Oko had just started to ride off towards the east gate when he hears Jason’s horse go off in another direction. Turning his head he sees him riding over to where Zara and the cleric are at. Curious, Oko will turn his horse around and trot on over to see what was going on, Intrigued by Zara’s request about buying some peppers. “Mind if I tag along as well? I have not had any reason to go to that sector myself.” He had heard his old nickname Ono and was even more curious. How did Zara know THAT name? He will have to watch her closely, there is a lot more to her then what she seems. A Teen that had reached her height but has not filled out yet. Some one who can get a mule to jump a fence and surrender to her, but drops forks and flits about like a flutterby, then talks of getting spices. Mindful of the saying he was always told of when he was a kid growing up. About curiosity and the cat he decides to tag along

As Alex leads the way, they soon find the spice seller that the man in the market had mentioned.

"Someone needs to watch the horses and I will not be long, though if anyone wants to come in they can."

Zara pops off her horse and hurries into the shop, she pauses at the door and drinks deeply of its riot of scents, something Oko can smell from outside. It's enough to cause his nose to wrinkle.

Inside she finds the shop keeper busy so she looks about for what she wants. The shop was full of exotic spices, hence the barred windows and even a second barred door. Spices like these were worth a noble's ransom.

Once the shop keeper is free Zara hurries up and hands him a list she had made out. Soon the shop keeper calls out an assistant to do the grinding that Zara had asked for. Eack pepper spice had its own mortar and pestle so that flavors would not be mixed.

"Please, may I ask, spoke the owner as he gathered the spices on her list, "what do you need all these peppers for?"

"Sure," replied Zara, "They're to make pepper bombs."

When she has her finely ground pepper now double wrapped and bagged tahe places the package into her haversack and goes out to where the horses wait.

Madness.

He blinked back the stinging tears that hung like icicles on his eyelashes. A wild urge to turn back time and renounce his ways overcame him. He had not been able to stem the vicious flow of words until it was too late, until he revealed more of his story then was ever heard or understood by mortal or god. They poured from him like viscous blood, rushing unhindered from a wound of the heart. He considered this superb analogy grimly.

If one word could fascinate him for his entire life that word was ‘incognito’. He was ‘incognito’. Like a slithering shadow or a creeping mist he wandered, a creature more monster than man. He was, therefore, clumsy hero of a good heart and temperament that was soured by a violent upbringing and by constant fear of reprisal.

He undertook all deeds by nightfall, and although he was of a distinctive appearance, he was rarely, if ever seen. If one was vigilant enough, perhaps in the rising mists of the ocean, one would see the dark prow of his ship that slid forward calmly, soothingly, without an air of menace. Below the blood-red flag and sails (and indeed they were stained with blood, sailors swear), stood the crew, only dark outlines against a billowing background. And if the poor doomed souls had been chosen worthy as prey, they would see the black, slender outline of a lone man, apart from the motley masses behind him. His face would be shrouded, but within the folds of fabric twin emerald gems would glimmer. They would hear a single word escape his lips, soft and surprisingly melodious.

Fire.

And as they watched the hypnotic man, the creatures would become consumed by flame.

It was his name that mothers evoked when they wished to chastise and frighten their rowdy children into good behaviour. It was of him that old sailors told tales of in the dank and glittering pubs in every corner in every port. And it was of him that children whispered of to terrify and entertain their peers. At the time of his daughter’s birth, Septimus had even heard two children singing a strange little ditty whilst they played at their games.

Dark Man, Dark Man, waiting at the door
Something tells me I’ve seen him there before
Try to run away; don’t know if you can,
You’re just too afraid of the Viper in the Sand

He weeps when he’s cheerful
And smiles when he’s sad
His manner is fearful
And his eyes are quite mad

You’ll fall down in fire
He’ll take you away
Where death is desire
And wild ghosts play

Dark Man, Dark Man, waiting at the door
Something tells me I’ve seen him there before
Try to run away; don’t know if you can,
You’re just too afraid of the Viper in the Sand

They say he’s immortal
And shies from the Day
He laughs and he chortles
At death and decay

The Dark Man is coming
He’s picked out your grave
The Dark Man is coming
You’d better behave!

Dark Man, Dark Man, waiting at the door
Something tells me I’ve seen him there before
Try to run away; don’t know if you can,
You’re just too afraid of the Viper in the Sand

He shook his head, breaking out of his thoughts as he noted a distinctive piece of architecture. “The shrine “, he murmured, giving the dark stallion his head. His long, coltish legs stretched out and gracefully carried him, as Septimus`s steed kept in stride with Dae`s mare. He brushed back the tears, a tall man who was so thin it looked as if his cheekbones had been sharpened on whetstones, a man with ungainly limbs that made him look uncannily like a wall spider, a man with translucent, creamy skin and beautiful green eyes, thickly lashed, seductive, and completely without soul.

It was not sorely missed.

The Dark Man is coming
He’s picked out your grave
The Dark Man is coming
You’d better behave!

Jason slowly paces around the shop, stopping to examine the wares, and he approaches the the shopkeep as Zara writes her list. He points out the least expensive of the bunch and requests "A mere fistful, if you please."

"May I inquire as to why?" The shopkeep asks.

"Tracking, in case it is ever needed that urgently."

"Well I won't question that any further, the workings of the minds of druids-which you seem to be-are a mystery to me."

Jason takes the small bag, and begans to walk away, but sidles closer to Zara as she mentions pepper bombs.

"You really think we'll need them?"

Dae spots the shrine ahead so typical of Ehlonna wayside shrines a simple structure of limbs and growing greenery surround and festooned a small carved wood icon of Ehlonna. Offerings of natures bounties were the usual tithes at such a wayside shrine. Sae began to slow her mount until Septimus was fully alongside of her.

"Looks like we are the first to arrive I so not see the others," Dae comments. We will let our horses rest and then get watered while we wait. Ride in close to the Shrine she dismounts and pays her respects. Deities of Nature have most elves respect if not worship.

The tallish elven women steps smoothing off her mount and loosens the cinch of her saddle and walks the mare about. Going into her saddle bags she takes out three apples. One she feeds her mare, One she offers to sptimus for his bay stallion. The third she cuts in half with her dagger.

"I love the cool crispness of apples especially when they are fresh" she comments as she hands one of the portions to Septimus casually. The man could afford to eat a whole one even several for days. but piece by piece would be a subtler way of getting him to eat what was offered--or anything else. HE had been force to do things and was an old hand at resisting. the walls he had built around himself walls were thick and high.

Where there is a will, there is a way. She had the will and with the Light as her guide she would find the way.

Upon arrival at the spice shop, Oko will regret coming It STINKS!!!!

"I can stay and watch the Horrses while you thrree go in to shop" as he is saying this his nose keeps twitching.

While the others are inside he will move upwind and calmly waits for the transactions to end and they can be on their way
.

As Oko waits for the rest of the gang to complete there purchases he will watch the hustle and bustle of the town and wonders if he will see this place again

Fame was such a fickle thing.

In the bustling town of Corelan, where he had fled to in a desperate Exodus as a young murderer, he had been granted a grudging respect by fellow cutthroats. Oh, aye, they murmured about themselves, the rough men that lurked in taverns, disdainful of his quick wit and reluctance to battle. The slim, handsome pirate did not fit the physical stereotype of a criminal, and did not fight like one either, more apt to negotiate then to battle, more inclined to flight then to fight. He was surprisingly fair-handed with captives and crew alike, always splitting plunder equally among his men, and sparing captives whenever possible. For full cooperation, prisoners were enslaved, but with fair treatment. He rewarded spirit among his ranks, and if a prisoner had to be slain, because of his actions or knowledge, he saw to it himself that their death was sure.

His crew had been a ragged collection of men that other captains would not take upon penalty of death. Rebels, mutineers, and creatures of other species all found a home with him, and entered into a relationship that was more friendship than employment. He had tended to hire men most like himself, thin, tall, wily fellows, most with a good strain of elven blood in them thrown in for measure, and those under his charge were seen to be well-paid and well provided for. In measure, he was a much happier creature with the rhythm of the waves beneath him, and the dawning horizon before him.

Here, on land, it was entirely foreign to him. Except for trade, he had spent nearly his entire life aboard a ship. On this obnoxiously stable earth, there were people and animals that were completely at ease with the total lack of movement beneath their feet, the total predictability of their surroundings, and the edge of the skyline. Although he harbored a true talent for horsemanship, Septimus was awkward as an adolescent on land, striding along with the sprawling gait of a sailor, not quite certain how to manage his long limbs. But upon the deck of a ship, horsed, or in battle, he moved with the liquidity of a leopard, a slinking dark thing with a sharp intellect and terrible claws.

Yes, to the minds of children and criminals, he was a legend.

To the law-abiding however, he was only another creature to be hunted.

Most law-breakers are like the hounds themselves you see, slavering, not terribly bright creatures that heel at the ankle of those who treat them kindly and bark loudly of their achievements. A hound, you see, is always caught at whatever he is doing, as everything he does is completely conspicuous. The hound that raids a hen-house will have white feathers plastered on his muzzle. But some law-breakers, however, are more like the fox that rushes desperately from the bay of the hounds. A fox travels alone, so that none may incriminate her. She does her work in darkness whilst the farmer is sleeping like a babe, and after the chicken is slaughtered, daintily cleans herself of any evidence. Yet, although a fox is much more intelligent then a foxhound, it is the hounds that have the most power in this world. It is the little fox that must run for her life from the vast hoard of authority, dodging and skimming over the ground to escape from their gleaming fangs. And it is the fox, no matter how brilliant, who is caught and slain violently in the end.

Smoothly he dismounted his steed, his gaze impassive as his travelling companion nods to the shrine. He watched her in wonder. How marvellous would it be to have a power over your own life! For religion was a deep and blessed relief that he never knew, for his introspectiveness forbidded trust without proof. But how incredible would it be to have no burden…no responsibility. For that was the benefit of trusting in divine power. Once you trust wholly in a divine entity, be it God or Devil, one never truly needs to feel alone again.

He must have looked quite mournful, for he was quickly offered food by his companion. He took the apple in his hand, bemused, as if he had never seen one before and was unsure of what to do with it. His stallion soon solved his problem. In a swift motion, the great beast neatly plucked the apple from his hand. Septimus cast a side-way glance to Dae to check for laughter and was surprised to see her offering a portion of her own apple. He tipped his head slightly, cautious. His emerald eyes were wary. He was an expert in the ways of poison and though he thought his own methods beneath this girl, one never knew. She could have been hired by his brother to slay him. Although, he considered, he was fairly certain that the death chosen for him by Quintus was to be more torturous and slow then even the most lethal poisons could afford.

A low grumbling sound came from his stomach. He had not eaten for nearly a day, and his skeletal build was a testament to hard times. He could not afford to pass up another meal, even a small one. Preferring possible poison to the agony of starvation, he took the piece and gnawed on it contentedly, his malnourished body extracting every bit of nutrient as it had been adapted to do from years of constant near-starvation.

He understood, then, that she was treating him like a wild animal, coaxing him to trust, to know friendship. He glanced at her when he had finished eating; the look in his eyes an awful mesh of conflictions, trust and distrust, friendship and hate, fear and confidence. He grudgingly accepted her. The apple had not been poisoned.

He sighed. The rare moments of peace that he was granted were so wonderful, the sense of being at terms with the world, and the sense of being safe. He could not run forever, he knew. Like the fox, he had sped on to his last, and exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. He no longer had the strength or stamina to escape the deadly fangs of his enemies. He would stumble as he ran, and in a moment they would be on top of him.

A horrible fury blossomed like a dark rose in his heart, and he knew then that he would die, that they would slay him. A tremor went through his slight frame. Quintus would draw it out, he knew. He would die, screaming in agony, after hours of unimaginable torture. And worst of it would be the knowledge that as he lay dying, he would hear the screams of the only people that he had ever called his friends. All this was his destiny and could not be changed.

Unless he destroyed himself.

He paused. If he slew himself, the death would be quick and nearly painless. He could do it whilst his companions slept, and they would find him by morning. His dagger, without poison would suffice. A single sweeping motion, a hot spurt as his jugular yielded to the blade and it would be over. He would be at peace. And, he considered, his friends would be safe from harm. If he was dead, there would be no incentive for Quintus to harm them.

It was decided.

He would dream forever.

He would see his child.

He closed his eyes and his aura, which, when riding had been the light green of happiness, suddenly shifted and turned the darkest any creature’s could be. It billowed around him like the hammock that covers the corpses of sailors at sea, and most frightening of all was the total lack of colour. It was a deep, soulless black, and anyone would recognise it for what it was. The aura of creatures that are already dead. For Septimus had made the decision to save himself, and the only people that ever cared for him. He had found a new love, a dark beauty, and a dark dream.

For the huntsman was coming and soon would find him.

But when he came, his quarry would already be dead.

Dae tirns to offer Septimus the other half of her apple. When she looked at him she was shocked to see the change in his aure. The brief lightning of her aure of a few minutes ago seemed to have seen sucked out of him twice fold. All light had just about faded and his aura was dark and sombre gloomy actually. SHe didn't know what had happend to him what though had caused this plunge.

The halk of the bright red apple fell from her hand and she reached out and took his hand firmly in hers. she held onto his hand without saying a word because quite frankly she did not know what to say at this moment.

Silence would serve her best since she did not know the root of his current problem that had cause this shasowing of his aura, The warmth of her grasp though was its own message. She had promisedhim to stand as his friend. Handshakes had been a physical sign of that for years. Those hers was just a steady firm grasp.

Wordlessly it said. "I am here; you are not alone." She would continue to hald his hand trying to get him to make eye contact. The eyes are the windows of the soul. In his were shadows; in hers was the Light.

And by the Everlasting Light she had enough for them both.

When Jason is done, and has rejoined the group, the four of them set out for the closest gate. They had already taken up too much time. Dae and Septimus must already be at the shrine.

She looks forward to actually setting out on this trek, she hums merrily as they move through the crowds of shoppers until they come to the east gate and exit the city. For all purposes they most like the party of a young noblewoman with her guard, a tutor and her religous teacher, and a strange pet woverine tagging along. That is the way Zara played it out.

Once they are free fo the gates and the walls. Zara turns north to meet up with Dae and Septimus.

When the group arrives Dae is at the temple alone, the horse Septimus rode out on is by her own.

"Where's Septimus?" asks Zara looking about.

"Gone." Dae replies.

"GONE!"

"He felt that the dangers surrounding us, because of his prescence, was too great for him to risk the lives of those that befriended him. He went to take care of the problem, and I sent him with the grace of the Light."

I`m BACK!
Sorry about this, I have been in the United States visiting a few close friends. I am back now, and will reply very soon.

Please don't count me out yet!

Dae hands,Zara a note, "He left this letter for you and the others.

Zara quickly reads it and passes it on to the others.

I am riding ahead to throw off any who might follow. I will waiting for you at he village of Turin.I will be disguised, as a red haired man of average height, wearing a blue shirt and dark blue pants.

OOC: If the post gets redone, this whole next part does not exist:

Jason stares for a brief moment after Dae tells of Septimus's passing.

"The poor, troubled soul..."

He absentmindedly looks towards the sky.

"I hope he finds it better there than it was for him here."

The group takes off to the north road, hoping to get to the crossroads soon so that Septimus could rejoin them. One on the road there were the usual travelers, and farmers brining their crops to market. At on point a nobleman and his small retinue passed them heading to town.

Villages and farms become fewer and fewer, woods and wildlands become the norm when they drop into a ferile dale where a number of farms cluster about a village set at the crossroads.