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[hr][b]The Vrondi Jungle[/b]


“Really?” The Fotian mumbled under her breath, while slowing her mount to a stop as the others did. “A tree?...” She continued, but this time the words overlaid with agitation at the thought.

[i]We journeyed through the muck and mire of the thick Vrondi jungle to inspect trees?[/i] Czigani shook her head, recalling earlier in the day when she’d been brought into the Alliance -the “fellowship" as one of the royals had even put it- for whatever reasons they had. Even then the Tyro warrior questioned what good she could even be in whatever private war the ruling council had been waging. She didn’t need to be involved, nor was she all interested in becoming a pawn. But, as more information was given about the journey and tasks as hand, it was abundant that Czigani was in fact placed at just the right time. And despite whatever feelings she secretly harbored against the idea, her homeland, Fotia, had been the groups destination for the first leg of the mission.

[i]K’eita Lysirus[/i] The Fotian girl signed under an alias, but of course she has to, if any records were being kept at all. The name itself? Just a close childhood friend who long passed from a terrible bone disease when they were still in their early adolescence. While they shared many interests, they both differed, as K’eita was a fighter, not with sword or fist, but with words. A true diplomat, and something Czigani admired in her late friend. Perhaps her name would still carry on in another capacity.

At the sudden protest from one of the group members, Czigani stirred out of her reverie, and noticed that one of the knights -Mason was it?- took it upon himself to set fire to the diseased tree, quickly rendering it to ashes. The Tyro warrioress cracked a smile, mentally applauding his boldness, while simultaneously feeling relieved that they could possibly move on. She tugged at the collar of her relatively new armor, gifted to her by the King of Vrondi prior to their departure. In addition, she was fashioned with a new rapier and parrying dagger, both of which had the resistance needed to withstand extreme heat and damage. 

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Jaku, the ebony horse gifted to her during the journey, had become quite skittish in the area, clearly the evil permeating that part of the jungle brought and uneasiness within its grasp. Removing the leather glove from her hand, Czigani stroked the stallion’s strong neck, bringing a bit of comfort to an otherwise agitated animal. 

“Stand firm, boy.” She leaned in to whisper. “For there are far worse entities out there…”