The Curse of the Wounded King

Sable laughed as Brill feebly tried to fight off her cub. It was a futile attempt at best, and she hated to call Kinicki off of a kill, but sadly, Brill was necessary until Tristan thought otherwise. She waited a few more seconds before whistling sharply. Kinicki jumped back, but he didn't return to her. Instead he just prowled, looking for an opening to attack the bleeding barbarian. Sable sighed and walked up, whacking him on the nose. Kinicki snarled and bit down on her arm brace. Sable bit him, and he finally backed down and gently lapped at her brace with his leathery tongue.

Sable looked at the barbarian, looking at each feature and slowly piecing apart his lineage. Next, she looked at that rogue bastard, Brill. He would be one of the first to "disappear" if she had any say in the matter. Sable sighed and knelt down beside Kinicki and looked at his sliced ear. It was barely even enough to tear his skin, but superficial wounds were always the most painful ones to bear. Sable scratched the underside of his jaw and smiled as she slowly stood.

"Tell me, were you actually trying to hurt my cub?" Sable sneered. "Oh, and to the rest of you that start talking in the negative about my cub...I'd watch out if I were you," she said with a smirk that could scare the Devil himself and a tone fit for Hell. "Wouldn't want to get hurt or anything now would we?" she said as she brushed a bit of hair behind her ear, revealing a nasty, gagged scar that curved down her neck and onto her shoulder.

Without batting an eye, she walked back to the pile of bodies with Kinicki and set them ablaze with a flint from her pocket. She watched as hair and clothes crinkled and then became ash. The smell of burning flesh drifted on the wind and she said a short prayer of peace under her breath. She looked at the sun and frowned. They were wasting time here in the open, soon it would be dark enough for the group to be easily ambushed.
 
Desmond stood up as he was pulled up. He rubbed his head and was about to thank Tristan but noticed he had bolted off toward the barbarian. He ran behind Tristan until he saw a battle unfold before him. The tiger was attacking Brill and the Barbarian was facing off against Tristan. Desmond was baffled at what was happening and rushed to the side of Tristan as he began to interrogate the barbarian. After that the tiger was drawn away and Desmond felt at ease. Desmond then watched as the interrogation begun. He stood still placing his blade in his sheath and kept a look out just in case there was any other problems that had to be dealt with.
 
Xavier watched the quarrel from a few meters away before smiling. He thought it was quite nice that Brill went over and challenged the tiger. Maybe the tiger would get rid of Brill for him, and he wouldn't have to dirty up his hands getting rid of an individual. But sadly, Sable called her tiger cub off. The moment where one would have been rid from the group was gone, but no matter. He will eventually find a way to get rid of some of the unfavorable members of the group. And Brill was the first on his list. He then took notice of Sable with her flint and steel, and how she commenced the lighting of her bodies, and he slyly smiled, though not in the direction of anyone, nor in the sight of any. Maybe this girl was just as sadistic as he was. He would have to determine that later.

He felt like now was the time to make himself seem more favorable to the rest of the group members. Xaviers hands moved to his back, before his right grabbed the bow, and the left a steel tipped arrow. He then moved the arrow into the bow before pulling back on the string. He then moved closer to his allies, who began their interrogation of the barbarian. The barbarian now had no means of escape, one false move against any members of the party, and Xavier would shoot at a vital part of his body. Maybe in the same shoulder the crossbow bolt hit, so he could feel more pain?

"You might as well respond to him barbarian, there is no way you are going to escape. One move against any of us, and I swear I shall let go of my arrow, where then it will bury itself in your body. And the chief is not enough of an answer, give us more!"
 

There was a barbarian, right here, left behind from the attack on the village, no doubt! Not one given to fighting, and having only her concoctions to rely upon, Arlette was certainly not at the forefront of apprehending him. In fact, the one who managed to capture the man, by all appearances, was Brill. She was not given to be particularly fond of him, given his behavior so far, but she could not argue that he appeared to be incredibly useful for situations that involved pummeling something. The tiger was close at him, though, and he seemed to be fighting it as much as the barbarian. Unfortunately, Arlette could only stand behind Tristan and watch, since she was not equipped to handle going toe to toe with a barbarian or a wild cat.

It was to Arlette's great relief that the tiger was called off of Brill, since she did not fancy trying to bandage him back up again. The woman, however, seemed less than daunted by the fact that her pet had nearly caused serious damage to one of the band of travelers. In fact, she seemed bold enough to threaten them which was, in Arlette's opinion, the last straw. She stood tall, bold, though her height was not as great as most of the people she was traveling with. She might not be physically imposing, but to have one antisocial woman threaten the people that Arlette had sworn that she would do her best to protect?

"You, you're not better than the barbarian bullies, foul woman. Why are we allowing you to come with us, if we cannot depend on you to have our backs in our time of need? Your untrained, idiotic brute of an animal nearly wounded one of our own and that's all you have to say for it? You should be so lucky if I do not poison it in your sleep, to keep it from doing us more harm than good!" Arlette did not even pay the woman the respect of looking at her and instead she moved with angry strides to stand near Tristan again, who held the barbarian down and was interrogating him.

"I do not have anything that might be of use for interrogation right now, but if you so desire, I can try to gather those things. It would require taking him prisoner, however, and I don't know if that would be an option for us to pursue. If he does not know, then we would be best off to put him out of his misery and seek answers elsewhere. " Her tone was far gentler now than it had been minutes ago. Her eyes were already scanning the area and trying to think back to where they were in the wild. The herbs in this area were scarce, as it had been a village site and picked clean of most useful things.
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The barbarian actually laughed, letting his head fall back against the ground. "You're gonna go and hunt down barbarians? You and this sorry lot of milkmaids, backbiters, and halfwits? That pox-addled whore threatens you to your face, the fool of a bitch! I've told you what I know of where the steel came from; aye, you could kill me, but the way I see it, you lot need all the help you can get, and I've no loyalty to a mad chieftain, nor the bastids that left me to rot. I could tell you how many you face, and offer my sword in your fool's errand, but I've told you what I know, you horses's ass, and if you don't believe me, then you can go stick your dick in the bitch's beast, for all I give a damn!"
 
"Gods and spirits," Brill muttered, pushing his arms out to hold the rest of the party at bay, "It's a barbarian, not a gods damned Wound." He leered at Xavior, clearing his throat and spitting away from Marrow. "What, boy," He asked Xavior, raising an eyebrow, "An unarmed, wounded man on his back with a sword at his throat still too frightening for you and your arrow?" He turned to the girl and her tiger, a smile blooming across his cheeks, complimenting the darkening bruise from earlier.

"Oh lil lass, If I meant to kill your cat, I'd use the pointy end…and you'd have a dead cat." He paused, thinking about it, "And I a new cloak." The tiger seemed to sense his energy, growling low in its throat from around the crowded group, circling, always circling, "Leave it to a woman to hide behind some trained dog. You talk big for such a little, soft thing." Running a hand through his hair he stepped away from the barbarian, pushing his shield back onto his back, "Don't you worry," he joked with a chuckle, "I'm not for raping ya. 'Sides," he nodded his head toward the tiger, "Don't know what you've been rutting with."

Tristan looked at him sharply, the crass mercenary almost too much. Holding up both gloved hands, sword in one, Brill backed away. "I jest, I jest. But if I may, Coinpurse monk, let me say my piece."

The Caldrane monk opened his mouth to speak, but Brill interrupted, leaning down over Marrow with another wide smile. For a moment he only looked at the boy. There was grit in his eyes, a sort of angry fire so strong in youth. Deterimination, honor, rage, and violence all burning in that defiant glare. In him, Brill saw a familiar young man, perhaps too drunk with power and his own skill. He had potential, this one. Marrow had held off the cat, taken a crossbow to the shoulder, torture, and was still conscious. That took doing.

He went for his belt, pulling an unused wine skin from it and dropping it by his good hand. "We reward the boy for his information…not much for him to protect now that his kin up and left him." Down came his sword, biting into the earth. He leaned on it. "Brahmsberry wine, boy, straight from the city. Good year, spent a whole week's pay on it…err, another man's week pay, but you get the drift. It'll put a fire in your belly. A hillfolk man once told me your wine is bitter and weak. Try some of my own stock, a gift for your cooperation."

"I hardly thin-" Tristan began, but Brill turned and glared at the monk over his shoulder, his own hand gripping the hilt of his sword. The sudden ferocity in his glare silenced the monk for a moment, taken aback by the usual crass and easy nature of the mercenary…what replaced it was steel, raw steel. He would say his piece.

"Chief sounds like a strong man. Carrying all this good steel to your people. He do it himself? Trip by trip?" He was smiling again at Marrow, friendly and open. "Had my fair share of crazy patriarchs, boy, and I'll have tales to tell you when you're leading us to this…camp of yours. But first I need to know a few things."

Holding out his hand, he held up four fingers. With each request, a finger vanished into his fist. "First," one went down, "The number of your people. The second is who your chief's trusted are. This kind of steel needs transportation. I'm betting my gold that he and a few others brought it back for ya. I need their names and faces. Third, what were you looking for? Boss say kill and you put your sword to women and children? That how the hillfolk do battle? Against the weak and the defenseless?" One finger was left now, and he rose, keeping his sword in the earth. "Lastly, that man with the falchion lost his family here, his loved ones. You can pay for them with your life or your service. Commit the latter and you will be guaranteed the former so…life in service till your debt to Tristan is repaid?" He nodded back at the monk, "Or death here, among the dead, and without your blade in your enemy's throat?"

He turned on Tristan, yanking his sword form the earth as the barbarian spoke. He had chosen life, albeit gruffly and begrudgingly, but he had. Off came the glove on his right hand and the sword went into his palm. A quick stroke and crimson drops rained upon Marrow and the ground beneath him.

"This man is not yours to kill, Tristan." He spoke directly to the man, all smile gone from his face. "I invoke Tarthas, Spirit of Oaths, to bear witness to my words." He clenched his hand, blood seeping from its corners. He held it out around him, then drew a small symbol on both the shield and his sword, the rune of Tarthas, the symbol of all Oathsworn in the Civilized kingdom. "This man is under my protection. So long as his debt remains unpaid, none of your company can take his life lest he threatens yours. None may harry him, harm him, or curse him. Should he run, I will hunt him down and pay the price of this oath in blood. The words are said, they cannot be unsaid. By Tarthas, I swear."

Tristan was silent, taken aback by the unexpected transformation. Brill had shed the careless mercenary for a moment of what almost seemed like authority, noble born authority and ancient rites too rare among the common to be coincidence. In that moment, however, the steel was lost and Brill laughed, sheathing his blade and pushing away from Marrow. "Question him all you want, then have our healer bind his wounds. I'm searching the ruins for other survivors to put to the blade, any are free to join me if they're done threatening the defenseless." Pulling his cloak around him, he paused briefly in front of Arlette, holding out his hand with a sheepish smile. "Overdid it a bit, Lady mender…can I parlay a bit of your service for a coin or two? I've a trinket left from my last employment if that will forgive my rashness."
 
Lazily meandering towards the scene, Juliet hung around the edge of the barbarian's interrogation. There was no need for her to care whether he lived or died, but she did. In fact she cared for him for the sake of being done with this quest; Juliet watched the interrogation hoping the barbarian would break quickly, so they can be on their way.

The contortionist pursed her lips and resisted the urge to harm Sable. The big cat didn't bother Juliet, but the idea of starting a fight with a stupid girl did. Without her tiger she was nothing, and Juliet didn't waste her time with people who were nothing. Juliet tried not to look at the pile of bodies. A lump formed in her throat as she could smell the burning flesh. Her people were being defiled by someone who didn't understand their ways. "Wicked wicked."

Juliet waited until Brill's request before asking, "Arlette can...can I help you if you do gather things if you do?" She wanted to feel helpful again after seeming so sluggish and weak against the barbarian.
 
Brill was no more a street thug than Tristan was a monk. Any man who could recite a Tarthas Blood Oath had not been raised in the gutter.

As the barbarian returned, slowly, to his feet, Tristan nodded to Xavier and Desmond, a silent request that the two keep their eyes on Marrow. "You have four answers to give," he told the savage.

Marrow re-sheathed his western blade and dusted himself down - a deliberate, mocking pace. "There were four-score of us when we attacked. You Heartlanders had little fight in you. So I'd say there are four-score left." Tristan's blade-hand twitched, but went no further. "The Chieftain rides with the heads of twelve families - our alphas and champions. It is they who rode out with him on the last full moon, and returned with steel from the South Pass." He grinned again. "Would you have me draw them?"

Xavier nudged the man in the back, the drawn-arrow digging his flesh. "Keep talking."

Marrow chuckled and went on. "As for what we sought, besides cunts to fuck and throats to open..." He paused, almost imperceptibly, the only sign of unease he had shown so far. "The Chieftain said our god had called for the blood of the priests."

"The Hill Tribes serve no gods." Tristan snapped.

"We serve our chieftain," Marrow countered. "And if he says the spirits speak to him, then we must take him at his word."

"And where will this madman take the prisoners?"

"That was not the fourth question."

Tristan lunged and grabbed the Marrow's shirt, twisting as he pulled his throat against the falchion blade. The barbarian, easily a foot taller than the falconer, smiled and gave his answer as Tristan threatened him. "The Chieftain spoke of a sacred place, a stone circle by the blood marsh, where he would speak with God."

"The Braedun Tors," Arlette spoke up as she made the connection. "Five leagues from here. It was used by the old druids, in the King's Age."

Silence followed as the information was given. Smoke drifted around them, fed by the bodies Sable burned. It was as though they lingered at the edges of the spirit world, a toll of death behind them and a prospect of bloodshed ahead. Tristan's blade rested on Marrow's throat, his life in the balance. But the spots of Brill's blood, smeared in the sigil of the Tarthas Oath, gleamed as brightly as his steel.

Tristan pulled away and released the marauder with a shove. "Watch him, Xavier." was the only acknowledgement he gave that the Oath would be honoured. Then he turned and called to the others. "Scar, Kendrick, ready the horses. We leave within the hour." He moved back down the hill, a passing glance to Brill before he moved to Arlette. "Find herbs to clean the wounds..." He peered back at Marrow. ...even his. He is no use to us with a fever. Take Juliet if you need to. Desmond!" He called back to the traveller. "Go with them and keep them safe."

He looked again at Brill, but said no more. Passing him, Tristan moved down the hill to where Sable stood, feeding the pyre of bodies cut down from the trees. Her tiger lazed nearby and Tristan ran a hand across its fur, scratching between its ears. It was something he had learned the creature would permit. But he remainined cautious. The beast was still young and full of temper... a mirror of its mistress.

Tristan drew up beside Sable and together they watched the funeral fire. "I said I would show you to the Caldane Order. And I have done so. This is it." He indicated the ruins around them. "The last monk died in this village, and with him dies the Order. I am sorry your search must end this way." He noted the scar on Sable's neck and wondered if she, too, was alone now. What little Sable had told him since they met was that she had spent her childhood in the care of several monasteries, the Caldane Order among them, and that now she sought a reunion for reasons of her own. "Now I bid you go. You have threatened these men and they will not take that insult lightly. I fear for your safety, and Kenicki's. Take one of the horses if you must."

Smoke encircled them. Tristan prayed the woman would take his advice, before further enmity tore this fellowship apart.
 
The scene had been silent when Kendrick had arrived, in a moment of tension that lasted barely seconds before it had turned into an oath and a stream of confessions that he had merely heard stories of. After it was all done, he informed that the surrounding battlements were of similar condition, bodies scattered the ruins as if it had been a busy day at market and they had dropped on the spot. A small pouch of gold had been looted from the barbarians corpses, which Kendrick reaffirmed after a look from Tristan, had not come from any source of the monks reserves or persons. Additionally, he pulled a finely crafted parrying dagger from a slot at his waist, showing the same metal that the rest had been equipped with. Replacing his new possession in his belt, Kendrick went to the funeral pyre to join in the discussion.

"The Braedun Tors?" Kendrick had almost snarled during his filling-in. "I wish that place were only inhabited by ghosts. One doesn't cross the resting place of druids and leave with impunity." Grimacing under his hood, he spat onto the ground. "I'd recommend an offering, were we able to come across one. The druids's legend is still notorious today, and it's a matter of speculation if even death can fully stop the influence they had over those grounds."

"There's no trades between here or the Braedun Tors, not that I'd suggest purchasing an offering. Knowing druids, it will be hard-wrought from nature itself and be fresh." Kendrick spoke as he pulled a monks shawl from the ground, placing it into the funeral pyre. Clasping two fingers between his other fist, he gave a slight bow and continued his walk.

His respects paid, Kendrick moved to the side of Brill to observe the healing, inclining his head for a moment. "If you're going out for another look, try the southern gateway. I think I might have heard something groan." Leaving it at that as Scar arrived at his side, he set out with her to retrieve the horses.
 
Scar studied the dirt beneath her as Kendrick spoke. How could he regret teaching me? She would have to have a word with him if she was allowed the time; so many things had changed. As the group advanced towards the barbarian, her face went red with rage and embarrassment. They think I am useless! She didn't even bother guarding her expression, the group was so focused on their enemy who now lay on the ground. It is one barbarian, a wounded one at that, and they react as if they were faced with an army! And the cat - She forced herself to stop thinking such negative things, remembering that she would be with these people for quite some time. She heard the tiger's mistress say something threatening, though she couldn't make out the whole statement. If the group was to continue working like this, she would be spending much more time with Kendrick, practicing her skills, catching up, and avoiding the others. I must try to get closer to Tristan though... He is the one who began this quest and it is he who I must remain allies with. No longer focusing on the group, she calmed down, resolving to speak with the monk if the opportunity presented itself. Her attention snapped back to the group as Brill spoke, making some sort of oath that she was not familiar with, and she strode over to the group to hear what was now being said. As Brill finished what he was saying and the barbarian gave his information, she listened intently and kept her face blank. She raised her eyebrows when Tristan finally gave orders and she had something to do. "Scar, Kendrick, ready the horses. We leave within the hour." She nodded before turning on her heel and walking off, a smile spreading across her face as it went out of the others' view as she walked up to Kendrick. She tried to suppress a cough, but it escaped when she began to speak and she silently damned her lungs for their sensitivity.

"So, uh... What do you the of the group?" She asked while grabbing some food for the horses. It was a small amount and not nearly enough to be considered a meal, but she knew that they would cooperate much better if they had something in their stomachs.
 
He moved back down the hill, a passing glance to Brill before he moved to Arlette. "Find herbs to clean the wounds..." He peered back at Marrow. ...even his. He is no use to us with a fever. Take Juliet if you need to. Desmond!" He called back to the traveller. "Go with them and keep them safe."



Desmond nodded to Tristan and walked off waving his hand signalling to the other two to follow. He didn't know what to think about this situation. A crazy cat lady that is maniacal, two thieves that seem like they have a dark past, Kedrick a strong warrior, Askari the rougish type, two sensible ladies, a barbarian, and then there was Tristan the leader. This wasn't a good match. Desmond could see that the group would fall apart unless Tristan was able to keep us under control or abandon a few of the members. It's quite interesting that none of them have tried to kill each other, or me. Desmond walked farther into the brush looking around for valuable herbs. He looked around and saw a small group of plants. "Well, I wonder what types of plants these are?"

Desmond approached the herbs pulling them from the ground looking at them. He pulled many plants up and only recognized three plants. Mos-Revant, this plant had a long stem with three little leaves at the top. It is mostly used as a garnish that royalty put on their plates. The second plant was Wetterlilly, which was a plant that had a flower surrounded by little thorns that would prick you when you touched it. Some people say that it is poisonous but it was only poisonous to animals. The last plant was the most important one of the bunch, it was Nemonfoot. He read about this when he was younger, it was used as sealant to stop the wound from bleeding. It has a long green stem with blue tips at the top it's green leaf. There were many around so Desmond collected them and put them into his pocket. He stood up and walked back toward the group. Desmond thought to himself about why he was still with this group when he could be searching for the weapons. Maybe this group may be able to get him closer to his objectives. Sadly, while doing this he would have to deal with Tristan's barbarian problems.
 
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He just sighed and shook his head at the cocky mercenary's comment. Brill was quickly pushing himself lower in the ranks of Xaviers personal book of respect. And Xavier obviously was not afraid, and he knew he was probably not going to kill the barbarian either. Due to the circumstances, the barbarian would have had to respond, or risk death. Some of the questions Brill asked, Xavier was wondering the answer to, and he also did have a personal question though the answer to that was obvious. That the mercenary Brill was a belligerent oaf with no respect for anything or anyone, but who was Xavier to question him? He was a conniving and thieving bastard himself.

Xavier then spoke to himself, to quiet for anyone to hear "Sounds like a strong person indeed..."

And then Brill had to invoke his Oath of Tarthas, which obviously now promoted his distaste for Brill, but made him think that he was a little bit more intelligent and not actually trash from the back alleys of a run down town. He then looked towards the barbarian. He was a pretty resilient one, considering he could take all of that damage to his body and yet still stay alive. And Xavier knew that he was not a threat to the party anymore, and placed the arrow he held back in its quiver, while the bow went back around it.

Xavier then watched Tristan add to the flurry of questions that the barbarian had to suffer, and he found most of his words vulgar and distasteful, but what could you expect from one who probably thrived from licking the dung off of his leaders boot and seemed to have no level of intelligence at all? His attention then turned to Arlette as she spoke of The Braedun Tors. He has heard of this place once before, and Arlette summed up the gist of it. He made the conclusion that they were probably going to go to that location next.

His train of thought was then broken by the command he was given.

||Tristan pulled away and released the marauder with a shove. "Watch him, Xavier."||

He nodded at Tristan before patting his shoulder as he walked by, and whispered "You should keep an eye on that mercenary and Brill..." He then looked towards the barbarian and sighed as his left hand moved to the left side of his waist, and he grabbed the dagger tipped with poison before tossing it in the air periodically. "If it wasn't for that damned oath... this would have been implanted in your skull right now, but sadly, I now have the boring duty of watching you, is that not pleasant?"
 
"I think that every person here has their own plans, and at least one means of trying to make sure it comes to fruition." he spoke bluntly, not looking at her but on where he stepped as he gathered the horses. "Which means we only avoid conflict as long as the Wounds do." He finished a knot, securing a saddle to his mount. "And unfortunately that includes you, for all I know." Kendrick paused, looking at her until she made eye contact, using what he knew to try and gain a glimpse of her soul.

"I've spent several years on the run, plenty of time for nations and people to change. Done many things I wouldn't have, I've started a bit of a new life off of the remnants of my old one. Then you came along, a beautiful piece of the past, grown up in a time I was not part of. Threatening my new friend, at least for the time being." He paused for a moment, attempting to put together words that should seem to obvious. "What are you doing here, Askari?" he spoke soft but sharply, eyes unwavering in their focus of hers.
 
As Kendrick spoke, Scar began to saddle up her own horse, until one thing he said caught her off guard and she lost focus. "And unfortunately that includes you, for all I know." Her eyes darted along the ground, something that she did when she was sorting through a storm of thoughts. It took her a few moments before she could get herself to make eye contact with him, which she immediately regretted. As he continued, she felt herself get dizzy with confusion, and an unwelcome pain. She knew that his distrust was valid, but a part of her was having difficulty understanding that.
"I had to leave." She had finally put a short sentence together, but knew that Kendrick wouldn't break eye contact until she had said what he wanted to hear. "I couldn't stand it back home. It got to the point where my time spent away from everyone wasn't enough. So I left. I took some belongings and my horse and left, and one day stumbled upon this group and thought I might be able to find something to do. The rest you already know." She paused, fearing that he wouldn't believe her. "You're my only ally right now. You know that I'm not the type of person who leads. That never changed. Unlike the rest of the people here I'm not ridiculously power-hungry. I just wanted something different and got caught up in this mess." She knew she was ranting, but couldn't stop. Words were now tumbling out of her mouth despite her previous difficulty uttering a short sentence. "You treated me with respect, unlike all of the other men I've known in my life. If that has changed then I'm leaving, because his is more than I had anticipated it would be, and it's not worth it." She stopped speaking, though she had so much more to say, and stood there beginning to regret saying so much.
 
The response was as he had expected from the girl he had known, and his response had already been lingering on the edge of his lips. "I don't mean you to take it personally, Scar. But I've been out on my own for a while now, actively hunted for a whole year by the northern army, in case they hadn't spread the news to the citizens. That fat piece of trash never did like informing the public of his true intentions, did he?" Kendrick referenced the northern general-king. Pausing for a minute, Kendrick grimaced at himself. He disliked having to be suspicious of what was probably his only true childhood friend, even more so for nearly insulting her, but he neither felt it was wise, nor could he, dropping the demeanor that had hardened him to the milieu of a more brutal world.

"What I say is with the most respect, Askari. This is nothing less than a mess that will only implode upon itself, and exactly why I'd urge you to leave, enjoy your parents. Even if they are intolerable, they are alive." Kendrick spoke with an ounce of disdain for her ability to simply leave her family, but not vehemently. Grabbing the reigns of the horses, starting them at a slow trot back towards the encampment, he added a final thought once again after meeting her eyes. "I won't try to command, nor even tell you to leave, but it would be a wise man's decision to disembark. No history, sympathies, or emotions can change that fact, for both of us." Kendrick broke the gaze.
 
Scar just stood there, speechless. Her suspicions had been confirmed, he had changed far too much. But in some ways, so had she. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, returning her face to a blank, emotionless state before opening her eyes and striding back to the group, all the while thinking of what it was that she now wanted to do. I still need allies, and so I shall stay... For now. We'll see what happens and how things unfold. She didn't have much of a plan, but that was nothing new. If worst comes to worst, I'll simply run. It's one thing I never needed to learn...
 

At the behest of Tristan, whose zeal for preserving the life of even those who were enemies seemed both a beautiful optimism and a chance of danger for the group, Arlette would be collecting herbs to help mend the men and ease the ravages of their lives as warriors. This was no different than her shop, unless one counted limited resources and the fact that she was out here exposing herself to the dangers of the wilderness. With the girl, Juliet it was, wasn't it? she felt that she was not so protected. However, she would still have gone, just the two of them, but it seemed Tristan was a step ahead in this plan. He told one of the men to accompany them. Arlette had no strong feelings toward him, one way or the other, until they'd reached the wood where the plants were growing.

Arlette's thoughts were at first absorbed, trying to decide which herbs she would need for her task. Before she could fully make up her mind, however, Desmond was away tromping through and yanking out plants by their roots. Arlette's cheeks brightened with scarlet and her mouth was open for a second as she stared in disbelief.

"What in the seven hells do you think you're doing?" she asked, her tone as completely shocked as she looked. There wasn't even anger, just pure disbelief. She saw him pocket some of the more useful ones and it was all she could do not to tell him off on the spot. Her disposition was level enough but her temper, with the cat girl and Brill knocking about and getting himself injured had worn her patience thin. "Don't go about shoving plants into your pocket after you rip form them the earth, I don't know who taught you to look at herbs but I would suggest you take the ones from your pocket. The sap can be used to protect wounds from the outside, but the leaves themselves cause an itching rash."

Turning away, Arlette scanned the ground for more of what she would need. There was a small patch of a plant known as yassow tucked beneath an old log, a lucky find as it was often plucked away near villages due to its properties in blood clotting. She got down on her knees to gather several leaves of it, tucking it into a pouch at her waist.

"Say, Juliet, how did you end up - ah, magnificent! This will be useful."

Another lucky find, anthirrim to reduce fever or treat infection if applied in a poultice. Arlette dug through the soil to retrieve the bulb of the plant, finally ending up with a perfect little root in her hands. She smiled at it, brushing away the dirt from its skin before placing it in her pouch alongside the leaves.

"Sorry, where was I? Oh, how did you end up traveling with a bunch of - how fortuitous!"

A final bounty, a patch of hex violet to treat bruising and lacerations, nestled beneath the root of an old tree. She plucked a handful of the flowers, nearly depleting the plant of its original purple glow. She whispered an apology to them, kissed her finger, and pressed it to one of the plants. Content with her pouch of herbs, she stood again, fully aware that her tunic and trousers were covered in dirt.

"We can head back now, yes. But, Juliet, do tell?"
​
 
Juliet giggled at each interruption. Watching Arlette work was beautiful, almost as beautiful watching the old twin aerialist with her troupe. She crouched down to look at a flower, her golden hair falling down her face and brushing the petals. "My group, that is circus group, was attacked by the same barbarians who attacked this area." Juliet paused and stood up smoothing out her outrageous outfit. I should change or at least hide these bright colors. "Tristan found me in a tree. We knew each other from before."

She kept things short intentionally, but couldn't help feeling like she was being rude. She only asked to go with Arlette to get away from the tiger. "Oh dear, your clothing are covered in dirt. Would you like to wash off or just leave?" Throwing a look at Desmond, who had just been reprimanded, Juliet rubbed the back of her neck. This band...quite interesting. Only Tristan could find a band like this. "How...how did you two join this...bunch?" Directing the question at both of them was her offering for Desmond to redeem himself, especially after embarrassing himself twice.

Then again at least he had done something for the group.

Since joining, she kept herself reserved from the group. Her specialty as a contortionist wasn't useful except for entertainment, and her knives skills were hazardous against the large men they were facing. Juliet had gotten used to having an audience to entertain, but here no one needed laughter just yet.


 
Now this was a strange turn of events, even considering his chieftain's sudden religious zeal. The same warrior who'd shot him, now turning and swearing a strange oath to protect him? Marrow glared at the one left to keep an eye on him; "Aye," he replied sardonically, "Pleasant as pickin' daisies on the hillside. Why don't you stick that blade up your own ass, at least then you'd be doing something useful with it."

Smearing the blood off his face with the back of his good hand, Marrow punctuated that scornful statement by spitting on the ground at Xavier's feet, before picking up the wineskin that had been left for him, glancing around at the rest of this motley group as he straightened up again. He uncorked it and sniffed at it, before taking a sip--spirits, it did burn! He took another, much larger swig after that; he was not fool enough to turn up good drink, and alcohol had a funny way of dulling one's mind to pain.

He cast his eyes over the two women gathering herbs with that idiot who'd thrown the sworn watching over them; at least those were two wenches that knew their place. He curled his lip as he watched the one that had been ordered to tend to him, and winced as he shifted his injured shoulder thoughtlessly; he would've removed the embedded crossbow bolt himself by now, but if it'd be tended by her, well then. Even barbarians knew the wisdom of letting a true healer tend to her craft.
 
Des.jpg
He looked at Juliet and Arlette as they both started talking to him. " I'm sorry, I didn't know that it would compromise the plant, ma'am. I guess I didn't study enough when I was little, a common mistake." Desmond then turned to Juliet giving her king eyes and an honest look. " I was on an adventure when Tristan and some of the other members of the group came to me. At the time I was playing my flute by the water, the song was Old Man By The Water. The day was rather nice, until I heard about the barbarians roaming the lands. At first it wasn't my intention to join the group but after putting some thought into it I may have a better change of getting where I need to go. Desmond then took the leaves from his pocket and laid the leaves in a pile. He pulled his water skin from his pack and poured some of it on his hands.

"I'm sorry about earlier, I am usually not this clumsy. It's most likely because that was one of the real fights I have actually have. During my childhood I was never taught to fight, but to instead stay behind and do what ever else you can. Both my parents were teachers at the local school so most of my days were spent there. So, if I may ask, what are you two doing with this group?"
 
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