The Seed of Life

[Doctor Jax]

Tza'HalXXXXXX
Lumin of the Order of the Lynx

The orc stumbled in ahead of the others, finding their hesitance quite irritating. Yes, yes, they were surrounded by enemies, but at the least they could make their deaths quick, if death did wait for them here. It didn't help that her leg gave her still some trouble, and she would appreciate being able to have a quick sit. However, she was aware in the back of her mind that perhaps she was being overly hasty. Where had this sudden impatience sprung from? She had been in many a tight situation where she'd kept a cool and calm head, the practice of years of meditation acting as a bastion for patience. Now... well, she'd just run headlong into the cellar without a second thought.

She need not have worried, however. Her eyes fell upon the ragtag group in the cellar as Hal and Inara trailed in behind. Charlie rushed towards her and, thank whatever Divines existed, he did not hug her. He did, however, offer his shoulder as a crutch, and she took it wordlessly, the sudden relief washing over her as the pain was alleviated from her injured leg. No doubt, that arrow tip should almost be out of her leg right this minute, but she had other things to focus on.

"I shouldn't have left you," Charlie said, and Tza'Hal snorted.

"Had you not, I would have thrashed you within an inch of your life. You made the right decision," Tza'Hal assured in clipped tones.

Tza'Hal glanced behind her as she heard the door open and close, Hal and Wynleth leaving to grab something, perhaps supplies. The orc took stock of their current situation, finally seeing the stranger who was examining the walls and Trynten on the ground in a cloak bleeding, and Inara slumped against a wall with her eyes closed. Her brow furrowed as she realized she had no idea where Azzara was, but she gave no voice to her concerns. Best not to stress out the rest of their party.

The stranger named himself and offered to... relieve them of their burden, and Tza'Hal scoffed.

"This burden we carry gladly, desert rat. Keep your kind knife," she grumbled as she hauled herself over to the dying man.

Her frown deepened as she examined him. Horrendous slashes to face, a few gashes across the chest, a badly reopened wound to the left arm, cuts and bruises in smaller numbers across his racked form... She remembered idly a crash as a Tainted had fallen through the roof of some building earlier in the fight, and she put two and two together. So... Trynten had a deeper secret. A pity. Perhaps she would need that kind knife after all.

Ach, no. She had had enough of neatly ending lives. The ground thudded, and dust drifted down, and for a moment she was catapulted into the memory of her first true skirmish, the blood and the cries of her fellow brethren felled by Shadow. Yet, that was nearly thirty years hence. They had work to do. Hal and Wyn returned with supplies, and Charlie swiftly moved to do what Hal had told him. As she looked about, the orc realized they hardly had a hand around to help, and she doubted any knew much about medicine. She herself had read countless tomes on human and elf anatomy in her bid to study the Sickness and magic in general, so her knowledge was extensive, but she was not practiced in the art of healing. Well, it looked like there was no time like the present.

Taking stock of their supplies, she immediately decided the gashes on Tryn's face were the worst of his problems. Head wounds bled a lot, and these were deep, dark gashes. His arm was in likewise horrid shape, but the gashes were at least half-healed.

"Charlie, bring those candles closer. I will need a better look at his head. Hal, keep that poker on hand and have Charlie heat it as necessary. It must be white-hot. I dare not cauterize the wounds on his face, but his arm is large enough to fit the tip of the poker. Quickly, quickly, don't dawdle."

She grabbed hold of the herbs bag and dug through it, hoping to see something she recognized. They also had needle and thread, which she put aside, as well as some alcohol which would serve to cure the thread. However, there was too much blood in the way. She'd need a clean view to do anything. She took some bandages from the bag as well and wet them with water and a bit of the alcohol, wiping down some of his face and left arm. The wounds quickly refilled with blood. Ach -- this wouldn't do! She found herself yarrow -- thank goodness -- and stuffed the face wounds first with the small white flowers, then going to the arm. It would slow the bleeding.

"Listen you both, and listen carefully. His arm will need burned shut. He loses far too much blood. He may have ripped one of the main vessels to the body in that limb," the orc grumbled. "It must be done quickly, as soon as the yarrow has set. When I say -- and not a moment before -- you shall press the tip of the poker to the sides of the wounds and sear them shut. He may awake, and in that case, Charlie, you must hold him down. You -- halfbreed, whatever your name is, I care not -- if you've a mind to help, jump in. Hal, your hand must be study, but I will guide the tip myself here. Then, we must set to closing the wounds on his face. If you've a small knife, we may be able to seal those as well."

Her back ached and her hands slightly trembled with fatigue, but the command in her voice was clear. Smoothly she'd stepped back into the skin of a military lieutenant, a clear path set in her mind. The yarrow would seen do its work, and the blood would become tacky and thick, like clay. That was when they needed to strike.

@CloudyBlueDay @Effervescent

 

[Red Thunder]

Trynten Lothorsen​

The black of unconsciousness should have brought freedom in barter. He'd sold his body to the pain; why wasn't he free of it as his mind wandered the unlit paths of dream-wrought horrors, terror now of which only a dim swiftly fleeting memory would linger later when he woke.

When he woke. For wake he would, in time. Once again he'd survived, somehow. He'd survived the hell here as he'd survived it countless times before. It was a familiar place, if completely unwelcome, to be drifting on the edge of a yawning pit of nothingness, of absence. Of oblivion. He was only his mind: body torn, given to the Beast as it rent his frame asunder; soul rotting, its putrid beat within himself a curse that he could not cleanse himself of. His mind alone remained unaffected, uncorrupted, untouched. Untouched that is, save for the dim memory of the Tainted that was Trynten. He wanted to set himself free, to flee the gangrenous infection that had already claimed his soul and body, and to rescue his mind from the Shadow. But that would mean seeking Death. And though it would in time be his lot to greet Death, it was not now. It couldn't be now.

He had to live; he needed to live. There...there was actually someone in his life now. A person to...to care for, and to care for him. Someone that, perhaps, didn't...didn't mind? Could work with him around his problem? It was almost too good to be true, to see her face agai-

Wait, no. She'd only just rejoined. And though their short time together traveling some years back had given him the first real positive experience he'd had since leaving home up to that point, still life had gone on. She had never seen his...problem before today, and remained beside him regardless. Her friendship, or whatever it might be called, was not tried.

Another's was.

Her face disappeared, the dark exotic skin replaced by a lighter one, her rounded ears sharpened to points, and the tight dreds unraveled, revealing flowing brunette waves beneath.

And Trynten smiled. He smiled, in spite of himself. In spite of everything, he smiled. For there had been no fear in her eyes as she'd drifted off to sleep in that inn, and there had been no distrust in her tone as she'd spoken to him since the highway robbers. She'd dealt with him honestly, courteously, even...gently.

And in the dark inn, as chaos continued outside, as a strange elf probed the walls of the cellar for the tunnel entrance, as Tza and Charlie prepared to close the wounds that traced bloody paths across the man's battered body, as Inara lay close by, drifting herself through the pathless lands of unconsciousness, Trynten Lothorsen, bane of his family, host to his own demon, woodsman fated to self-exile, smiled.

@rissa @everybody

 

[rissa]

Inara Belanor

---

In the recesses of her darkened mind, Inara drifted among the hazy landscape of the in-between. She could feel the cool cellar stone against her back, her bow digging into her side as she lay on it, and a soft, soothing sensation she hadn't felt in years. And yet, as close as they felt, so too did the pain that befuddled her body and mind. She saw where the pain began, but nowhere could she find it's end. It mingled with her subconscious, spawning strange thoughts and terrifying visions. On and on it went, until suddenly everything lifted, and for one blissful moment she was free of pain in both mind and body.

Then Inara was one with her body, one with the pain, and completely drained. Her first real thought, when she came to, was of the half-Sur, Charlie. His wide, naïve smile blossomed into her mind's eye and she pulled herself free from the last few clutches of darkness, clinging to his light.

With a moan Inara's eyelids fluttered open and hazel green eyes blinked until they focused in the dim light. "Wyn?" Inara croaked out, her throat hoarse and tender. The Sur, golden to her swarthy, looked down at her and Inara smiled softly and quite confused. She barely remembered entering the cellar; catching a glimpse of Tryn's bloodied body, Hal asking desperately for supplies, and untangling the pack from her bow before the darkness had claimed her. Tears rolled down the cheeks of her fellow Sur and Inara glanced around quickly, her mind whispering the worst.

"Wyn?" She asked consolingly, "Are you okay? I-Is Hal? Everyone else?"

Leaning up on her good arm, Inara hissed in pain as her torso rejected the movement. The ache was so sharp it stole her breath away. Kneeling, Inara took a moment to catch her breath, both hands trembling with worry and discomfort as glanced around the room. Shae Pippa's fellowship, sans one, surrounded her. She glanced back at Wyn, left arm hugging her torso, wondering why tears streaked down her face.

Then she saw Trynten.

Hal, Charlie, and Tza were all around him: Tza looking grizzled and commanding as she leaned over his bare chest-- Inara glanced at Charlie, at the poker in hands glowing orange with heat. It took a moment for her mind to register what it meant and then with a horrified expression, she crawled forward. Four gashes cut across the woodsman's face, his arm, which had been sewn shut by the Naveri not three sunsets ago, lay open with bloodstained flowers shoved into the wound, and all across his bare body were scratches and bruises in a variety of colors. Tears leaked from her own eyes as she continued to crawl forward. Inara reached out and took the woodsman's hand, squeezing it tight.

Inara prayed to the Maker for his survival, for all of their survival.

Casting her eyes away from Tryn, unable to witness what she knew was bound to come, Inara stood up, barely, and glanced around the cellar once more. Though unsteady on her feet, Inara made her way towards the foreign elf. He still probed the cellar walls for the tunnel entrance, a ball of Light within his outstretched palm illuminating his path. Dark hair flowed down his back, longer than her own and Inara reached towards him hesitantly, touching his arm lightly to gather his attention.

"Thank you," Inara said softly, "You saved my life…"

She glanced back down at Tryn's mangled body, salty tears streaking her sand and dirt stained cheeks. The foreign elf, whose name she still didn't know, had saved her life, but who was going to save Tryn's?

"May I help?" Inara asked, her voice throaty and full of emotion. "What should I be looking for?"

 

[Effervescent]

Tza'Hal took command of tending to Trynten's wounds with Charlie and Hal as her attentive aids. Granules of time fell through the hourglass of Trynten's life demanding that they be swift and calm. Charlie, despite his previous panic, took to his tasks with determination, lighting the candles and super heating the iron stoker. He handed it over to Hal as the tip glowed brightly like a frozen flame upon the blunt tip. Hal nodded as he took it in hand, turning back to look upon the angry wound oozing blood from Trynten's shoulder. This was not a task he was familiar with. He had witnessed it only once and even then he was quite young.

The instructions Tza'Hal gave were clear and concise. He didn't know what yarrow was, but he understood he was not to press the hot iron to the wound without her command. Djavi hadn't looked back at the gathered even as Tza'Hal addressed him. His fingers glossed over the stone wall, magic shimmering upon hidden runes until a low clack resonated in the small spaces of the cellar. And in an instant it was as though the mortar dissipated allowing the stonework to crumble. And as the stones quickly fell, they revealed a dark passageway. Then, and only then, did Djavi turn back to the group.

Kneeling next to Charlie, Djavi took a few of the lit candles over towards Tza'Hal. He turned one of the sticks allowing the wax to drip in a small puddle near where Trynten laid and stuck a candle within it before it hardened. The efforts were continued to attempt to bring more light around the injured man.

Wynleth's voice came quietly to Hal's ears, and he looked over to the Sur in momentary contemplation. But he merely only gave a nod in response as he turned his attention back to Trynten, awaiting Tza'Hal's instructions as the iron began to dim ever so slightly with time. It still shown bright and vibrant with heat, enough to where he could feel it emanating to cause perspiration upon his brow. It was all a good enough distraction for him. Hal did not desire to dwell upon the comparisons between them and the Shadow.

The crashing and booming of spells died out to a harsh silence up the stairs. Djavi regarded Inara with a short dip of his head in response to her thanks. But the elf continued his silence and remained within the background of the scene until the silence caught his attention. He turned his head up, eyes roving the ceiling slowly and thoughtfully until he set them upon the staircase leading back up to the main floor. Once again, without explanation, he padded quietly around the group to head up the stairs to investigate.

@Red Thunder @rissa @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @Doctor Jax

 

[Elle Joyner]

[bg=#B8904D]

---

Wyn watched only half consciously, as Tza'll barked out her instructions to Charlie and Hal. She was competent, and that was encouraging, but Trynten's skin was an ashy grey color, beads of sweat collecting across his forehead and while his expression seemed peaceful enough, the gashes that were visible appeared deep and drastic. The heated tip of the poker that Hal held in his grasp was a terrifyingly bright orange, and while she wasn't personally familiar with how it felt, having a wound cauterized, she could only imagine it felt torturous. A part of her desperately wanted their companion to open his eyes, to show some sign of life, but for this she had to assume it was better if he stayed unconscious.

Beneath her fingertips, she felt Inara stir and pulling back her hand, watched as the elf straightened upright. Through a daze, she half-heard the questions asked of her and slowly she shook her head, but Inara had already turned away and seen Tryn, and that seemed explanation enough. She wanted to offer some sort of encouragement, but it all seemed in vain. She wanted, intensely, to hold on to hope and to afford that hope to the others, but it seemed so grim... so...

A crunching sound stole her attention and shifting, Wyn pushed along the wall behind and up to her feet as she stared in awe, at the crumbling stone. He'd done it, the stranger, he'd found the opening. Breath expelling, Wyn turned to the others, "I'll ready the cot...." She murmured, moving to where she and Hal had discarded the supplies. They would need to be swift - for even as the sound overhead seemed to dissipate, there was a sense that the danger was far from over. Once his wounds were closed, Tryn would need to be carried, and the cot would make that easiest.

---

TAGS: @Effervescent, @rissa

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[CloudyBlueDay]

CHARLIE REDDEMAN
@panic! in the cellar​

Tza's words, despite abrupt and worried, made Charlie believe there was hope. For if Tza'Hal were preparing to try and save a man who someone already thought to be dead, then he surely would make it through. The orc seemed to have that kind of power, or so Charlie believed. One as sturdy as her did not have false hope.

Charlie moved over with a candle in hand, watching as Tza hurriedly shoved some sort of flower into Trynten's wounds. He watched this in a confused manner, keeping the candle close to where she moved, eyes following intently, waiting for instruction. However, Charlie paled [further] when she gave the order for him to hold Tryn down. "Me?" Charlie whispered helplessly, staring back at Tryn, who had now suddenly donned an eerie smile, sending shivers down Charlie's spine. Did people smile before they died? He tensed at the thought.

But however terrified the boy was, he was smarter then to disobey Tza'Hal, and clever enough to know that if he flaked out now that Trynten would die. So he set the candle down and reached his hands out to grip Tryn in a position that would keep him on the ground if worse came to worse. Suddenly, there was a click, and the walls crumbled, revealing the hidden passageway that Charlie had struggled to find. His mouth opened slightly at the sight before watching the foreigner leave his post near the newly found passageway to kneel close to him, picking up a candle. Charlie leaned away from the man, searching his form warily as he placed it near Tryn and then start up the stairs.

Charlie spared a momentary glance over to Hal, their gaze catching, and Charlie looking as if he'd seen a ghost. Inara's voice from behind made Charlie flinch, for he had not realized she had woken. The young-half elf was about as jumpy as a scared mouse. Looking back at Trynten one more time, an idea dawned on Charlie. "Tza," He started. "I-- I have a small knife. Here," He said, pulling his back closer to his side and pulling it open. Charlie pulled the Seed from it, settling it into his lap softly, pulling out the knife, and slipping the Seed back into his bag. He leaned over with his whittling knife open in his palm for Tza to see.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Tza'HalXXXXXX
Lumin of the Order of the Lynx

The monk sweat as she watched the flowers soak up the blood in Tryn's wounds. It was hard to tell whether or not they were actually doing their work with it this dark -- Light suddenly blossomed nearby as the halfbreed elf began to light candles around, and Tza'Hal grunted her thanks as she sat on her haunches and waited. Charlie did as he was told, holding Tryn down for the moment. Not now -- oh, blast it, he can't hurt anything more than he has. Tza'Hal cast her gaze at Tryn's face and was discomfited by his serene smile, but she kept her watch all the while. She hoped it was not an ill portent.

She had been so intent on watching the man that she'd missed the door being opened behind her, instead poising herself with a cloth in hand to get ready to sear shut Tryn's wounds.

Suddenly, Charlie procured a whittling knife from his bag, removing the Seed of Life, and Tza's eyes fell on it almost tranquilly. The fate of the world... Oh, how it looked so, so small. She shook the thought from her head as she accepted the knife with a nod.

"I would hesitate to pull out our... charge in front of others, young one. We do not know that all comers are... friendly," she warned as she leaned over Tryn to get a better look at him. In the candle light, her age truly showed. There were crow's feet at the edges of her eyes, and her lips were not as full as they were in her youth. Indeed, some of her tonsure had grown in, and it was streaked with gray.

"Hal, the poker. It is finished."

She quickly scooped out the flowers from Tryn's wounds, the juices from the white petals having down their work. The blood was tacky now, and it allowed her a better view of the state of his arm. The muscles were torn, but they would sew back together fine. She grabbed the tip of the hot poker using the rag of bandages left, and, ignoring the heat, she guided the tip along the sides of the wound, closing shut only those parts which seemed to have the worst damage. If too much was seared, it would not knit back together, and she could only pray she was doing this correctly.

"Charlie, heat this knife for me. We must work quickly on his face. Inara, do you have any skill with a needle? I cannot do both at the same time."

@rissa @CloudyBlueDay @Effervescent @RedThunder

 

[rissa]

Inara Belanor

---

"Inara, do you have any skill with a needle?"

Without the foreigners light, the cellar darkened even further and Inara took turns eyeing the tunnel he had just revealed and staring at Tryn's bloodied face. She ran a hand over her leathers, where she had stitched up their seams over the years of wear and tear. Inara could feel the length of the crystal against her chest, hidden away inside a pocket she'd sewn inside her leather jerkin. She glanced back at the tunnel, wondering what laid in it's darkness. Should someone scout ahead and make sure the way is clear? Inara eyed the stone that had fallen to reveal their only safe way out of Lauderdine, wondering how long it'd been since they last crumbled. And what, Inara thought, would they find at the end? She rubbed her shadow-hit shoulder and found her center, banishing the fear that ate it's way inside her.

"Inara, do you have any skill with a needle?"

She nodded her head at the grizzled orc and crawled forward. "I've sewn many a leathers in my time, but never flesh… Yet there seems to be no other choice." Inara took a deep breath and though her stomach churned with fear and anxiety, she reached for the needle and thread. Life with a scarred face was better than no life at all…

"Quickly, please," Inara said, her voice still hoarse. "The needle and thread."

 

[Effervescent]

---

Djavi Nam Abil

---

The quiet unsettled his stomach as he crept up the stairs. Vi was still calm as he carefully pushed the cellar door open into the tavern's main level. He could see the soft blue shimmer of the wards just through the broken window and beyond the heap of the dead wyvern. He hunkered low as he reached for the hilts of his blades and approached the broken front door left splintered and ajar. His eyes closed, if only just for a moment, to expend a little magic to deduce his surroundings. No Shadow could be detected, but the familiar presence of the Naveri approached the inn before their footsteps were noted upon the wooden steps outside.

"Vi?" Madras called out.

As if to respond, Djavi positioned himself in front of the door and opened its remains. He looked over at the Naveri as she pulled down her cowl. The woman carried an air of severity only magnified by the shadow cast by her hood upon her sharp features. A sigh of relief escaped her narrow lips, and she pushed back her hood to wipe back her damp fly aways from her sweaty face.

"We've pushed them back," Madras continued. She walked past the Dvadri elf into the main tavern, a gloved hand quickly latching onto the back of a chair to guide herself into the seat. "The others are searching for stragglers. The wyverns can still get through but more haven't come yet. Likely because everyone is indoors now. Did you find the exit?"

Vi nodded. Madras lofted a brow in return. "You didn't leave with them?" she asked. "I thought you needed to head into Edros."

"They're saving the Tainted's life," Vi responded flatly. The Naveri groaned as she shared the sentiment, her eyes rolling as she checked for minor injuries.

"They seem like a sentimental lot," she said. "I ran into two of them on the road, if I recall. Looks like we will need to stay behind, though. I'm not sure how long these wards will last if we don't keep them charged."

"I'll stay," Vi said. Madras chucked and rose back to her feet with a pained grunt.

"You need to find Iballat," she said, and clapped her hand on his arm. "I saw Theresia's vardo out in the square. I think they got her." Another sigh escaped her as she looked out the shattered front window. "And that's not a good thing for anyone."

"I understand," he said, his brows pushing together as he looked towards the cellar. There was a sting in his heart he fought back fervently to prevent the tears from forming in his eyes. The Shadow threatened to kill all of Lauderdine should they not be given the Seed of Life. He opened the way for its carriers to escape, and he along with them to find Iballat. His friends, the Naveri band, and all of Lauderdine would likely succumb to their deaths. This would be the last time he saw Madras, and she knew it too.

"We all have our part to play," she said to him solemnly. "I don't regret it."

"I will not fail," Vi said in return.

---

Hal Midigan

---

"Wa-"

Hal couldn't complete his thought as Tza'Hal guided the poker with nothing but scraps of cloth between her and the white hot iron down to Trynten's shoulder. Flesh seared with a sizzle as the heated poker was maneuvered through the puckered wound, and Hal kept his arm steady to follow the orc's guidance. He only looked up from the task to look over to Inara.

The state of everyone was concerning. Charlie had managed to bring himself to somewhat of a calm, but Inara and Wynleth were spent. He brought his gaze back to the iron poker to insure he was following Tza'Hal's movements and gestures, but he nodded to the supplies where Wynleth began to ready the cot.

"The sewing kit should be there," he said. "Are you sure you are well enough? I'm a quick learner if you think you could walk me through it."

Vi returned as he quickly moved down the stairs. Hovering above his hand was a softly glowing orb of light that gently glistened in the darkness as he moved towards the revealed exit. He was a quiet individual, and it almost felt to Hal that the elf was completely ignoring them and the life they were trying to save. The notion was only furthered as he moved into the dark tunnel and began to walk out of sight. But just as Hal began to mull over the disregard, Vi reemerged in the cellar.

"They've pushed back the Shadow," he explained, "but they don't know for how long. I'm going to scout ahead. If you do not see me again, expect Shadow."

@Red Thunder @rissa @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @Doctor Jax

 

[Red Thunder]

Trynten Lothorsen
​

His mind wandered still, as if desperate to escape the corruption of body and soul but still inexorably tethered to them. The past felt stretched out, and memory cycled through him. It was fortunate that the worse times rushed past while the pleasant ones lingered. That was perhaps worse, for he could see all that he'd lost or left, and it exacerbated the wound in his heart, for it gave him clear and ready reason to seek the freedom of oblivion his death would surely offer. But it gave him something else, coupled by his most recent thought.

It gave him the will to live.

Slowly the fog began lifting from his mind as it retraced its steps back from whence it had wandered, skirting death. The stink of his soul grew stronger, but he bore it, forcing his mind to once more cooperate with its constituent parts. His body was terribly damaged, that he knew, though to what true extent he could only guess. His limbs were heavy, but he felt the cold stone of the floor upon which he lay. Voices, vague and jumbled, seeped into his ear. The air was of a musty quality, musty and earthy, and he imagined he smelled an odd, burning smell. His eyesight began to clear as well as his eyelids slowly lifted, as though exceedingly heavy, and the shapes of figures crouched about him or strode too and fro. One held a dark pole with a glowing red end.

That must be what caused the burning smell, he thought, his mind still too clouded to draw even the most obvious conclusion. His arm, the left maybe, felt more numb that his other. Numb, or more painful? It was difficult to tell.

But he was back among his compani- his friends. Tryn might have relaxed, had he not already been fully so, but he concentrated on blinking to clear his eyesight, and kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He was alive: aching, heavy, exhausted, and perhaps even in pain (feeling was slow in coming back), but alive nonetheless. A sigh escaped his lips.

@everyone

 

[Elle Joyner]

[bg=#B8904D]

---

There a sense of catharsis to putting the cot together that in those few moments of chaos, Wyn was all grateful for. Trynten's injuries were crudely tended to, but tended, and while the others worked diligently, she busied herself, first with the makeshift stretcher, then by collecting their remaining supplies, gathering them so they could be easily moved.

The stranger returned a few minutes after he'd left, but disappeared just as swiftly into the opening to the tunnel and watching curiously, Wyn frowned. He'd helped them, of that there was little doubt, but whatever his reasoning, he couldn't exactly be accused of seeming over invested. Then again, maybe that was all for the best. Having lost so much, having so much to lose… it was a powerful motivator, but also a dangerous burden to carry. It might've been better not to care at all…

Her eyes, however, shifted to the others, lingered on a certain Balduri and she knew without doubt that line of thinking was pure folly. It was because she cared so much that she had come so far. It was how any of them had.

With Trynten's wounds cauterized, the next focus was what could be stitched, and with very little envy, glad that she had not been given the task, Wyn dug the sewing kit from their materials and held it out to Inara. As she did, the stranger reappeared, bearing words that felt heavier than they ought to. Be ready for Shadow. There didn't seem a time when that warning wasn't appropriate.

"Safe journey, friend…" She murmured, though he had already disappeared back inside. Turning to the others, she gestured to the cot, "It's ready, whenever you are."

---

TAGS: @Effervescent, @Red Thunder @rissa

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[CloudyBlueDay]

CHARLIE REDDEMAN
@knifeorlife​

"I would hesitate to pull out our... charge in front of others, young one. We do not know that all comers are... friendly,"

Charlie paused and blushed, realizing his blunder as he spared a glance at the foreigner before making sure the latch on his bag was tightly sealed, pulling on it to be sure that it was secure. Tza leaned over Tryn and Charlie remembered where they were and what they were doing. Tza'Hal scooped out the strange flowers from Tryn's gaping wounds and the burning poker was passed forward. A dull sense of realization and despair settled in on Charlie as he realized what the poker was for.

Charlie nodded towards Tza and took the whittling knife back, lighting another flame in his palm. This was a knife Charlie had carried with him throughout all his teenage years -- it had been one of his greatest possessions (besides the dragon book), after having saved up for it for an entire summer working. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Charlie cupped the blade to his palm and began to heat it.


There wasn't much remorse. Charlie would rather save Tryn's life, even though he barely knew him, than keep a silly whittling knife.

Once it was done he handed it back to Tza'Hal, turning his attention back to Trynten. Charlie was surprised to find a sigh escape the dying man's lips as he shifted. Charlie let out a small noise of panic before he remembered what he was supposed to do if Trynten woke up. The half-elf moved back to grab Tryn and steady him, looking to Tza and then Inara for confirmation that he was doing it alright.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Tza'HalXXXXXX
Lumin of the Order of the Lynx

While Inara readied herself, Tza'Hal considered the mess of Trynten's face. It wouldn't be easy-- nay, with this poker, it would be near impossible, and even now blood was welling in the wounds again, making them that much more difficult to mend. The tip of the poker was much too broad to work in such a delicate area, and Tza'Hal feared they would have to sew the wound closed without such help --

Charlie, to her surprise, offered up a knife, and she raised her eyebrows. Ah, so he did have some form of weapon. Why did he not use it then!? Well, this was not the time nor the place to be asking such questions, and she instead took the knife with a grunt. She recognized it as a knife she'd seen him use before to whittle things into being, and the handle was very well-worn. It was obviously of much use, but the blade was slightly warped by the flame Charlie had held to it, unlikely to ever whittle again with an edge like that.

She turned it this way and that, making sure it was white hot, and she turned down to look at Trynten, who was beginning to wake. She hissed to herself, glad that Charlie was already grabbing hold of the man. This was likely to be an extremely uncomfortable experience for the Tainted, and she did not envy him it. Taking hold of the side of his head as well as she could in a single hand, she gripped to hold him still and began the laborious process of searing the wounds in his face shut. She gritted her teeth as the smell wafted over her, and after each rent, she ordered Inara to sew it closed, and to make it quick. The process took perhaps a total of an hour, maybe a bit more, but Tza'Hal could hardly tell. Her face was dripping with the exertion of careful surgery, and when at last it was over, she fell back against the wall in a heap, tossing down the knife.

"Hurry him on to that pallet as soon as Inara is done. Make haste," she wearily ordered, propping her injured leg up. She would help, but she could hardly stand, let alone help lift a man on to a makeshift stretcher. "Charlie, Hal, Wyn -- the cot. Inara, if you've strength left, take a side. I'll be behind you."

The orc was already listlessly grabbing whatever scraps were around to try to fashion some sort of crutch for herself. If she was at the front, she would only slow them, and time was of the essence. There was no telling how long until the Shadow reappeared. That blasted half-breed had yet to return, and that bode ill for them. Never the less, better to emerge in a place that might have Shadow, than to stay in a place that definitely did.

@rissa @CloudyBlueDay @Effervescent @RedThunder[/QUOTE]

 

[Effervescent]

There was a sensation of relief that calmed Hal's nerves as Trynten softly sighed. The man was pulling through, and surprisingly unaffected by the red hot poker sealing up the wound on his arm. He looked up at Tza'Hal as concern grew in him once again. Trynten's face still needed tending, and now the man was conscious. Charlie moved to steady the waking Thall, Hal nodding somewhat in quiet affirmation to his actions and moved to follow suit. It was likely the best course to prepare for a delayed response in registering the pain. Their work at this point had to be quick, and it wasn't until Inara tied the last stitch that he moved to scoop up the other end of the man to carry him to the prepared cot.

Positioning Trynten onto the cot took a bit of group effort, but before they raised him up to carry, Hal stooped down to grab the bottle of wine and nestled it next to Trynten's form. "Better drink up before the pain hits," he suggested as he grabbed hold of a corner to the cot. "Hoist in three, two, one."

Trynten was lifted up and positioned to maneuver through the entrance to the darkened cave. Djavi had not returned, but then again he had only just left to scout ahead. The tunnel grew darker and darker with each step. It was utter blackness ahead akin to the void he faced less than an hour earlier. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to halt, panic welling in his soul as he urged everyone to stop. "Wait," he said. "We need light. We need it."

And just as he said it, a soft glow in the distance grew and rounded the corner in a golden brilliance. Vi returned to the group, light pooling above the palm of his hand as he held it out before him. The foreign elf looked at the group only momentarily before turning back around to take point and guide them.

"No enemies," he said to them. "At least not for now. Some paths get narrow and turn sharp. Keep up with my light."

The tunnel moved into a system of caves that widened and narrowed naturally. On occasion, Vi would place his hand against a wall in a brief pause, and upon it runes would glow and fade in a glittering blue. His course would be defined by such markings. It was likely this very exit helped save the lives of elves as they fled the war. Hal looked over at Wynleth, sparing only a momentary glance to her in the darkness. The light the Dvadri elf emitted was dim, especially with his form obscuring the source from where they followed. It was still enough to make out her features and her selfless determination. Inara and Charlie, too, shared in the selfless drive that put so much into perspective for him. There is always something greater than themselves, but that does not make anyone less important.

The path narrowed a fair stretch to the point where the cot nearly got stuck between the natural walls of the tunnel, but they managed to pull through with little event until they reached the end. Djavi put his hand upon the dead end and a rune glowed momentarily. The elf looked upward, eyes scanning over a ring of light. He never seemed to explain what he saw or what he would do and instead jumped into action. His lithe form jumped into the air and grasped the rocks that jutted from the cylindrical enclosing and began a careful ascent. From where Hal was standing he could surmise the nature of their exit, and the light grew further away as Djavi neared the ring of light above.

Maneuvering his fingers between the cracks of the wooden closing proved difficult given the weight of the topper, but eventually Vi was able to push it out of the way. Light poured down into the cave followed by a clatter and faint squeaking. Slowly, a wooden bucket lowered into view tied securely to a hearty rope.

"Tie the useless one to the rope," Djavi called down to the others.

Pursing his lips, Hal sighed and helped Trynten to the bottom of the well. "He's not going to be able to pull Trynten up on his own," he said to the others. "Get him secured. I'll head up there to help."

Hal began climbing up the well himself just as expertly. Having lived in the mountains of Baladur, he experienced a lot of rock climbing and knew how to scale a structure such as this with ease. Given the well was dry and closed, the walls were not moist and slippery with growth. It was an easy climb to the top, and there he met with a confused Dvadri.

"I'm here to help pull him up," Hal explained. Vi did not respond, at least not verbally. He held out the end of the rope to Hal, and just as he grabbed it, he transfixed on the scene beyond the well.

Lauderdine was not but a mile away across an expansive overgrown field still under the cover of dark clouds and hovering wyvern that dipped into the city. The unmistakable blue glow of Arcane Magic domed over the city in the protective shield. Guilt ripped through him once again knowing that he had played a part in sealing the fate of those people. Now knowing there was an exit, a safe escape from the tyranny of Shadow, Hal knew he had to go back. He was itching to go back to show them the way out. But Vi halted the thoughts by placing a hand on his arm.

"They are not your concern now," Vi stated. For a moment Hal nearly blurted out for the man to shut his mouth and grow a heart. But then he knew somehow in the brief seconds his words were forming that there was something more to the stranger. Despite his calm exterior, he could still see he suffered his own grief in running, and it suddenly occurred to him that maybe this man was losing something just as personal, if not moreso, to him.

"They need to know there is a way out of dying by their hands," Hal said.

"The Naveri will aid them," Vi assured. "Our concern right now is your own. We must get them away from here."

It took a deep breath to get his head calm. As much as Hal still wanted to rescue Lauderdine, he was given a different task. And so, with Djavi's aid, they hoisted the crew up to the surface one by one, lucky to have a rope that did not suffer dry rot.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked. They had a long journey to the nearest sky port, and so it was best to address issues and injuries now.

@Red Thunder @rissa @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @Doctor Jax

 

[Elle Joyner]

[bg=#B8904D]

---

Everyone moved with such proficiency, and Wyn, having done all she could, watched with a sense of awe as they worked Trynten's wounds closed, then moved his onto the cot. It had probably taken a great deal of time, but it all seemed so quick that she was barely prepared when they started for the entrance to the tunnel. Reason told her there was little to be concerned with... Experience told her not to trust reason, for one moment. She moved with uncertainty, nerves camped within her stomach, roiling and uncomfortable as they delved deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Pulse pounding, she squinted through the pitch, and when she heard Hal's voice, heard the twinge of near panic in the tone, she didn't have to imagine too hard what was going through his mind. She had seen it, experienced it from the outside... but he had been inside of it, the void and while they hadn't spoken about what he had seen, she knew that it could be nothing good. This blackness would be an all too familiar reminder of that misery.

Graciously, it was a short lived moment. A bead of light split the darkness as the stranger reappeared and looking up, Wyn breathed out a sigh of relief. She stretched out her hand, brushed Hal's arm near the elbow, then continued on her way, following that orb of brightness.

Apart from some uncomfortably tight spaces and the sinking anxiety that at any moment they might be overcome by Shadow Mages, their journey through the tunnels was relatively uneventful - a small favor considering all they had been through. They reached the end at long last and Wyn paused while Djavi explained the next step in the same blunt manner he'd used within the cellar. He was, perhaps, not the most gentle in nature, but she couldn't help feel a pang of gratefulness, either way, for the elf. His manner was sharp and aggressive, but he had, effectively, saved their lives... and at no small risk to his own.

The next several minutes was spent getting Trynten secured to the ropes, while Hal joined Djavi up top. Once Trynten had been lifted, the others followed, but only when she had breached the fresh air herself did Wyn allow a breath of relief to escape. Finally... finally, it seemed, the brunt of the danger was passed. Perhaps not for long, and certainly not for good... but it was a moment of calm, and that was enough.

"Well enough..." Wyn remarked, when Hal asked how they were all fairing. It was, in truth, not the most accurate response, but it seemed pointless to harp on small injuries or emotional well-being. Tryn had nearly died... and it was hardly worth mentioning what she'd undoubtedly survive.

[/bg]

 

[rissa]

Inara Belanor

---

It was nauseating. The smell of Trynten's burned flesh still clung to her nose and the sight of stitching his wounds shut was still all she could see. She fell to the ground once out of the well and clutching her shoulder, glanced up at the destruction of Lauderdine. It was hard to tear her eyes from what she had helped caused; the death of so many innocent lives, a settlement stripped of the safety it thought it had. Theresia… The Naveri… So many souls hung in the balance of whether they'd prevail or fail to get the Seed to the World Tree.

Glancing around herself, Inara took in the faces of Shae Pippa's fellowship, including one more. The foreign elf who had saved all of their lives. She turned to Hal just as he spoke, and her gaze travelled to Wyn when she replied. Alright? Inara thought sheepishly, What's that?

Still, Inara took a moment to assess her injuries: they felt like many. Her body was sore, everywhere it seemed, but none more than her shoulder. She worried it had been dislocated, the pain was that great, and with a tentative motion, Inara pulled back her shirt to reveal what damage the shadow blast had inflicted. For a moment her heart stopped and tears welled into her eyes as she was transported back into her past, back to when her mother's Sickness first threatened to take her life. The taint upon her breast still haunted her dreams and upon her shoulder, was a mark so very similar. Realization came quickly, thankfully, and Inara realized it was just a bruise. A shadow bruise. Other than the soreness in her limbs and the ache in her shoulder, she was… alright.

She looked over to Hal. "I'll be alright," She mumbled audibly and glanced over at Tza. "Without some form of crutch she'll need help walking. If you can spare me I will aid her if she needs it."

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

CHARLIE REDDEMAN
@falsecalm​

In such a short amount of time, Charlie had seen such a great amount of pain. He was beginning to realize what a sheltered childhood he had lived, as he gripped onto Tryn tightly. It took all of his courage not to jump away, frightened. To watch his own whittling knife be pressed against the man's flesh, the sizzling making his insides tighten. This.. wasn't right. None of it was right. He wanted to be mad at the shadow for causing him, Trynten, the whole group.. all of Lauderdine so much grief, but Charlie had nothing left within him. Only a dull sadness.

After all the panic, the screaming, the pain that clung to the air.. Charlie only felt numb. They twisted and turned through the dark tunnel, only lit by the foreign elf's ball of light. He would have offered a light of his own if he were not helping to carry the cot. He didn't like the man, and his mere presence made Charlie tense. Or maybe he was just tense in general. Probably the latter.

But no matter how much Djavi bothered Charlie, he was the only thing that was getting them out of that cellar. Every time a rune glowed, it was because of Vi. He seemed to know this path inside and out. When they reached the end, Vi was swift to began to climb the wall and then lower a wooden bucket. Charlie stared at it momentarily, confused, before Vi called down to them. "Tie the useless one to the rope,"

Well, Charlie was not numb any longer. An audible growl came from the young half-elf as his fists tightened and teeth clenched. Useless? Tryn was hurt. How -- how could he have been so.. so insensitive? Heartless? Charlie could go on and on, his cheeks getting redder and redder by the second, but they didn't really have time for that. Instead he settled for staring ahead angrily as he was pulled up on the bucket a short while later and gave Vi a very harsh glare with no explanation.

Once more they had reached a part in their journey Charlie had now decided to label as false calm. The parts where they were supposed to rest and recover between the parts when they were running for their lives. He absentmindedly reached into his bag for his whittling tools, that would surely calm him.. but only to remember that his whittling knife was currently not available for use. Charlie took to biting his nails instead.

Wyn said she was "well enough." Inara said she'd "be alright." Neither were acceptable responses in his part, and he spared quick glances at both of them before going back to angrily chewing on his nails, up until Inara offered to be Tza's crutch. Charlie abandoned his nail-biting and moved towards the orc. "Let me," He insisted. "You're hurt, Inara. You should rest as much as you can." False calm did not provide resting, but not being a crutch for someone provided.. more.. resting. Than normal. He glanced at Tza'Hal for approval, or perhaps just no direct denial. If anything, he was just desperate to cling close to someone, and it was clear in his eyes.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Tza'HalXXXXXX
Lumin of the Order of the Lynx

Tza'Hal managed to stand up as they worked Trynten onto the stretcher. The hot knife she had used, she stowed carefully in a fold on her robes, the heated metal smarting slightly but swiftly cooling down. Carefully she peeked underneath the broadleaf wrapped around her leg, and she sighed heavily as she saw that the arrowhead was working its way out of her flesh, the area around it an angry red. She had expected it to be a painful process, but this was moving quicker than she would have thought, perhaps because she had not taken the time to rest. Her constant motions had more than likely made it worse, and the sooner she could take the time to rest, the better.

But alas, life rarely waits for the slow of foot. There was a whole other leg of the journey (pardon the pun), and if she was to survive it, the pain would have to be knocked down a peg. She had no other means of alleviating the pain, and the arrowhead was far too deep for her to work out herself. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed slowly, taking a few moments to focus solely on the pain, imagining it in her leg as a bubble of pure sensation, then mentally "walling it off". It was a trick she had learned from another orc, and it had served her well in lean times. The pain was still there, still harsh and commanding, but it was bearable enough that she could hobble along to find her compatriots.

They had already hauled Trynten to the top by the time she reached them, and she elected to be last, so they could just haul her to the top instead of make her climb. As soon as they were "safe", she took a seat. Hal, wisely, took a damage count of everyone in the group. Sure enough, it was less the answers that were important as the reactions. Unconsciously, each member took stock of their wounds, the true indicator of their wellbeing. It seemed Wynleth had damaged her wrist, but she was still in fighting condition. Inara's shoulder was bruised badly by shadow magic and had, for the most part, taken the brunt of their attack. Charlie seemed no worse for wear, the little lucky half-breed. And Tza'Hal....

Her back was covered in cobble rash from being dragged against the ground. Her hands were bloody, with both Tryn's and her own. Her leg was in rough shape, and if a fester hadn't sprouted in her thigh already, she'd count herself lucky. With a great swallow, she gulped down her pride as she heard Inara say she would gladly take Tza'Hal and be her crutch. To her surprise, Charlie insisted that he help the orc, and she couldn't deny that she was pleased to know she had her own personal lackey now. Perhaps the boy wasn't all water in the head after all.

"I appreciate the gesture, Inara, but Charlie's got the better back. That Shadow magic will do a number on you faster than you'd like to think. Rest is paramount, not least because of the dreams you're probably going to get. Do not discount the magic's effects," Tza'Hal grumbled. She waved Charlie over impatiently and used him to haul herself to her feet.

"We'd best make haste for our next destination," Tza'Hal said as she glanced back at the town they had left with jaded eyes.

She had seen more than one town completely razed to the ground, their inhabitants burnt to a crisp. The orcs would rather burn down a whole city than leave it to the hands of the Shadowcasters to use for their nefarious purposes, and in some cases Tza'Hal herself had helped it along. It brought her no joy to see the wyverns pick its bones clean, but Lauderdine would not get its inhabitants back, nor would it be clean again. No amount of guilt would wash the blood off their hands for sacrificing the whole of the hamlet. The best they could do was build a better world out of its ashes.


@rissa @CloudyBlueDay @Effervescent @RedThunder[/QUOTE][/QUOTE]

 

[Red Thunder]

~Trynten Lothorsen~
​

A spot on his face had suddenly gone numb as an out of focus humanoid shape placed a limb to his face. Or rather, the glowing end of a limb. First the one spot, than a line that left that spot behind, then again until four rows of numbness tingled his face. Still hazy, his mind struggled to make sense of what was occurring. A smell, an awful smell, filled his nostrils; it might have been like the smell before. Vaguely he wondered why, and wondered at the connection.

But he wasn't left to wonder long. Hands grasped him, moving him over to a close but new location, and suddenly he was flying! It wasn't like what he'd imagined flying might be like; no bird bounced through the air as he did now, staring at the dimly light gray ceiling. It was a short flight; from his position, a light appeared above him slowly, as if some kind soul were moving a cloud, and the sun poked through. It was...different. He remembered the sun being yellow, but here the sun was blue, surrounded on all sides by a stony darkness he couldn't comprehend. Words, garbled and indecipherable, broke the silence harshly, and suddenly he was flying again, swinging this time instead of bouncing. Still unlike a bird, he thought disdainfully.

The mystery of the sun became clear to his addled mind as his flight brought him free of the darkness: it was the sky, after all! The yellow sun shone brightly, merrily, as if glad that he'd returned from the haze of death. He moved to sit up, eager to stretch his limbs.

But they ached, oh how they ached! His right arm was like lead, and tingled as sensation began registering again. His left arm, however; it refused to move at all without sending stabbing pain to his mind, screaming at him to halt the request of movement. Not that his face could show that; it was if ice, bitterly and utterly cold, had been placed on his skin. The muscles in his face refused to move, save for his jaw and eyes, and a burning numbness so like frostbite robbed him of any feeling there save pain. His eyes closed in reaction, and jaw hanging loose, he groaned.

"Shiiiiiiii-."

 

[Effervescent]

They were all headed for the nearest skyport after the affairs within Lauderdine. Everyone claimed to be fit for travel, or at least as fit as they could be given all they had endured thus far. It looked as though Tza'Hal suffered the most despite Trynten's previous unconsciousness. Now that he was awake and about, he made the orc look more like she had fallen through a roof. The blood that spattered her skin only furthered the idiom and made her look as fierce as the rest of her kin, even with Charlie aiding her gait as they traversed the roads in a weary pack.

For the most part, Hal walked alongside Wynleth either in silence or in short conversation. She had been there every step of the way, and even in the calmer hours of travel he desired the comfort of her company. He gave her good hand a little squeeze before moving to the front to catch up with the foreign elf, exchanging introductions that only resulted in a cold silence. Djavi did not seem the type for idle conversation, nor did he seem to care to want to get to know the present company. His expression was focused as his mind seemed distant and elsewhere.

"The Naveri were your friends?" Hal asked. Vi simply nodded in response, though he still showed no deep emotion. "I'm sorry we had to leave them to contend with the Shadow alone."

"They are strong," Vi said in return.

"I don't doubt it," said Hal with a huff of a laugh. Vi simply cast a curious gaze sidelong. "I hope I get the chance to meet them again so I may thank them."

"As do I," Vi admitted, "but it is unlikely."

"You can never be sure," Hal pointed out. "I'll likely come back through here on my way home once all of this is over and done with. I'm from Baladur. Where are you from, by the way? I've been a bit sheltered in my lifetime, I'll admit."

"The Jungle," he said. "Past Maldvir."

Hal did not understand the term. He had never been taught what a jungle was, and why would any Baladuri? He came from colder climates and mountain ranges and higher altitudes and could not even fathom what a jungle was in comparison to his current knowledge base. All he could tell was that it was past a desert land. He knew of Maldvir from tales Sothal once told him and how unbearably hot the land was. So hot that it was mostly sand and strange vegetation.

Vi noticed Hal's confusion, but did not expand on the term. He had found in his travels not many truly understood what he meant even when he tried. Hal made no efforts to ask for clarification or definition either, and the two walked side by side once again in silence.

"What brings you so far from your home?" Hal finally asked.

"Many things," he said in return. "I am to go back to Edros. To Bastillos and Krei."

"Go back?" Hal repeated. "Family or friends?"

"Business."

"Oh." Hal nodded his head and reluctantly fell silent again as he followed alongside the Dvadri elf. "I'm Hal, by the way. Hal Midigan."

"Djavi Nam Abil," the elf said. "You may call me Vi."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vi."

"Yes. And you."

Vi didn't sound genuine, but then again, pleasantries rarely were due to it being a polite standard in greeting. It didn't seem to bother Hal, and in fact he felt a little more at ease with Vi now that he had taken a little time just to converse with the man. Aloof and closed he may be, but there seemed to be no malicious intent towards his companions, and that's all Hal really cared about. They were headed in the same direction to the same skyport and likely to board the same airship through Edros. Hal hoped Tza'Hal's reliable connections were docked where they were going.

By the time they reached the nearest skyport from Lauderdine, most of the day had passed. They were lucky to find Tza'Hal's smuggler friends were docked and able to carry the lot of them on their ship. They were headed through Edros anyway, though they weren't keen on venturing beyond into the Great Expanse.

"We'll take you as far as Yemnet," the captain said to Tza'Hal. "You'll have to deal with frequent stops. We've got our own business to attend to."

The fare was not unreasonable, though for their group it was a pinch. Hal emptied the remainder of his coin pouch into the hands of the captain of the Skadrad and felt a nervousness return within his gut. If this airship would not carry them to the Fabled Lands, how will they reach it? Better yet, how would they be able to pay to reach it?

"Don't let anyone know you have the Seed," he whispered to Charlie. "I know it's important, but try not to look as though you are guarding something of value."

Catching a glimpse of Tza'Hal's leg and Trynten's ghastly face, the captain grimaced, though still spoke directly to Tza'Hal. "Have my physician take a look at your wounds," he said. "You can find her on the third level, room 8."

For a smuggler's airship, the Skadrad was quite expansive and fairly new in model. It was a passenger ship retrofitted with hidden compartments to import and export illegal exotic goods from one nation to the next. They sometimes even smuggled in people to various locations if the price was right. This made the passenger quarters well fitted for extended travel with plenty of hidden passageways should a guest ever feel the need to hide away. It was brilliant and highly illegal in the Allied Kingdoms, but it seemed as though the Thall Port Guards did not do a thorough duty in their inspections. Thus, the crew of the Skadrad has been able to do quite a lot of business owed mostly in part to negligence.

There were plenty of rooms on the second floor that opened into hallways that led to a center open common room. The common room had two walls completely comprised of thick windows overlooking the scenery on both port and starboard sides which opened to two small balconies spanning the length of the room. Inside were plush seats and sofas, a potbelly stove for colder weather, and tables. Each bedroom was outfitted for only one passenger per room. They had single beds, a dresser, a furnace, and a small tub with the option to heat its copper underbelly with a compartment for coals and plumbing that connected to the reservoir. It was luxurious for a smuggler's ship, especially for the modest fare in which they were charged.

Currently

Your characters board the Skadrad, a smuggling ship with connections to Tza'Hal. It is completely comprised of an orcish crew, including the physician. Feel free to board and collaborate with other players depicting their travel across Thallas as they start their journey towards Edros.

@Red Thunder @rissa @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @Doctor Jax