Split into two groups, the intrepid foursome makes first contact with the people of this worldNobody disagreed with Emile's assessment and following suggestion. It was with some surprise that the Comet Chaser noted this; had he really been so lucky to land himself a couple of companions who didn't try to assert themselves at every opportunity in the vein of so many players? That said, not everyone explicitly approved of the idea, either. Emile's words served as another painful reminder to his niece about her new, monstrous form, and her relative amorphousness almost allowed her to actually shrink down in unhappiness. Her uncle wasn't the only one who noticed her discomfort, however. Revanmar had addressed her a brief time ago, and now -after a few moment to collect her thoughts- Lenore opted to respond.
”Um...thanks, sir, but...I don't think you can help me with this. I just have to get...get over it, I guess.” Knowing what had to be done and doing it were two different things, and even though the thought of coming to terms with this nightmare did not lift her spirits, it was plain that the knight's genuine desire to help had brought her some reassurance at least. Nobody was showing disgust with her, as she feared, but at the moment she counted her company a cadre of special cases. When an average person showed up, she woefully knew, she would be treated to all the horrified repulsion a Shoggoth realistically deserved.
Once again, Emile's hand came down on her shoulder, but this time he pulled her into a brief hug.
“Don't worry 'bout it, Li. Brave little lady like you can do it no problem.” He turned to Revenmar, and gave him a discrete nod of thankfulness before addressing the group. [color=5D8AA8]”Alright then, let's check out this town.”
As much as he wanted to further indulge in the incomparable sensation of flying, Emile kept himself grounded as he and Revenmar began their expedition in order to avoid drawing attention. Feeling maybe a little too confident from the high of soaring through the air, he did not prowl forward with a hand on the hilt of a sword, but instead strode at a brisk pace. The grass underfoot, though wild, was kept from growing too thick by the lack of consistent sun filtering through the roof of leaves above, but while the underbrush wasn't too profuse either, the trees certainly were. A rich, ruddy shade for the most part, they grew in greater proximity to one another than one might expect, and their gnarled roots curled and clawed at the soil like giants' fingers.
The pair continued for a short time, navigating the thick forest without any real difficulty, until a shout reached them through the trees. “Good morning! Pray identify yourself.” Not too surprisingly, Emile could tell with nary a second's delay where from the sophisticated yet reedy voice originated.
Owl ears coming in handy already. He looked toward the voice's source, but was not prepared for what he saw.
Standing to the pair's right, on top of a fallen log, was a lanky man in what appeared to be scholarly robes with pointed ears, pale skin, what appeared to be eye shadow, and a mint-green pompadour of all things. An open book was clasped in his left hand, and the fellow appeared to be in some sort of stance.
A mage? While Emile stared, a readout appeared on his visor.
POWER: INCONSEQUENTIAL
CONDITION: FATIGUED, DRAMATIC
More noise told the strigiforme that this bizarre individual was not alone. In an instant Emile's mind was racing with how to best deal with the situation. A number of thoughts flew by, more than a few drafted earlier while he was flying. He didn't want to step on Revenmar's toes, but he needed to take initiative here in order to assuage the fears of whomever these people were. As he began to speak, Emile kept two points in mind: the obvious human-beast conflict in the region, and the secret nature of the town. If he messed up on either front, he'd give himself away.
“Morning. Emile, mercenary.” He gave his companion a chance to introduce himself as well.
”You caught me off guard there! Thought you were one of those damn beasts for a second. What're you doing out in the middle of the woods?”The strange magician's eyes were nothing but scrutinizing, but they held little hostility. After a moment he lowered his hand a touch. Being an enemy of his enemy was, evidently, good enough for a smidgen of trust. “Mistook me for a beastman? What, you haven't been confronted with Bunnies as of late, have you? If you have, I confess myself devoid of envy. Furry freaks.” He only seemed to acknowledge Emile's question after a moment. “Oh! In pursuit of a Vulp scouting party. Cleanup duty, if you will. What, may I ask, brings you out to this remote neck of the woods?”
Lot of questions. Makes sense for someone trying to hide his activities. Trying to figure out how much I know, but I don't even know what a Vulp is. Beastmen, maybe? It struck him that he hadn't gone over any sort of plan with Revenmar. If the two of them told different lies at the same time, just like in the movies, their new acquaintance would know something was amiss.
“Traveling, looking for work,” he replied, quickly as possible.
“If you couldn't tell from our gear, we're not from around here.”A chuckle escaped the mage's lips. “I supposed as much. Your armor in particular, sir knight, is nothing short of incredible. Even the highest order of knights under our Empress don't have such dazzling equipment. I would have thought you were some sort of lord were it not for the sparseness of your company. I, ah, hope you'll forgive my manners. Around here, we maintain a high alert. My name is Randall.” He turned his head to the side and called in a louder voice, “All is well. You may reveal yourselves.”
From on either side of Revenmar and Emile there emerged another man, one with an axe and another with a bow. The axeman was a muscular old man with voluminous white hair, a stern face with kindly eyes, and dark skin. His counterpart was short, stocky, bespectacled, and balding. The former was dressed in light brown and murky red workman's gear, while the latter bore worn, dity clothing of a style perhaps befitting a noble, and of the two the axe-wielder was the first to speak. “Good mornin'. I hope our precautions didn't offend ye, sirs. I'm Effin Ualiel, and this here's Oswalt. If yer lookin' for work, there's a village very near here that can always use more help, but it is impertinent to keep it a secret from the beastmen. Even if ye don't, I reckon ye could use some food n' rest before ye carry on.” He did not flash an unnecessarily familiar smile, but the generosity that his words implied spoke enough about his kindly character.
Emile glanced at Revenmar to see if he had any questions or concerns about accepting the strange trio's hospitality. They didn't seem dishonest, but even if they were, what could they really do? The thought was a strange and worrying one—not having to care about the consequences of bad judgment because of one's power. It also occurred to Emile that he could not afford to take off his helmet in public, or if he did, to try and make a big deal out of having abandoned his kin, since for all intents and purposes he was a beastman, too. It would be tricky going.
-=-=-
For all their barbarity, beastmen weren't stupid. Their animalistic cunning combined with intelligence resembling human, more so in some races than others, to accomplish such things as winning as the war against the Draconic Kingdom. As such, when the 2nd Order scouting group of the Vulp Tribe's warriors spotted a pair of strange figures standing upon an old dirt path that separated hill from woods, the foxmen lay hidden to observe.
One appeared human, though clad in menacing armor that the foxes knew would confound their short swords, knives, spears, and even arrows unless they managed to sneak them in through chinks in the plate. Based on that alone, and the ominous feeling that radiated from her, the beastmen did not feel inclined to attack. Yet, when they looked closely at the second figure, they could not help but to feel a rage boiling inside them. The fleshy being before them was a loathsome abomination, a disgusting thing that made them want to slaughter her and burn her to cinders. Her very existence was an insult, a mistake that they longed to correct.
In a few minutes, a conclusion was reached. Two of the foxes retreated to find reinforcements, and the remaining six fanned out before moving in. They rushed from cover to cover, low to the ground and difficult to detect, getting closer all the while. Finally, when the squad was in range, the beastmen burst from their cover and charged. One remained behind to shoot arrows, while the other five surged toward Lenore as one.
”Huh!?” The sudden noise and commotion startled her, and by the time she turned an arrow had already lodged itself in her midriff.
”Agh!” Yet, the noise she made was one more of fear than pain, for the next moment the arrow fell out and landed in the dirt. Lenore stared at it, then at the incoming foxmen.
”...Huh?” She said again, quieter this time. Two assailants leaped toward her at once, causing her to flinch.
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