down the opposite side of the table and as she turned to address him, Mae caught only the sight of his tail as it ducked around behind one of the many metal huts. There in the shadow of one building, crouching into a huddle, burying his head in his knees, he did his best to hide.

With a puzzled expression, she called his name. Only because she had caught sight of his tail did she have an idea of where he had gone. But why had he left? Sighing she wondered if things would be better if she just kept to herself. Still, Mae’lyrra stood and followed Milo. Glancing over her shoulder as she did, she saw Baloryx sleeping comfortably on the bench. Something inside her spoke against ever leaving the dragon out of sight, but while he was sleeping she convinced herself to steal away for a few minutes.

After searching around for a good ten minutes, she finally spotted the Amalfi huddled together. It was clear that he didn’t want to be found, but that made her want to seek him out all the more. Approaching quietly, she stopped in front of him and placed her hands at her hips and watched him. “Milo.” She said softly. “What is it?”

Without looking up, his head not moving from where he’d burrowed it into his knees, Milo shook it back and forth, his whole body shifting with the motion, as his words were expelled in what was no doubt meant to be comprehensible but instead came out in a garbled mess, “I’msorryI’msorryIdidn’tmeantoshewasjusttalkingsofastandIcouldn’tunderstandandIdidn’tmeantopleasedon’ttakemyteeth!”

Startled, she kneeled down in front of him. What was he so afraid of? And what was that thing with his teeth? Mae’lyrra inched closer. “No one is going to take your teeth.” She said, brows furrowing. Then she reached out and took him by the wrist. “Milo. Look at me. Don’t worry.” Mae’lyrra’s expression became one of worry as she studied him.
Tentatively, as her fingers gingerly curled around his wrist, he peeked his head up ever so slightly, only his eyes, wide and watery visible, as he sniffed softly, “Y-you’re not…?”

“Why would I want to take your teeth?” She asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Mae’lyrra didn’t understand. “I have my own, see.” She flashed her own white teeth and pointed to her own pointy canines. They weren’t as point as Milo’s, for obvious reasons.

The rest of his face coming free of his knees, Milo opened his mouth, pointing to the missing tooth, “...K-kinda used to it, I guess? W-when I’d m-mess up… Get caught or l-lose a m-mark. It was punishm-ment...”

Mae'lyrra looked at him, for a moment unable to fathom what he was saying. Unfortunately, she was well aware of the cruelties people could make each other suffer, but it was still sickening to encounter first hand. She shook her head and her lips became a thin line. She reached out and put her hands in either side of his face and fixed her eyes in his.

"No one is going to take your teeth." She repeated. "Those that might try will have to face the tip of my spear." And as if per reflex, she pulled him into a hug. Mae'lyrra squeezed him and sighed before letting him lean back. "Who did this to you?"

For a minute, Milo didn’t answer, though there was a soft muffled sound that came from Mae’s shoulder that might’ve been confused for words, were it not also for the dampness there. When he was able to compose himself, he shifted back, and fluffed at the fur on his cheeks, drying it best he could with the backs of his paws, “He runs the Dodgers. The… the people I w-worked for, back in Cobrol. T-took m-me in. W-wasn’t very nice, but… but it was a place to live, you know?”

“Oh, Milo.” She said, shaking her head again. A tear formed in the corner of her eye when she thought about him having lived such a life. It wasn’t surprising now that he was so quick to apologize. Mae’lyrra reached out and placed her hand on his cheek again. “Let me make this promise to you.” She began. Above them, they could hear wings flapping and a raven made its presence known. “As long as I am by your side, you won’t have to work for the Dodgers. No one will take your teeth. You’re a dragon rider now.” She leaned back and smiled. “You will always have my spear.” Her voice was more formal and carried a note of importance. “And I will always be your friend.” Mae’lyrra nodded, baring her teeth in a wider smile now.

Sniffing, rubbing his arm across his nose, Milo gave a small, terse bob of his head, "Thank you M-miss Mae. I don't feel m-much like a rider, but I'm gonna do m-my best. And, well, thanks for… the other bit too." Lowering his voice, his eyed flickered back to the tabled they'd left behind, "Do you think she's terribly m-mad?"

Shaking her head, she followed his gaze. For a moment she thought about the curious esquirian. She wondered where Oleander had gone, but was convinced that she was fine. Or at least had found somewhere to collapse. "No. No I don't think so." Mae'lyrra said reassuringly. "So stop you fretting." She stood and then extended a hand to help him up.

Looking up, Milo hesitated a moment, before reaching a paw to accept the hand, "Hey, M-miss Mae? Do m-me a favor?"

"Yes, Milo?" She raised an eyebrow, wondering what favor he would have to ask of her.

"Don't tell Casimir about any of this…" Scrunching his face into a slight frown, he shrugged, "He m-might make fun…"…"

"You have my word."

 
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Leander Kilnwood and Casimir Aldarmere
Collaboration with @Owl

It wasn't until each of them were seated by their peculiar hosts that Casimir noticed how tired and hungry he was. He'd watched both Hexar and Eamon all the way and had not eaten or rested at any point. The smell of roast boar and potatoes coated in fresh herbs made his mouth water. The last time he'd eaten such a royal meal was over a year ago, when he'd sneaked into the large kitchen that served the high ranking knights and taken the liberty of tasting the food before it was served to the nobles. It was infinitely tempting to wolf down a meal and excuse himself so he could sleep, but he still had a duty to fulfill. A duty that demanded he speak to the man Leander who was undoubtedly in a fouler mood than usual. Still, what other options did he have? Milo might listen, but he'd be no use against Hexar. Haloke seemed the type that would try to cuddle a monster rather than fight it and Tiriok had not corrected Elwyn's mistake so far, which meant he agreed. Perhaps Mae'lyrra would help, but he couldn't tell if she'd be able to stand up to Hexar. If Hexar was who he said he was, it'd take speed and skill to take him out, and Casimir could only think of one person that possessed both in spades.

He shot a tired glance at Leander seated next to him and wondered if it would be just as fruitless as his talk with Elwyn. Leander wouldn't take him seriously, not unless he already agreed that Hexar posed a threat. Worse, he would have to find a way to lure Leander away from the rest of the group without raising suspicions and without Leander making a big stink.

It wasn't until the excited chatter of his traveling companions and their hosts had reached its peak that Casimir saw fit to elbow Leander lightly in the side, only to immediately press one finger to his lips and motioning his head to the side, away from the festivities.

Leander shot a glare in the direction that the elbow came that was quickly replaced by an unamused look as the young squire sitting next to him so obviously hinted at the need for a sidebar. He looked away as Casimir slipped from the table and back to the plate of food in front him. Although the Nera were a group of savages scattered across the lands, the Metal Nera at least knew how to cook a good meal and treat their guests. His green eyes fell on the Fire Nera, Haloke, she was the reason that the horde of Metal Nera didn’t crush them upon arrival. He knew very little about the Suring but enough to know that it was a big deal.

The sandy haired man enjoyed a few more bites of what would likely be the last of a good meal for some time before pressing his chair back and standing. With one arm firmly at his side and the other placed across his chest, his body came forward at the hips into a small bow in show of respect for the meal. “Thank you for the meal, it was delightful. If you will excuse me…”

And with that, Leander turned to leave but he exited the opposite side of the room that Casimir had. He had no interest in talking to the squire kid that he had come to recognize as a whining brat. All he wanted was to be left alone to process his thoughts or drown them in alcohol at the tavern. He hadn’t even been given the time for that… It felt as though life was slapping him in the face over and over again without rest. What else could there be?

Leander sighed, tucking his battered hands into his pockets and rounding a corner… right into Casimir. “Looks like you’ve caught me… what do you want, kid?” He asked, but his tone was different than when Leander first met Casimir. Although his words still bit like a snake, there was no venom behind them. In fact, his tone was almost monotonous.

"Some sleep would be nice," Casimir muttered. He tried not to sound too surprised at finding Leander at the other side of the mess hall, though it was clear to him that Leander had tried to avoid him. "Or a castle of my own to live in," he added with a shrug. Sighing, he leaned back against the outside wall of the great hall and tucked his hands under his armpits. It wasn't cold exactly, but there was a crispiness to the air that bode of cold days to come. For a moment he watched in silence as the sun sunk behind the horizon, painting the sky in glorious golden hues.

"I need your help."

He didn't turn to face Leander until the dreaded words had left his cracked lips and when he did, he couldn't help but notice how deflated Leander seemed. The way he slouched, the fact that Leander had tried to walk away rather than yell at him, and his unusually quiet demeanor in general.

"You're bothered about the dragons," Casimir blurted. "So am I. Not a moment goes by when I don't wonder why. Why me, why not you? Not a moment." He gave Leander a sharp look. "But you're bothered about the wrong thing. What you should be bothered about is the red-skin." Casimir pushed his back off the wall and started pacing around. "I mean, did I dream it or did Augar not explicitly mention Hexar? I've asked Elwyn, but she's as blind as that Klerion girl, she thinks it's fate or something," he said with an exasperated sigh. "Either Hexar is not who he says he is, or he is who he says he is and in both cases it's bad for us." He halted suddenly and sent a piercing gaze at Leander. "Tell me where I'm wrong. I'd actually like to know."

’Bothered about the dragons….’ The squire couldn’t be more wrong. He thought back to his chat with Melindre in the wood… to that vision.. And to the damned realization that he was nothing more than a bastard. But he couldn’t tell Casimir that. He couldn’t tell anyone. ’Why not me?’ A manic grin tugged from ear to ear. It was comical almost, hearing the kid ask the question again. When he had asked the first time after being named a rider, it made sense, but now it was more like a joke. It was pathetic. And he had the answer. ’..because I’m nothing.’

Whatever else the kid said was lost to deft ears until he finally stopped talking. Leander looked at Casimir with disinterest. “You’re wrong in thinking that I care” he spoke flatly.

Even sleepy Eamon, who’d been resting peacefully on Casimir’s arm, seemed to smell the dung coming out of Leander’s mouth. The baby dragon half-opened one eye, sniffed the air, then closed it again and nuzzled a little closer against Casimir’s wool cloak.

Obviously you don’t care, that must be why you’re sticking around,” Casimir deflected. “You could’ve left. Could’ve avoided a fight or two, could’ve avoided getting blood all over your pretty clothes, but you didn’t. If you don’t care, why don’t you leave?”

“You asked me about Hexar - not about why I’m here.” Leander snuffed back quickly. “Let me ask you this, if Hexar is bad news, and I’m not saying that he is or isn’t, what is it that you are wanting to do? What did you hope to accomplish by sneaking me off for this secret meeting?” The sandy haired man crossed his arms over his chest lazily as he looked down at the young squire with a hint of impatience.

“To not die. Crazy thought, I know, but I’d rather you not die, and I’d rather stay alive myself too, and this one,” he said with a curt nod in Eamon’s direction. “If you were in my position, wouldn’t you want to protect your dragon? Or yourself for that matter? Elwyn’s got lemons in her pants, apparently she thinks it’s completely fine to have a mass murderer for company because the sky told her it’s fine! So it must be fine right? Nothing suspicious at all about him just showing up out of nowhere. He just waltzes in and claims to be on our side, and we just have to, what? Take his word for it?” Casimir combed his free hand through his dark hair and looked skyward. He almost felt inclined to pray. Pray that Leander and Elwyn and the rest of them would be cured of their blindness. “Do you think I’d come to you unless I had any other choice? I’m suggesting you put your ginormous skills to actual use instead of slinking off into the woods with Melindre doing heavens knows what.”

Leander’s disinterest melted into an almost comical grin and he couldn’t resist the laughter that erupted from his belly. “Oh, and you want me to do what exactly? Kill him with my ginormous skills?” When the squire’s expression didn’t change, Leander’s comical grin changed to one of disinterest. “Listen here, kid… truth be told, I don’t care too much for it either. But our companions, for whatever reason, don’t seem to have a problem with him sticking around.” He stopped for a moment and crossed his arms once again while he leaned against the wall. “We can’t do shit about that, which means you have to be smart about how you handle our friend. And killing him would not be the smartest option here. Do you think people just die quietly? Especially people as powerful as him? It would end up being more of a problem in the end.”

He sighed heavily before a more serious expression landed on Casimir. “In this situation, it's better to just keep him close and keep an eye on him, rather than attempt to kill him and make the situation worse, or drive him off and have him out there doing whatever the hell he wants. At least here, you can keep an eye on him and watch for anything suspicious. And if you were particularly smart, you might even play him. Be nice. But not too nice, that’s suspicious. Nice enough that he starts to trust you, drops his guard, whatever… People do stupid things and slip up when they make the mistake of trusting the company they’re in. And it seems like you have an ace in the hole… that Klerion girl. He likes her. At the worst you can use her as leverage.”

Leander pushed away from the wall, his arms uncrossing and falling to his side. “Use your head, kid. Watch him and learn. It’s the best thing you can do right now.”

Casimir observed the lanky man in silence and kept his distance. It wasn't bad advice, nor was it easy, but then again none of this was easy.

"I guess we should head back," Casimir said after a while. He didn't wait for Leander to answer as he turned with a whoosh of his cloak and headed back toward the feast, his heart and mind heavy with doubt.

....that’s it?” Leander exclaimed with a cocked eyebrow. He was surprised that the boy didn't attempt to fling anymore insults at him, but before he could say anything more, the young squire disappeared around the corner to return to the feast without a response. The sandy haired man cursed under his breath. All he wanted was to be alone - that didn’t happen. And then all he wanted was to enjoy his meal but that didn’t happen either. That damned kid ruined his meal, and for nothing. Nothing.

“Brat didn’t even bother to acknowledge the shit I even told him…” Leander grumbled under his breath as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and made his way for the exit. “...he’s the one that wanted to talk to me. What a goddamn waste.”

 
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Dragon Mom Unwind Featuring Mae'Lyrra @Morgan, Milo @Elle Joyner and Haloke

Haloke should have retired soon. She had vowed to Breaker Osamer and Breaker Thranik that she would spar in the early hours of the morning. She cursed her eyes for being wide open and mind frighteningly awake. Consuming ale would tire her. She did not wish to wake with a mind altering headache. That would restrain her ability to take Osamer on. A hindrance. Still, enough would help to calm the bustling mind that came with the librarian whose books were more important to her than the Nera’s safety. Shivering at the memory, Haloke persevered towards the tavern where she knew her friends had relocated. The tribe itself seemed friendly enough and she enjoyed shooting the occasional greeting when in the pathway of one, but she had already sustained a comfort with the fellow riders. It felt a little more as if she was at home and it comforted her to not be alone in that sense.

Forge’s head peeked up as Haloke made her way into town, directing her to see a few familiar faces. Now would be an excellent time to deliver Milo’s gift… Swiveling her direction, Haloke made her way towards the tribal woman and young Amalfi, books in hand. Forge had nestled on her head like a garment, tail flicking back and forth to strike the Nera’s cheeks.
“Peace. I come baring gifts, sir Milo.” She beamed. “I do not think we will make much use of it tonight but, as a part of my vow-” She held out the thin children’s book to him. “Be careful with that, sir Milo. It means my life.”
Eyes already quite large, Milo stared at the book with a sense of confusion that slowly, slowly evolved into something more akin to shock. Blinking, he reached out, then pulled his paw back, then reached out again, then retracted it once more, “B...wh...y… You got this for m-me?”

“I made you a promise, yes? Take it.” She gently reached for his paw, placing the book in his grasp. She pushed back the fur between his ears before giving it a ginger ruffle. “It is a loan from the Nera library. You may have it until my return here. When you wish, come to me, and I will help you learn.”
Eyes filling with mist, Milo clutched it tightly to his chest and quickly, scrambled to his feet, “Oh! OH, thank you so so much, Miss Hal! I will take such good care of it and I will make sure that it is safe! You…” Shifting foot to foot, he suddenly bolted towards the Nera woman and threw his free arm around her middle, hugging her tightly, “Thank you.”

“I trust you, sir Mi-” Her breath was taken from her as he secured himself tightly around her middle. She blinked, a flurry of emotion coating her face before she was able to smile. She placed one arm around him in return, squeezing him. “It is nothing, my friend. I am glad you are pleased.” She pulled from him slowly, giving him a warm gleam. “Now, if you desire any more books, have me get them. Do not ask.”

Grinning, almost too absently to hear her words, he continued nodding and hugging the book tighter to him, “Thank you! And th-thank you, Miss Mae. For… you know.” Looking sheepishly between the two women, he pointed, “I’m gonna go look at it n-now, if that’s alright?”

Happy that she was not the only one who was willing to help the young Amalfi, Mae’lyrra flashed Haloke a smile before she looked at Milo and nodded. “Go on.” She said and watched him hesitate for a moment before he mirrored the gesture and left the two of them. There was a moment of silence as the two women watched him walk away but eventually Mae’lyrra fixed her eyes on Haloke. She had not had the chance to talk to her since their flight from Cobrol.

“I swear that boy begins and ends his sentences with either an apology or asking permission.” She chuckled, finding that particularly endearing about Milo. Perhaps it was because his demeanour was in such a stark contrast to what she knew awaited him. He would have to grow up soon enough, she expected. And she had the feeling that Haloke saw the same. “Are you teaching him to read?” She asked, fixing her eyes on her and smiling.

“Oh, I intend to get that bad habit out of him if I can. The poor dear doesn’t know how to stand up for himself.” She watched the sweet Amalfi head off, making sure he got to his destination safely. She couldn’t help but feel kinship with the kind child and was determined to keep a smile on his face. “I am going to try my best to teach him how to read. I am not the best teacher to do such a thing, but I will do what I can. It turns out to be beneficial for the both of us. Believe it or not, the Metal Nera get their magic from the pursuit of knowledge. I never quite understood how it worked.” She wiped the thin smirk from her face, giving her a quick inspection. “How are you faring, Mae? You look well, but I imagine how you may feel after what we have seen today.”

“I am glad to hear it.” She replied, approving greatly of the initiative. Being able to read was a great benefit in life. So was knowing your numbers, although Mae’lyrra had never excelled in this particularly field herself. She could produce a poultice or a potion in no time, though. Everyone had their own skills. That reminded her - Haloke had certain skills as well. Skills she had seen demonstrated. Mae’lyrra shrugged her shoulders when the other woman had finished her sentence. They were most likely all tired and still overwhelmed with their new task. Reaching out, she gave Haloke’s elbow a squeeze as if to thank her for asking.

“I am fine, thank you. I expect I feel much the same as the rest of you. Tired, happy, a little bit nervous.” She spoke as if being tired and nervous weren’t bad things. Being nervous in their situation was to be expected and their travels so far had left her weary. Not because she wasn’t used to walking but because now they had baby dragons in tow. “It helps that I am not alone.” She gave the other woman a wink and smiled. “How are you, Haloke?”

“Aye, he is a bright child and it frustrates me that he considers himself dumb.” She scoffed. Of all the children she had taught back in her tribe, she had never met one she considered to be foolish. Stubborn and unwilling to listen, yes. Fools only existed in adults who thought they were wise. Children had so much room to grow and develop, each of them requiring guidance. To hear Milo consider himself a fool? It discouraged her. His eagerness was enough to light hope back in her chest.

“I am glad to receive such news. Do not fret, I am wracked with nerves.” She shot her a smile, crossing her arms across her waist. There was excitement still, as bad as things could get, Haloke could feel the energy taking hold. It was an adventure and they had survived the danger tossed their way. Her eyes met her hand as she squeezed her, shoulders slumped in relaxation.

“Aye, I feel the same.” Her smile twisted into a grin, lazily sending a mirroring wink in her direction. “It is encouraging to know I have found a friend to fight besides me. I am well. I feel more like myself than I have in a while. I feel as if I were to serve a purpose.” She hesitated. “I could unwind my mind, though. I am much too awake, considering all that has occurred.”

Mae’lyrra raised an eyebrow when she heard Haloke’s words. Purpose. That was exactly how she felt herself. She expected that was how most of them felt. There was so much honor and responsibility connected with dragons that she felt as though she had been called to a higher purpose, a greater destiny. It lightened her heart to know that Haloke seemed to feel the same.

“I would pour you some wine if you’d like, but I would not keep you from sleep either.” She said, half-hoping that Haloke would agree to a drink. Mae’lyrra was tired herself, but she was used to stay awake and work on a few hours of sleep. “In any case, I should make sure Baloryx is not causing trouble.”

“It would be an honor to share a drink with you tonight, Mae.” Haloke confirmed, her own dragon releasing a long yawn, exposing his tiny but sharp rows of teeth. She scratched underneath his jaw, feeling his full weight slump into her shoulder. “Why don’t we put Baloryx and Forge to rest and come back down for a drink or two? I am sure they will sleep well until we get back.”

With a bright smile and another squeeze of Haloke’s arm, Mae’lyrra nodded and went to retrieve her own dragon hatchling. Baloryx made soft noises which surprised her as she hadn’t been sure a dragon could, but didn’t move much when she carried him past Haloke. “I’ll meet you here.”

Once she had been taken to the quarters she would be staying in for the night, she put Baloryx down on her bed. It was hard but it seemed the Metal Nera had brought extra blankets so she would sleep comfortably. The dragon certainly seemed to find it so, as he laid down after circling himself twice and promptly closed his eyes. Mae’lyrra leaned down and placed a kiss on his scaly head, pausing there for a few moments. She could watch him sleep forever. A beast that would one day become so mighty and fierce and dangerous now seemed so calm and quiet. She supposed it was the same with humans, though they were decidedly less impressive. Smiling, she stood and left the dragon to sleep.

“Fair well.” Haloke grew transfixed with Baloryx as Mae’lyrra placed him into her arms. She cooed at him as if he was a child she wished to impress or to see smile. “Come, Forge, it is time for you to rest.” She scooped the scaly hatchling into her arms. He glanced up at her through lidded eyes, tail wrapped firmly around her arm as his head bounced against her chest. “You were born a day or two ago and you are already rotten.”

Bobbing the creature in her arms, she returned to her own corridors. Huffs of protests escaped Forge as he realized his fate, his claws fastening to the fabric of her shirt. “I will be with you soon, love. Come now.” She rested the mighty beast against the pile of blankets stacked on the cot. What mimicked a whine escaped Forge, a series of high pith rumbles following suit. She pressed her forehead to his, laying a kiss there after a moment. “I will not be there for long. Rest now, and I will hold you close soon.” It took her a few moments for Forge to grow tired of his hysterical fit, curling around with pleading eyes. She bowed her head respectfully to the now resting creature.

She hobbled down the stairwell, making her way to the tavern bar. Her foot tapped nervously. No. Forge would be okay. She was more worried about the poor bastard who he may have sunk his claws into had he decided to slither out of the cot.

It took a few moments of searching but eventually she saw Haloke with an impatient expression. Mae’lyrra made her way to the woman and nodded. Somehow she felt as if they were just two mothers having put their children to bed. But she didn’t have any children. None she had given birth to, at least. Could the bond she already felt with Baloryx compare to that of one between a mother and a child? Mae’lyrra didn’t know - couldn’t know. Part of her doubted she would ever know. But those were thoughts for another time.

“Now that the little ones are sleeping…” She gestured to a table nearby where there was room for the two of them. Saying no more she merely gestured for Haloke to sit down beside her. Then she found two mugs and a jug of wine and poured for both of them. A moment later, she raised hers toward Haloke and smiled brightly. “To new adventures and good friends.”

There had been a time where Haloke feared the thought of having a child of her own and the responsibility that came with it. She adored the little Nera at home, but knowing they had their own caretakers made peace. Tucking Forge in today, however, made her heart flutter and her chest warm. She adored the feeling of caring for her baby.

“To good friends, and to mighty beasts.” She bounced the mug against hers with an appreciative nod, leaning back her head to take a decent swallow. Keeping the jug cradled in her hands, she gave Mae’lyrra a warm smile. “I am grateful to have met you, dear friend. I imagine you did not expect to be thrust into such an adventure. It is curious how quickly everything can turn upside down. I will admit, it has been a childhood dream of mine to be the tamer of such a magnificent beast. I did not expect it to come true so literally.”

Nodding, Mae’lyrra thought to herself. It was safe to say that none of them had expected the events of the past few days. She was slightly surprised to hear that Haloke had dreamt of being a dragon tamer when she was a child. Mae’lyrra supposed that a lot of children wished for grand things and deeds, but she had never pictured herself to win glory or renown. And seeing a dragon in the flesh was certainly not something she had ever thought would happen. But while she often found herself dwelling on these thoughts, the reality was that they were here now and they were dragon riders.

“You are kind. I am grateful for your company as well, Haloke.” She said, setting her cup down. The wine was strong and good. “None of us did, I think.” She said reassuringly. “I wonder what these next few days have in store for us.” Mae’lyrra said with a shrug of her shoulder. She studied the Nera around them for a moment before fixing her eyes back on Haloke. “But we will found out soon enough.” She smiled. Sitting there guessing as to what might happen the next day would do them little good.

“I am not certain.” Haloke admitted, nervous. “I know that I am going to spar with Breaker Osamer and look for equipment for the journey ahead in the morning. We do not have a lot of time here in the tribe. In a traditional case, I would be here for weeks on end. Where this travel will take us, I am not sure. I imagine Melindre has a clearer idea as to what is next…” She nibbled her lip, placing her cup on the table. “I would just like to imagine we are going to be able to find a place where we can raise our dragons safely.” She thought of Forge growing large. It was a suddenly unnerving thought. How could her small child grow so large so shortly? She inwardly hoped he could remain as a neck warmer for a little while longer. “In any case, I hope that we do not run into the same trouble. I am not fond of roasting men alive.” She lowered her voice, a humorless smile on her lips. It did pain her to think of their deaths. She had never killed before today. She brushed it aside. It was them or her. Orestra could understand. “As fun as it can be to best them in combat~”

Her smile faded for a moment as she thought back to the men she had killed recently. While she was ferocious in combat, Mae’lyrra never took pleasure in ending lives. She knew it was battle and it had to be done, but there was no pleasure in it. Sighing, she fixed her eyes on the table for a second before looking back up at Haloke. “I hope so too. But I fear it will be difficult to hide the fact that we have them. Especially with all the fighting back in Cobrol.”

As usual, Mae’lyrra didn’t think twice of it when she reached out and clasped Haloke’s hand in both of hers. Among her tribe, physical contact like that - a hug, a squeeze of a shoulder or an elbow, a kiss on the cheek or a gentle, reassuring clasping of hands - was not strange. It was natural and normal. The Sunfeather tribe were less reserved in this regard than other peoples perhaps were. Mae’lyrra gave Haloke a sympathetic look and sighed again. “I fear that there will be more killing in the days to come. Know that I take no pleasure in it either. But I will defend myself, my dragon and good people like you with my life. The spirits will guide my spear and if they see fit to call me home, then so be it.” Mae’lyrra said before giving Haloke another reassuring smile. “But first there are friends to be made and wine to be had.” She finally let go of the other woman’s hand and took her cup of wine and raised it once more.

Haloke opened her mouth, only to close it as her hand clasped around hers. She briefly felt some warmth from the contact, surprised by it, only for her face to soften at the expression of friendship. Her shoulders fell. “I hope you know that I will defend you and the remainder of our group in the same manner. I have faith that with strength like ours we will overcome whatever evil stands in our way.” She knew she was going to fight tooth and nail to keep her newfound child safe. Well...in a sense, children. Forge was a precious part of her life now and there was nothing anyone could do to tear her from him. She slowly released her as she loosened her grip, letting a grin form on her lips as she scooped up the cup in her hands. “Aye, both which are much deserved.”

Flashing the Nera woman a bright smile, she nodded and eagerly drank the wine in her cup. When she set it down again, Mae’lyrra smiled to herself, letting her eyes wander over the Metal Nera around them. It warmed her heart to know that she had found a friend in Haloke. It made her feel closer to her companions and reinforced the notion that they had set out with a purpose and were bound by their souls to this calling. This was their fate. What they were born to do. Deep within her heart, she realized now that the spirits had always known and that they would be there to guide her for the days to come. They had never left her and she had no reason to believe that they would now.
 
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Purpose at the Bottom of a Pint
Collaboration with @Elle Joyner

The dim lights of the tavern were oddly comforting after a long day beneath the hot sun. Only a few patrons lingered, most still at the feast or else having gone off to their respective homes. Tiriok had reserved a quiet corner for himself, having parted from the feast table and revelry of his group somewhere shortly after Oleander had stumbled back from shooting with the tribe members. Pin pricks of pain had begun to needle across his forehead, and for the second time that day, the first being after his and Mae's conversation by the river, Tiriok felt the pressing weight of stress digging itself into his skull.

A drink, decidedly, would numb the ache and help to quell the creeping strain for a little while, anyway. So with a tankard of sturdy root ale in hand, he sat and he savored the momentary peace.

For a little more than an hour, he worked his way through the first, then nursed a second and when he'd made it halfway through, his eyes caught sight of the familiar sullen faced man wandering in from the dark streets.

The tavern was a gross concoction of sweat and alcohol that perfumed the air and hit you like a wagon full of feed when you swung the doors open. The smell was so strong it was almost as though it was being aged like a fine cheese and Leander couldn’t help a grimace when he walked in. If the cool air of the eve had not been so frigid he would have continued to wander the village with his thoughts but when his cheeks began to turn pink and he could no longer feel his fingertips, he had no choice but to seek comfort elsewhere. And sure enough, his heavy boots brought him to the tavern where he could drown in the pathetic man he had become overnight.

Leander headed to the bar without bothering to look around the room. He didn’t care who was there. All he needed was a drink to forget about what Melindre had shown him and to dull his sense of smell to make the tavern bearable. He tossed a couple of coin on the counter as he sat at the bar and rested his head against clasped hands held against his face. The bartender looked at the shining pieces almost as though he didn’t know what to do with them. Nera almost bartered exclusively by trade and a paying patron was bizarre to the barkeep. Leander looked at the man unamused. “Well… aren’t you going to bring me my drink yet?”

Watching the exchange, Tiriok chuckled lightly and rising, he made his way alongside Leander and reaching into his pouch, produced a small, silver bead, holding it out to the bartender, "Mithral… if the merchant who traded it to me's to be believed. I imagine that'll buy my friend here a round or two."

Taking the bead, the tender's mouth split into a wide grin and pocketing it he made he way to fill a mug, bringing it back a moment later and slapping it before Leander, "Enjoy…"

Sinking into a seat, Tiriok shrugged, "Coin's a bit confusing round here. Can't make much with it that'll last long. Turns out you've got impeccable timing there, lad. I've a question for you."

Leander side eyed the Phoenix Knight sitting next to him. His hand snaked around the mug and as he brought it to his lips he paused, “...we aren’t friends.” His attention turned to the drink and it warmed him as he sipped the ale. The tips of his fingers tingled with the sensation of a thousand tiny needle pricks as the blood returned to them. And the natural tone of his skin was overcoming the pink hue that had kissed his cheeks from the cold. Leander hesitantly returned the mug to the bar as his eyes floated over to Tiriok once more. It would seem as though he couldn’t escape the clutches of people’s whims that night and he wondered if he could annoy the knight into leaving him alone.

“Great” he couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice. “..who are you again?”

Rolling his eyes, Tiriok's fingers flexed on his own mug, "It been a long day. If you'd prefer to compare the weight of your manhood to mine another time, great. For now, I'd prefer to dispense with the uncivil fortifications to your pride and have a conversation."

Taking a sip, he set his cup down, "Those boys, I'm sure I needn't tell you, are woefully unprepared for this mess they've been thrust into. Milo has some skills where speed and stealth are concerned, but he's about as prepared for combat as the kitten he looks to be and Casimir might have a bit more preparation for a fight, but his attitude could ferment wine. Way I see it, there's little purpose in us being here if we can't help to improve some of that. Your reputation precedes you, where swordsmanship is concerned… but it means nothing if we lose the Riders. If you're prepared to help me in this, I could use you."

“Oh, but great and powerful Phoenix Knight, your manhood is much bigger than mine!” Leander exclaimed as he raised his mug to the air in declaration of Tiriok’s superiority before knocking back a long swig of his ale. The mug came crashing down onto the bar that drew the attention of the bartender and the few others in the tavern. He sighed heavily, staring into the warmth of the amber liquid in his mug. It was only a moment, but he had forgotten the vision, and whatever crass was behind his voice was missing when he spoke again.

“I don’t really care about that damned Amalfi or the squire boy.” His green eyes scanned over to Tiriok again. “...the Amalfi might appear more scared than the squire kid but you need to be more worried about Casimir. He would sooner turn and leave you to die than raise a sword on his own. That moment of courage back at the Klerion’s house was misplaced… he would rather dirty someone else’s hands than his own.” Leander brought the ale to his lips and let the mug rest on them for a moment. It would be better to let the squire boy be killed before he inevitably had someone else killed. He drew a taste of ale before placing the mug back on the bar once more. “I don’t see the benefit in training the squirts when my purpose here is to protect Melindre.”

"Melindre seems pretty damn capable. Lest you forget, she was the one who first made the suggestion, ealier today. And it may have passed your narrow focus, but this isn't just routine training for the hell of it. These people are meant to be the guardians of this country and whether or not that's something you care about…" Here he held us a hand, "I know, you don't. But regardless, it matters. If there's no world left, I think even your small realm of what is and isn't important may find itself upset. That being said, if you aren't willing, I've no doubt Elwyn will aid."

“Ahhh…” his tone came with suggestion. “Is that supposed to entice me, that you will replace me with Elwyn?” Leander managed a small chuckle before drinking his ale to the bottom of his mug. He snapped at the bartender who glared at him but obliged with another ale. Elwyn was competent enough but she did not have the same depth of experience. He knew that the runts would only learn so much from her. And he had forgotten Melindre standing at his side as she alluded that he could help them until Tiriok mentioned it. Another grimace. ’....that damned Melindre.’

"Frankly Leander, I haven't the energy to entice anyone, even if I thought it might work. The bare facts are this isn't about you. Or me. Or any one of us. I've no interest in entertaining egos. It is about ensuring the survival of the Verlendians. I intend to do what I must, even to my last breath." Finishing his mug, he eased to his feet, "You make the choice whether or not you'll do the same. I don't imagine there is a force in the known world that could move you to act, otherwise. Now… as I've said, I have little energy left, and we've a long road ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight, Leander."

“You’re right…” Leander added before the knight took his leave. He seemed more serious than he was before as he lost himself in the comfort of the ale. Leander didn’t remove his gaze from his beverage as he continued to speak. “...it has nothing to do with me. But a word of advice…” he paused and allowed an unmistakable grin to show as he turned to look at Tiriok. “When you’re trying to butter someone up, you should at least buy them dinner first.”

"Drink's are more appropriate, I think… And look at that. I've covered as much…" Tiriok noted, lightly amused, "I reserve dinner for lasses just a bit prettier than you." With a wave of his hand, the knight turned and strolled for the door.

 
 THEME


Marcellus;Quicksand;LB;

THE
RIDERS
of VERLENDIA

THE JOURNEY FORWARD...


Morning dawned bright, but chillier than the prior day. Here and there, bits of shopping wrapped up their time in the Nera village and before the sun had reached its might over the treetops, they were escorted to the gates with supplies for their journey east and a warm farewell from their hosts.

The road to Atheno wound alongside the river, before eventually curling up into verdant hills of low grass and great yellow clumps of rocket and butterweed. The brief respite and the night’s comfort in soft, clean beds had done some good for morale but the winding tensions of uncertainty had once more tightened around the group as they walked with purpose towards the Pale City.

Though she seemed vaguely distracted, during their first rest Melindre had taken the riders aside to illustrate to them the next step in the process of training their dragons. In but a few short hours, they had already begun to grow, and their mighty nature had become considerably more prominent. No longer could they curl about their rider’s necks, but instead had to walk alongside, heavy footfall leaving deep prints in the dirt path. Melindre explained that soon enough, their wings would fully unfurl and they would be ready for flight. It would be up to the riders to teach the creatures not only to leave the ground… but to return, as well. This would be where the bond would be most firmly understood and where the process would tie the pair together with a deep and unyielding connection.

Night fell across the mountains early, and drew with it what little remained of the day’s warmth. After a short while the frigid air began to bite through skin and the lack of a moon, shielded by dark clouds and barring light by which to travel, forced them to make camp for the evening. Across the horizon, like ghosts in the distance, the towering cobalt beacons of Atheno could just barely be spotted through the inky blackness. A small fire was scrounged together and watches set, as they bedded down for the evening.

It had not gone unnoticed among the more perceptive that since leaving the outskirts of the city of Holiveil behind, they had picked up a tail, but every effort to suss out their pursuers was met, most frustratingly, with little avail. Eventually, camp was made in a field near the river and Oleander and Haloke took to the fire for first watch. Tension mingling in odd dissonance with weariness of a long days journey, the pair kept a stalwart eye on their perimeter. It was nearing the end of their watch when the deep silence of night was pierced by an unsettling noise. The sound started as a hiss, nearly overlooked beneath the breeze, but soon grew in both volume and quantity.

Unmistakable now was the light, eerie cackling laughter echoing in the fields surrounding their camp, as faceless figures, no bigger than the likes of Milo and Casimir slinked with ease through the tall grasses.

__​

TAGS || @KatSea, @Owl, @Verran, @ze_kraken, @Morgan, @Pupperr, @Custodiet Teh

Synopsis and Interactive Elements |

Following a lengthy journey, the party pauses for a night's rest. Night has fallen and a storm brews on the air, distinctly coupled by your own sense of uneasiness. For some, the notion there is an unmistakable sense that you have been stalked by something for some time since leaving the Metal Nera's home, but that notion becomes reality as Oleander and Haloke sit for first watch.

The silent night is shattered by the sound of laughter…

You're swiftly woken - if not by the unnerving laughter then by the call of the watchers. As you stir, you are greeted by no less than a dozen sources scattered through the fields and in the darkness shapes skitter about, like swiftly moving, featureless children.
 
Oleander Dapplegrey

The chill in the wild air had been a welcome refreshment for the errant Dapplegrey. Since the joy-filled night of their arrival and the painful morass of the subsequent morning, Oleander had been attempting to be a little less...wild. Even the most cordial of hosts could become soured if their guest turned from singing horse into braying ass. So spending most of the next day recovering and the rest of her trip wandering the village with an entourage of Neralings wanting to shoot her gun again was the best thing to do, she had decided. Even with her headache only now starting to fade, there was little the Equisrian had to say about the village, other than what an absolute pleasure it had been. Oleander felt reaffirmed in her goals, her conviction a little more stable now that she'd witnessed first hand a small scale version of what she'd like to see her people become like.

By the final day of their stay though, Oleander was getting restless and ready to return to the road. By her fairly vocal reckoning, they were quite far behind in distance traveled. While a pleasant stay, it was another start and stop and start and stop. They needed a few days of hard marching to put some distance between them and whatever was after them. For most of the day, Oleander could have been found within earshot of anyone in their group, from Haloke to Milo, to Hexar, and back again, ready to give her 'sage' advice. Not that it was needed but that did little to stop her from sticking close to the group.

And stick she did, right up until they began giving their thanks and farewells to their metallic hosts and exited the village proper. Finally, on their way to the Pale City of Athenos, Oleander began to stretch her legs. Running up to point and for most of the day, she would sprint off down the road, checking the road and surrounding wilds before returning to the group with an unnecessary flourish, either waiting for them so she could crest at a hill or popping out of the undergrowth in an attempt to surprise them with her alleged stealthiness. It was all in good fun but was at least serving the practical purpose of ensuring they weren't walking into an ambush on their way and served to at least keep whoever had been attempting to tail them from getting too comfortable.

As the day began to come to a close and the chill of night began creeping back in, Oleander began to feel tense. They'd traveled not nearly as far as she'd been hoping, the dalliances of dragon training with Melindre had set them back and now here they were. Too far from their destination for safety and too far from where they departed for help. Helping to setup camp, Oleander's gaze kept falling on the tree line, watching the darkness continue to grow.

Naturally, she volunteered for the first watch, likely unable to sleep this early anyways. Pleasantly surprised to be joined by the ever chipper Haloke, Oleander kept her eyes locked on the trees. Her gun resting atop her shoulder, powder and shot primed.

The night was a place of comfort for Oleander, having been raised away from the lit torches of civilization. It held the promise of new days, secret liaisons between lovers, and of course the beauty of a warm summer eve. But this place, with the tall trees and oppressive chill, it held all the signs of danger. Her Herd knew of these nights, where the sound of beasts was replaced by the wind. Where the snap of a branch could turn the tide of a pleasant evening beneath the stars into a night of fitful anxiety.

Just as Oleander had gone to ask Haloke if she knew any good songs to sing away the fears of the night, did the hissing begin. The hairs on the back of her neck went up and her tail began to swish. Her body seemed locked in place before snapping out of it to ready her musket. She whispers down to the Nera nearby.

"Suu, Hahlokey, ye dnnae suppose th' wee'uns o' th' metal twa-shanks wid be th' type tae foolow us fir a' full day jes tae pull ah jest oan ye? Fur ah'ament th' type tae think they're sae inclined..."

Bringing the musket to her shoulder, she aims over the head of the figures, exhales, and gently squeezes the trigger. A thunderous crack of a response to the laughter. Even before the noise stops echoing, Oleander already cleaning out the barrel and loading another shot.
 
Closing Concerns
Kyen'delsia

Kyen’delsia stretched and breathed the frosty morning air. For a singular instant, she could almost believe that she was home. Then, she sneezed, and Elsha’fy sprang onto the bed, prodding her nose into the young woman. Curious at the sound. Flicking away the tear before it could truly form, Kyen’delsia sprang out of bed. And promptly crashed into a wall. Frustration curling her lips downward, the Klerion ignored the concerned yip her dragon gave as it clattered around her. Dragging up her memory, Kyen’delsia stepped precisely out the room and down the hall. Wishing all the while that she had grabbed a hairbrush before fleeing her home. Hoping that nothing shorter than Milo was in front of her, the young woman made it triumphantly outside.

Cocking her head left and then right, she immediately sighed and slumped down. Elsha’fy stuck her head into Kyen’delsia’s lap. Obliging to scratch the dragon’s scaly neck, she drummed her fingers and waited for someone to show up who could escort her through the unfamiliar land. Much of the day past that way. Hanging onto some soul and gabbing away about nothing as her ears cheerfully listened to the babble of words and the river. Yet, ten minutes after the villagers bade them farewell. Kyen’delsia flashed whoever was her escort companion and burst forth into a song filled with sunlit delight. Calling upon the spirits to gather round and enjoy a tale. No promise of deals, nor mention of payment, just a simple ditty. They came swirling around at the edge of her senses, always invisible to her blind eyes yet present touches gracing her soul. Although, to any of her companions who could not grasp the magical energy swirling around them, they simply felt the song tugging at their hearts, seeking to uplift them.

It did not escape her notice that some members whispered of followers while Melindre laid out the next step. Which was…well, if Kyen’delsia was honest, she felt it was rather obvious. Let the dragons grow up some more. She wished it were a bit more concrete. After all, in the numerous stories telling dragons, many of them were about daring deeds and saving all Verlendia from whatever deadliest peril in which the nation lay! And, while Kyen’delsia could see, well, feel, the need to let the dragons grow. But what would come thereafter? What did it even mean to be a dragon rider, truly. Those stories of adventure, power, and glory were, while enthralling, generally filled with grim danger and battle. Now, Kyen’delsia never saw herself truly as a coward, but could certainly blindly accept that her lack of vision left her in a precarious combat position. So, what did a dragon rider do, after their precious beast had grown, when they weren’t becoming tales her Sister would collect and sell to whichever library, bardic college, or ostentatious noble wished for it? These questions buzzed about Kyen’delsia’s head as she laid down to rest as she made a firm note that, no matter how comical it looked, to walk to Melindre tomorrow. Biting her lip as her dragon pranced about while the cool of evening found them, she felt the keen feeling of being backed into a corner. Hexar claimed to be on her side, but she could not forget their first conversation and the timing of the attack on the Iron Citadel. Melindre claimed they had a draconic destiny and fate, yet her own faith in Lioris made the Klerion wonder at the Seer’s words, no matter where they had come from. She needed an ally. Someone who she could actually trust. The question was, who? Kyen’delsia hadn’t talked to everyone yet, not really. The sands of time seemed to churn against her as she fell into a fitful sleep plagued with dancing visions that swayed between delight and nightmares that were as fleeting as her smiles.

When Kyen’delsia first heard the laughter, she thought she was still dreaming. Wakefulness soon snapped her head upright as the chill cheering sapped at her spirit and will. Any voice the young woman would have had died within her as the sound confused her ears. There was no telling exactly where they were coming from as Elsha’fy, seemingly emboldened by her rider’s distress, let an unnaturally deep, booming growl that counterpointed Oldeander’s sharp crack of the musket.
 
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Mae'lyrra



Throughout the day she had bounced between her companions, engaging in conversation with those that shared the inclination. Not everyone seemed eager to talk, however. It didn’t put her off though. No, Mae’lyrra would study her victim for a while and consider how to best start a conversation before she would pounce on them. When they ran out of topics, she would leave them and move to walk on her own again. Well, Baloryx was always there at her side, of course.

It was strange to look at him and see how much he had already grown. It made her heart swell with pride and at the same time it sent a jolt of pain through it. Although she had no knowledge of dragons and their physique, he seemed strong. Broad-chested and thick-limbed. She never doubted that he would become a fearsome beast as he continued to grow. But the very fact that he grew so fast made her sad. Mae’lyrra wasn’t sure she was ready to let go of the feeling of him hanging around her neck. Scooping him up in her arms and pressing her lips to his scaly head would soon be a thing of the past. So, as she walked she would occasionally look down on him and smile - a smile of pride and sadness. When Melindre had educated them and prepared them for the days to come, she reminded herself to put away the nostalgia and focus on the task at hand and her duty. It was her duty to herself, her people and her brothers and sisters - the dragon riders. Mae’lyrra reminded herself of this many times. That also made her smile.

When the light of day began to struggle and eventually retreat behind the mountains, darkness approached. With it came a chill wind that moved Mae’lyrra to quickly seek the heat of the fire. For a while she would sit and sip spiced wine she had traded herself to, and gaze up at the stars as they appeared in the night sky. This was the way she enjoyed living. Always moving, each night spent around a campfire, star-gazing, story-telling, playing games or seeking the spirits. That was her true nature. Mae’lyrra of the Sunfeather Tribe. The Red Wanderer. A noise that could be interpreted as a laugh or a scoff escaped her - a sharp breath of air through the nose. She was in a land now, however, where she had not been before. Where people didn’t seem to know her by her monikers. Mae’lyrra’s finger toyed with a feather woven into her hair and she looked down on it. Black as night. A raven’s feather.

She was in her tent, tending to her spear when she heard the thunderous crack of Oleander’s weapon. It startled her so much that she nearly flung her own weapon out of the opening of the tent. Corax, who had arrived some time after she had left the campfire, fluttered his wings and made an annoyed screeching noise. When Mae’lyrra shot up and headed out of the tent, she nearly knocked him from the cord he was sitting on. Only when she had taken two long steps away from the tent did she turn.

Where is..?

Baloryx was already moving toward her. He had been curled up close to the campfire after refusing to move away from the heat when Mae’lyrra had urged him to follow her. She had smiled and patted the sleepy dragon on the head. Now, he looked much less peaceful than he had then. His eyes were wide open and focused. His stance had changed to one much more prepared and ready. An explosive energy seemed to be contained within him, but lurked just beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed. When he reached her, he pushed his head into her outstretched palm and exhaled sharply. Something he often did, Mae’lyrra had discovered. She thought it was some sort of greeting. Whatever it was, his breath was hot in the chill night air and she felt it against the skin of her leg. And then she wiggled her naked, cold feet.

“Oh…” Was all she could say when she remembered that she had kicked off her boots in the tent. But there was no time for that now. Her lips pressed together and she considered her options. Instinctively, the spear twirled as she thought. She couldn’t send Baloryx into her tent. He had grown and he would be all alone in there. She would have to protect him. Mae’lyrra then nudged him to make him follow quickly and moved toward the campfire where there was better light. At the same time, she heard her companions move around her and out of the corner of her eye she caught the shape of a child. Or something the same size, she thought. She reached the campfire and readied herself. Then another shape and another.

“What is that laughing?”
 
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Haloke Wildfire

The morning had been spent sparring with the Breaker Osamer. A valiant and gifted Metal Nera, that was for certain. He had kept Haloke on her toes and made her consider changing her previous strategies. It was no longer about brute force. Each segment of magic had different routes and tactics to consider. How was she supposed to battle against the might of well...bookworms? Despite having been bested a multitude of times, Haloke was quick to show her gratitude for the lessons he gave to her, whether or not he realized it. Besides, she missed having a good spar partner. The closest sister who could have kept with her had been Ajei. She tired her out, however, often having more energy than Haloke thought possible. Her heart ached. At least, had her request been fulfilled and the letter brought to her family in a rush, she could have some peace of mind.

For the meantime? She had meant to gather a few materials while she was still in the tribe. Reassured that Forge hadn't torn their room apart while Haloke was away, she gathered a few trinkets from her tribe. There was a spiraling arm band that she had taken from home. It didn't have much sentimental value other than as an object to better her look. Considering its fine material she thought it might be enough to trade it in...Her magic may not always be useful in combat, especially in a tight space, and she needed something larger than a measly dagger. Deciding it would be best to go with Elwyn, the two made their way to the marketplace where Haloke handed over the metallic arm band. From her work in the forge back at home, she knew that a good chunk of that material could be serviceable with the creation of other trinkets. In return, she received a glinting sword sword and a sheath to come with it. It might not hurt to ask Elwyn to teach her how to use this a little better...

She could figure out in the meantime.

Now prepared to leave the tribe, she felt a knot form in her stomach. It had begun. Now that she was on this journey, she might as well finish it. She'd survive this. She'd have to. She had Forge. She had Mae, Milo, Elwyn, Tiriok, Oleander, Kyensi...She supposed Caismir and Leander as well. She may not have known all the newfound friends all that well, but she had faith in them. Correction. She had faith in Mae'lyrra's spear. She bit back a chuckle. Orestra, she amused herself.

While tempted to toss Forge around her shoulders, feeling somewhat unprotected without him there, she could see how much bigger he had gotten. He wasn't as massive as a mastiff just yet. Still....he was getting there and as strong as Haloke would have liked to think she was, it wasn't going to be good to have a horse sized dragon curl around her back. To fix this problem, Haloke guided Forge's tail to curl around her arm. She did occasionally have to buckle down on their journey to make sure his grip remained strong, but it did seem to pacify him for the time.

Gods, he's going to have a lot of energy, isn't he? He's already tugging really hard...Oh, that is my child for sure.

Now that the day's journey had come to an end, Haloke offered herself to guard along with Oleander. Hell if she understood what she said half the time, she was jovial company. Not to mention that musket was more than likely to blow a hole through anyone who stepped too close. She laid her short sword out in front of her. Forge's head laid lazily in her lap, molten eyes drooping.

"Hey...look." Haloke nudged her hatchling. She had gotten a little boost to her magic in the previous days. She wasn't going to spend too much time on it, not wanting to spend it all on a silly trick... With a snap of her fingers, light flooded a small area in front of Forge. It was no where near bright enough to illuminate the area, but just enough where the dragon could watch as little figures danced in the grass. He wiggled in her lap, eyes locked onto the scene. She thought he was going to spring forward, attempting to grasp the shadows in his claws, before his little head raised from her lap. Haloke followed suit, looking towards where Oleander had positioned her musket and fired off a warning shot. Haloke swallowed, not wanting to ignite a flame just yet. She gripped the handle of her short sword, getting to her feet as Forge jumped to the ready.

"This can't be anything good..." She grumbled to herself. She recalled telling stories to her littlest sister when she was a child about figures that lurked in the dark. She supposed this was due justice from Orestra from taking delight in that torment...
 
 THEME


Marcellus;Quicksand;LB;

THE
RIDERS
of VERLENDIA

A SERIOUS CONVERSATION...


Elwyn thumbed the hilt of her new blade at her belt as the companions marched along the road to Atheno. The Nera had traded it for one of the scales that had fallen off Ironjaw during his sudden and violent growth spurt. She had offered to pay with real coin, to which the Nera had responded, rather bluntly, they had no use for the coin of a kingdom as distant as a foreign land to them.

“You’d be good to not lose or break this one,” Tiriok had chided as she returned from the market with the sword clutched between her hands in its sheath.

The blade was of equal quality to any of the swords she had seen come from the forges of the various craftsman houses and guilds of Stavinburg. Double-edged and as long as the span from her shoulder to her hand, it was as well-balanced as it was sturdy to the touch. Flexible with just enough rigidness at its base, Elwyn had found little to complain about the weapon save for the flecks of gold that adorned its grossguard unnecessarily.

“Ah, it be only gildin’ with the poorer metals, my Marbrand friend,” the smith had told her. “The sorts we can’t make to jewelry is all.”

She had supposed that it would be fitting to carry a blade tinged with gold astride a golden drake, even if the impracticality and excess of a golden-cast crossguard rubbed against her moral sensibilities with about as much grace as a whetstone to a rusted edge. Besides, the practical side of her was quick to remind her there were only so many around her to steal a sword from and somehow she doubted Leander’s generosity, especially in light of the fate of Tiriok’s own leased blade.

After purchasing the blade she had retired once more to the baths to tend to her bruises, now a canvas of blues, purples, and greens about her person and ease her aching muscles. The wound inflicted by the Bloodmarked troubled her still, and her slumber had been wracked with terrible visions of blood and flame. She had awoken that morning before the dawn, sweat clinging to her brow and Ironjaw staring intently at her with his brilliant amber eyes.

“Be still, little one,” Elwyn said as the dragon came to investigate the source of her unrest, nostrils trailing smoke as his eyes creased with worry. “Be still…”

Now, though, Elwyn mused as Ironjaw strut alongside her, height at a level with her hip, ‘little one’ no longer felt appropriate. Ironjaw had left behind the old crest of golden scales about his neck like a snake shedding its skin, and in their place was a bony breastplate of steel-like plate. The dragon’s head was lined in an impressive crown of ivory horns that slowly faded into blackness at their base that were both regal and reminiscent of the tusks of a wild boar.

His fascination with all things golden lingered, though, and he still intently attempted to rob Elwyn of the amulet about her neck whenever the opportunity presented itself. She spent much of their trip walking alone with her dragon, hand pressed against his shoulder to steady herself on her strained and aggravated leg. The skin’s surface still glowered an angry red, even though hardly the impression of a scar lingered.

“I don’t know if you can understand me,” she said to Ironjaw as the two strode along the trail. “And to be honest, I don’t know why I’m even talking to you - that is, with my voice, anyways. I’d always heard tell of dragon riders being able to speak with their minds and..”

Elwyn paused, shaking her head at the silliness of it all, lowering her voice for fear the others might notice.

“When I was a girl, anyways. There were plenty of dragon riders Sister Moira used to tell us about, and for a while I even thought I might become one.”

Ironjaw gazed at her with those amber pools, head cocked to one side and swaying on his slender neck. She could not be certain, but she believed she could see recognition in those reptilian eyes. Emboldened by that fact, she continued.

“I just never thought Orestra would bestow the honor upon me,” she finished flatly, eyes glancing to Casimir ahead of her. “Or would deem it that I would play such a role in such a pivotal time.”

The dragon huffed as if in agreement, inky black smoke flaring and trailing out and into the otherwise crisp air about them. It spiraled up and blew away, lost in the wind above that sent ripples through the verdant hills about them. Elwyn grew silent and enjoyed the landscape, a fresh contrast to the charred wood and smoke-covered stone of Stavinburg just days before. The air felt cool and burned her nostrils when she inhaled like they had the first day of her departure to the Citadel, and her mind lingered on her fallen siblings.

Your death will not be in vain, she vowed clutching her dragon-chewed amulet about her neck. I swear it unto death.

Day gave way to night, and their party made camp. Nestled in her bedroll, Elwyn had been given second watch by Tiriok with some mumbled words about her health, not that Elwyn could complain. She settled into her bedroll, curled up against Ironjaw for warmth, and swiftly fell into a shallow slumber.

Elwyn awoke suddenly not to tortured images of her subconscious but the cracking report of musket fire. She jolted to alertness, heart threatening to expel from her ribs with as much force as the musket ball. She glanced about, ears ringing, eyes adjusting to the sudden dizzying flash of wakefulness. Oleander stood over the group, musket clutched deftly in her hands. A column of white, powdery smoke hung in the air and the scraping of the weapon’s cleaning rod filled the vacuum occupied by its fiery roar.

The chaplain had only seen the weapon fired a number of times in Stavinburg, usually by cocky showboating sellswords and nobles attempting to woo ladies with their wealth and dashing rogue-like airs. She knew better than to let their owners dissuade her, for she had seen the damage a musket’s bite could do to a man in plate.

Stumbling quickly to her feet, fetching her sword, Elwyn stood with blade in hand alongside Ironjaw, thankful she had been too tired to remove her boots. She recanted a swift primer used to urge her fire magic to wakefulness, flexing her arm muscles as she had been taught to stir the gift. A few seconds passed and her blade was aglow with flame.

“Ironjaw and I will go look,” she said to Oleander. “Stay by - keep the gun handy.”

Then, weapon in hand, Elwyn strode from camp alongside her dragon, illuminating the way forward with her glowing sword. The darkness gave way to a orange-yellow glow that lit the path before her by two or three paces, casting the rest of the world in the inky black outlines of a horror tale meant to scare children into staying in their beds at night. Laughter echoed through the night, and Elwyn began to trace it to its source.

Among the grass, as Elwyn pushed further out into the darkness, voices in quiet whisper chattered in the tall grasses, a harsh hiss of a sound that seemed to have no less than three sources, bantering back and forth.

“What’s it doing? Horse-lady! What’s it doing. No we’s going closer! Stupid, stupid!”

“Shh! We needs to be quiet! We wants it… Loud boom stick! We wants it and we’s gonna--”

Stupid! Look! Is too many… Is too big. Crushed, we’s get. Crushed and trampled and smushed and splat!”

“We’s is being careful! We’s is being--”

Ironjaw’s head swiveled to the source of the voices, huffing indignantly at their shrillness. Elwyn stayed the drake with a gentle hand and followed his gaze to the silhouettes shuffling about in the dimly lit path ahead. She cleared her throat and spoke up, projecting her voice outward as she was accustomed to on the battlefield.

“Hold and state your purpose,” she declared flatly, Ironjaw stirring eagerly at her side at the sudden shift in her tone.

After the events of the past few days it sounded like a stranger’s voice to her own ears - this was the voice of Elwyn the Dawn Maiden, not the meek girl who laid claim to that title clutching a little flaming sword alone in the dark. It was a proud and noble tone, carrying with it both a warm fire and sharp edge that pierced the veil of night as swift as a razor through parchment.

It wasn’t a girlish scream, per say, but it certainly would not be one spoken of as ‘blood curdling’ or ‘ghastly’. One Eirblin stumbled into another, the third spinning around and bolting entirely as his companions scrambled over each other, at one point knocking their heads together.

Toppling onto his backside, the smaller of the pair rubbed his forehead, and finally looked up to Elwyn with an indignant glare, “What’s it sneakin’ up on us like that! What’s it mean, tellin’ us hold! We’s is here first! What’s its business??”

“Purpose, Stupid!” The other muttered, elbowing his counterpart.

“Purpose! What’s its purpose?”

Damned Eirblin, Elwyn thought bitterly, realizing she was unlikely to suss out any useful information of use from the creatures.

“I suggest you answer my question first - you’ve already seen my companion with the musket, and I dare think she has had ample time to ready another shot for the next one to speak out of turn,” Elwyn said, adopting the voice of the Dawn Maiden again as she glowered down at the diminutive creatures before her.

“Speak out of turn!” The first chirped, with no small amount of mockery behind the tone, pulling a face and sticking out his tongue, “It speaks too much.”

“We’s is hunting, Nosy.” The other continued, his bulbous eyes fixed on Elwyn still.

“Not its business!” The other barked, whacking his companion in the arm, “Stupid!”

“Stupid?? Yous is stupid, Stupid!” He returned the smack, and soon enough the pair were a flurry of limbs on limbs.