POOHEAD189

Maverick Malediction

Neil would have loved to bathe with Calliope, but instead he found himself cordoned off in his own section of the men's bath. He couldn't tell if he was away from the others because he was a foreigner or he was given special treatment, or perhaps he had paid more than usual. Either way, the water was hot and he let his muscles relax. Neil lay his head back and let it simmer, but unfortunately the water was colder at the edges, and he found himself constantly dragging himself back to the middle. Well, he supposed it kept people from falling asleep in the pool, which was smart.

Almost an hour later, he pulled himself out and walked back to the corridor he was bade to, the archway frames by statues of great serpents with manes like lion's. He stepped into the room he thought was where his clothes would be, but he was only half right. Four men wrapped in plain white and wearing turbans stood in there too, and Neil raised his eyebrow at them staring him standing there stark naked. His old clothes on the ground at the corner of the room, cleaned and neatly folded, as were his effects. To the right was a huge open door that led into a closet where stacks and stacks of clothes were placed, along with shoes and sandals on the floor.

"Eyes up here fellas." He told them, placing both his pointer and middle finger near his eye level. "Can I help you?"

"We will help you, master Edwards." The man furthest left said, giving a small bow.

Fifteen minutes later, with a lot of uncomfortable measurements and prodding, Neil stepped into the palatial room as Rashim was showcasing Calliope's outfit to the dark woman. Neil himself wore a coat of red, gold, yellow, and blue stripes with red at the center and encompassing the end of the wide sleeve. The coat covering a velvety, long-sleeved top a dark navy color, and he bore a gold sash belt. His trousers were a type of şalvar, baggy until ending at the ankle tightly, and his cleaned feet were in sandals. He looked quite good, though he felt slightly silly. He didn't think the same of Calliope.

"Selene help me," he said quietly, invoking the goddess of beauty when Calliope turned to look at him. Somehow the clothes fit her in both style, and fit her in form like a glove. She was certainly not Aradian, but her eyes were sharp and accentuated and she looked like someone who could barter the fate of cities with a promise of a kiss.

"Ah, the other is here!" Rashim said, clapping happily. He hustled over to Neil and pulled him closer to Calliope, letting him stand in the mirror with her. They looked like royalty to Neil, though it was likely an upper middle-class outfit or something wealthy merchants wore to impress true nobility. "I dare say the Seven Princes would be pleased, and I can see you are as well, yes?"

"Yeah, did a hell of a job." Neil replied, placing his hands on the inner edge of his jacket and turned around, admiring himself.

"The bath, the clothes, now the food! Now, we shall prepare. Close the door where the wind blows and we shall return shortly." He said, and ushered the other men out of the door with a quick snap of a word in his native tongue. They hustled out. Neil looked after them curiously, but Calliope decided to sit and lounge on the strange, square cushioned couch that surrounded the table on three sides. It was too short to sit on, so one lay on their hip to lazily eat.

"What was he talking about?"

"It means relax. An ancient proverb," She said, patting the cushion next to her. Neil sat down beside her, and looked up at the inverted ceiling with the patterns of flowers and designs.

"Fancy..."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren crossed his corded arms over his chest, but his thought process couldn't finish as Jocasta spoke. He tried to hide a smile but it failed.

"You're way too cute to be this clever," He told her and shook his head, as if the fact was more of an annoyance than anything. He wasn't agitated, of course, but he finally was able to hide his smile. The sleepiness helped. He knelt down and searched the man's pocket. He found three silver lordlings, which he gave to Jocasta, and a note with an unbroken seal.

"Oh let me see that," Jocasta said, holding her hand out. Beren gave that to her as well, and couldn't find anything else on the corpse except a dirk he kept in his sock, which Beren promptly placed on the desk beside the bed. Jocasta knelt by the body and took a limp arm in her hand, placing his thumb on the seal.

"What are you doing?" Beren asked.

"I had a friend who was in the Black Auction for a bit. He told me how some assassin guilds operated..." she said, and the letter opened as if by magic, just from the touch of the deadman's thumb. Beren didn't seem convinced, as this attacker, while tough, wasn't exactly the caliber of a dreaded assassin.

She opened up the letter, and nodded professionally, before turning it around so Beren might see. In the lamplight, Beren could see the entirety of the page, and it wasn't lost on him that there was nothing on it. He looked past the empty note at Jocasta. "Am I missing something girly?" He asked her, genuinely confused.

"Ooone second," she said, pressing the tip of her tongue on her pointer and then sliding it down Beren's chest swiftly, like one might strike a match. To his surprise, a flame did erupt on her fingertip from the contact. Beren's face flushed in surprise and she gave a wink. "Pretty hot yourself, apparently. Now hold on..."

She held the small flame up to the paper, just behind it. Three seconds came and went until gradually, script began to appear. Jocasta took a deep breathe and read it aloud.

"Once the Eru'Dai is dead, go to the third tree on the path past the statue of Meldarion north of town. Take your payment there, and leave his axe as proof." She reiterated, and then blinked in confusion. "Meldarion I know. The ancient hero. But what is Eru'Dai?"

"That's me. I'm an Eru'Dai," he admitted, and she looked at him quizzically. He shrugged his strong shoulders. "We're sort of a... well not a secret order, exactly. But there aren't many of us left. I don't know how they knew I was one, or how they knew I'm here. Whoever they are..."

"You'll have to tell me more about that later. But for now...we have a reward to get tomorrow."

"If it's not a trap." Beren said, putting his jacket on. He hadn't deigned to put his shirt on, giving him an almost vagabond look. Beren grabbed the corpse and lugged it over his shoulder like it weighed twenty pounds, not two hundred pounds. He carried it out into the hallway, Jocasta following behind. It took only a minute to find a sewer to dump him in, something Beren wasn't comfortable doing, even for an assassin trying to kill him. But he couldn't leave the town with the walls and the closed gates without being discovered and further questioned for the death of a man. Jocasta hugged herself, even wearing her layers, as the night wind whipped.

"Let's start a fire when we get back in," Beren told her, and then yawned. "I'll get back to sleep soon, but we should probably warm up first."

They made it back in, and once they went up the stairs and back in the room, Beren moved the couch and Jocasta started the fire, the crackling flame growing to life in the fireplace. Beren sat down on the couch, and he asked Jocasta to join him. Once she plopped down just beside him, he crossed his legs and arms, watching the flames. He seemed thoughtful, and it took almost a minute for him to start speaking.

"You're really fun. I like hanging out with you." He admitted, and let another few seconds go by as he considered his next words. "But if someone's coming after me, or if there's a mix up between the Master of the town and the Lions and I've pissed off the latter, I don't want you to get caught up in anything, either. So I'm giving you a chance to tell me to go, if you think it's safer. No hard feelings, nothing. Just do what you think is right for you, ok?"

He turned his face to hers, to see her reaction. "I'll just leave, if you tell me to."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren hadn't been dreaming. He'd been asleep like a log, not snoring but making soft sounds. Absently he shifted in his sleep while Jocasta fought for her life. He was just out of her reach until she was flipped and thrown to him, Beren's world came crashing back. Her knee into his chest was like the catalyst of a pendulum, and Beren swung his top half up, eyes wide for a moment before he blinked, scratching his head. He was shirtless and his thick dark hair was somewhat wild.

"What th- Jo?" He said hoarsely.

She grabbed his head with both of her hands and turned it at the assassin bearing down on them, having become wise to the charging objects and leaped over it's path. Beren saw the downward arc of the cudgel, and he pushed Jocasta and knelt backwards so the cudgel hit the frame of the couch. Beren lifted his legs and flipped backwards over the arm of the furniture and grabbed the couch pillow, as the attacker, his face carved like granite with hard eyes, pursued quickly. He tried to brain Beren and then go after his kidney, but each time Beren placed the pillow there as a shield, bouncing off but smarting if nothing else.

"Make it easy on yourself!" The assailant growled, punching Beren in the face. Normally Beren was very good at close combat, but he was so bewildered at having been woken up, he hadn't seen it coming and took it in the cheek. Beren stepped back from the blow, but unfortunately for the attacker, it had fully awaken the warrior. The next swing of the cudgel didn't hit his mark, Beren catching it mid-swing, simultaneously chopping the man's exposed neck with his free hand.

His hold of the cudgel weakened, he grabbed at this throat and stepped back, wheezing at the lack of air. That made two of them, because Beren still felt winded from Jocasta's knee. The assassin knew the situation was quickly deteriorating, and he decided looking for an exit was a good idea. Jocasta kept him from finding a way to leave, having gotten the last chair, holding it over her head (and this time from behind him) and smashing it against the man's exposed skull. Luckily it didn't kill him.

His fall where his neck hit the bedframe at the end of the bed did, breaking his neck and sending his head flopping at a weird angle as his body his the ground.

"Eugh," Jocasta and Beren remarked simultaneously. Outside there were raised voices, and lamps turned on. It slightly illuminated the room, casting some light on Beren. His body was heroically muscled but slim enough at the waist to perform his acrobatics, with very little fat on his caramel form. There was a large scar across his left pectoral and his broad shoulder on the right, and on his right arm looked like an old, faded snake bite or some other such creature.

"You ok?" He asked Jocasta as Bonnie, the Innkeeper, and another person hustled toward their door with oil lamps.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren did notice how extravagantly pretty Bonnie was, but whenever their was a dog in the room his eyes drew towards that instead. He always liked dogs. Loyal, loving, and helpful beasts. Truth be told he loved all animals, though he was still an eater of meat. There was something about a dog though that he gravitated towards, and they gravitated towards him as well. Before he could call to one to have them come over to pet, the woman spoke and finally that drew his attention. Both he and the dogs seemed to shudder at the sound, but he hid it well on his face when he turned to her.

Whereas Jocasta had an almost silken silver to her hair, Bonnie's hair was strawberry blonde. Bonnie's lips were soft pillows and her face was shaped like a statue's impeccable countenance, and Beren could see why this was a popular place if one could just look at her while they ate. He glanced to Jocasta, her face was more vixen-like, and the mischief in her eyes was endearing to him. Had he been most men, he would have had all manner of fantasies in his head of the two beautiful women speaking with himself almost sandwiched between them, but as it were he was far too hungry. Plus that simply wasn't his manner.

"Some water for me, and a loaded potato?" He asked hopefully.

"It's your lucky day, we still have a few potatoes from the coast that had been shipped up here. I'll see about getting some beef and cheese, but we're running out of pork and onions. Honestly if we hadn't gotten so little in the way of commerce and travelers this year, we'd have to tighten our belts for another three months." She explained conversationally. Beren wished she didn't. He was impressed at the grating, cat-choking voice that still erupted from her.

"Thanks, and do you take doubloons?" He wondered, brows raised. He produced three, watching her face.

"Yeah, sure." She said to his relief, and he handed them to her. Jocasta would know that amount roughly equaled an Andredian gold piece. "And for you?"

"Well so much for my order of pulled pork," Jocasta said with a helpless shrug.

"Honey, please." Beren said with a tongue-in-cheek roll of his eyes to play along.

She tapped her chin, looking around the room at a few of the dishes to see what was available. "Beef brisket and...what are those little berries?"

"Falta Berries. They're pretty good. Sort of like grapes and strawberries put together. They grow up here."

"Oh I'd like some too," Beren added.

"Don't worry, it'll be a good sized bowl. Ok sit in a corner, but it'll probably be a tight squeeze. Be there soon." She said, interrupted at the end by a call from a customer across the bar. She cried out "coming!" and it was physically painful to the ear. Beren and Jocasta hurried to their seat.

They passed by the mercenaries, a few of the wearing the black tabards of the Lions, but another four wore mix-and-match gear, showing they were freelancers. A few of them laughed and jeered, tossing cards and swigging drink while at least three seemed to be on the verge of violence with one another. As Beren passed them, he found he was near the mastiffs. He knelt down, not afraid to get bitten and let his hand out to get sniffed. The farmers chuckled, and the closest said. "Looks like old Gorman likes you." He said, petting the dog as he sniffed Beren's hand.

"Good fella," Beren whispered, giving the dogs a few pets as they took in a good few whiffs of his offered hand. It only took a moment, and he got up and followed in Jocasta's wake to their two person booth. Unfortunately, Beren wasn't the only one.

As they sat down at their little booth side-by-side, a man approached. One of the mercenaries, wearing a black tabard with the symbol of a Lion. He looked at Beren appraisingly and Jocasta with interest.

"Where you from?" He asked conversationally, placing one hand on the table. Alcohol covered his breath. Beren remembered what the guards had said, and he felt this was just shit luck.

"Varone," Jocasta replied quickly, placing a hand on Beren's arm to keep him from speaking. It was a good cover; far enough south to be truly foreign but well-known enough to still be recognizable. "We're just two travelers heading to Iskura."

"Really? Just two travelers?" He echoed, and to both of their surprise his eyes fell on Jocasta, or more specifically, her bosom. "So, you're not... together."

"I confess I'm a prized commodity," She said with a facetious smile, innocently batting her lashes. Beren had no idea what was going on. At first he was afraid of being connected to the caravan, but now this looked like a drunk man flirting. Was it both? He guessed so...

"Where's this from?" the mercenary asked, reaching down to the andernic torque that hung at the crest of her chest.

Beren casually grabbed his arm before it got to her. It had been easy, since he had to lean just by him to reach for Jocasta. The mercenary blinked and looked at him, amusement warring with annoyance.

"Look man," the merc said, almost overwhelming Beren with the poor breath that accompanied the miasma of alcohol. "I noticed her bottom passing me by, and now I see it's matched up top. Let me work here."

"Oh, pfft yeah of course. Is that all? Sure." Beren said, but didn't let go of his arm. In fact his grip tightened.

"If I were you, I would let go." The mercenary said, eyes flashing dangerously.

"If you were me, you'd actually be charming." Beren replied back without a beat.

The man, though drunk, reached quickly for something at his belt. Likely a knife. Beren's fist was quicker, snapping like a cobra-strike into his face. He made sure not to hit the nose so as not to bloody the table, and as the merc staggered back, Beren got up and followed. The merc caught himself and reacted with a swift punch to Beren's midsection. Beren raised his knee in a block, and then snapped his leg up to take the man under the chin. He stumbled back and hit a few of his 'friends,' who looked just as pissed at him for knocking over some drinks as they did at Beren.

The other two Lions stood up, one holding a crossbow (albeit not yet aimed) and the other with his hand on the hilt of his schiavona. Beren held up his hands, smiling guiltily. "Just want to drink alone fellas."

"Bastard!" The pervert said, taking out his thick bladed knife. Beren looked at the other two to see if they wanted to intervene, hopefully to stop him rather than help him to kill Beren. Just as the three began to move, Beren's meal, sleeping arrangements, and maybe life on the line, there was a strangled noise that curdled everyone's blood.

"Hey! Not in here!" Bonnie cried, walking up with two plates of food. How could someone so gorgeous sound like that? She glared at the lions, not giving them a piece of her mind but not backing down either. They looked at her and then to one another, the crossbowman stepping over to pat his perverted friend on the back. The freelance mercenaries watched and grinned, and began to drink again.

"Let's go." the crossbowman said, eyes flickering to Beren and then Bonnie before guiding his drunken friend and the third (who glared at them) away.

"Sorry," Beren apologized earnestly, sitting back down beside Jocasta. Bonnie watched them leave, and once they were gone she set the food, the berries, and drinks down before the two hungry adventurers. Their mouths immediately watered at the assault of smells from the food.

"Don't be. That was dumb of you, but I'm glad those assholes are gone." She said, and placed her hands on her shapely hips, smiling. "Wish my last boyfriend had the guts to do that for me. You'll get the wine on the house, let me know if you need anything else." She offered.

Beren laughed the compliment off, and thanked her before she walked away. He looked at Jocasta's, shrugging with a dramatic air about him. "Danger follows me wherever I go, tis a curse." He facetiously deigned to explain as if they were in a melodrama.

The Black Delta

The sand not shielded by their bodies was hot to the touch, but moving quickly or having the luxury of shoes helped. One had to be careful, for debris and flotsam still protruded out of the sand. Blood mingled with the water, and some of it had reached land, staining the beach. Strange birds flocked at the trees, feathers and beaks bearing colors that encompassed the entire rainbow. They watched and cawed at them like an audience at a praelian coliseum.

Captain Cole Burnside roused from his position, having heard voices. He looked and felt like hell, and he lifted himself just long enough to cough out a mouthful of sand before collapsing again. He groaned, but stayed still. His hat was missing, it lay by Jacqueline as she approached. Lachlan made it there first, however. His shadow above the Captain drew his attention, and Burnside blinked, looking up at him. It seems Aldrich's question had been answered, if non-verbally.

From across the way, another figure made their entrance. It was Holfort, one of the crewmen. Blood soaked his scalp, and his body held scratches and burns like the rest of the survivors. In his callused hands was a boarding pike that he used like a tall walking stick to support his weight. He bumped into Kjetil, who so far had been unlucky in finding anything to bandage himself with.

"The others are this way, we must get there. The Captain..." Holfort began, motioning for the Norgardian to follow.

Once everyone had congregated to the Captain, who now sat up and rubbed his head, he was able to address them, albeit slowly. So far it looked like these six had been the only survivors.

"Gods help me," The Captain cursed, his eyes moist. Not from crying, but the pain and exhaustion that took him. "That damned storm..."
Moving looked like it was a chore, but if they didn't go soon they would bake or be found by whatever beasts smelled the stench of carcasses cooking in the sun. Holfort asked if Captain Burnside was alright, but the Captain waved him off. "Don't worry about me. We should be...be two days sail to Darkwater. Damned we were so close! Maybe we could make it two days on foot if we cut through the jungle. If we follow the beach? I don't know. I don't...it's so hard to tell. Hells, we could be on an island, but I doubt it."

If one were to look across the beach and thoroughly search, a few items could be found:

• A broken boarding pike, half sized at close to 5 feet.
• A boarding axe embedded in a broken piece of hull.
• 2 water flasks. One filled with fresh water, the other filled with salt water.
• A chest. The Captain's chest. Locked and with no key.
• A rusted cutlass with no sheath.
• A carving knife in a knapsack.
• A map under some flotsam, ripped in half and faded.
• A bottle of rum.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

"Oh no," He said with wide eyes when he saw the explosion had inadvertently caused a rumble up the hill, and not only were debris falling around them, but the snow had been displaced. Slowly, it tranformed from hail to an avalanche. As it approached, Jocasta finally noticed, her mouth making an 'O'. Beren had seen one once at Thundrim Kadrin, but from far off and out of its path. This one was much like the other. It was hundreds of tons of snow, wood, leaves, and now masonry and other debris.

"Maybe I spoke a bit too soon," She admitted guiltily.

Beren scooped her up in his arms, causing her to suck in her breathe by the sudden feeling of iron-corded arms holding to a broad chest, the adrenaline of the situation adding to it. He started to run away toward the tree line, though there were only a few copses of pine and coniferous trees here or there. Beren was a fast runner and he moved like a dwarven steam train, but he wasn't fast enough. Jocasta watched the avalanche from over his shoulder with wide eyes as it caught up to them, at the crest of the 'wave' was a log spearing at them. She closed her eyes, and suddenly felt weightless. She had thought she was dead, but soon she found gravity again, and the intense rumbling was all around them.

Jocasta opened her eyes to see Beren precariously atop the log, surfing the snow. Well, surfing implied finesse. It was impressive he had leaped atop it, and it was clear he had a lot of acrobatic training. But he swayed this way and that and didn't seem all too convinced they would stay up, though his dark eyes were steeled.

"Are you sure this will work!?" She asked him above the din

"No," he said.

They passed over some crags and brush, demolishing the landscape in their path. Beren re-positioned his front foot, but it nearly cost them their perch on the bucking log. For a moment they seemed ok, racing past a copse of trees and a bend in the earth, but soon they saw they were in a path that fed directly towards a large oak. Beren tried to manuever his weight, but it wasn't working. Jocasta screamed and Beren's heart thundered in his chest.

"Hold on to me!" He told her, and she did so instinctively as Beren leaped from the log moments before it smashed into the tree and broke in half, the man making a desperate reach for a lower branch. In the second it took for him to sail through the air, time seemed to stop. But all at once reality came crashing back, and he caught the branch in his hands.

The very land itself flowed under them like a river, and they hung there for the next ten minutes until the Marches slowed and were spent, almost as if it were bored with the avalanche itself.

"Wow." She said. Her arms around his neck, she was very close to him. He hadn't noticed, but to keep herself clinging she had wrapped her legs around him, their chests pressed together. Beren's face, once stern with purpose, was now reddened at the close proximity. She smiled brightly. "This is a good date."

"We should probably get to town," he said, his usually deep voice cracking.

---

The next day...

They were cold and slightly tired, but they were alive. They were even clean, one of the rivers that flowed out of the mountain was naturally heated, likely from some hidden reservoir of magma beneath. There was an abundance of fish in it, and they caught some, drank the water, and one bathed while the other stood watch. They stayed there that night and continued forward to Helmguart the next day.

The township was guarded by a stout wall of stone, just ten feet high but wide enough for two men to comfortably walk abreast. The gates were open, but crossbowmen in kettle-helms stood above it and along the walls, obviously vigilant from the sounds of battle the other day just a few days travel from there. It was hard to see the wall from the trees, as the wood was thick about it. But they had found the trail again, and made it mid-afternoon that day.

The guards looked strange. Some of them wore brigandines or chainmail, but most of them you couldn't tell their armor, as they wore black tabards and cloaks with the symbol of the lion. Beren didn't recognize the sigil, but Jocasta likely would. They were the Mortus Leo; The Dead Lions. A mercenary group made famous for its wars in the Seven Cities along the Blood Coast. What they were doing here was a mystery, but it likely had something to do with their latest military disaster near the pirate haven of Balcet, where the Basilean army had overrun their position. It was one of the many rumors that had passed through Andred before the winter had pummeled the nation into submission.

The buildings were made of sturdy timber and mountain stone, most of the roofs had wooden frames and made thatched, though a few had slate tiles. Laborers, errands-men, mercers, fuellers, smiths, bakers, and the general citizenry walked about as if nothing was off, though most gave the roving bands of Black Lions a wide berth, and there were at least two of the mercenaries at nearly every corner of the roads. Every mercenary bore a wing-tipped spear or a crossbow, though all of them had a schiavona sword sheathed at their hips. While Beren didn't know of them, he knew there couldn't be many even if he saw them in most direction, as the town wasn't very big by most northerners. If Beren had remembered from his conversation with the merchant Bonraffen, there wasn't more than four thousand citizens here. A rough mining and logging town, kept alive by merchants traveling from Torm's Gate to Iskura.

After passing down one street, a guard stopped them. Not one of the Lions, or at least he didn't wear their crest. He had a thick goatee and sported a messer at his hip, but he had on a sigil at his sleeve that looked like a bascinet helmet.

"I saw you enter the gate. Might I ask your names and your business?" He inquired brusquely, as a watchmen or sentry might do. Beren and Jocasta glanced at one another, both looking a bit weary at being stopped before they could walk into a warm inn, but they shrugged as they also had nothing to hide.

"I'm Beren, this is Jocasta. We're chance travelers. We were apart of a caravan coming from the Dragonback, but we were attacked by Orcs and... and the dead. And more things I dare not name except in private. We were the only survivors that we know of, but now-"

The guard made a baffled noise and held up a hand. "You were in a caravan meant for here?"

"Yes, to pass through to Iskura."

The guard turned and bade them wait, before he jogged off to the next street for a brief minute. Jocasta hugged herself and groaned, simmering with annoyance that the guard couldn't talk to them somewhere warm. There was no snow about them, but the temperature was still easily below freezing. Beren felt her pain and nodded. He was usually fun or stoic, switching between the two when needed. But he was just about ready to complain as well. Soon the watchman came back with a companion, similarly dressed.

"Thank you for waiting," the first man said apologetically.

"How long had you been on the road?" The second one asked.

"Almost two weeks. But we're really tired, sir." Beren said.

"And how did you two surv-"

"Can you boys point us to the nearest inn?" Jo pipped up before further questions were tossed at them. The two guards regarded her question, and then looked at one another. The second one nodded, and the first took his hat off in apology.

"Aye, yes. The Crimson Wyvern is just north of here, two streets away. Tell Bonnie that Melve sent you. But before you go, I will let you know tomorrow the master of Helmguart might call on you. I advise you to not tell any black-clad man who you are or where you come from, for your own safety as well as that of the town."

"Ok," Beren said, not wanting to be rude but not really understanding the situation. They were both dismissed and allowed to go, and when they exited the guard's company, Jocasta smiled at Beren and held up an ancient coin with a wink. "How many rounds do you think this will get me?"

"I've got money," he assured her with a laugh, knowing she was also joking. "I'm just getting water myself anyway. I'm more hungry than anything."

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren watched her talk and even though it wasn't too farfetched of an explanation, he found he was pleasantly surprised. She was kind of cute talking about her interests, as well. He wished he had been able to get some sort of diploma or certification from a university, but his old master had always told him it was a worthless piece of paper and wisdom was valuable in and of itself. He was right of course, but it still kept him from gaining access to certain libraries up north. Not the marches, but the north in general. He still had to remind himself not to call Andred and Vrettonia and the kingdoms south of the Dragonback 'The North' up here. But to him, it was all pretty far above where he had been born.

"Most people I meet tend not to have goals, much less auspicious ones." He admitted with a smile. "That's actually pretty cool."

The warmth of the fire and the fine talk (coupled with his tiredness) were relaxing, and Beren found himself loosening up. "I promised an old friend I would deliver an item to a tomb. Not one like the tombs we've seen. It's in a mountain further north, near the Frostfalls. At least that's what I'm told."

"Deliver something to a tomb?" She asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Uh..." He started, and decided it didn't harm anything to tell her. "Well he's a Dwarf and I gave him my word. He couldn't come with me. He had other obligations."

"You're a Dwarf-Friend then... like actually one." She reasoned, as impressed with him as he was with her. Dwarves weren't the rarest creature, but they were the oldest race on the planet and keepers of many secrets. The mere fact Beren knew any of the language was something even the old greybeards in the academies would be taken aback by, not to mention they would pay handsomely to find out some of his knowledge.

"I am," he chuckled, somewhat embarrassed himself. He leaned back and reached behind him to pull out the axe she had seen him hold earlier. It did not look like more than a simple, battle-worthy hand-axe earlier. He handed it to her. The haft was slightly less than a meter long and finely made, wrapped in crimson leather over what seemed to be steel coating over stout wood. Along its back was a thread embroidered with gold coloring. The axe had a bearded blade, carved in the shape of a Dragon's maw, and a stout but sharp spike at its back. Most impressively, the blade was made of Baldr. An exceedingly rare metal, though not quite as valuable as Valdium for certain items that required more finesse and magic. It was a metal only the Dwarves knew how to shape, and it was the most durable metal known on the planet. Along its head were runes, though it didn't seem like they provided any real enchantments to the item.

"When we get out of here, we should get to Helmguart as soon as possible," He said as he let her look the item over. "After that, I'll be going to Iskura next, unless you need help doing something else?"

They hadn't exactly made a partnership, but he did want to give her a chance if she wanted him to tag along somewhere. Maybe it was just him giving an excuse to hang around the woman, but either way. He was the wandering type, so he was used to meeting and then leaving if it came to it.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren laughed, much like a boy caught in the midst of a prank would. He had a nice voice, but it was humbled when he nearly chocked on a piece of jerky. He hit his chest with his hand and swallowed, clearing his throat.

"I wouldn't say it's a habit, no." He said, keeping it relatively vague to mess with her. He pulled the cloak tighter around his left, uncovered arm. "But I do tend to get into situations like this. Well...yeah, no, I do."

"Same here," she admitted, but turned to look at the door they hadn't yet walked through. "Though none quite like this so far."

"As for damsels, is that what you consider yourself?" He asked with a smirk.

She turned back and fluttered her lashes, looking for all the world like a lost maiden in a romance tale. "Who me? Why do you ask?"

He tried to hide a smile, but was unsuccessful. The fire was starting to feel very warm, and the enclosed room felt nice. He hadn't counted on having a place to make a fire before reaching the town of Helguart. He was also a little embarrassed. Beren was the kind of person who got along well with people and didn't think about it until he got a step too far. He knew she was joking, but he hadn't been on a real date in awhile, by his estimation. He was more used to death than an attractive woman, and he felt that was sad in and of itself.

She really was different, though. Somehow after the wholesale slaughter of the caravan and the dangers that had accompanied it, he felt somehow good. He knew he shouldn't, but he did. Silently he made a small prayer for their souls, and to get he and Jocasta out of this literal dungeon. He didn't want to dwell on it, and a question came to him. Now that he had some time to think, it should be an obvious question.

"Why are you here?" He asked her suddenly, turning to her. His dark eyes looked rich and golden in the firelight, much like the bronze of the torque. The light showed his hair wasn't black like one might assume at first glance, but a dark chocolate. "Did you come to find ruins like this? You seem to know a lot, and where did you learn it?"

He leaned against one of the rocks and let his elbow rest on it, in turn resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. He found she really was pretty.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren had taken the opportunity of the sudden, freezing breath to grab at the ripped sleeve still on the now-impassive blade. Frost flaked the cloth, but it didn't seem too damaged other than where it had been severed. He would hire someone to sew it back on, because Evergod knew it was cold enough up here in the wilderness. He barely felt adequately dressed even with his shirt, outer shirt, and the jacket. Luckily the catacombs, while not warm, did not have the freezing temperature or biting wind of the upper world. He shook the frost off and shoved the cold length into his pocket just as Jocasta introduced herself.

He had vaguely recalled her name being Jo-something, and she had evidently remembered his name. He took her hand and shook it, giving a knowing smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Beren."

"Are you cold, tired, and hungry Beren?"

"Yep."

"Then let's see if we can get out of here," she said, responsibly. The pretty woman thought a moment, placing a finger on her bottom lip. "Depending on if there's another exit and the tunnel is leading due north-west like I think it is, we should be slowly heading along the path we would have taken had we not been attacked."

"If this tomb-complex has more resting places, then it should have another exit. Then again, I'm not familiar with this culture. What even caused these things to get up?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, I don't think it's the same reason or even the same source of power that had summoned the dark army just outside. The runes along these walls are filled with poetic portents, sagas, and soliloquies. There seems to be some sort of latent pocket of fel magics that wants to defend this place very badly."

"Let's hope we can oblige and get the hell out," Beren grunted, and the two began a small trek forward. The next room was an armory, with withered, old weapons, shields, and suits of mail. A red and gold cape was draped along a wooden bar on the wall. Beren took it and shook the dust off of it as Jocasta rifled through the old weapons. Beren decided to take the cape for warmth, and Jocasta pocketed a rusted but ancient seax with a silver wolfish embalm on the hilt. Blowing on it before putting it away, she found it wasn't rusted but simply dusty like the cloak. There were ripples along the blade that caught the low light in different, glittering facets.

Beren took a moment to admire the weaponry as well, but soon they moved on, going down winding, baroque stone stairs that fed into a foyer connecting a large chamber with walkways and hanging lights of strange crystals that glowed, casting the ground in pallid illumination. Beren stepped over a line that had been laid as a trap, and Jocasta managed to find the exit by following the pictograms of a marching army along the wall until they reached an archway made of brass and iron.

Beren stepped in carefully, and when nothing happened, they walked further and traversed three long halls and guardrooms (where they found some old coins and swiftly nicked them) until they found another foyer. Only this one was partially broken, some hard earth poking through the stone and roots winded down the right wall like the tentacles of some monster. More importantly, there was an empty brazier on a stone rise.

"Keep going or...?"

"No, I need to sit on my ass for a bit." Jocasta said tiredly. As she went to sit, Beren handed her a small bag he had in his backsack. She opened it up inquisitively and found jerky in there.

"Not much, but it's something." He told her, and he went to the wall and yanked at the roots that tangled out of the shattered stone, breaking some off and tossing it into the stone brazier. After about nine or ten gnarled, dry roots he grabbed two rocks and began to slide them together, trying to make a fire.

"Oh, let me." Jocasta said helpfully with her mouth half-full. She got up and snapped, mumbling a few words.

Nothing happened. She blinked, and then snapped again, and again, and again, and then three times in rapid succession before a flame erupted from the brazier like an oil-fire. She squawked and fell back into Beren, who caught her as gently as he could.

"Good job," they both said together, and then they said 'no problem,' and then they shut up for a moment as they felt the next words would inevitably be the same too. The room was small, and soon it would be cozy with the flame. Luckily, the catacombs had filters and vents for air in the ceiling, likely more for the workers who made the tomb than for the benefit of the eternal sleepers in the tombs themselves. Beren draped the blanket over his shoulder, and then stretched it to drape over his companion's as well. She handed him some jerky, and he took it with a smile. She took out the knife and looked at it curiously, holding it up in the firelight.

"Do you always meet guys like this?" He asked her, trying to fill the silence with levity.

Merry Guildmas

Merry Christmas @POOHEAD189, @Hank, @NuttsnBolts and @LegendBegins. Thanks for being here to keep this boat afloat. :D

@Dark Cloud

Thank you, friend!