Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Purplemouse
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Dusk would be upon them in an hour, if not sooner. Already the ruddy skies were fading to deeper shades of twilight, and the sun, long sunken behind the thick forest's myriad canopies and trunks, would soon slip beneath the horizon and be lost from sight. By then, those without their own light - natural or otherwise - would be unable to continue the hunt.

Not among them was he - for as easily as one could light a fire he could kennel a sphere of sunbeam in his palm, coercing it to light his way long after its source was gone down. Though he lacked the hunter's keen eye for track and trail, he had his own ways of seeing where his prey had gone. Setting himself down on the leaf-strewn ground, he focused a moment, mentally preparing for what spell he would momentarily cast. Though it was not unfamiliar to him, it was dangerous yet - and he had to prepare. A moment passed, then another, as the oncoming night closed in around the world in the slow, yet inescapable embrace with which it had always clutched them. Ready, he pressed his pointer fingers to his shut eyes, and muttered a spell. When he removed his hands and looked out, he was blind.

Or, blind enough - nearly all vision had been wiped away in exchange for what he could see: magic. Specifically, in the windy grey and black landscape, blurred to a barely recognizable form, he could see vibrant, moving wellsprings of magic, each carried in the heart of another spell-caster. There in the distance, a flare of green-blue, beside it, one of a lilac muddied with brown. Further on, smaller pools of color here and there - violet and sand, crimson and white . Every individual - and magic cast by them - had their own trace color, unique as a handprint to each and every one of them. With this spell, he could see it, through walls, through earth itself, through forests and chasms. More importantly, the trail left by his prey was as clear as any track in mud or patch of thorn-snagged fur could ever be. It was a watery gold, shot through with whispy bands of indigo and peach that bled into the main color and each other. To his charmed eyes, it was easy to follow where the path ran along through the forest, stopped, looped back, staggered along what seemed like a ravine, then fled south, straight as an arrow.

Closing his eyes once more, he pressed his hands over them, and murmured the spell to remove the first. For a second, he hesitated, afraid of what he would see - or not see. But there was no time for being fearful. Standing, he opened his eyes again.

The forest was the same, though darker now, the shadows stretching eastward in the waning light of day. The trail, moments ago so bright and clear, was gone. It was on his memory now to guide him, and he started off, walking staff in hand, for the south where he had seen the path go. Of course, he was fighting a losing battle - he was only human, and the thing he chased, a monster. Far faster and more agile than himself, capable no doubt of covering many miles in the time it would take him to cover one or two. But his prey was running scared, and would become exhausted soon. That was when he would make the distance between them.

Along the way, night began to fall in earnest, and for fear of what he might stumble on in the undergrowth, he summoned a radiant orb of light, bright enough to shine on any creeping root or rock that might trip him, but not so bright as to guide others to him readily. After all, those moving pools of hue and shade belonged to other magic-users who were, like him, hunting this singular creature. In truth, calling the hunted one a monster was unfair - for what was an arguably monstrous form belied the royal soul that steered those limbs and teeth and claws, horrible thought they were. As well, he knew with absolute certainty that the person who had, those short days ago, been a beautiful and beloved princess, was still in there, no matter how thick the swathed fur or strange the bones and sinews she wore now. It was with that certainty that he hunted alone, unafraid of what would come when he at last cornered her.

That, and the simple fact that this was no act of charity, and rewards were best un-split.
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A sunlit reflection was fading with timid trepidation against muted emerald eyes.

Devon looked upward and closed his eyes, feeling the wind, feathered through the trees, blow overhead. The rapidly fleeting light, now nearly gone, replaced with a flutter of darkness. He was an herbalist and an archer. By those to measures, one could easily surmise that he was someone who was inclined to help from afar, rather than jump straight into the fray. If one made these assumptions about him, they may prove more correct, as the man with silky clay colored hair had an affinity for staying out of the way to avoid needless injury. As someone who prided himself on making people better with handmade remedies, he knew it was unwise for him to fall victim to a sword or burst of magical energy. As long as Devon's heart could sustain life, he would be determined to help his fellow man, even at the cost of some branding him a coward.

Time passed steadily as the slender man collected his bearings. The area was familiar territory to him, even in the darkest of nights. Having lived in a town nearby, the man had made these woods a second home. In his youth, his parents would take him on countless trips to the very same area he was in. There, he was taught how to hunt and track, to forage and shoot. Those memories lived on in his mind but could never act as a weakness to the man who replaced his childish shadow. Years spent honing his talents had been a blessing and allowed him to age with wisdom which he tucked away, close to his chest. Devon took a step to his left, already expecting to dip his head down to prevent a long branch from smacking him in the head. The woods were by no means predictable but due to his exploration of them since birth, they had little tricks of their sleeves.

Devon's tricks on the other hand, were ones he opened advertised. Many herbalists began to wear a striking color to alert others to their skills with plants and minerals. The color in question was teal, a known color for the healing of one's mind, allowing many people to relax at the mere sight of the ocean or sky. A teal cotton shirt covered his upper body while he wore dark black pants and over his shirt, was a leather vest which had several inner pockets which contained many berries which Devon had collected during his rummaging throughout the large area. Over his shoulder as a matching black leather pack that had a single thick strap around his chest. Inside he had his arrows and other tools for concocting remedies. Inhaling, he finally felt comfortable enough to continue his trek.

With word spreading in regards to the princess turning into a werewolf, time was a constant dwindling variable.

He wasn't the only soul who felt compelled to help. While many had their eyes on the reward at the end of tunnel, Devon followed more pure intentions and by that standard, he felt much more pressure. Money was common and while he could use the additional gold and wealth and reputation, he wanted to help the princess. It was a simple calling to which his heart could cling to. The woods would only go on for so long and by that point, he would need to decide where to go next. In his lifetime, he had done plenty of studying and research but knowledge of werewolves were not quite as common as how to mend a burn or sedate a wounded warrior. Devon knew he may do much better in a group. It could prevent him from doing any frivolous fighting and it may get them to a safe destination, as well as the princess, much quicker if there were more people to discuss matters with. His mind could only provide so much aid after all.

Walking along and dodging various roots and troublesome bushes, he spotted something in the distance. It was very dim and he assumed whoever it was, didn't want to be found. Devon didn't remove his weapon but instead decided to approach it, not from behind, but from the left. The man jogged through the wood and made a short loop where the light was coming from. Though the healer knew nothing of magic, he could still admit that it had benefits and right now, providing light was one he would be rather welcoming of. "Evening." Devon greeted, tone jovial but still hushed enough to not draw much attention to them. There were plenty of people in the area and while he could selected any of them, something drew Devon in and made him consider the mage beside him. "I trust you're well stocked, but if you need any food, I have plenty." He said, knowing that everyone had to be useful and in his own case, he often had a supply of meat and root vegetables and grains in his bag. He was prepared for most things.

He just hoped a fight wan't something he had to worry about at the moment.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Purplemouse
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Even with the low light of his sphere, he'd been found. Well, it wasn't unimaginable - as any torch-brand or lantern in the swelling black of the oncoming night, his little ethereal sun-orb was easy to spot, however faint. Luckily, he'd heard the approaching footsteps, though only by virtue of the fact that he'd been listening - had his mind been elsewhere, no doubt, he would have been snuck up on completely. So when the voice, unfamiliar but friendly, spoke out of the shadows, he was not startled or shocked, and instead stopped, watching as the other meandered out of the forest's shade. From the look of him, a medicine-worker, as was made clear by the gaudy tunic he wore. True, herbalists could be fine supplements to the true and talented skills of mages - after all, a mage could knit bone and flesh, reshape and recolor skin, but curing illnesses were far more difficult. Wounds were simple, however devastating, but it took incredible finesse and power to magically cure unseen ailments. Which was were herbalists were useful, alongside proper medics.

Also noted was the bow across the newcomer's back, and no doubt the hidden arrows in the pack he wore. So, a herb-healer and a bowman. By some people's regards, a bit of a cowardly choice, but then again, many of the same people called mages cowards, too. They usually retracted such unkind comments when it was a mage charged with saving their lives from the inevitable punctures, lacerations and cuts they received charging headfirst into battles. With that in mind, he made no comment on what he'd gleaned already from the man's appearance alone, and instead gave a slight, cordial smile, a sort of tight-lipped expression well-suited for encounters with strangers and those you hated but had to act as if you were indifferent to.

"Evening," he echoed, keeping his tone even and calm. "I am stocked enough, but thank you for your offer." As if to prove his point, he briefly held aside the humble travelling cloak he wore over his mages' robes, showing a full knapsack across his back. Turning to face the herbalist, he leaned slightly against his staff, watching more closely now, and choosing his words more carefully. "I am Telaris Whitestar, of the Southern Wilds Mages' School. No doubt you have heard of it." Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "And I suppose there is no point in holding a pretense of this meeting being by chance. You, as many others, are doubtlessly in hot pursuit of the transmogrified princess. As am I." Now he gave a more earnest smile, rubbing the short thicket of black hairs along his jaw and chin, stark against the pale and unmarred canvas of his face. "However, that is not to say we should not be allies. After all, there are many others on this same hunt as us. Plus I dare say you intended to proffer an alliance, seeing as how had you wanted to attack or rob me, you likely would not bother with such politeness as saying hello."

Truth be told, he was fine with gathering a few hapless fools to order around - a werewolf was a big creature and a handful of followers would help dismay her from attacking, or so he expected. It would also dismay the common bandits, highwaymen and scrounging ilk of that kind who would, no doubt, be preying on the many seekers as they sought fruitlessly for the princess. All in all, it would benefit him in the long run. And of course once the princess was secured, he could easily be rid of them, either through outright trickery or magical force. But for the moment they would be useful, so long as he could trust them to follow his commands, not flee in the face of danger, and not put a knife between his ribs.
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The wind blew by, giving the teal archer some quiet relief as he stayed where he was. In order to appear as harmless as intended, Devon knew a swift but casual approach was necessary and to his delight, he was well received by the mage. The mage in question showed off his supplies and declined the offer which was fine with Devon. His name was soon given but before Devon could offer the same pleasantry, the man named Telaris continued to speak in regards to his place of origin as well as his reason for stalking the shadows of the night. The notion was an obvious one but that was alright with the herbalist. It may prove worrisome if someone among the group didn’t figure out why they were all gathered and slow moving as if carefully canvassing the vicinity for clues. If you had allies, they needed to have their minds sharpened, not just their blade.

“Hmmm, you’re correct, I was aiming to procure a possible alliance had you been friendly and useful to the task at hand and I am pleased to understand that we are both of use to one another.” Devon replied first and foremost. “My name is Devon Relven and I am from the nearby town of Drupali though I have traveled to several places in order to maintain a broadening collection of knowledge. If one’s mind stays still then they may as well be a lifeless corpse.” Devon shrugged and took another look around their area. He knew it well and while the mage called Telaris said he was from the area, which he knew of and had been to a few times, Devon felt much more qualified to take the lead should their alliance hold strong.

The last thing he needed to worry about was someone he traveled with. Devon needed to dissect the man a bit further before most of his worries could be put to rest. Devon knew people were not to be read like a book and those who claimed to be were surely bluffing. And those who claimed to read people like a book were even more foolhardy and questionable. For now though, the night warranted some benefit of the doubt even if it could prove unwise. Camp would need to be set up soon as traveling with a troubled mind and body would prove to be costly and as a herbalist, he knew his mind needed to be share, ready to heal or attack at a moment’s notice. “If you haven’t yet considered stopping to rest for a few hours, I do have a few suggestions.” Devon spoke up.

Considering that it was just himself and the mage, he didn’t feel worried about ruffling Telaris’ feathers. Should more be added to the group then more conversation might be needed for the group to come to a consensus. But since it was the two men, he felt less uneasy about speaking up and trying to offer his advice on the matter as it was an important one. And should Telaris have another idea, it was easy for them to have a decent back and forth about the merits of each notion. This was one of the many strengths which played to traveling in a small group or even as a duo or trio. Devon didn’t mind larger parties but as usual, it depended on the situation and what everyone needed and desired. The man knew of a few hidden gems amongst the wild green maze of trees and roots and hoped they could rest soon so they may talk further about the poor princess with her dangerous ailment.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Purplemouse
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Stop to rest? What a fool.. No doubt the princess would move exclusively by night - a werewolf was hardly unnoticable, even crossing rural lands. It helped that she was doubtlessly unsure of where to go, for even if she knew her kingdom by a map, the real terrain was surely foreign to her. Still, he could track her far more easily than even the most skilled hunter, it was far more an issue of swiftness. Not that he doubted some reward would be given no matter what, if she was returned safe and cured, but the offered reward had a time-limit.

On the other hand, if he insisted on pushing through the night, it might give away to Devon that he had some means other than ordinary sight by which to follow her trail. Later he might reveal the magic-blindness spell, but not this soon. All he could assure himself was that if she travelled by night and hid by day, they could perhaps cover enough ground to catch up with her. Horses would possibly help, though if she was moving through wilderness and staying away from roads, they would be less useful. Truly, there was a lot to consider, a lot of unknown factors, and he would have to simply change and adapt his plan as often as needed in order to ensure success.

"I concede you may have a point," he said at last, and gave a well-feigned yawn. "It has been a long and difficult day after all.. No doubt the princess will take her rest soon, too. And we will see better by day's dawning than my humble light, to be certain." Looking around them for a moment, he turned back to the archer and gave a tired smile. "I suppose you know a good few places where one might set up a little camp? I find herbalists tend to be some of the most knowledgeable about their surroundings, and as I can't claim nearly such familiarity with these woods, I'd gladly let you take the lead."

It was annoying to have to stand down like this, but better to let the archer trust him falsely than to give him reason right away to question their alliance. Showing some level of complicity would make him far more trustworthy to the stranger, he expected. After all, one who was too headstrong wasn't a good ally, and one who was too overbearing made for a poor travelling companion. Nodding down the rough-hewn path, he brightened the sphere a bit, allowing the light to shine further. "After you, sir Relven."
By this time, the road through the woods was almost deserted, those on actual travelling business having already pulled their carts and wagons off to the side in order to make camp. Likewise, those without some ordinary mercantile task had also largely come to a stop for the night. One such individual, a tall, leather armor-clad sellsword, had set up a small fire right at the edge of the road with no consideration for being seen or not. Along with a full sword and a handful of daggers for purposes both lethal and practical, they had only their armor and a roll and pack. Travelling lightly was hardly unknown to sellswords, though, so there was nothing about them exceptionally strange. Like most of their ilk, they advertised their skills and weapons openly - sensible thieves tended to avoid such battle-worn types and those in need of a hired blade tended to recognize the intent behind such brazenness.

For the moment, they were alone with their tepid and low-burning fire, reading a map by it as much as the wan light of the waxing moon. For all appearances they were allowing the implied reputation to guard them, but if one watched closely, at every sudden noise in the undergrowth their eyes would dart to the source, and the free hand that held a half-eaten hardtack biscuit would move for one of the daggers sheathed at their side. Though there was no reason yet for any of the many competitors to turn on each other, it wasn't infeasible that some over-zealous or just vicious types might seek to eliminate some of said competition.

Silently watching a particular area of the nearby woods, they folded and tucked away the map, and removed the glove from their left hand, and picked up a short length of wood, suitable for a torch. Holding two fingers to the tip of the torch, they snapped once, twice, and finally, on the third time, a small flame sprung up from their fingers and immediately took to the wood. Rising, they moved towards the patch in question, readying a dagger, they addressed the darkness in a harsh, demanding voice. "Show yourself, you coward."
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It was becoming increasingly apparent to the young archer that the new counterpart was guarded more so mentally than physically. Devon knew not to be too surprised by the other’s reservations but he would rather him be up front about them rather than try to convince him otherwise. Devon held his tongue, aware that new alliances, temporary or permanent, needed to have an introductory period where each person involved could evaluate those around them. Devon wasn’t as critical as he knew he should be but he thought with time being a thing going against them,

He remained silent until Telaris was finishing speaking though Devon personally saw little point since his words and attempt to appear tired and agreeable felt on someone who was not daft or ignorant. Being a watcher, someone who lurked and soaked up the most minute of details, Devon knew Telaris was wary of him but refused to admit it, for whatever reason. “Certainly.” He said, keeping his agreement brief since it appeared as though it would make little to no difference whether his response was lengthy or not. Wordlessly, Devon took the lead, hoping his most preferred hiding spot hadn’t been taken already.

“Oh, I have no earned such a title, please address me as Devon or Relven, as simplicity tends to be the easiest when in the thick of things.” He flashed him a smile before pressing onward. The stillness of the evening was disrupted by their trampling but even so, the beauty remained present and wholesome. After three minutes of walking, he stopped and peeled back a thick layer of shrubs to reveal a small grotto area which was lined with lush soft moss and grass and had a small pool of water which was fed by a patient slow stream up above. “I used to stop here during tiring treks, it always proved relaxing and well hidden.” He explained as he waited for the other to go and make himself comfortable in the nest.

- - -

A sweet smile never fell from her lips as she continued to romp around the thick wooded area. She had on a long dark blue robe which pooled around her ankles and the hood bunched up behind her neck as the coolness of the night was far more welcomed than the sweat which would surely trickle down her neck if she continued to wear said hood throughout the evening. Her bright golden eyes looked around, feeling an energetic wind blow by. Being a witch and a pretty well practiced one at that, Mela Accorn the Second, was very confident about her predicament. She was in her late twenties at the least but her short size often led foes to determine otherwise.

Using the wind, she raised a hand, her long baggy sleeve, falling to her forearm and shoulder, she flicked her fingers and was able to let the stray breeze lift her up into the tall trees. Mela was a sneaky sort but not out of malice or ill-intent, no, it was just to have fun. There were clearly many people who had their own goals in mind that could be met thanks to the princess’ new found peril. The money and recognition would boast her education and prove her worth to all those who dared question her validity as a witch.

Now settled in the trees, she quickly scampered from branch to branch like a squirrel or rat. Mela’s long braided light brown hair almost acted as a cat’s tail which aided to her balance and agility. But in her mind, she knew magic was on her side and that allowed her spy on those who may be an asset to her, and who of course would entertain her. If the quest was really difficult as one thought, Mela was determined to fulfill it with a smile and not a disgruntled frown or smirk. She looked down and saw someone fashion a torch and she smiled wide and decided to show herself after tailing her. “Greetings!” She exclaimed and flew down, her legs hooking on the sturdy cranch as she hung upside down, her cloak flopping over her face and hanging in the wind. “You’re sure in a serious mood.” Mela laughed and jumped down and straightened herself out, her age and mindset were clearly on opposite ends of the spectrum.
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"Impressive," Telaris remarked with actual sincerity, and stepped into the small grotto. True, it was ill-suited to more than two or three, but this little enclave would be a more than suitable for the pair of them for the night. Underfoot, the moss was spongy, a bit unbalancing, but he made his way over to the stream-fed pool without much difficulty, and knelt, cupping his hands and gathering some of the pure spring water. It was cold, and he sipped it from his palms silently, mind already tracing the possible paths his prey had taken. Once he'd drunk as much as he wanted, he filled an empty flask with it, stoppering the vessel and slipping it back into the bag he wore.

"I suppose we'll rest a while and then move out in the early morning.. With any luck, we can track her to wherever she may be hiding by daylight before many more days pass." Moving back over to a particular spot, he settled in, using his travelling staff to help him make a small indentation in the grasses, and began setting up for some sleep. "Somehow I suspect we may have to dismay some overzealous fellow seekers, but your bow and a few suitable spells should keep all but the most persistent from following us too closely." Perhaps he was being a bit overzealous now himself, speaking so freely with the stranger. But there was nothing of immense value in his words, and perhaps it would lead the archer more readily to believe him a trustworthy companion.

Or maybe it was worthless, just empty, useless words escaping out into the night air, heated from their stay in his hot-blooded body. Only time would tell - for now, he genuinely relished the idea of sleep, even if these mosses and grasses were far more humble a bed than he preferred. "Wake me in the morning," he said with an air of finality as he got comfortable, and bedded down. "And don't sleep too heavily. We don't know who else could find this little hiding spot."
This statement was met with an expression of unimpressed annoyance, and the sellsword simply turned back and returned to the fire, adding the torch to the vigorous blaze already going. For a moment it seemed as if the witch's presence was not even going to be further acknowledged, but finally, they motioned for her to sit, and pulled out a pair of hardtack biscuits and tossed one to her. "I'm on a rather serious sort of journey," came the next statement, after a long pause. What that was, was left unspecified, but it was easy enough to guess - it was hardly as if there weren't dozens of others on this same quest. But it seemed they preferred to let her make her guesses.

In fact, it seemed the traveller was not much of one for discussion at all, instead choosing to tend the fire and idly chew on the very dry and flavorless hardtack, more out of a necessary need for some kind of sustenance than any real desire to eat the plain and unappetizing food. Around them, night had finally fallen in earnest, and in the distance other fires could be seen, here and there through the barred forest tree-trunks. Huddled around them were other seekers - everyone from royal soldiers to common peasants vying for this rare and unrivalled opportunity. Some were out there this night in pursuit of the fortune that awaited the successful ones, others out of a sense of duty or under command of another. Others were out for fame or glory. Some were just taking this chance to leave on an excuse, though they never intended to return.

Looking back to the witch, her newfound and stoic companion seemed to survey her a moment, taking in the small-statured spellcaster's robes and plaited hair and the strange, gilded eyes that seemed at once suited and yet strange in her human face. Whether or not the other had any thoughts on Mela's appearance, they didn't say, only moved to bank the fire a bit to keep it from getting too high, and finally comment, "I don't care if you follow me, but don't get in my way. Understood?"
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It didn’t matter too much to the archer if Telaris approved or didn’t of the accommodations. In Devon’s mind, he was being pretty generous with his outreach of kindness and so far he wasn’t feeling any sort of appreciation or even respect from the other. Devon watched as he moved and got himself some water and then got comfortable. Devon rmeoved his pack and listened to Telaris continue to talk as if he was in command, as it Devon were some sort of incompetent charge and Devon was not feeling reassured at all with his decision to find an alley so thoughtlessly. Perhaps if he had chosen more carefully or observed more people who were lurking around then he wouldn’t feel so disjointed.

Telaris continued to speak and finally concluded by telling Devon to wake him up in the morning and to also not sleep too heavily, two points Devon didn’t need to be reminded of. Nor did he feel as though Telaris was his responsibility to wake up nor protect. Devon had wanted to approach the situation with a level but fair head but so far, he wasn’t feeling like the other shared the same sentiments. He took a seat, easing himself down onto the cushiony forest floor. He leaned back and went over the supplies in his own pack, feeling no need to say anything for the time being. He looked up and knew the other would want to rest and frankly, Devon knew he wouldn’t be able to get any shut eye with his mind whirling.

He pulled out a small leather pouch of water and took a drink before he set it aside. He would be able to refill it before they departed though he was already considering cutting the alliance already. He wasn’t confident the vibe he was getting from the other and as he pulled out a handful of dried fruit, he decided to go take a walk around the area. He needed to let his mind wander if he would have any chance of getting some treasured shuteye. Devon got up and grabbed his bow and arrows before he quickly and quietly excused himself from the slice of paradise and began to circle around the area, wanting to assure himself that they were safe, at least from outside uncertainty.

- - -

Mela was on the same serious quest but she didn’t see why people had to be so narrow minded. In her own experience, she saw little merit for being so serious. It often made situations worse if people weren’t willing to think out of the box or relax even just a little. “Oh sorry.” Mela gave her a slight soured expression. She decided the girl with the fire was the sort who didn’t enjoy teaming up. Mela flicked the braid back behind her and decided to try again with someone else. Even she knew the direness of the Princess’ situation and was determined to help but she knew help wouldn’t come in the form of a lone soldier or knight in shining armor. “You really don’t want any help? There’s better chances together than apart.” She pointed out, dropping her smile.

The other seemed more interested in herself and Mela let out a sigh as she shook her head. Her mood was already dampening with just the passing moments she was wasting standing around. Then she finally spoke up and that was more than enough to discourage Mela from trying to make a connection. “You treat people poorly and that’s how your life will pan out. Don’t talk to me like a child because I am not a child, regardless of perception.” She said with a huff and used her magic to create a large but airy tornado of wind which she used to carry her off to a different part of the woods. She knew where she was not welcomed and she was smart enough to move along.

Depositing herself on the ground, she tried to gather her spirits and that was when she saw someone coming toward her. Mela sensed no malice nor ill intent but that didn’t stop her from getting ready to attack if needed. The figure kept nearing and she saw it was a man, an archer who happened to be an herbalist. “Interesting.” Mela commented.

“What?” Devon was a bit surprised by the woman’s sudden comment. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t sensed her and he was already having second thoughts about Telaris.

“My name is Mela, sorry. I was just thinking how interesting it is for a medic to be skilled in combat, though it is long ranged...I understand that.” Mela shrugged.

“Hello…” Devon was more wary to accept new persons but he had a feeling she might be useful to the cause. He knew the choice could be another poor one but right now he wanted to be on good terms with allies and not stuck in a limbo of misunderstandings. “My name is Devon. Are you a witch?”

“I certainly am, you’re hoping to help the Princess?”

He nodded.

“You could use my help and I could use yours. I have someone else with me, his name is Telaris and I think an addition would be alright if we all got to know one another.” Devon said. He was taking somewhat of a risk but he didn’t care too much because he felt like he needed to be more involved in things, rather than sit on the sidelines and let someone boss him around. He liked to observe but he didn’t like to be a puppet. He motioned her to follow him. “So did you run into anyone else?” He asked as they walked back to the grotto. He knew it might be useful to see if she had anyone with her or anyone she could consider a risk or possible rival in the crucial struggle.

“I did come across another witch I think, we didn’t exchange too many words but she was using fire.” Mela commented as he pulled back the brush and let her in. “I was hoping to have her as a possible comrade but I don’t think she was interested…” She trailed off and saw someone sleeping. She cringed and looked to Devon, feeling a bit apologetic. “Sorry…”
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No sooner than the murmured apology had left the witch's lips was Telaris sitting up, casting a small light-spell to illuminate the secluded grove. "Ah, so you found a friend," he said, managing a slight smile. It was pure falsity - from the look of the woman, she was a witch, and he had no love in his heart for the half-wild, untrained, amateur breed that called themselves magic-users and yet refused any sort of formal schooling or actual effort to hone their magics. True, there had been a few wixes he'd met who had potential, but they never used it, instead squandering their abilities in some completely useless manner. But he'd been awake when the archer stole out of their impromptu camp, and lain awake, listening for him, half-certain he would not return. So it was with some fortune that he did come back, albeit with some rag-tag spellcaster at his heels.

Getting up, he approached the pair, stretching slightly. "Devon, I do hope you can forgive my earlier harshness. I suppose the urgency of the situation in which we find ourselves has made a demon out of me, whether I intended it or not. We are stronger as a unified force, so please, be assured that I take no issue with you finding us another ally." Careful now with his words - us, we, unity, binding them together through language and diminishing his own former superiority - the mage put on a genuine front, looking over the newcomer with curiosity. Acting was not his best skill, but he could enhance it, subtly, with a bit of magic charm, to make himself a more believable sort. If nothing else, he could always think with earnestness on how they could be useful, and ply that into a facsimile of camaraderie.

Once formal introductions had been made, however, he seemed concerned about the other witch that Mela mentioned having met with before, and quizzed her about what she thought of the stranger. Finally, he looked thoughtful, musing on the information, and inquired, "I don't suppose you recall where you met her? Even if a bit recalcitrant, we could always use another ally. Particularly someone well-travelled. Four is a solid number, well-rounded, and enough for us to each get rest even if a guard must be posted." Looking to the petite witch, he gave a mild, sympathetic smile. "I'd appreciate it if you could find her again and recruit her to us, if she seemed trustworthy enough. There's no knowing what sort of ill-intentioned types there may be out here, looking to prey on honest people trying to help the Princess, so we should bolster our numbers where we can." Though the idea of two witches, one withdrawn and bitter, the other perky and talkative, made for a very unpleasant thought, it was still better to have more help than less, more shields to stand behind than fewer. So long as he made sure to reign in his tendencies for being overbearing and perhaps a bit bossy, it would be fine. Probably.
Not terribly far off from the trio, back by the road, the sellsword was patiently lighting their fire a second time - Mela's windy disappearance had of course blown out the flames and required them to rebuild it. Perhaps the witch had had a point, though it was a moot point now, since she'd fled. Well, it could be kept in mind for next time. The words had stung a bit, but not much; years of travel alone tended to give one a thick skin, and they were no exception to that inevitability. Living on bounties and contract work was a lonely life, so one had to adapt, or be crushed by it. Sociability was simply not useful if you had to make and break connections as frequently as a sellsword did. The only thread connecting it all was coin, and coin, though useful, was a poor companion.

All of this was worth dwelling on, and perhaps, if someone else made the same venture as the witch, they would give the newcomer a fairer chance than her, if only in some half-hearted attempt to make up for their previous misstep. Perhaps no one would - only time would tell. Beneath their hands the fire sprung to life again, a small, bright beacon in the heavy darkness. Once again they were alone, as they often were. Familiarity made it tolerable, and they went back to their map, trying to guess where a runaway royal recently turned werewolf might go in search of shelter.
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