[h3][img]http://i.imgur.com/9LDSvd1.png[/img] & [img]http://i.imgur.com/0zOu8o4.png[/img][/h3] Serena and Veronica both paused when they heard those words. They worried that perhaps their cynicism was getting to them. Serena worried that it may even be rubbing off on her student. Veronica knelt down next to Tirnea as her teacher began to move away from them. “It depends on what his cargo was, exactly.” Serena said. She stared at the crates that had fallen from the cart as she walked around it. She scanned over each and every one, hoping she wouldn’t have to crack them all open before she saw a telltale pink liquid dripping out from one of them and pooling on the ground nearby. The warrior’s eyes seemed to bore into it for a moment before she set aside her naginata for a moment. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword for a moment before she moved quick as lightning, the sword leaving the sheath and slicing through the nails holding the side of the crate together in one quick, fluid motion that made it seem like she had barely moved at all. The lid fell to the side as she sheathed the blade, revealing an interior full of small vials of the liquid that was pooling out the side. It was a healing concoction, likely created in The Choir’s own advanced distilleries. They were held in trays with special slots to keep them organized and stationary, though even they couldn’t hold up to being anywhere near a swing of her student’s hammer. She carefully sifted through the bottles, making sure not to cut herself on the shattered glass. Eventually, she managed to find an intact potion. She frowned, bombarded with memories of an old battle where she received wounds severe enough to warrant the use of such a thing. Back when she still had i- “Teacher!” Veronica’s voice boomed “Any luck yet?” Serena shook her head and returned to the cart driver. She poured the vial’s contents down his mouth while keeping pressure on the wound on his neck. Her glare seemed to burn into him for what felt like an eternity until his eyes slowly opened. “What…,” he said weakly. “What the fuck just happened?” “Ummm…” Veronica answered, trying not to pause too much. “One of the wheels broke. Vampire did it.” His gaze drifted to the pathetic remnants of the cart. “By Aramice…” he said, exasperated beyond belief. “How am I supposed to make my shipment now?” “Take your horses back to safety.” Serena answered quickly, cutting him off before he could worry any further. “When The Choir questions you, tell them that an old bird sings a mourning song, another sings its praises, they will understand… Would you like us to accompany you until you are more rested?” “You’re nothing but trouble and bad luck,” the cart driver answered. “The sooner you’re gone, the better.” Serena shrugged and gestured for the rest of them to follow as she picked up her bags and left. It would be a long walk to Twilight Fields. They had made good pace before the sun began to recede beyond the horizon. The river near the capitol of the Twilight Fields seemed closer than ever, but they had settled for setting up Veronica’s tent a ways off the side of the road, a fire cooking her magically preserved container of Choral rations for the group’s dinner. When Veronica had finished heating them, they were distributed evenly. Though they were able to be eaten raw, they were almost unanimously preferred heated amongst The Choir’s ranks, and even then they had earned the fine accolade of “palatable” by even the least picky among them. While Serena picked at her food, pretending that Veronica had done an excellent job preparing it nonetheless, Veronica had already finished. She thought for a moment before turning her gaze to Tirnea. “So…” she said slowly. “A poor first impression of Abadden, right?”