[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[h3][color=Gold]In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador[/color][/h3]
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The town was quiet as the group of four slipped by, a blessing though not one without some ill. As the group skirted about the dim lights of a guardhouse they could hear the raucous laughter from within and the argumentative voice of a younger man demanding that he didn't have anything illegal and wished to continue home. Something the guards seemed disinclined to allow. Several others roamed the streets, stinking of ale and often hefting along with a purse or bag of someone unfortunate enough to be out past curfew. Yet, the group made it out with several close calls. The road itself deserted of travelers with good reason. It was over an hour before Fatima and her bodyguards drew close to the camp they would see the low fire that Gen had prepared. Deciding to risk the limited light in need to make sure Faeril was alright and to keep away what rats that Xandar hadn't killed or scared off. The Black Widow and her friend were nearby arguing while Xandar was off chopping wood. Each swing of the ax a crash through the night, perhaps not the wisest of moves. But wood was always needed and someone cutting wood would not be an odd noise, merely the place where the noise was coming from would be curious.

Bellinar was perched up in one of the ruined houses, watching the group come in. Satisfied that they were in, the Eyrien warrior swooped into the night on dark wings to make sure himself that they were not followed. Something that Mikhail would know was, in fact, the case. Someone had followed them from Eldra lagging far enough behind that they were just out of sight. The youngest of the three brothers, Denvar nodded slightly, as he perched in a window keeping watching while he brother flew off.

The Black Widow looked over her should at the shirtless form of Xandar, her lip curling in a sneer as she snipped at the Warlord Prince. [color=SlateBlue]"And they have returned, just as I told you."[/color] In truth, she was unnerved by the amount of strength and frustration that Xandar displayed.

[color=FireBrick]"Do not act all sure, when you yourself were worried."[/color] Growled Gen to the icy Widow, who in turn pretended to ignore him. Giving a superior glare to Faeril, the Warlord looked back to the group as they came up the ruined street. [color=FireBrick]"How did it go?"[/color] He could guess but Gen was feeling like a bit of a prick and wanted to rub Faeril's folly in a bit more. He loved the woman dearly, but Faeril was stubborn. Alway certain she knew the right way when now more than ever the right way was needed to be discussed over and not just her dictating how things would go. 

Sipping the water, the Black Widow looked crossly at Fatima arching a brow as if asking how she had managed to ruin a perfectly good illusion so soon. [color=SlateBlue]"Must we ask, when we know?"[/color] The Widow shot back at her longtime friend.

[color=FireBrick]"Despite what you'd like to believe you are not omnipotent."[/color] Was the iron retort.