[center][b][color=ed1c24]Marius[/color][/b][/center]
[color=0076a3]"Ser Knight, I am one of the healers accompanying these new Shepards, a Troubadour to be specific. Where would you have me in formation, when the need arise, to best suit your Commander's, or your, tactics?"[/color]

Marius turned around around in order to face the Troubadour who had just spoken up.  Although he did remember seeing this woman amongst the ragtag band, which formed to rescue the ‘Champion of Naga’, Marius could not remember this woman’s name, probably because they were never formally introduced.  

“Well,” the red cavalier began, delaying in a desperate attempt to see if he could pull her name out of his head, “I have not discussed any tactics with Sir Jacob, so I cannot say anything with any certainty. However, with that said, your mobility as a mounted healer should prove to be a great boon for our company since you will be able to get to our wounded quicker than anyone else who happens to be traveling by foot.  But I would have you remain out of the front lines unless totally necessary, since you would not be any good to us if you yourself happen to get injured.  You obviously know who I am, but I think you have failed to let me know who you are.”

[hr][center][b][color=FAEBD7]Abra[/color][/b][/center]
Abra looked over her former foster mother’s house once last time, checking to ensure that she was not leaving anything behind that she thought that she was either going to need or miss if she happened to forget it.  She had spent her whole life in this house.  It was almost heartbreaking that she was about ready to leave it forever.  Even in spite of her fond memories of this place, there was nothing chaining her down in this place anymore, ever since the death of her foster mother, Helike.  Unfortunately, it was just time for Abra to move on to other, and hopefully better, things.

As the floorboards underneath her creaked from the stress placed upon them by her foot, Abra took one last gander at Helike’s bookshelf.  Abra obviously could not bring all the books that populated the shelving unit; all these books would just weigh her down, if she could even carry them all in the first place.  After some careful deliberation, Abra pulled out one of the books off the shelf.  The cover of this book was deep red, hinting at the focus on fire enchantments that lurked within that book.

However, this was not the only book that drew her attention.  Abra pulled out a second book, this one having a blackish-purple cover, almost like the color of raisins made from Black Corinth grapes.  This was the book that Abra had stumbled upon on the night of her sixteenth birthday.  Something about that book just drew her attention to it.  Was she going to use it?  Of course not, but there was just a little nagging voice inside her head that nodded her to bring it along too.

After making her last round about the house, Abra gathered up her bag and headed toward the door.  Before she left, Abra grabbed a small urn from the fireplace mantle.  Within this miniature container was a fraction of the ashes of her recently-departed foster mother.  The rest of her ashes had been buried in the backyard, with only a small marker that declared that Helike was laid to rest there.  While she considered that bringing along this urn might come off as, well, morbid and grotesque, but at the same time, it almost felt as if her foster mother was still at her side, guiding her on whatever road lies ahead of Abra.

Before she left, Abra cast one final spell upon the house, causing it to be rendered invisible so that looters would not wreak havoc upon her deceased foster mother’s house. Then, with one last sorrowful tear, Abra departed from her foster mother’s house for the last time.