[IC] Vradia: Tales of the Chosen Few

[WhiteAngel25]

[WhiteAngel25]

---

Amarysah Snowden

---

One could feel the stickiness of humidity in the air even with the cover of night. This summer had been unusually cool, and the ever-present humidity subtly signaled that rain was fast approaching. Even the animals seemed to sense it as they scurried to their hidden homes within the city walls. Volenstul, the capital city of Vradia, was bustling with life, despite the impending storm. While the nobles slept comfortably in the Upper Ring, many were breaking legs and deals in the shadows of the Downtown markets and backways of the Harbor. One establishment, known as Sanctuary, stood out amongst the wretched living conditions one would experience.

The Sanctuary, nestled between the outskirts of the Rosebud District and the beginning of Downtown, serves as the only pub where both wealthy merchants, nobles, and the poor working class can meet. Many organizations use Sanctuary as a place for business deals, legal or otherwise. The Obsidian Crows are one of the most notorious groups, a Thieves Guild built to support those trying to survive Downtown and the Harbor District.

A woman with long ivory tresses twisted back into a long braid entered Sanctuary. Her icy gaze scanned the boisterous crowd, zeroing in on a man with dark features, olive skin, and dressed in fine clothes towards the back. He was doing his best to appear like a commoner; however, the design in his clothes gave him away. She lowered the hood of her dark navy cloak and weaved her way to him like a feline prowling towards prey. Her worn-but-well-cared-for leather boots barely made a sound on the wood floor of the pub. A smile formed on the half-Elven woman's lips with didn't quite meet her eyes.

Amarysah sat across from the nervous low rank nobleman as one did not call upon the Obsidian Crows lightly, much less for her services. "Count Rolof, I presume? The Obsidian Crows have reported that you need assistance on a matter." She propped her left elbow on the table, placed the left side of her jawline and cheek into her hand casually.

The nobleman fussed with his cloak for a moment before meeting Mari's gaze. He seemed shocked, and most people did, meeting her for the first time if they were nobles. She carried her father's piercing blue eyes that anyone would recognize as Grand Duke Viktor's bloodline. "I-I was told that you deal in poisons," he finally managed to stutter out.

"Among other things," Mari purred in a bored manner. What was this man's deal? He seemed more jumpy than the normal nobles who contacted her for Crow services.

Count Rolof glanced around, and a sheen of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he raised his forearms to the table. Once it appeared that the man was satisfied with the obscure nature of the table in the corner, he sighed softly and began to roll up his silken sleeves. "Could use please tell me what poison would do this?" Rolof asked as his forearms were littered with pus boils in some spots, and those that popped the skin were infected with signs of starting to decay.

Amarysah immediately jumped to her feet and took a step back upon seeing such a symptom. "Have you traveled outside of the city recently?" She asked as Count Rolof gulped and nodded. Mari sighed in an annoyed tone. "Where exactly?"

"Somerset. About a week ago."

"Any contact with someone who may be carrying Duskrot?" She asked as she thought Rolof's eyes were going to pop out of his head with the look he gave her.

"D-Duskrot?"

Amarysah nodded in confirmation. It was surprising that even a low nobleman had caught such a terrible disease. Such cases mainly resided in communities with low to poor living conditions. "Only those who come into contact with the Duskrot disease will get the beginning of necrotic tissue that fast," she explained as Rolof quickly covered his forearms back up.

"I-Is it curable?"

Amarysah studied the man for a moment and nodded. "Yes, there is one way to protect oneself." She flipped up her hood and gestured for the man to follow her into the back hallway of Sanctuary. The count did so until he realized that they were in the stone warehouse of the pub. He gingerly walked to the middle of the room to gaze up at the full moon shining down from the roof window. Mari had seemingly disappeared until daggers pinned his cloak in the cracks of the stones.

"W-What is going o-on?" Rolof yelped as he tried his best to tug his cloak free.

"I'm sorry, Count Rolof, but once one's skin becomes necrotic. It's only a matter of time before they succumb to the worst of the symptoms and finally turn," Mari spoke as she entered the ray of moonlight. Rolof's eyes widened as he realized what Amarysah was suggesting.

"No, please, I can pay you! I truly can! Please, just tell me the cure!" Rolof begged.

"Unfortunately, to cure the disease in an area, those who contract it must be killed by steel and their bodies burned to ashes," Amarysah explained as she produced a dagger in her right hand and a small potion bottle in the left. "Downtown and Harbor Districts experience enough hardship from your lot. They don't need a disease to quarantine them to death," she added with a glare.

Before Rolof could grovel some more, Mari swiped her dagger across his throat and jumped back as she tossed a bottle of Devil's Fire at the dying man. Setting him a blaze on the spot. She sat on a barrel and waited for the man and his clothes to burn away. The only sign left of Count Rolof was the five gold and three silver coins that he had intended for payment.

Mari stared a bit longer at the pile of ashes before she took an empty vial from her pack, collected some, and corked it. She examined the ashes briefly before carefully dusting off the money; this man wasn’t going to need it anymore. Plus, the count had been a bachelor, and from what Mari could dig up, he was lucky to receive the inheritance that he did. Regardless, it was one less useless noble in Vradia, something that the half-Elven woman could get behind.

Once the pile of ash was cleaned and all evidence of Count Rolof was washed away into the sewer below, Amarysah paused a moment before leaving through the back door. Fronk, the head healer for the Obsidian Crows, was headed to Somerset about a month ago as a favor to a sister faction in the Ellezag Plains. "First, report in. Then head out," Mari muttered to herself before she flipped up her hood and disappeared into the night.

[GhostEyes]

Kotaka GhostPine

One week prior...

In the village, dawn was not usually this quiet.

But alas, as the first rays of light where ready to come up over Dead Mountain, no folks rose to greet the day, the animals too, even the wind was silent this morning. Yet there was one who defied this trend- At the edge of the village was the Nesting Tower. A tall structure woven together with lumber and limb, Stretched across or loose like flags too were swatches of red or blue cloth to block out the elements. A flock of many birds rested here, mainly hunting companions and their young, but also the rare few messenger birds. Near the sleeping birds, by the opening they came and left from, was Kotaka.

He waited quietly and patiently. Leaned up against the support beams that made up the opening while watching the skies to the west. The darkest part of the sky and in the direction of where his wise teacher, Senaq ShadeWeaver had last traveled in. Senaq was a ‘one with the river’s flow’ sort of a man, but he was punctual. Normally he would be sending his student update via the messenger ravens about once every few weeks. He was late though. No word for several days.

It could have been nothing, after all he was a mortal man. But there was a twist in his gut. Dreams had been plaguing the man for a short while now. Storms brewing over golden grass, people burning and the shadows of fellow men dancing around them, a spiral of crows in a sickly orange sky. They could have been nothing. However, Kotaka was taught to trust his instincts as a hunter and Myst Dancer. What is something was happening? The dreams were not metaphors? What had happened to Senaq? The sky would give no answers to his silent ramblings. Only a gently breeze, and a bit more of the suns light.

His eyes went to his left forearm, around it was a leather bracer wrapped in blue and white cloth, stritched into the area right bellow the wrist was a piece of bone. Scrimshawed onto it was a design of a four eyes wolf surrounded by other lines, dots, and slashes. Kotaka’s animal guide and kin. A present from Senaq after he completed his rite of passage to become a full member of the tribe.

“Seeing into the dark, one of my favorite pass times!” A rasp and a chuckle. There behind Kotaka, coming up from the lower floors, Elder Talhrin. An old man cloaked in furs and garb decorated with the many legends he made for himself over the years. Leaning heavily on his walking stick, which jingles from the small Ancestor stones and bell that hung from the top of it, he shuffled over to a small stool and took a seat. “Unless, the eyes behind that blindfold can actually see something out there, hm?” He jested.

Kotaka unconsciously rose a hand to his blindfold out of habit, but stopped before getting there. “Pardon me, Elder Talhrin. I’m just...waiting.” He sighed.

“For your Teacher?” Kotaka nodded at his response. The elder already knew the answer. “Come sit,” He started, patting one of the other nearby stools. “words must be exchanged.”

Without complaint he took a seat. For a moment they just sat there, watching the outside slowly begin to get brighter. The village would wake soon.

“Silence, silence is sometimes louder than any shout.” There was no playfulness in his voice like before. He taps his staff once. “You must go to him. I feel it. And I know you do too. I am no shaman, but even I can tell when the threats of the Great Tapestry begin to unfurl.”

Kotaka was quiet. Listening to his elder speak his wisdom. There was a part of him that stirred with unease. He understood what Talhrin wanted of him. He wanted this too. But…

“I fear it. What I am feeling, what I am seeing.” Kotaka said with a slight shake. “I do not know what lies beyond these lands.”

Talhrin grinned, turning from the opening to Kotaka. He placed a hand on his shoulder as support. “Yes. You should fear it. Your wits are ablaze, you see and feel it. This is good. You will not face the cold you know, but something warm. Sickly. But, trust your training. Your teacher has taught you well. You will find the truth.” Talhrin straightens up a bit, still using his staff as support. “If you believe your path is tied to his, you must be willing to leave behind the songs, the hearth, and the safety of your mountain. You must walk a road with no trail markers, no guidance, and few allies. You must be hunter and hunted. Not of prey with fangs or fur—but of spirits twisted, truths buried, and your own memories turned against you. ”

Kotaka looked from Talhrin to the horizon again. This time not in search of a messenger but instead taking it in as a whole. The West. Past the frozen wood, tundras, and lakes. To the great unknown. Was this truly his destiny? Even with the gifts of a Myst Dancer, certainty was never guaranteed.

“Where would I even begin? My teacher has spoken few words of his whereabouts.” He sighed, getting to his feet once more. Trying to think of all the things Senaq has ever spoken to him in letters. The duskrot, Vradia, things he never truly understood. "The trail is fading."

Talhrin got to his feet too. With a breath of relief and crack of his weary bones, the elder spoke one last time. “A caravan is to come today. The one that Master ShadeWeaver I believe left with in the first place. Start there. You are resourceful, like him, you will find your way. This is the way things will be. I know it.”

The young man bowed graciously to Talhrin. “To the west, I will go. Thank you, Elder, for your blessing.”

Talhrin urged to bow to stand tall, once again grasping his arm. “Then you walk into legend, boy. Just be sure you return from it.”

Without further urging, Kotaka rushed off to get pack his things and prepare for the search.

[Jamesyco]

Oliver Thurston

In the day before? Maybe of, alcohol allows those to lose track

Vision was somewhat gone, he stared through a broken telescope as one of his underlings had decided to fall upon it the night previously, when they had all gotten drunk outside of some god forsaken neighborhood he was supposed to go to. He had his thing for a long journey out, but it was obnoxious listening to the people of sanctuary. His band could keep him safe, and if he needed to he could finish a fight quickly, but he'd rather not waste his drunkenness on some thief, and then the eventual explaining of why there is a dead person electrocuted beside him, and his gloves are burnt.

The pomp and pagentry of the higher neighborhoods of the capital wasn't the same here, his home was some diluted figurement as he slowly turned the dial, and he looked through the glass, wincing at the the stars as there was a crack on the right side of the last pane. Something to fix but not until later. He looked at the other drunkards, and the few who were sobor that were meant to keep track, and then bring any equipment home should he continue further without the others. Which he said he might have to do, so he brought a few he trusted. He would write in his little booklet before belching, receiving a small applause from the drunkards in his merry band of intellectuals that were not passed out on the ground or in a tent.

"Sir, I know the is a crack, but do you really have to be so crude whenever you do your work?" asked a relatively short man, some form of hairless dwarf or gnome, "after alll you look like an ass sitting on that fat fellow."

Oliver, whom had forgotten the name of his stunted friend, had forgotten where he was sitting, on the stomach of some bulbous man , and he slowly rolled off, notebook in hand as he started to crawl inch by drunken inch to escape the judgement of the wee fellow. Though his escape was foiled by some legs that stood in front of him, and he slowly slunk his knees to his chest like a worm before balancing himself to a standing position.

"I know, but I would rather be intoxicated for if I am write when intoxicated, it will be easier to prove my words when sobor! It is more likely that we need to find our route through the stars should we wish to understand the nature of the world around us. Every small detail makes the sciences improve, we can understand the cycles of women through the stars, there are so many things exclaimed through the stars that we don't know. Did you know some crystals improve health, and host a wealth of knowledge inside of them."

"I know, I listen to your ramblings, and lectures at home sir."

"Of course you do, but that's why we all enjoy yoy..." Oliver was lost for a name once again, "Ah yes, I bet we can fine a cure for all diseases, honestly I believe asbestos would be the best choice for this. IT is a cure all I would have all believe, it has so many purposes in this world. I know plants have plenty of medicinal purposes, as well as the livers of cows. There is so much this world offers to us that we haven't explored. Now... My stunted friend."

"Yes my emotionally stunted caretaker?" replied the short man.

"The stars, yes, look." Oliver pointed to the stars, "close your eyes and image."

Oliver's head looked down at the mans as he would wait until they were closed, and then he wandered off, and out of camp, he was quiet, butt he smiled up at the stars, as he touched the metal plates that made his armor, and let them swirl around him as he kept the bottom parts of his boots unlinked and unmelded so he could be quiet.

He slowly snuck out, and then found himself a small spot closer to sancutary before he would plant himself in the grass, and stare up at the sky. His eyes imagining the beauty of worlds beyond, there was so much to understand, from the waves, to women. He had brewed beer, and do so much for the name of science, but he was no where near done. He wished he could, but there were problems more close ot home that he knew he was tasked with finishing, and completing. He knew others had tried in the past and are likely still looking for cures. He had his own methods, but for the most part, he had his own alchemy, and fellow scholars, intelligent fellows all, but he had his mentionings of it.

This however, this peace would be disrupted by some woman exiting a building near him, oh it was an elf of some kind, a beautiful one. What day was it, was it the right day, "My lord, I did not know they had women this beautiful down here, if I wasn't staring at the stars so long I would have seen that there is a moon just as beautiful down here!" the drunken man would retort seeing the woman, as if his sense of hyperfixated drunkness had lured his eyes towards any motion like some form of dinosaur.

He would however, as he turned rather quickly spin himself around to falling back again on the ground face first, and squirming in the smell of intoxicants lubricated his breath.

[Ti]

---

Zahrat al-Kuthban

---

The falcon, Azir, soared high above the rolling dunes. From this height, the desert looked like a great sleeping sea, as each wind-sculpted crest glinted beneath the sun’s unforgiving gaze. For miles around, nothing moved, until a dark ragged figure stumbled across the sands below, limbs dragging as if they were injured and their legs had half-forgotten how to hold them upright. Lost and perhaps in need of assistance.

Azir wheeled sharply, as he gave a piercing cry as it began its return journey. Back at the camp of tents on the sands below, Yasmin Kashif, known by her alias of Zahrat al-Kuthban since her own journey, raised her gloved arm without hurry. The falcon swept down to perch upon her wrist, helping himself to the scrap of meat she offered. She whispered softly to him in the Regnad dialect, eyes fixed on the heat shimmer in the direction where the wanderer crawled.

Back at the traders’ tent, a heated argument simmered over maps and routes. They were thick in the intricacies as they moved placements to indicate their preferred routes, The two caravan masters hardly noticed her presence at first. She let them talk. When they paused for breath, she stepped forward and drew a clean black mark on the parchment with charcoal. An X, just northeast of the safe routes. The argument faltered to silence.

“That would mean it had made its way near Somerset,” one man protested, voice wavering. “That’s too close. We-”

“You will take your wares elsewhere,” she cut in, feeding Azir another morsel of meat.

“It could be a straggler,” the younger one insisted, though the tremor in his tone betrayed him. “We could just... avoid it.”

Her eyes met his, steady and unwavering. “You know the risk, it is not just one.”

A beat of silence passed between them, as the weight of the truth settled like sand in a grave. She had joined them as an escort for the journey, but this disrupted their plans. Now she had to part ways from them.

The elder man gave a stiff nod. “Zahra-” he started, but the words failed him. He pressed his palm to his brow instead. “May the wind bring you fortune.”

She inclined her head in graceful acknowledgment, then slipped from the tent into the searing light.

Her horse picked its way steadily through the dunes, its hooves muffled on shifting sand. She would have preferred a camel for this stretch under normal circumstances, but the sturdy Reganian mare would carry her well enough once she left the desert behind for the Ellezag Plains. Azir circled overhead, a pale shape against the brilliant sky, as it led her to its quarry.

When they drew near the place the wanderer had been spotted, she dismounted behind a low ridge and climbed to its crest, and moved with the quiet precision of a desert mouse over the sand. Below, the straggler stood motionless, rooted in place, like a statue. Its shadow stretching long in the late sun. Its skin looked grey and leathered, like an old pair of sandals. The wisps of sand clung to it, as if the straggler had already been half-claimed by the desert.

Zahra nocked an arrow, the air around her fingers prickling with a faint blue glow. She scanned the surroundings for signs of a further activity, such as drag marks or unnatural indentations, but the dune lay smooth, almost eerily untouched.

“One husk... alone.” Her voice was low with a hum, as if sharing to an unseen audience. Even then, still wary that there could be more.

She drew and then released. The arrow struck true, and a flame blossomed where it impaled its chest. The creature did not scream. It turned, jerkily, it’s soulless blind eyes stared toward her. It lurched with what seemed to be an inhuman burst of speed. She loosened two further arrows, pinning its limbs to the sands. The grey flesh charred, cracked, and then crumbled, as the fire spell caused it to collapse into ashen ruin, scattered by the desert wind.

She stood for a moment, listening, as her eyes continue to be fixed on her surroundings. There had been reports that caravans have been lost to ‘desert tombs’, where the dead seemed to spring to life in recounted tales of horror that chilled your soul. Only the falcon’s cry answered her, signalling an all-clear.

Without a word, she returned to her horse, giving the scorched patch a wide berth as she guided the mare’s reins northward. Somerset lay ahead

Perhaps there, in the tangled tongues of traders and scholars, the answers to her Uncle’s disappearance await her.

[vietmyke]

Cormag Ruunsten

---

The City of Volenstul was a bustling hive of activity- it always was, rain or shine. The din of the city could be heard from miles away, people and animals all going about their business. Not far from the south gate of the city proper was a small camp- relative to the city anyway. The walls of the camp were rudimentary wooden palisades, hastily assembled logs sharpened to points and lashed together surrounding the cluster of buildings and tents larger than average. As if to dispel any confusion to who the camp belonged to, parked outside were a quartet of vehicles that were too large to be wagons- closer to sailing ships on wheels. This camp was a camp of Nar Ir-Har Ogres, once an enemy of the state, now subjugated servants. However, any animosity one might imagine there to be had long since filtered away, and if lingering tensions remained, it was hard to tell here at least.

The camp was a mess- an organized chaos, as armored ogres dragged massive crates back and forth, beasts of burden assisting them. Human officers stood atop rapidly constructed platforms, barking out orders. The piercing sound of a hammer crashing against an anvil created a rhythm for the work. A massive chest of gold sat in the center of the camp, surrounded by Imperial flags. A cadre of human officers armed with books and notepads dolled out sacks of gold to a growing line of ogres- signs of a job well done. A host of ogres returned from a season of campaigning on behalf of the Empire, come home for rest before deploying again.

However, where most of the occupants of the camp seemed to be settling in, one in particular seemed to be preparing to head out. Still clad in steel, painted the blue of Imperial Auxiliaries, Cormag Ruunsten plodded through the camp with purpose, his heavy footfalls kicking up mud as he stomped across the mud.

"Eh? Wassat there Cormag? You look like you've seen a ghost ye have." called out squat dwarf, sitting on a bench by the blacksmith's anvil. The dwarf appeared even shorter than usual, surrounded by a collection of fusilaxes he was currently servicing. Cormag merely grunted in reply as he reached across and grabbed his- particularly well maintained, with faint runes still carved along the axe blade. Out from behind the pile of axes came a familiar mastif forged of steel and wood.

"Think I very well might've." Cormag grunted in reply, as he patted the top of Ferrus' head, inspecting the weapon for a moment, before slinging it over his shoulder. "Oi Durnan, whereabouts is the supply tent again?" Without waiting for an answer, Cormag's eyes found the quartmaster's tent and began plodding over towards it.

"Eh? Cormag? I haven't even looked at that one yet-" The dwarf named Durnan called after him, throwing his hands up in frustration as the ogre disappeared beneath the tent flap.

The supply tent was less a tent and more of an open air supply depot, cordoned off by wooden walls and cloth doors. Supplies, perishable and preserved were stacked in crates. Spare weapons and ammunition in the opposite corner. One of the crates had been knocked over a little while before and currently had its contents- sacks of shot and powder currently laying haphazardly on the floor. The quartermaster in question was a big, scarred Ogre, missing eye hidden beneath an eyepatch, the wooden stump of a log in place of his foot.

"Cormag? What's all this eh?" Quartermaster Orlson asked with a cocked eyebrow as Cormag passed him a list of supplies. "Fight's over, didn't you know? Its our first break in months, and you're heading out again? Go be a good son and pay your family a visit." The aging quartermaster chuckled. The big ogre merely shrugged in response.

"That's the plan, sah'." Cormag replied with a shrug. "Thinkin' my da's gotten himself into some trouble up by Somerset." Cormag didn't explain any further than that. Instead, he pulled a sack of coin from his hip and placed it on the table, the heavy metal clinking against the wood. "I'll need another combat supply of shot and powder, field pack, spare tools, forge, a wee bit of rum and one of tha' pack Oxen. I've got the scratch for it o'course."

"For what? You know the Imps don't take kindly to Ogres walking around with ammunition- not without service lined up." Asked Orlson.

"Just get me the gear you cottonhead. Tell 'em I'm responding to an aid request out by Somerset." Cormag remarked as he made his way to the front of the tent and began unshackling one of the Ox from the front of the armory tent, a large brown beast with a collar labeled 'Gomie'. Still confused, Orlson nonetheless nonehteless accepted the coin and began pulling the supplies out of the armory, and handed them down to Cormag who quickly strapped them to the sides of pack Ox: A leather covered box filled with 40 balls of lead shot and powder, a field pack with all the typical supplies needed for overland travel- mess kit, bedroll, waterskins, field rations, fishing line, an aid kit and the like- a half full bottle of rum, and a mobile forge. Seemingly satisfied with his quick preparations, Cormag nodded to himself and began stomping off in the direction of Somerset, his pack ox and steel defender dutifully following behind him.

[WhiteAngel25]

---

@Smoke Wind

As Kotaka would descend the mountains of the North into the Western Rife Mountains, he would encounter whispers amongst the pine trees but would not be able to see or quite make out what the whispers were saying. Every once in a while there would be a girlish giggle followed by a stern woman’s voice scolding the other.

---

@Ti

When the beautiful Regandian woman decided to turn North, a flock of Peacock Gryphons gathered on the ancient stone walls that once separated the Plains from the Sands. The wall had crumbled from time as various paths had been widely used. While not in vast numbers like they once were, it was odd to see such gryphons this far North.

They were no longer than seven feet long and four feet tall. Their aqua crystal eyes trained on Yasmin as if they knew why she was there.

---

@vietmyke

As Cormag would travel west to Somerset from Volenstul, he would see a rare Agni’lighten Owl following him. The creature would have normally stood out in the plains during the day with its feathers as dark as ink except for the bluish white vertical curve in the center of its forehead and its milky white eyes. It stayed far enough that a toss of a rock or weapon would fall short.

---

The Ellezag Plains known for its vast natural beauty and resources was decorated with small farming villages, the occasional trading town, and the flora covered ruins of the First Age of the First Emperor. Communities of millenniums gone by mistaken for rock formations or an unexplained landmark amongst the waves of golden grass. One would be able to see for miles as long as they weren’t near the woods.

The sky, that stretched far and wide from the Western Mountains to the Evergreen Forest, was normally mix of periwinkle and powder blue that sheltered the Ellezag Plains but was now dark and overcast. The only solace one received that it was not evening was the sun trying its hardest to penetrate the thick clouds.Those traveling the countryside would experience the struggling crops and livestock due to the lack of sunshine.

It seemed to start in the area of Somerset, one of the few townships in the Plains that could appropriately hold the title of a small city. Or at least that was the case. As travelers neared the city’s walls they would notice how the gates were shut from the outside of the town limits. Large planks nailed to keep something almost in alongside explosive runes etched into the dirt that would be activated when one stepped on them. Abandoned camps of the Empire’s Army littered around Somerset’s twenty-foot-tall wooden spiked walls. Just from the stench around the town, one could tell to be cautious about entering.

---

Amarysah Snowden

---

@Jamesyco

Mari's sensitive ears picked up on the rustling of grass and the rather loud slurps from a container of liquid. It wasn't uncommon for a straggler to meander out of Sanctuary. What caused the Elven woman to pause and slowly turn her head in the direction of the man was the fact that he was lucid enough in his drunken endeavor to call out to her. Mari's icy orbs narrowed like the tip of her daggers, ready to defend herself if the drunkard decided to grab at her.

Just as she thought he was going to get too close, Mari watched the man face-plant to the cobbled alley floor. Her eyes widened with raised eyebrows. Taking a nearby spare wooden dowel from a broken tavern chair, Mari took the chance and poked the man in the side. She tilted her head as she made a quick assessment. This man was clearly a human noble of considerable wealth due to the quality of his clothing, and the fact that the man dared to take a glass outside of the tavern. He had money to spare if he broke the glass.

"You are lucky that I am in a rush tonight. Otherwise, I would gut you like a freshly caught fish," Mari quipped as she tossed the dowel to the trashcan before grabbing the man's beer on the grassy knoll and pouring it on his face to wake him up.

When she saw movement and the nobleman's eyes blinked with some clarity, Mari spoke some words of street wisdom. "You better get up and get back to safety before someone of more desperate means strips you of your clothing and takes everything in your pockets. Your clothes alone could feed a family in the Downtown District for months."

She didn't know why she hadn't done such a thing herself; after all, this man was a noble. She supposed that she was feeling generous today. Mari dusted off her hands and readjusted her hood for more cover before she began to head in the direction of the Crows' hideout.

[GhostEyes]

Kotaka GhostPine

A Couple Days Prior...

Several days had passed since Kotaka left the familiar hearth-fires of his home village with that caravan. Rowdy folk they were, asking many questions, sharing stories of the road, Kotaka enjoyed their company to a degree. Vastly different from his more stoic and introspective people. But, gone were the bone white tundras and wind blasted plateaus, now greeted him was dense sea of green woods and cobbled stone pathways. The smell of a past rain still lingered in the air as a gentle breeze shook the firs. These were only just the foothills but the temperature difference was drastically different. So much so that he had to remove some of the traditional heavy furs and garbs that helps him survive the cold.

Kotaka uses the butt of his lance as a guide, like a walking stick. In long strides he traverses the road with determination. Getting to his destination was imperative. His pace was interrupted though. In, seemingly, the middle of nowhere there came an odd sound. On the breeze carried laughter, whispers, and harsh tones. No details but a presence none the less. Was the voices from the waking world around him? Or were the voices from beyond reaching out to him once more? The blindfolded man gripped his land and raised his face up to the wind. Focusing his senses he tried to discern if danger was near by or not.

The liveliness of this place unnerved him. He could only imagine how much worse it would get when he recalled what his teacher called 'a city'. If the source of the voices became distant or silent, he would turn back to the road to press on.

[Ti]

---

Zahrat al-Kuthban

---

Yasmin slowly drew her horse to a halt as she approached the ruined wall. The fabric of her cloak fluttered in the breeze as she looked upon the mighty congregation perched along the weathered stone.

The Peacock Gryphons were magnificent, with their long green, blue, and gold feathers which draped across the stonework, their eyes, woven into each plume, seemed to always watch your movements. Their sharp talons gripped the ancient stone-masonry, as their aqua coloured eyes met Yasmin’s own with unsettling calm.

Azir uttered out a low cry and settled uneasily, as she landed on her shoulder, feathers ruffling, as the party moved to a slow pace as they proceeded cautiously. Beautiful though they were, these creatures could be dangerous, and fiercely territorial when provoked. If they were to flee now, the gryphons would give chase. One should never show their back to predators.

“It is a poor thing, to be expected.” Her voice was barely more than a hushed whisper as the horse shifted beneath her and neighed anxiously. She stroked her gloved hand along its neck, soothing it with a soft pat, before spurring it forward closer to the gap in the crumbling stones. “Perhaps it is not all ruin that guards these borders still.”

Sliding from the saddle, Yasmin stepped towards the wall. Her fingertips brushed against an old glyph etched into the stonework, but still faintly humming with residual magic. The whisper of the arcane residue felt fresh, as though another has passed through recently.

“Very well,” as she raised her voice to the gryphons, mustering confidence in her tone. “Watch if you must. I shall not trespass lightly.”

Gathering the reins, she returned to her steed and began to lead it carefully through the opening in the wall, never letting the gryphons stray too far from her cautious gaze.

[Jamesyco]

Oliver Thurston

AA may be needed in the future

Oliver stared at the ground as his friends had found him. He stared out at the world as he was dragged back to the camp that evening. He lounged around in his armor, as his wagon was loaded, and the troupe continued outside the city heading out towards their destination. The scholars and party that accompanied him were just staying mostly awake, but Oliver was asleep. He was for hours, passed out half laying on his armor, as the top half was slowly stripped from him. His face looked incredibly stupid at that moment, mouth agape and face covered in hair that was stuck to his face in patches of sweat-induced matting.

A groan came from the man at some odd hour of the day, they had been travelling for some time, and he knew the letter he received was sending him to. He hated that he was having to go somewhere, but loved it as well. He was a homebody, but he wanted to see the world as a man, not as some form of drunken armored piece. He looked outside the curtain of the wagon he rode in, and saw landscapes similar to what he was used to. He grew bored quickly and just went back in to not look like he was awake, and lay back into his armor before wrapping himself in a linen blanket for some form of comfort, and cooling warmth, something not too hot or cold.

"I hope that angel finds me once again, I know there was beauty within her voice and whatever she does." he mumbled in his groggy state, "she looked as if the moon had struck the stars and was chisled into an artisanal masterpiece."

His stomach grumbled and he leaned forward and his head broke through the wall's cloth patch and overhand to throw up whatever liquid concoction his stomach had made over the night, most likely some form of alcoholic brew from hell. Mixed with cheese, bread, and whatever else he could have found himself eating the night prior, he didn't remember; he was too drunk. He saw various bits in the trail the cart was leaving, but none made sense.

His head retreated into the interior of the cloth, and he went to a waterskin to drink, then coughed up more spit and puke, before he would continue to try drinking. He stared at it, and then placed the leather pouch once filled with water to his side, heading back to slowly scavange through the different things placed around him to find something worthwhile to eat, or at least settle his stomach. Of which he found small strips of meat, he would try biting, and find that it was just leather strips.

He spit out the leather immediately before Oliver would search for his spectacles, or at least some way to gather himself, and his sight. While it was somewhat bad, he didn't feel like sending his magics to himself as it was just a waste, he didn't need to see that well to do anything, but he would like to see just a bit. Maybe he should, no, he shouldn't, but then again.... No, he just continued to use his hands, and what sight he did have to search for something to eat. He would find crackers, hard as stone, several blocks of cheese, a sausage of some form of meat, and then to top it off, a bottle of wine.

While no one would disturb him, he would find himself eating throughout the day, and near some hour of the day, he heard through the different voices of the troupe that they were approaching their destination of wherever he had the caravan's captain heading.

[vietmyke]

Cormag Ruunsten

---

The march to Somerset was uneventful, if perhaps a bit unusual. The weather held up well, barely, and progress was relatively fast. Marching on foot was typically not the ogre way- typically they travelled via their great landships, but Cormag's strides were longer than most humans, and his heavy footfalls left a constant thundering echo across the plains. He hummed a little marching tune as he went, Gomie plodding patiently behind him. The devastation that was currently ravaging the Empire was starting to rear its ugly head even in a place like this: withering crops and barely any sunlight, as if the plague had taken hold of the sky too.

Perhaps in contrast, the owl was a strange, yet not unwelcome companion on his travels. An Agni'lighten Owl, according to the book of birds his father had given him ages ago- though it was strange that it was out and about during the daytime.

"Wot sart of creature are you?" Cormag rumbled, more to himself than to the bird as he held out a hand. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the bird did not deign to land on a stranger's outstretched hand. It did follow him the whole way though, so Cormag made peace with the bird's company. Occasionally calling out to it as he marched. He of course, never received an answer.

He saw Somerset's surroundings before he saw the city itself. The sight didn't bode well. An Imperial garrison had been deployed to the city for a while now, as news of the plague had spread. Cormag expected to find Imperial soldiers milling about, and the plan had been to find the commander and ask them if his father had arrived and for what purpose. It seemed Cormag wouldn't be asking anyone much of anything anymore. The ruined army camp was a grim reminder of what the plague could do.

Cormag and Gomie came to a stop just outside the Imperial Army camp, a safe enough distance away that he would see things coming out of the wreckage if anything untoward remained. He could see the giant gates nailed shut, and he didn't have to see the runes in the dirt to know they were there- army mages taught him that lesson many a time, and as resilient as he was, Cormag didn't fancy accidentally blowing himself up from a missed step.

"S'pose we'll get set up here, won't we, Gomie?" Cormag rumbled as he began fiddling with the Ox's packs, pulling out what armor pieces he'd previously doffed to make travel easier.

[WhiteAngel25]

---

@Smoke Wind

As the young man paused in his trek down the mountains, the voices paused for a moment as the owners of said voices began to speak. The younger one had asked a question in the native tongue, followed by an annoyed sigh.

“Enough, Amy! You cannot eat him! He is a being, not a half-skinned animal!” The voice of an experienced woman snapped. “Those furs are his clothes, and he is wearing a cotton shirt.”

If Kotaka were to remove his blindfold, he would see two women emerging from the trees. The one who first spoke to Kotaka’s understanding was tall, standing at almost 5’10” in height. Her fair-skinned figure was draped in fine black and white silk priestess attire with gold accessories. Her long, onyx hair was half up, secured with gold pins, as her honeyed gaze studied the man.

“It was only one time, and she did transform into a pheasant” Amandine said defensively, gesturing to emphasise the size difference between a person and a bird with her hands, “Besides, that one looks tough, like boot leather. The meat’s probably stringy, and it’s a pain when it gets stuck between your teeth.” As if on instinct, she picked at her teeth to make sure they were clear, then offered a bright, toothy grin.

Shorter in stature than her companion, Amandine had a dusky complexion, striking white hair, and red eyes that gazed at her surroundings with a curious, predatory expression. She wiped her hands clean, then folded them behind her back as she followed beside the priestess.

Kamari sighed once again as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Shaking her head, the priestess moved closer with almost deadly grace. “Very few use these paths to go to the mountains. Where are you going, young wanderer?”

Stepping slightly behind the taller woman, Amandine slipped easily into the role of handmaiden. “The Priestess Kamari is feeling charitable today. Please answer her questions.”

---

@Ti

The Peacock Gryphons observed Zahra as she walked through the ancient wall. Their gazes never wavered from her little troop. As she moved to the grasslands, an older gryphon, who wasn’t as vibrant as the others, stood up on all fours. It launched itself up into the air and began to follow Zahra. Upon closer inspection, this elder being didn’t have the purple plumage as the others and could hide more easily in any greenery.

It landed with a thump beside the human woman. Clearly, this creature was used to humanoids and was unbothered by the horse as well. This creature still appeared uninterested, despite following Zahra, almost as if it were a black cat that was bored.

---

@Jamesyco

While Oliver traveled with his group of colleagues, two creatures followed the joyful wagon of merriment. The first creature was a Prairie Mothcat. A fluffy little thing with verde, beige, and cream coloring, as well as a few brown spots and matching wings. Its big emerald eyes blinked curiously at the troop while it jumped up and down on the mound of grass it was sitting on, or so it seemed.

The second creature was a Terra Wolf, a canine creature with gold glowing eyes, the size of a small wagon, and a head-to-paw grass and brush-like appearance. It shambled up lazily and yawned as the mothcat sat comfortably on its shoulders.

---

@vietmyke

The owl hooted calmly back at Cormag as it followed him to the abandoned camps outside Somerset. The feathered friend flew to the peak of the last standing tent; all the others had either been destroyed by weather or bandits absconding with any leftover supplies, which weren't many. But the tattered canvas shelter was large enough for a small group to rally under if needed.

---

Amarysah Snowden

---

As soon as she got out of Volenstul and away from prying eyes, Amarysah took a deep breath behind a wood of trees. With it being nightfall, no one would be able to see her. Mari took a deep breath and focused on the image of the animal she wanted to become. Soon, a doe Telanope came from the trees and took off towards Somerset.

Telanopes are magical herd animals of Vradia and take on the likeness of their home environments. While they aren’t as rare as unicorns, they have been scarce since the First Age and since they adapt so well to their environments it is hard to study them. Amarysah had the chance to do so when she ran away from her father’s house the first time. She spent a long time in the woods that fall and gained the trust of many animals, not just the telanopes.

Her mostly black and tan form hid herself well in the night as she found herself on the backside of Somerset. Mari took her time to calm down her racing heart and hid behind some boulders to shift back into her normal form. Dusting off her pants and raising her hood as she walked around the perimeter of the township. Her icy gaze settled on the abandoned tent followed by the gate, and then the ox with a very large man. Scratch that, he was an ogre.

A single ogre? That was odd. They normally traveled in groups as mercenary workers for the Empire. Amarysah kept her distance, still in the shadows of night as she continued to figure out what the best way was to enter Somerset.

[GhostEyes]

Kotaka GhostPine

---

The journey away was once again interrupted by the voices, whose source revealed themselves. A mistake or purposeful choice? Who knew. While not obvious to anyone around he did in fact take in the details of whoever these woman are. A mother and daughter? Priestess and handmaiden? Sisters? Still, unknown. The smaller one was odd. He had seen beasts and animals of many kinds, took on the traits of one himself at the right angle, but this little one was just...weird. Were many in this land like that? The one who stood at the same height also had some stranger mannerisms as well. Less so of the feralness though (at least on the outside anyway). If they were supposed to seem like something more than just a strange duo, he didn't catch it. Nor did he seem to care.

Kotaka keeps the distance between them. Stepping back or holding up an open palm to make the message clear. There was a standoffish air to him, but he made no attempt to be hostile despite the open weaponry on his person. Before he could respond verbally, he took a moment to think of his words. Their languages differed and he had to recall what he learned as best he could.

"I go where needed." He replied, his accent thick, almost animalistic on its own. Was it a satisfying answer for them? Probably not. However, it was the truth. Where exactly he was heading was unfamiliar to him. Only clues led him to his destination. "May the wind carry you gentle." A man of few words truly. With this, he turns back to the road again. He had no time to humor others.

In many cases, to turn their back on another was a dangerous move. To give the other the advantage of a possible ambush or sneak attack could have been a death sentence. However, he had eyes on the rear. Not his own, but those of the unseen specter that walked beside him always. The Renegade.

[Ti]

---

Zahrat al-Kuthban

---

As the gentle breeze stirred, Zahra watched the elder creature hurl itself into the sky, soaring overhead in slow, deliberate circles. Its feathers spread wide, and she could not help but notice the absence of the rich purple plumage seen on the others still perched along the crumbling wall. She was no expert in exotic wildlife, but from what little she knew of peacocks, the gryphons’ namesake, this one’s plainer appearance might mark it as the matriarch of the ostentation.

It seemed she had caught the beast’s attention. She ran a hand along Azir’s feathers to calm him; if he took flight now, he might well become lunch. As she moved away from the wall, the others remained behind, still and watchful. She mounted her horse, reminding herself that beauty should never be mistaken for gentleness. With a subtle signal, she urged the mount into a trot, then into a sprint.

“If you’re to be my shadow,” she called over her shoulder, “you’ll have to keep up.”

The gryphon swooped down beside them, landing with a heavy thump. The horse whinnied and reared slightly as Zahra reined it in, bringing it to a halt. Yet the creature barely acknowledged them, its movements casual, almost dismissive, as though it hadn’t even noticed their presence. And still, as they moved forward once more, it followed.

“If you seek company, you’ll find mine measured,” she said evenly, eyeing it with guarded curiosity. “Or perhaps you simply want to see how far I’ll go before I stumble.”

She veered off the path, even circling back on herself, but the gryphon followed with lazy grace. On this side of the border, its green-toned feathers allowed it to blend effortlessly with the foliage. The idea of losing sight of the creature unsettled her. She guided the horse toward a clearer stretch of road, where she could better track its movements. Still, it trailed behind, quiet as a bored cat.

Near a crop of trees, Yasmin drew to a stop. She hoped the overhanging branches might offer some protection should things turn ill. Dismounting, she opened her pack and drew out a strip of cured meat from part of her rations for the journey. She placed it on the ground and stepped back.

If she was to reach Somerset, she would first have to puzzle out this unexpected challenge.
“If you mean to follow, you may as well make yourself useful.”

[Jamesyco]

Oliver Thurston

AA is definitely needed in the future

Awakening in the morning hours, he stared out into the wild staring at the road behind him. He noticed the things behind him, and he spotted the two sometime ago in his drunkeness. He slowly leaned up and was just staring at them like an goat stares at a wall. Oliver just had his hands in his lap as he stared at the two odd creatures traveling together, but he did not mind it. He would host himself with his hands reaching towards a small waterskin. He would take part in the drink once again, enjoying it as he would just wonder if his vision was true or not. He saw the outer skirts of the town, he wished he was at wherever he was meant to go. He noted a blanket around him, and his armor somewhat off. He hated that, and he took a deep breath as he sighed some, a hand on his side as he continued to drink lightly.

"Wonderous fascinations of the mind those creatures are." He said outloud as he took a deep breath, his hand outside of the blanket slowly raising and lowering the waterskin filled with ambigious liquids. He enjoyed it all as he continued to watch as the mystical beasts of his believed imagination trailed off as they entered the destination, that of which he didn't really know. He had someone else do that kind of menial thinking. He took a deep breath as he sighed some, and his arms reached out a bit.

He lay back as he passed out once again at the dawn of morning.

[jasbraq]

Yvonne Desrosiers

---

“Ma’am, if we don’t do something now it will only get worse. . .”

“Your orders?”

Voices begging for direction rang clear through her head. The cries and groans of agony filled whatever silence the clearer voices were gracious enough to give.

“You must not be serious?! They’re not all-”

“That is a risk we can’t afford to take. . What if they break through the quarantine? They’re already growing more restless and panicked.“

“But, Ma’am!-. . .”

“This is the order for everyone under my command! . . .”

. . . .

“Grant the suffering their peace. . . It is the only mercy we can give them.”

The cries and groans turned to screams, the clinging of armored marching began to overpower everything else until it all went silent. The burden of that day haunting every calm moment of her life. The one step she took for the better of the realm ruined everything the woman had built.

---

Yet the new day had dawned and Yvonne’s time in the town had come to an end as well, for her search was still ongoing. Coin was left on the bar’s counter as the helmet had been all the residents had seen had exited their room, bag over her shoulder leaning neatly on her sword..

“Going already, missy?” The tavernkeep asked with his bombastic tone. “And here I thought I could get a peak of your face, that would be the center of gossip all around town! Bwahah!” The drifting knight turned to meet the keep’s gaze. “Perhaps there will be a next time.” A soft smile that was not visible radiated through her helmet. “Although you will be disappointed by what’s hiding under it.”

“With such a sweet voice, there is no way you’d have a mug only a mother could love!” A soft chuckle echoed from the helmet. “I wouldn’t be so sure. . .” The helmet was slowly readjusted. “So long, gracious host.” Yvonne tugged on her bag and started to leave.

“Ah, missy! Where are you heading off to?” The tavernkeep blurted out, which caused the steps of the knight to halt. “Towards Somerset, why?” The keeper stared at the figure. “Word has spread, it might not be the safest stop currently.”

The knight confidently straightened her shoulders. “But, good sir. I have known and dealt with unsafe situations since I was a wee lassie.” And with a nod, she left through the door. The calm of this town sure had its appeal . . But she did not deserve such permanent rest yet.
Besides there was a group waiting for her, whilst being with companions gave her comfort, it was also but a fleeting pleasure.

---

The trek was more exhausting than normal, perhaps it was due to being with such a group. Many younger men and women trying to prove themselves. It brought her a smile, but prayer for their safety left her lips. The walls of the city loomed over the group, they have arrived.

[vietmyke]

Cormag Ruunsten

---

"Smart one, ain'tcha?" Cormag chortled as he watched the owl land on the last remaining tent. It was less a tent and more a canopy at this point, a tanned, off-white stretch of canvas with Imperial army insignia etched onto a side. It was wider than it was tall, and barely tall enough for Cormag to stand inside of, but it would offer shelter from the elements. It was dark out- and Cormag had the sense that give the state of the area around the town, attempting to enter Somerset in the middle of the night was practically asking for certain death. So he'd make camp here, and wait until the morning to approach the town, when there weren't shadows around every corner to potentially pounce at an unwitting ogre.

"Don't suppose you'd be a friend and give me a hoot if you see anyone around, would ye?" Cormag asked the mysterious owl, "I'd shore appreciate it."

The Agni'lighten Owl hooted in reply.

Cormag peered out of the tent, picking up his fusilaxe and holding it at the ready as he began scanning the surroundings- but didn't see much as it was dark. He looked back up at the owl. "Was that' a 'Okay' hoot, or a 'I saw someone around' hoot?" Cormag questioned the bird, but the hoot he received in reply did little to dispel his confusion.

"Bah, I'm sure it'll be fine. Ferrus, keep a watch out." Cormag commanded the steel defender that had been resting atop the Ox's back. Steel defenders typically didn't need sleep, but Ferrus was, to be frank, lazy as hell, and often required direct orders to do anything. Still, the lazy defender sprung off the back of the Ox and stood in front of the tent's opening to keep watch. Lashing Gomie's lead around one of the few remaining tent posts, Cormag began unloading the ox and setting up camp.

About an hour later and the tent area was something resembling a living space again: A large bedroll and much of Cormag's equipment set inside, and a small fire just outside, a cooking pot situated above it letting off the aroma of cooked meat and vegetables. A small anvil and work table sat within the light of the fire. Cormag settled down in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth as the owl hooted once more.

"Is that a something's out there hoot, or are ye pulling my leg again?" Cormag questioned the owl as he picked up his fusilaxe once more.

[WhiteAngel25]

@Smoke Wind

“It is alright, Amandine. This young warrior seeks what you have lost as well. A trusted mentor,” Kamari spoke as she motioned for Amy to relax. The priestess observed the young man who brazenly turned his back to them. “May the ground lead you on a gentle path,” she replied in Kotaka’s native tongue. She smiled knowingly, her golden gaze locked on what a natural eye could not see.

“If you should need assistance, the Dragonians offer our aid. Amandine has walked a similar trail, take care for it is not for the weak of heart or mind,” Kamari gave a final warning as she turned to her trusted friend. “Come, Amandine, our people await our return. We’ll be watching young warrior.”
With a snap of her fingers, Kamari and Amandine were enveloped in fire and smoke before disappearing. In their space where they stood obsidian scales were left behind.

---

@Ti@Jamesyco@vietmyke@jasbraq@Smoke Wind

The gryphon followed her target, the unlikely duo of feline and canine trailed behind the merry band of drunk fools, and a solitary owl perched comfortably at the top of the tent. The familiars were set on their missions as more than just trouble brewed in Somerset. What could not be completed in the past was now fated to begin once again. A band of unlikely companions were to become one like tales of decades ago.

---

Amarysah Snowden

---

Amarysah had studied the front gate from the shadows for what seemed like hours. She knew from the abandoned Imperial army tent that whatever they shut inside what intended to stay inside. And to make matters worse, a familiar looking owl kept hooting calmly at her. Deciding on a different approach, Mari perched herself in a tree near the town wall like the feathery annoyance on the tent. The owl hooted louder and more frequently, a sign to the ogre in the tent. She pinched the bridge of her nose and glared at the owl.

“Quiet bird! Fried owl may be on the menu if you don’t stop,” Mari hissed quietly, making the owl stop. The assassin sighed softly and turned back to trying to observe what was on the other side of the wall. The owl wasted naught the opportunity to hoot at Mari, causing her to snap and miss step her pose and fall out of the tree.

“Ouch, stupid bird,” Amarysah muttered as she rubbed her low back and picked twigs, leaves, and flowers out of her hair. She dusted off her pants and she stood up. Her icy gaze catching the ogre’s.

“I mean no harm, I was just trying to get a better look at what was happening on the other side of the wall,” Mari explained with her hands raised with caution.

[Ti]

---

Zahrat al-Kuthban

---

The Zahrat al-Kuthban eventually made her way to Somerset, the great matriarchal gryphon shadowed her every step. More than once she had considered the temptation of riding such a magnificent creature, but the thought of leaving her horse behind, vulnerable, or worse, at the mercy of the beast was enough to dissuade her. Besides, there was something in the peacock gryphon’s steady watchfulness that suggested no saddle would ever be tolerated.

The rest of her journey had been mercifully uneventful, save for the sharp decline in her rations. She had no intention of trusting the creature to sustain itself solely on its own hunts, not with her horse, her falcon, and even herself all possible items on its menu. The price of its companionship was a steadily dwindling supply of dried meat and bread, yet for now it seemed satisfied to stalk at the edge of her path.

As the roads curved nearer to Somerset, she began to notice signs of others gathering. A knight led a band of warriors down the winding track, their torches flaring orange in the night, while smaller groups of travellers trudged along with companions of their own. Though she had a head start compared to many of them, she knew haste alone would not guarantee safety. Pausing, she let her falcon take flight, the bird spiralling upward to survey the surrounding countryside. What it revealed troubled her: the night was quieter than it should have been, the stillness almost oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

It was that sound, the owl’s call, that drew her eyes toward a flicker of firelight. A campsite lay just outside the town, its flames dancing low, food boiled in a pot, and figures moving in its glow. With deliberate calm, she urged her horse forward, her posture tall and composed, even as the gryphon padded after her like a silent shadow.

She raised her hand in salute as she approached, “Greetings, fellow travellers,” she said evenly. “The road is silent tonight. Silence is either a gift of fortune or the echo of something hunting.”

[vietmyke]

Cormag Ruunsten

---

As it turned out, the owl was not pulling Cormag's leg, as he found himself face to face with a woman. She was a small thing- though Cormag supposed everyone looked small in comparison to he. White hair, like snow and pointed ears. An elven woman then? She explained her presence before Cormag had a chance to ask- she seemed nice enough, interested in crossing over the wall like he was. He'd no reason to doubt her words, and thus took it at face value. "Ah, no need for that," He chuckled, waving his hand at the elven woman's raised hands. "I ain't gonna hurtya. Just habit's all." He leaned the fusilaxe back against the wooden post where Gomie and Ferrus sat- either confident that the woman truly did not intend to harm him, or merely sure of the fact that she wouldn't be able to easily use his large weapon against him.

"You too, aye?" Cormag chuckled. "Well, I reckon there’s no use'n tryin’ to head on in tonight- well, not sayin' you couldn't, but the place is dark as- well, night- and dark's when things like to skulk about."

"I figure it'd be safer in the morn', let the sun chase the shadows off. Least', that's what I figure- But I won't stop ya if you're dead set on heading on in." Cormag shrugged, though before he could continue his attention was once again drawn away. Perhaps due to his ingrained training, but he immediately began reaching for his fusilaxe again- though stopped as he heard the newcomer speak. Another woman, this one on horseback- with a gryphon of all creatures following her. Silent road indeed- Cormag shot his owl friend an almost accusatory look, seemed the owl only cared to hoot when it wanted to.

"If'n yer friendly, you can share my fire if ye like- both of ye." Cormag greeted the the newcomer. "Name's Cormag.", he introduced himself to the two women, before pointing at the Ox, and metallic dog respectively. "That'n there's Gomie, and that's Ferrus."

He gave a look at the gryphon that was less suspicion, and more confused interest. "Not seen a gryphon this close before- or in person at all, come ta think of it. s'he yer friend?"