Two others leave, after Selene without giving an introduction, but each nods to the Prince and leaves quietly. After they leave the Prince takes a leather scroll case from beside him and places it on his great desk seemingly carved from a single burl of walnut and polished to a high luster.

"Here are such maps as I could gather; some of them come from a time before the Barrens were overrun by men and their magics. There are also a number of reports I had gathered from our libraries which pertain to the Barrens before and after the Mage Wars."

"I hope they will be of some help to you."

He holds out the case and Zara quickly moves to take it. "I am good with maps," she says brightly.

"Also I have procured horses for those who have none and pack mules for the supplies. I have had gathered what you will need for a 3 month journey. Because of the length of your journey I have loaned you two large bags of Stasis and Holding, they hold the perishable foods. I do not know if you can sustain yourselves on what food animals and plants live in the Barrens."

"My steward will meet you tomorrow at the Gilded Cauldron, I have reserved rooms there for you. He will take you to where you will receive your mounts and supplies. There will be a few extra mounts, but they may be needed if any of the mounts is injured or killed."

"I wish you all Safe Journey, and will pray that The Light shines upon you as you venture forth.”

The Prince takes his leave of you, going out a side door.

A footman, dressed in street clothes and not livery, then comes forward, “I am to lead you to the Gilded Cauldron.”

With that said he turns and heads to the door where each of you entered and then down a long hall back to the front door.

(Moderator OOC: Please add anything you think might enhance the scenario and what you do afterwards, comments on the ambiance of the Prince’s home, thoughts about---whatever, and any interactions with the PCs or NPCs.)

It had begun to rain.

Selene had elegantly taken her leave and once again, Septimus found himself in a void of perfect and total silence. The great roughly-hewn doors swung open just long enough by the light touch of her hand so that he could see the thin rivulets of silver that cascaded upon the primitive canvas of cobblestones, after being violently torn from their fellows and dashed mercilessly against the ground. A faint whinny wafted up through the deepening rain and the bark of some street mongrel sounded a haunting monotonous sound that only added to the desolate air of the scene.

He had paused in his restless pacing to stare wonderingly at the moon that hovered against a sea of black like some monstrous pearl or malignant growth. There was no beauty in the night for him when the stalking of shadows covered all that he knew and cast him into uncharted waters, desperately struggling to keep his head above the rising waters of uncertain phenomena, a phenomena that was not much helped by the persistent gnawing of a new emotion gnawing away at the surface of his brain.

Guilt.

He had a neurotic twitch at the thought. He had done nothing wrong. He had just…humiliated a perfectly respectable woman in front of her future comrades while in the process of disrespecting royalty and showing extreme disregard for their mission. His brow furrowed as he considered the implications of his actions. Finally he simply shrugged off the strange emotion that was the first symptom of interest, which sometimes led to something very unpleasant indeed. There was, he knew, a well-known but often misunderstood humiliation known as love that normal functioning members of a society enjoyed partaking in as early as possible. The goal of this humiliation was to find a reasonably nice female, create a family, and spend the rest of your life in contentment and bliss, with a pipe in your hand and a well-read book by your side. However, Septimus knew that it often never worked out that way. Love was often a messy and ultimately dangerous affair, and he considered it wiser to avoid it whenever possible.

He felt quite indifferent, he restated to himself firmly, and offered a horrible parody of a smile to show just how indifferent he was. Silently, and with a final baleful glare in the direction of the prince, he padded noiselessly to the ajar door like some great forbidding panther. He gazed over his shoulder for a moment, lingering as if uncertain. Then, without a second glance, he raised the deep hood over his head and was gone.

For a long time he stood, head bowed, listening to the rain.

The wordless melodies whispered.

It is said that when one surrenders one’s heart to the ocean, it cannot be reclaimed.

That those who dwell in darkness must shy from the sun.

Septimus felt curiously affected, he could not tell why. There was something in the night's delicate loveliness that seemed to him inexpressibly pathetic, and he thought of all the days that break in beauty, and that set in storm. Through the eyes of a stranger he gazed upon the skeletal buildings that rose unsteadily, seemly right from the earth like misshapen mushrooms, or the fallen and blasphemed frames of dismembered dragons. He gazed at the guideless horizon, his cartographer and lover, where the slightest tinge of grey was beginning to tease the edge of the firmament.

Bleakness.

He moved soundlessly towards shelter, feeling strangely vulnerable as he shook his head to dispel the rainwater once he had entered the safe confines of the barn. He approached the stallion that nonchalantly tossed his mane and beheld his master with an uninterested eye. Septimus`s hand found the sloping warmth of the animal’s shoulder. His coat was matted and riddled with burrs, and the thin composition and appearance of the animal eerily echoed the aura of his master. Gently, the rogue picked the rough plant-life from the stallion’s pelt and saddled him for the journey. Unexplained tears fell, dotting the smooth blackness.

The threat of death.

These warriors, too, with their rough, good-humoured voices, and their nonchalant ways, what a strange world they must have seen! Confident, all of them, fearless of what lay ahead. A world free from the sin of night and the smoke of day, a pallid, ghost-like planet, a desolate town of tombs! He wondered what they thought of it, and whether they knew anything of its splendour and its shame, of its fierce, fiery-coloured joys, and its horrible hunger, of all it makes and mars from morn to eve. He wondered if they recalled the sufferings, if they bore it as well, as he did, in his own darkened heart.

His entire body began trembling and he bit down on his own gloved hand to keep from crying out. The pain was excruciating but it fought back the tears that constantly threatened to flood their boundaries. He fled the warmth of the barn into the pouring rain where his sorrow could not be detected. He stumbled in his haste and fell to his knees. He could hear his own scabrous mind, his thoughts dark and instinctual and insane with grief. He thought only of blood and pain and cruising in blind darkness. He shuddered and covered his face with his hands, tears streaming down his visage. The thought of loneliness, the rugose, alien crawl of his dreams and nightmares was maddening, not to be borne.

He was alone.

Rain and tears mingled as they trickled down his cheeks as his hands groped blindly in the darkest for that one saving grace, the childishly woven necklace that was balm for his spirit, warm with insanity.

The world was nothing.

The world was dying, strangled by its ardor.

He wept for it.

Rain.

Insubstantial smoke.

Nothing more then that, rising from the ashes.

Zara followed soundlessly as Septimus left the manner and headed to the stable.

Zara watched him carefully, as the raindrops clung to his cloak like hundreds of glittering stars. She could see him perfecting, the changes in his breating and the rigor of his body were all indications of his emotional state.

He was alone and without his ship Despair rippled just under his surface like the great waves of a stormy sea. She let him stand there in the darkness waiting for the right moment to intervene. When he finally removed his hand from his mouth and took hold of something around his neck, he suddenly relaxed.



She called up a small globe of starlight to let him know someone was there. "Your left before I could get to you," Zara walked forward and then lifted the ball of light and let it go so that if hovered off her left shoulder.

In her right hand was the handkerchief. "Seems like I did not have to wet it in the glass," referring to the rain as she stepped up to him and moved it up to his face. "May I remove the blood from your face, and then see if you need healing. There are some wounds I can heal." Hers was a cvomment that suggested more than it said as if she knew he had wounds that would not be healed with her healing spells.

"You might want to clean up before coming to the Golden Cauldron. We are all meetong there. I embroidered that myself. You can keep it." again it was a rush of words, however hurried and disjointed they sounded; they also made sense.

Curious she look to where his hand had gone. Under his hand was some sort of necklace. It was the thing he reached for just before he finally relaxed a bit. Not that he was one to ever let down his guard, he was a bow strung and drawn to its maxium and almost beyond.

"You will see me safely there, won't you?" Zara whispered softly

Dalyndra seeing the look on Zara’s face held out a hand and stopped her as Zara started to leave quickly with the maps. It was a looks she knew well Zara was out headed somewhere else. “I will take those for now.” Dalyndra said as she tool the maps and reports form Zara’s hands “We will all go over them.” She then adds, “Don't be long”.

That she didn’t ask where the teenager was off to, was a matter of experience that Dalyndra had gain over the years since the young girl had come into the care of Salyndra’s. In vain would Dalyndra ask her why she did the things she did. Oh, Zara would always answer but her reasons and explanations did little for Dalyndra sense of what Zara should do--and most times Zara just did what she had originally planned anyway, regardless of Dalyndra’s reasoning it out with Zara. So now she did not try to stop her unless she felt Zara was in danger. She didn sense danger as she reached out to touch that vague empaty she had with Zara.

As young as Zara was she could not be dictated to. Sometimes reasoning would prevail sometimes, many time is was a waste of breath. Still Dalyndra continued her efforts to instill some reason and clear thinking in the mercurial teen.

Dalyndra follow the courier in plain drss swing her cloak about her and pulling up the hood when when she walked out into the rain. a few adjustments and she was ready for the inn. She let her senses reach out into the night, watching and listening to her surroundings. Dalyndra kept herself alert and ready. This was as strange group of as she had ever been part of and certainly a long way from a smooth working team.

"Light, may we learn to work together to fulfill this mission." I will keep an open mind and will be tolerant of others—sometimes though you know I falter. Help be not to be to ridig in my ways. I can tell now that many of this group will not respond well to punching. Some have been pushed to hard already, some have not be pushed enough and do not take kindly to it.” Dalyndra smiles since she know full well Zara did not take to being pushed anywhere or when she did not want to be.

The dark man Septimus wore his whole demeanor and bloody clothes like a shield about him to keep other away, and in her own way the Royal Ivae wore a shield of her aloof mobility that was equally impenetrable as the man’s.

She could only hope that the trip there would bring out their best and they would function better together. Right now they were widely disparate parts.
Their secrets could foul up the mission before they had really begun. “Light help them, and help me to help them.”

A single dark figure under a waning moon.

Though his eyes were blurred mercifully by tears, his hearing and reflexes were as honed as ever. Though they were soft, hardly auditable, the slight sounds of footsteps stood out harshly from the indifference of the night. A glimmer of light was seen out of the corner of his eye. He acted without thought. In the time it had taken the adolescent Zara to announce her presence he had leapt to his feet, and moving in a single, fluid motion drew his cutlass. The steel glimmered wickedly, outlined by darkness so that it glinted like a malicious smile. His own eyes, wild-looking and glacial bored into her with a hypnotising intensity.

They were not the eyes of a sane man.

Of course, it is a widely known point of etiquette that it is never a good idea to approach someone suddenly, and with Septimus that rule could not be stressed enough. He was not a wicked man, but his instincts were often stronger then thoughts in time of threat, and it was no more a good idea to approach him in his grief then it was to assault a sleeping leopard. The single thing that had saved the girl’s life had been her split second warning, and he glanced casually at it now, a perfect circle of light that hovered nonchalantly over her shoulder like a lethargic will o the wisp. His eyes fell to her hand and its contents and at her words, the madness in his eyes quelled and just as quickly, he sheathed his weapon.

She moved closer and he shied away from her, unused to the close proximity. His movements were slightly clumsier then they had been in the summer home and his body posture spoke of defeat. The Prince’s agreement, his life for his cooperation in the project, did not entirely keep him from harm. Beneath the loose flowing fencing shirt deep cuts and scratches marked his torso from the desperate escape he recently had had to execute to attend the meeting, some actively bleeding, crossing over healed bullet scars and sculpted sword-slashes, dancing over stacked pronounced ribs.

His wasted body told a story of desperation.

At her inquiry he watched her wordlessly through half-frightened eyes as the rain kept pouring mercilessly, plastering his tangled dark hair to his brow. She spoke hurriedly, but he listened and in an odd moment of courtesy took the handkerchief from her hand. More to put her mind at ease he scrubbed roughly at the drying maroon marks and when his face was free of the sinister markings, his eyes shot up to her, as if for approval, their expression softening only when she spoke again.

Silently he watched as the rain rushed down on the small square of cloth. He watched the pinkish water that resulted drip and swirl upon the cobblestones like geometric rose petals. Feeling eyes on him again he glanced up to her sharply, and in the faint light from the moon he was terribly thin, his facial bones standing against the skin like chips of granite. No creature should be able to look like that and remain alive. It was a face of a man who had suffered terrible hardships, a man that had lived in hard times and were certain they were not about to get any better.

His hand fell listlessly from the childishly woven necklace and tears formed again in his eyes, hidden mercifully from the relentless rain. Darkness and shadows caressed the edges of his mind. He looked into her eyes, and a deep sadness was there, obvious and agonised and his hand rose to clutch the necklace again.” Rose”, he whispered hoarsely, once, and like any creature under such intense physical and emotional torture, his eyes slipped closed and he collapsed, his body refusing to tolerate its weakness. His unconscious form hit the cobblestones with a merciless jolt and the yarn necklace broke as consciousness left him. It slipped out of his limp hand, and fell, a single line of crimson in the vapid blackness.

Zara stayed perfectly still as Septimus turned like a cobra ready to strike, Unlike a normal teen who would screamed and tried to run from the insanity in his eyes, Zara held his stare, “Sorry, I should have called out.” She knew she realized she had underestimated him, something she would not do again.

They were not the eyes of a sane man. He looked to the light, then down at the handkerchief in her hands. With the moon shining in her eyes he missed their strangeness as she look at him as he sheathed his cutlass.

She moved up to wipe away the blood on his face, but he shied like a skittish colt. Zara spoke again is simple clear words that she hoped he could comprehend in his mental state. Rain pelted on both of them as he took the handkerchief and began to scrub the blood off his face. She just watched and waited until he could recover some of his sanity. She knew there was more to what she saw of his battered condition, and felt what she could not see.

What inner demons had brought him to this state? She sighed silently knowing she could in the instant do nothing to heal that, but she could heal his body.

Septimus dropped his hand from the childishly woven necklace his fingers closing around it. Eyes that could pierced the rain and the dark saw the pirate’s irises draw in, He looked at Zara as it her were looking a someone else, then reached up to necklace and hoarsely whispers a single name.

“Rose.” That one name carried with it the agonizing despair that she had sensed earlier.

With his hand fell from his throat as he folded up like a spent life form ready to give up its existence and yet, he would not.

With a speed that would have surprised some, she jumped to keep his head from hitting the cobblestones, there was no need for more injury, or loss of blood. Zara knelt beside him and turned her eyes to the heavens. “Light, one of yours is in need, Please lend me healing grace.”

Almost immediately Zara felt the power enter her, and a much as she reveled in it she knew it was for another, and with that she spread her hands over his body and they began to glow with divine power. She slowly moved her hands from his head to his toes. The Light died as she brought them back into her lap. Her head was now bent to honor the Giver of Healing. As much as she had wanted to be able to heal him of his inner wounds, she knew that it could be only done by him. That was what the Light was all about, choices. The Light did not pre-ordained as followers of other deities claimed, the Light was the Beginning, but the ending was the outcome of each entity’s choices.

As she waited to wake him she noticed the necklace that had slipped for his nerveless fingers. Gentle she picked it up and looked at it. She was right, this was the creation of a child, a girl child, the name she heard fit. Holding it in her hand she allowed the necklace to speak to her of what it had been through, she went back its very beginning when hands full of love, and admiration had crafted it, and the vivaciousness of the young girl was so intense, as was her love for her father, for whom she had made it. Then came the bitter pain and despairing sorrow, so intense that Zara could not keep back the tears that came with the sight of Septimus looking down of the bodies of his lovely wife and child. Zara slowly moved back along the time line of the necklace. How many time had that necklace been clasped in his rugged hand and the loving name of his beautiful daughter was spoken in hushed whispers. She saw and heard things she never wanted to see or hear again, and she quickly set them apart from her conscious thoughts. Choices made from the day his family had been discovered dead had brought him to this moment and his one saving grace was the necklace.

Almost without thought the necklace was mended and she carefully slipped it back over Septimus’s head. Zara’s tears still flowed, warm drops falling on his face along with the cool raindrops. As she did a ray of moonlight pierced the clouds and fell on his head and face, there a bright streak caught her eye. It looked like a jagged streak of lightning starting at his right temple, but was only lock of white hair coiled among the wet tendrils of his jet black hair. She had probably missed seeing it under the hood he wore, and now that the hood had fallen off as he lay on the cobbles, the streak was revealed.

So this was it then. He had never thought of his own death. Life and death were equally far from him. The veils and threads of darkness enveloped him, caressed him, bringing him to realisation. Thereafter, in the end, the sturdy flesh of Men proves frail, fated for failure. His heart mourned only that forevermore would he be rejected by his People, so that when the shadows fall, and all that is left is dreaming, he would stand on the shore, watching the gulls laugh in the bright silvery splendour against a honey-coloured sky. The tapered prows would pass him as all that he knew would depart into thread and shadow, turning the world into silver glass as they tracked that swan-path of old even unto the shadows path.

The distant shore waited for him to come home.

This was his world, both alien and familiar, solitude and solidarity, terribly beautiful and agonizingly comforting.

By sickness or by sword, or blaze of flames or unyielding waves, age or battle, Men will die. Destiny kept him from the rushing sea, from the torrid waves, where his broken heart sang over the waters. He would remain to wander the forests, the ancient guardians, the empty, heartless woods where all was a grove of ash and silence breathed over the heart-song of the harp, where the oceans swelled. Darkness and shadows inducted him with their somber waves. His limp, motionless body shone with a faint silver light as the healing took place. The lacerations drew forth and became whole and when the light departed from his body, he lay before her, soaked, emaciated, and pitiful, but unwounded. As the warm teardrops trickled upon his visage, mingling with the cool raindrops, his beautiful golden-emerald eyes opened and met hers.

Sounds hesitating and vague floated in the air round him, shaped themselves slowly into words; and at last flowed on gently in a murmuring stream of soft and monotonous sentences. He was beyond hearing the faint sound of his ally’s voice but the sense of magick, heated and anticipating stirred him. His eyelids flickered, seeing only faint eddies of emerald and swaths of shadow. A shimmer, perhaps an unseen outline of a humanoid slowly reveled itself. This was benevolent magick that crackled and hissed about her, and though there was great power emanating from the tall slender form, he sensed no malice in the cool pale eyes, the tear streaked visage.

There, bloodied, exhausted he watched her without comprehending, his star-bright eyes weary and heartsick. His hand involuntarily slid up to his throat where he felt the smooth curve of the yarn necklace. He exhaled a breath of relief. That battered necklace was his only friend, a light in the darkness, and he stirred, moving his limbs sluggishly, savouring each beat of his own heart, each breath from his world-weary lungs. Ready for death and yet unsure. The one doomed for death, marked for slaughter stood upon the brink of the world. Never would he sought to hide in the fens, his spirit could depart while he still battled, while blood still flowed and his lungs still breathed, and his soul sang over the torrid waters.

May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you

His eyes…were an animal’s eyes...not quite human... not quite sane, almost vulpine in intelligence but beautiful in a tortured type of beauty. Those tears fell, those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin. It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide - plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions. He covered his face with his hands; and many a time afterwards, in the course of his life, shuddered at seeing how much inhumanity there is in man, how much savage coarseness is concealed beneath delicate, refined worldliness, and even, O God! In those men whom the world acknowledges as honourable and noble.

With an alacrity that was unknown of, the previously unconscious man leapt forward, teeth bared in fury, and grabbed her by the throat. His grip was restricting but not deadly. “Why did you do it?” he hissed viciously, his tone glacial. His hunted, feral eyes searched her visage. His heart pounded, his head swam.“Why did you save me?” Staring wordlessly into her eyes, the beating of his heart slowed, until it became like ice within his breast. He felt unwanted acceptance flood him as another wave of shadow sent him reeling. He released her as his own weakness caused him to recline back on his elbow, coughing violently.

His eyes were half-closed, his skin deathly pallid, his body shaking with rage and sickness.

“You should have left me”, he snarled hoarsely to her. His eyes were closed now; their lids stained the delicate purplish colour of vital exhaustion. He felt detached, unfeeling as the soft contours of unconsciousness blurred his sharp focus, erasing all that he knew. “Don’t you understand”, he whispered faintly. “You should have let me die…”.His thin hand tightened upon the hilt of his cutlass with a frantic affection, as if resting a hand upon the shoulder of an old friend. The weapon had become his sole compatriot, his only reliance, its use and its support bound to the rogue by each pound of the smith’s hammer, a friendship forged by flame and tempered in blood.

“I don’t want to live any more, damn it”, he hissed maliciously. “And in your act of mercy you have done more evil to me then anyone ever could”. His feral eyes welled with tears and with the same vicious speed; he kissed her sharply and passionately on the mouth. Drawing away just as rapidly, a faint smile touched his lips even as he suffered the onslaught of the rain that pelted them both. His eyes glittered with tears.

“And I will never forgive you”.

The rain had begun to fall and the royal ivae sat in the rain beneath the shelter of the nearby woods. The sound of the train trickling down from the sky in the beginning sounded beautiful. The rain was oddly warm for such a time of the year, and it was relaxing her soul to it's extents of what had happened inside the gathering spot.

Having closed her eyes as the ran had begun, her eyes shot open at the sound of the door opening and closing once again. Selene watched as the man Septimus had seemingly followed her outside, and her gaze followed his steadily. A smile found her lips as she continued to watch him stand in the rain. She was about to call out to him, when Zara had followed him outside. The woman's gaze turned cold. She had just finished calming herself from having dealt with the young blood not but moments before. A low growl formed upon her lips and both Storm and Thor looked at her in shock. Neither had heard her act in such a way, but she could not stand sitting on the sidelines watching the woman try and steal the man from her, knowing she had interest in this such man.

The rain would wash away any screams which had taken place, and the young woman calmly watched through the window of the barn. Where she sat, she had a perfect view of all the happenings. The woman failed to see the man's tears from the distance she had been sitting from the barn. And moments later the man rushed out of the barn and seemingly collapsed upon the wet soil of the earth. Fear had swelled with the anger and she bit her lip watching as Zara rushed to his side. The words were unheard since the winds washed them away, but she could only imagine the words she was using towards the man. Septimus was a rogue, and the way he seemed to lash out with his sword then step back and sheath it told her that he wasn't in a right state of mind. She studied the man curiously, and watched as he eventually rose and he had lost his necklace only to have the witch of a woman replace it. In supposed innocence, she assumed would be her answer should the woman confront her. Yet it was in that moment Selene whispered "she's not worth it" and though anger and fear still dwelled within her, it was only mild.

In the moment that their lips met, she was furious and she also seemed to growl towards the woman almost viciously enough to be called a snarl. Thor watched her curiously as she folded her arms and stared towards Zara as if she was a deadly insect which needed to be squished immediately. Soundlessly she began closing herself off from the world. The only person who could reach her would be septimus, but she didn't know why. The anger within her had caused her eyes to turn red and anyone who looked at her would fear for their lives. Her hand grasping the hilt of her sword as she sat with violent thoughts running through her mind. Selene sat still as a statue, yet her reaction time was flawless, and she could behead somebody before they realized that she had moved. Her gaze fixed upon the scene before her of fields, buildings, wildlife and much more. The woman didn't seem as if she wished to be bothered, for she would kill should the wrong thing be said. It would not be the first time that such a scandal had been hidden from the ears of all but those around. The scandal of royalty slaying for no apparent reason, but out of anger, and such a case was about to develop anew.

The woman seemed angry yes, but it didn't appear as if she were alive, for she simply did not move, she didn't even blink, she stared into the distance, into thin air. The words were unheard to the royal ivae, but she wasn't blind, she had seen the kiss thrust upon the young woman, and she had instantly thirst for the taste of blood. She was no vampire, but her sword seemed to speak to her, though she was much more proficient with bow and arrow, she knew that she shouldn't risk it. The sister might attempt upon her life should she murder Zara in cold blood. Were the woman an orphan, she would have murdered her in cold blood as in her past she had done so many times before as a bounty hunter. The steady falling rain adding to the desire to murder in the shelter of the rainfall. It would be a while before somebody noticed the girl missing. She would use excuses that she had gone to fetch supplies, or clothes, or something. The woman had always been quick with excuses, and this would be no different. She could feel her heart beating wildly within her chest as she watched scenes in her mind of how she could kill Zara while inflicting as much pain as she possibly could to the woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Crania tilted slightly as twin peaks pin upon them. Pillars shift slightly beneath the frame of the brute. Muscles tighten as pillars thrust upon the earth causes the frame to rise to full height and the brute to stand firmly beside his mistress. Nasals flare and dilate as the brute drinks the scents of those who had come outside. He could sense the pain within Septimus, and the ego of the woman Zara. Vocals vibrate rapidly causing a low growl to dissipate into the whispers of the winds. Should anyone approach the brute's growling would grow louder and would be heard over the gusting winds. The brute nuzzled up to his mistress as maw parted a large pink tongue lolled out and he began licking her face gently, and affectionately. Storm hated when she had anger in her eyes, but the brute nuzzled close and stood over her lap protectively. He would attack anyone at this time, upon his mistress' orders. They had a bond between them which enabled them to share thoughts, and in that moment the brute snarled towards the woman Zara. He could feel that his mistress didn't like this woman in the least, and the brute would do anything for Selene.

A thousand retorts came to mind, but only one was worthy of voicing. What she had wanted to say to the man was that The Light gives everyone choices, her choice was to heal him, her hope was that he could use the time given him to make better choices about himself.

Instead she looked at the necklace knew the right words to say.

"I did it for Rose."

Zara then turned and left Septimus to himself, and the night.

As she turned she sensed the royal Ivae also clinging to the night. Zara’s keen hearing caught the sounds of the growling wolf, picking up his mistress’s moodiness, The Lady Selene was acting more like a petulant child who did not get her way. Sometimes Zara just did not understand the motivations of others, most of which were inconsequential.

Zara returned to Dae and indicated she was ready to move on.

Dalyndra shook her head to Zara. She had proceeded on ,but sensed some problem and had return with the man who was to lead them to the inn.

She walks back to where Septimus still lay on the ground.

The currents in the air were full or emotions from several sources and few of them complimentary to the originator of them. Care would need to be taken if their mission was to ever even get out of the gate--so to speak.

"Do you need help to rise Septimus. I will help you." She help out her hand to him and something more. It was in her eyes, and her manner. The moonlight reflected off her and for a moment it seems she was writhed in light her outline blurred a bit, though perhaps Septimus could put it down to tiredness and blurry eyes. Her voice beckond him to come with her. It was melodious and touched places she most likely did not want others to know about.

Her words were clear and concise, but not commands though Septimus does clearly understand she will not let him stay here like this.

"There are important things that need to be done and few of us to do them. You were most specifically brought into this mission because of talents you possess. I assure I don't have them. Zara doesn't have them and I doubt the Royal miss would have them either. The others left not wanting to risk doing this."

Dalyndra turns to look where the source of so much roiling emotions was coming from. Something she was sensitive to.

"If you are afraid to go on this mission then tell me and I will leave you here, If not I will have you with us, so you get up on you own, or with my help, or I carry you if I need to." she states firm.

Her hand is still out for him, "Take my hand now I can support you for as long as you need." Something in her words rang true they sounded as if they meant so much more than what was just said.

"There are way too many emotions flying around right now. Some are understandable some are not."

"Just one thing I need you to hear I will say this once and only once." Dalyndra voice dropped so only he could hear her. "Zara is a special young woman, do not hurt her needlessly. Do not toy with her emotions." Dalyndra paused and then added "And never tell her I told you this."

His losses were many.

He felt hollowness at the sullen solitude of those around him. His bright eyes swept over his surroundings nervously. He might have been insane, but he was no fool. Suspicion caused him watch Zara`s sister with chilling contemplation. There was little trust in his eyes, and no facial expressions broke his aura of complete and utter withdrawal.

He flinched slightly as Dalyndra offered her hand, almost as if he expected to be struck for his misdeeds. Such gestures meant only intended harm, he had never been offered kindness. Her words seemed empty to him and another half-interested glance was the only indication that he understood. Physically, he was still weak, but his wounds had been healed previously. He could rise, and battle if needed, but a dark cloud of self-doubt shrouded his fighting spirit and made him shrink from the sight of light.

“Talents”, he whispered almost mockingly, his voice carrying the edge of a snarl. He shook his dark hair from his eyes. “And what talents, do you think I possess?” For the fiftieth time he contemplated his place in this quest and felt his heart darken. His thoughts were flavoured with bitterness. He could lie, he could cheat, he could steal effortlessly, and he could kill.

He had done so many times.

“I am geared towards the darker side of the spectrum”, he explained coldly. “And I assure you that I am the last person you should trust”. A faint little smile touched his lips. “A warning…Miss Dalyndra”.

“Heed it”.

Anger and a terrible trapped energy coursed through his body, but his expression failed to change. He smiled up at her, but his smile held little humour. “I am not nor will I ever be afraid”, he murmured simply and grasped her hand. With her help he stood unsteadily for a moment and then regained his balance. “I will meet you at the tavern”, he muttered. A curt nod to her expressed his thanks. His eyes darted to her as he processed the words meant only for him. Something darkened in his gaze and he nodded again briefly.

Without another word he raised the hood on his battered cloak to shield himself from the rain, amplifying his mysterious aura. A quick snap of his fingers brought his ebony stallion reluctantly from the shelter of the barn. Grasping the coarse mane, he swung into the saddle in a single motion as his steed pranced restlessly beneath him. He glanced over his surroundings, from the snarling canid and his stolid mistress, to the young and naïve adolescent who aided him, to the strong and independent woman who had promised him her support. “A word of advice”, he addressed them softly, his voice carrying through the rain. “We may be on the same team”, he whispered, his attention shifting to Selene.

“But I am no one’s team-mate”.

And with that, he faded into the darkness.

"I understand clearly, Captain Septimus Sadlewood, but a point of clarification this is not a team--not yet anyway."

Dalyndra now had to address the other problem waiting in the barn beyond. She was fighting to control herself--not because of Septimus, but because of the woman in the barn

Walking up to the door Dalyndra proceed in. The horse in the barn nicker, and the growls stop and she steps forwards toward the source of the roiling emotions.

She had no time for this royal miss whose emotions had gone far beyond what was apprepriate--so far Dalyndra wonder if the young woman was just spoiled or something more. She did not sense evil but the woman's emotions beat against Dalyndra and hey were impossible to ignore especially from on of her race and rank.

"I don't care about your race, rank, your family, or your generations of distinquished ancestors, and I do not know how your were trained, but you are a discredit to all of them. You have behaved like a petulant child who had a toy taken away--that was not even yours."

She looks directly at Selena. "You will control youself or you will not travel with us. I will expect you once you have have regain self-control at the Golden Cauldron. We have a map to go over and plans to make. If you cannot do that for the rest of the mission then stay here.

"Oh, and one other thing I need you to understand clearly. Never, ever threaten my sister in any way again. Tonight was your first and last threat against her without there being consequences."

The woman sat near her horse and wolf, whom both protected her with their lives. Selene listened to the woman's words and seemed to laugh at their meanings. The woman had caused her mood to change, and she smirked between her laughs. Shaking her head to the woman's words she replied "You think yourself wise and kind woman, but I wish not to hear your words. You think yourself to be the captain of this journey, but don't think yourself that. There are people more qualified to be the leader of the group, so don't sit up on your high horse thinking you are miss thing. Also do not expect that I shall listen to your words in regards to the journey, it is not for you to decide. I was chosen long before anyone else had been chosen to join this mission. You are not my mother, nor any woman I will listen to. You tend to have problems somewhere in your life, and you think that you are a secret weapon in this mission. Let me tell you something, perhaps you should know, that your sister, if you should call her that, is a spoiled little brat who could cause this mission to fail. She's too innocent in much that we must keep close to our hearts." she shot her gaze towards Zara as she shot a glare in her direction. After a very short pause she continued "I knew this the moment she first spoke inside. Secondly, there is you, again thinking you are top dog, well let me tell you something, I'd much rather destroy you than listen to you. You and your sister both should learn how to act in such a group. I don't seem to have a problem with anyone but the pair of you. Must be a family thing. Because you act as if you had to raise her, and that you did a terrible job. She's got a terrible manor about her. Do not think you can waltz up to me and dictate me on how to go about this mission. I've gone on several important events of the same sort, unlike most of you. In the real world, you don't tell of your family history when giving introductions, you don't give any more than you must, otherwise the thing called trust, well it doesn't happen. I don't trust your sister, and I for sure don't trust you. I trust nobody in this world." she had fallen silent, her wolf standing over her lap as she began grooming him caringly, her eyes staring up with hate towards the woman who tried lecturing her, and telling her what to do. She knew the woman had no power to have her stay behind, not that she would even attend the tavern meeting, she had a plan of her own, and if she must execute it herself, so be it, she had 2 friends whom would follow her to death if they must.

The winds blew against her, blowing her locks across her face gently. The rain still soaking her from head to toe, yet she didn't seem to mind. Watching the woman cautiously, she chirped for her mount to join then, not that he had been far. It was only then that she stood, and mounted Thor bareback, glaring down at the woman Dylandra she spoke "You should think better of speaking to me without a real reason. I don't like you or your sister, and don't dictate me on how to live my life, wench" she shook her head, chirped twice and sat perfectly upon the back of the horse, as the trio rode off into the darkness. Kicking up mud as they bolted out towards the horizon. She didn't even head the same direction as Septimus, for she had a destination she would reach before the sun rose high in the mid-day sky. Both wolf and horse galloping off into the shadows of the night. Enjoying the refreshing rain upon them all. Smiling as she rode off into the night.

When Dalyndra returned Zara joined her in following the lackey who was to lead them to the Golden Cauldron.

"She does not seem to care much for anything except herself." commented Zara. "Galloping a horse on wet cobblestones and at night is very dangerous for a horse."

Zara switched subjects in a flash, "Why is she so angry, and so pent up?"

And again, "I don't like the way she talked to you."

And again, "I was hoping that we would not run into a turnip like Mother warned me of."

Dalyndra did not bother to say anything more to the woman either before or as she departed. There was no reason to do so since she would not listen. and several reasons not too. Having said her piece she walked back to Zara.

Listening to Zara's comment, Dalyndra response evenly, "We ultimately only can control ourselves. I, perhaps, was not as diplomatic as I could have been, that was my failing." Dalyndra tries to keep a open mind about the young woman she was trying really hard to keep a positive attitude as well."

"I will keep my word to go on this mission and keep to what I told her. Now, we have things to do before we leave. I need first to stop at a Temple of the Light."

Dalyndra asks the Prince's courier to take them to the closest Temple of the Light. She sets off briskly, as time is of the essence now.

Once there Dalyndra asks the lackey to wait for her inviting him inside out of the damp cold night. Inside the temple is bright with light reflect from many sources against white marble walls. In the center of the main floor is a large circle of golden stone, The circle of Light. The symbol of the Light, and eight pointed star gold with four greater rays of gold and four lesser rays of silver between them. Encircling them all is an prismatic dragon its scales shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow on the North wall. This circular room is common to all temple's of the Light, small and large.

At the Temple she shows a letter of writ from the main Temple of the Light near home. It allows Dalyndra to be provided such things as can be spared by the receiver to aid her quest. She will request two horses and a pack animal for their journey and replacements for what was lost coming here, though that she would pay out of her own pocket.

The Temple acolyte who greeted them first listened to Dalyndra’s request and then showed Dalyndra and Zara to the priest on duty that night. She explained her needs and the priest tells she he will arrange for everything to be delivered to the Golden Cauldron as soon as possible. Dalyndra sign a chit for the fair value of the horses and goods she has requested that this temple can submit to the main temple for repayment. She also requests the services of a mage with the ability to copy a map and other information. Once that is done she goes into the circle of Light to pray for the success of this mission, again trying to keep a positive attitude on it, but it was hard after all the goings on tonight after leaving the Prince's summer house.

Dalyndra comes out of the circle, some time later, tithes a platinum piece and has the courier lead them finally to the Golden Cauldron. Dalyndra hands the young man two gold coins for all his patience this night.