[center][b] Curlow, Capital of Charlin Day of the Union Festival [/b][/center] Today the streets of Curlow were bursting with color and pride as the Charlinites crowded the city with celebration on the anniversary of Charlins unification under King Roland all those years ago. The usual cobblestone roads and grey and white stone buildings were instead painted with color by blue banners and golden emblems of the horn of Roland. Everywhere one looked there was a smiling Charlinite, dressed up as a warrior of old, or setting up further decorations, such as lanterns and depictions of Rolands famous charge against the final war lords that kept the land separate. Charlin horses were paraded down the crowded avenues with much pomp and splendor as crimson confetti was thrown everywhere, their final destination being the great Curlow marketplace. The usual stands and shacks of the outdoor market had been replaced with souvenir booths or moved all together to allow stages to be erected for bands to play, and even for actors to relive the feats of Roland in front of the myriad of patriots. Traditional food was being passed out, nearly freely, from the local delicatessens that dotted the perimeter of the marketplace, giving the atmosphere not only a cheery and upbeat feel, but also the strong aroma of fine meats, ales, and cheeses. Many mouths salivated at the hearty smells of the marketplace and many hearts beat twice in joy for all of Charlin and it’s accomplishments today, the day of Roland. Under the guise of the crowd and robes of the common folk, Wilxham and Edvin smiled and cheered with the rest of Charlin. Edvin was reluctant to join Wilxham into sneaking off to one of the Monodominic’s favorite days in Charlin, but after much persuasion and even a bruise or two, with a smile on his face, he conceded to going with the monk. It was his first time out of the monastery since his strange abduction and oddly enough he found the option to escape his new found friend and report to the Paladins to be not only very plausible considering the large amount of Paladin supervision that peppered the crowd, but also undesirable. Despite his relatively new desire to stay with the monodominics he still couldn’t shake the small sickening feeling of his Paladin duty that still clung tightly to him, and it caused him to lose his usual ferocious appetite. His blue eyes darted from sandwich, to sausage, to hunk of cheese with anxiety and hunger, causing his stomach to curl and groan while his mind scolded him for not partaking in the fine foods. Wilxham on the other hand had no problem taking handfuls of cheddar and sliced meats and introducing the mess to his face with the gusto of a small child “Nothing,” Wilxham said between munches, “absolutely nothing beats the Curlow delicatessens, nothing!” Edvins stomach rumbled and groaned despite his nausea, causing the young master to wince at Wilxham, his eyes nearly pleading Wilxham to stop reminding him of food. The monk however remained oblivious and simply shrugged, continuing his delicious quest. Wilxhams eyes darted around his surroundings, studying the vigilant paladins that could be found here and there. They were eating and conversing like any other, but Wilxham knew they were still paladins, and this in turn caused his own stomach to give up. He looked down with want at a small sandwich he had just snagged from a fat butcher who was promoting his own restaurant. With a groan he shoved it into his pocket, hoping little stray threads wouldn’t invade his snack for later. “These paladins are real appetite killers,” Wilxham groaned to his silent partner. “Tell me about it,” Edvin whined, his mind lost in memories of his time as a paladin. Before Wilxham could reply with his brow all furrowed in curiosity he accidently stepped on a foot that protruded from a crowd of people. “I’m sorry, sir,” Wilxham said politely as he faced his victim. An old face greeted the apology, the face of Benoroux. He simply flashed his white and yellow smile and replied in his rusty seaside voice, “No problem, on such a glorious day it is hardly sane to complain about a little stomping.” “Too true,” the usually isolated monk replied, eyeing the shorter man who stood next to Benoroux, a man who clearly was not a Charlinite. As a monk stuck on a mountain, this definitely proved a valuable chance for the monk to do a little social studies on the move, a chance the ever wondering Wilxham would never pass up. “I don’t mean to be rude,” Wilxham started, his innate curiosity peaked “but who is your friend?” Edvin stood by Wilxham with his arms naturally crossed, and his posture almost like a paladin in salute. He squinted his blue eye as he studied the man, “Somnus?” Stephan smiled as best he could but given an unfortunate experience with one particular dock worker in Lrev any pointed question of his nationality was met with more than a little trepidation. Looking up at Wilxham as he did most people in Charlin Stephan replied a tad nervously, “Well no actually, I’m from Dominion.” “Oh,” both Wilxham and Edvin said together, with the monk sounding a lot more excited than the rather unpleasant paladin grunt from Edvin. Wilxham shot the youth a questioning look. Surely it was his first time in public for a long while, but the young master was definitely acting different than his usual accepting self. “Freg,” was all the monk whispered into Edvins ear, as if reminding him of a few chapters from the youths book. Edvin simply kept a stone set expression, his paladin feelings dueling his new found monodominic heart inside him. With the duel indecisive, Edvins body simply fell back to it’s previous ploy of rumbles and growls. Benoroux chuckled, “sounds like your friend here could use something to eat!” Wilxham returned the laugh with his own hearty chuckle and slammed Edvins back, “he sure could!” The youth gave a weak smile as Wilxham and Benoroux continued to chat happily and turned his attention to Stephan, his kinder side forcing him to make up for his earlier rudeness, “speaking of food, how do you like Charlinite cuisine?” Pleasantly surprised by the lack of a suspicious glare Stephan responded more confidently, “It’s interesting, though I have only had a small amount in truth. Benoroux and I are visiting from Lrev and, like all port cities, there is usually food from closer to home available. Not that I dislike what I have tried of your cuisine of course, just that a memory of home can be a good thing regardless of the source.” “Memories of home can sometimes delude the path to the future,” Edvin parroted a passage from Freg, speaking to himself more than Stephan. “Well,” Edvin said, snapping out of his trance, “try the Verdak sausage.” As Edvin started offering Stephan some more foods to try, a band that presided over a close by stage began to play it’s next song. It was a Charlinite classic, with heavy drums and flutes, as the immediate crowd slapped and cheered to the very familiar [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBDFrIwJy4Q] beat.[/url] A few children began to dance around the conversing group, and as one small boy clumsily slipped on a stray fruit rind he quickly shot his hands out to grab whatever was closest to stop the fall. Unfortunately what was closest was Wilxhams robes, and as his robes were torn off him he froze in the consequences. A paladin began to shout as Wilxhams bare back was revealed and the three wisps of wind that were tattooed to his back became evidence of his affiliation. “Monodominic!” Swords began to shriek out of their scabbards as the paladins began to approached the group. Wilxham looked at Edvin, who in turn looked at Stephan, “try the sausage!” With those few words the pair of monodominics burst through the surrounding crowds and began a hasty retreat. A handful of paladins bit at their heels as they followed the two down the streets. Edvin pushed over a cart to halt the advance of his chasers and Wilxham apologized profusely to all the old women he passed by who saw him sprinting in his undergarments. “Sorry!” The pair leaped over a group of kids playing games with colored stones, their mothers scoffing at Wilxham. “Wilxham!” Edvin yelled as a stray chicken flew into his face, knocked out of a cage by the running monk. “Sorry ma’am!” Willxham shoved himself between two rather large women. “You naked oaf listen to me!” Edvin fumed as one of the large woman slapped him as he passed. “Excuse me miss!” A stray hand slapped Wilxhams butt as he passed a group of young women and a rash of red conquered his face along with a smug smile. Edvin cried out again, “Wilxham, the alley!” The two cut a sharp right and sprinted straight into a dark alley. As they panted and pumped their legs they eventually came across a dark and towering end to the alley, a dead end. The two stopped and fell to their knees, they began panting heavily between laughs. “I can’t believe that just happened,” Wilxham roared, his laugh bouncing off the walls. “Me either,” laughed Edvin, “ chased by…” His expression drooped, “paladins.” Wilxham put up his hand as if to correct Edvin but was interrupted by a foreign laugh separate of their own. The two quickly leapt to their feet and turned around. There blocking the way back out of the alley stood a single paladin, sword drawn. The paladin spoke with authority, “you two are under arrest!” Edvin approached with his hands up, “Surely you can’t be serious.” A stray beam of light pierced the darkness and found Edvins face, revealing it to the paladin. A looks of disbelief grew on the paladins face and his blade lowered a little, “Master Edvin?” “Aye.” “We thought you were dead,” the paladin studied Edvin and Wilxham, “if what my eyes are telling me is true, you were better off that way.” The words stung Edvin and his face contorted with emotion, “paladin, step aside, that’s an order.” “Apologies,” the paladin spat, “I’m afraid I don’t help traitors.” Edvin slowly walked towards the man in disbelief, his eyes wide in shock, “I am Master Paladin Edvin! Stand aside!” The paladins blade rose again, threatening Edvin, the man spoke plainly, “You are under arrest.” Edvin’s face was red as he screamed at the paladin, “I am Master Paladin Edvin! I am Master Paladin Edvin!” “You are under arre-” Wilxham silenced the paladin with a swift knock over the head with a loose brick procured from the alley buildings, “You are Edvin, and we are going home.” The indecently dressed monk practically dragged Edvin out of the alley by the arm as the young master kept jerking back to the unconscious paladin, trying to conjure up the words to say to the man, and trying to conjure the words to say to himself. [hider=Things to know] The ladies love a monk in distress Edvin is confused Try the sausage [/hider]