Overlord Thraka

A Cheetah's loss (Dark Medieval Fantasy) 18+

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Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

I can't keep up with this along with all my other stuff I got going on IRL and with other hobbies/rps. I gotta duck out. Sorry folks.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Mergoux chewed her lip for a good while, listening to it's answer. Vorex, some manner of librarian from gods knew how long ago... He was a strange one, but from everything she could tell, right down to her gut, he wasn't anything to worry over. Another strange character to join the caravan, that was all too clear.

Her eyes scanned him over once more from underneath her helmet before she nodded once to herself, coming to her decision. "Alright," she said, "I'll help you, as best I can." She half turned and motioned for it to follow, all while the voice in her helmet chortled quietly into her ear. "There's a caravan nearby, come with me and maybe we can find someone who might know a thing or two more about your library, and who destroyed it."

That was her concern now, keeping an eye out for whatever might have destroyed Vorex's library. A thousand years meant nothing to some threats, and they needed to be careful if there was even the slightest chance it was still in the area.

Mergoux lead Vorex through the woods for a mile or so before coming back to the caravan, now towards the back half of it. "Here," she said, nodding to the wide variance of species that ambled ever onward. "I wager there will be someone in here who might know something."

@Twannyman

A Cheetah's loss (Dark Medieval Fantasy) 18+

Bump

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@twannyman

Mergoux pondered the strange creature for a few moments as it spoke, making little gestures with one of it's quills. This library had been destroyed long ago it said? How long ago was that exactly she wondered? There were few signs of life, let alone ruins of a once-great library in the forest that she had seen, and such things did not spring up overnight. She found it unlikely it had wandered so far without finding people or paper, so what then had it been doing?

"He seems harmless..."

"Maybe," Mergoux muttered.

She frowned deeper as Vorex bent and plucked some of the grass and tasted it. "Answer my questions Vorex, and I'll help you" she offered. He didn't feel threatening, but you could never be too careful, and while she wasn't worried for herself, there were many in the caravan who might not be so able at defending themselves. This creature was small, but dangerous things often came in small packages, as anyone who'd ever fought a Dwarf could attest to.

"Who destroyed your library, who trapped you, and how were you freed?"

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Twannyman

A small slit appeared on the creature, just below the great eye, and it spoke in a tongue she didn't know, with an accent she didn't recognize. The great eye closed, but she could tell it was moving beneath the lid. The creature remained more or less still for a moment, then it's eye opened once more and it spoke, this time in words she could understand.

"Oooh, he sounds funny."

Mergoux's lips thinned as he spoke, her permanent frown increasing. He was a small thing, but what kind of thing he was she had no idea. A great eye, a slit of a mouth, grey skin, no, she had never seen its like before. But then even a short a trip as this had been, there were a great many things here she had not yet seen. Creatures she'd never encountered before, and odd though they might be, they were all of them still people. Some good, some bad. This one before her, this Vorex who called itself a libraryman, was just another new sight on this strange, strange trip.

Mergoux's grip on the hilt of her blade loosened, as she stepped further from the shadow of the tree towards the creature. "Well met," she offered. Her words were welcoming enough, but her tone left much to be desired. "My name is... Isorn," she lied. There was a clucking of disapproval in her ear as she spoke, but she ignored it. She was far from lands where she was known, where a bounty might be offered, but still it paid to play it safely.

"A libraryman say you? Where is your library? How long have you been searching for new books?" she asked, taking another step closer. They were still then a few paces apart, but watching him, she felt her usual suspicions subside, at least for the moment.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

It did not take long to free the cart. With the cutting of some vines and a good push, the woman was on her way again, waving the warrior off, her child joining her. Mergoux lifted a hand to acknowledge their farewell, then hefted her pack and was on her way again. On she trudged for a ways, ever on the outside of the pack, watchful of the woodland, wary of the forest and all hiding within.

The deeper they went into the woods, the less she liked them. As the forest grew denser still around them, she only felt her hackles rise further and further. Her ears were pricked, her muscles tense, waiting for the inevitable ambush, the attack that her mind told her had to come in a place like this. There was a presence here, and passing peacefully was not likely in a place such as this.

"Go have a look around," she said softly. There was a sound of acknowledgement, and she felt the cool tingle down her spine, her leg and out the bottom of her trousers. What shadow she had under the already thick foresttop grew darker for a moment, then back to normal with a soft woosh that even she could barely hear.

It was a few minutes later she heard the noise once more, and felt the creeping coolness of their return. "Tell me," she said, not breaking her stride, even as her hand reached for her weapon.

"I'm not sure." they said "There was a man, yet he was not a man, but something else."

"Dangerous?"

"He had only the tools of a scribe, paper and ink and quills for writing. No weapons I felt."

Mergoux stepped to the side and stared out into the woods, her lips pursed. A scribe they said, perhaps a traveler lost then. Wandered from the road for whatever reason, and now unable to find their way back. "How far?"

"Southeast, not yet a mile."

"Alright. Good work."

They gave a happy trill as she set off into the woods, pushing her way past the thick brush and venturing off into the forest, guided by the voice inside her helmet.

___________

She was not sure what she was looking at. She'd certainly never seen anything like it before, but then this caravan was full of bizarre creatures from lands unknown, this could just as easily be one of them. It was a short thing, barely above a Dwarf in height, and with a massive eye in places of a face. It wore clothes of a sort, though they were little more than canvas draped over the thing's body. It had an otherwise human frame, but with dark blue skin, almost grey she thought. As they had said, the creature, whatever it was, held no weapons, but that did not mean it was not dangerous. Still, perhaps it was a traveler lost as she'd suspected. Best not to frighten then.

"You lost?" She asked, stepping out from behind a tree. She kept her weapons sheathed, but her fingers drifted close to the hilts, ready should the worst occur.

@twannyman

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

The forest had a creeping aura about it, as if menacing the travelers passing under the branches overhead. The road stretched wide, yet the trees, the brush, the green verge hemmed them in, so thick as to be impassible at a glance. There was only one way through the forest, the road they took, and Mergoux was unsure if she liked that. She liked having options, so when the only two were forward, or back, it made her uncomfortable. Still, with woods so thick, it was unlikely they were being watched, by mortal eyes at least. "The Green Lord always watches," she muttered, and heard a murmur of assent in return.

"All the world is his garden, but this place..."

"Like a plot left to grow wild, with thistle and all manner of creeping thing."

"You're feeling poetic!"

Mergoux's lips thinned and the voice chuckled to themself inside her helmet.

The passage was crowded with carts now, the road narrowing to a point, then widening again. A bottleneck where folks piled up and pushed past each other to get round the bend. A queue had formed of carts, but she was no rider. Hefting her pack, she shimmied through pressed wagons and tighter pressed people doing much the same as her. She moved deftly through the crowd, brushing nary a shoulder as she made her way through the bottleneck and past into where the road stretched wider again. It had a more built up look about it, stone underneath, old cobbles. Maybe once long ago some manner of building had stood here, but now it was mostly creeper and dirt, what few stones left coated in the thick green foliage as if the forest wanted to reclaim this land for itself.

"By the dead," she muttered, picking her way carefully through the vines. More than a few travelers had tripped, sprawling out over the cobbles, trying to pick up their fallen packs, some of which had burst open and scattered their possessions far, all whilst wagons trundled on.

Not far from the bottleneck, a young woman was struggling with her own cart, it's wheels entangled in creeper. Glancing about, it wasn't the only one stuck, but it was the only one not receiving any manner of aide.

Mergoux's eyes narrowed to slits under her helmet as she paused, taking in the woman and her cart. She looked ordinary, but that didn't mean anything. A quick glance revealed no obvious weapons either. A simple, modest dress. Perhaps too modest for the warm weather. Plain, simply dyed. Not a wealthy woman to be sure, certainly not by the state of her cart. She plainly not it's first owner, not unless she'd had it for some time, but the canvas over the top of it was newer. The yak pulling it huffed and grunted, straining along with the woman as they struggled to push the cart on.

"Well?!" They sounded exasperated at Mergoux's inaction.

"Fine," she said at last, shrugging off her pack and setting it down. That felt a bit better, a moment of relief. Her bag was none-too-light. She wished she still had her old lightbag, a pack that weighed the same miniscule amount no matter what was put in it, but she'd lost that over a decade ago.

"Look out," she said, stepping in beside the woman. "Take this, cut the creeper." She plucked a large knife from her belt, a heavy blade with a set of knuckle-dusters built into the handle. Setting her shoulder against the wagon, she waited until the young woman bent down and began hacking away at the vines, then heaved with all her might, a grunt of exertion escaping her mouth.

@OliveYOu

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Ayy thanks! I do love me some descriptors

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

"There's a lot of Half-Elves here," they murmured to her from under her helmet, her eyes shifting back and forth. The Pilgrim's Caravan, the Roving Town, the Village of Wheels and a thousand other names besides. She'd heard stories to be sure, but having never seen it before, she'd not been prepared for what she was to find.

Comprised of dozens if not hundreds of wagons, twice as many animals and three times that number of people, had surprised her like little else did. She had been in cities the world over, traveled far and wide in her long years, but while many places could be described as a melting pot, none were quite like this place.

She'd only been with the Caravan a few short days but she was still seeing things that might inspire awe in someone more easily impressed than she. Wonderous wagons moving on their own, or else pulled by strange and exotic beasts. Enormous wagons big as houses, to carts so small that they barely held the single occupant, and more-often were filled to the brim with several. The people too were something else. Poor and rich and inbetween, young and old and some perhaps even dead if the smell was any indicator. Humans and Dwarves and Elves, Lizardmen and Catfolk and all manner of Beast-men. Just yesterday a large slug pulling a wagon had shouted at her to move aside while it inched forward, leaving a slimy trail on the ground behind it. But yes, there were above all things, far more half-elves than she'd ever seen before in one place, if indeed this counted as a place.

Seeing them felt... odd to her, not that she hadn't seen them before, or everytime she saw her own reflection, but to see them so unbothered by not just themselves, but those around them. It confused her. In her home, and indeed most places she had been to, half-breeds like her would have been run out of town or at the very least given the ugliest of glares. She'd long since moved past it bothering her, but it still made her frown to see others so open about it. Better counties they must have come from.

"Lots yes," the voice hissed in her ear. It was soft, like the sound of a summer breeze. "The white hair has magic, and the pirate-"

"Not a pirate, she reeks of ex-military. Navy probably."

"Talk of reeks?! There is a big cart that smells horrid, just behind!"

"I got a whiff. Cheese." There was a brief pause, then the Warrior's frown became one of confusion. "Wait, I didn't know you could smell."

"Of course I can smell! I can see and hear can't I?"

"Nevermind, it's not important. Anyways, I'm not here to make friends. As soon as things have died down at home, I'm off,"

"You mean us yes?"

"Of course," the warrior muttered. Just me and the voice in my helmet...