Never in her life had Thealora Justinia been so terrified. It was so intense she could chew it and felt the bitter taste it seeped running down her throat. She had not even told her body to move. Her feet had back pedaled her to her current position out of pure adrenaline run instinct.

The sight of one of those horrible creatures crashing through space in her direction had stopped the instinct, however and instead a lead weight formed in her stomach and pinned her to her position. The moments of her life began to flash before her. She saw her parents and her brother, the temples she had worked in, the eyes of the desperate victims of the fever as they had died in her arms. Before she dies, however, there is a flash and something topples over her. Thea crashes back fully into the ground with the shock and it takes several heartbeats before she first recognizes that she has not died, yet, and that it is Rose who is over her, protecting Thea with her own body from the horrid creature that attacks.

Seconds of breath that she had not expected to pull into her lungs pass. When Rose pulled off her to face the creature she was not certain but now the bloody smile of Rose consumes Thea’s vision. The pretty lips of the confident woman were moving, she was speaking to Thea. Desperatly Thea tried to concentrate, to hear the words that Rose said over the throbbing pounding of her heart. All she heard was: “… take action now…”

Action!? Action!? What could she mean? What am I supposed to do? I don’t fight… I cannot… I don’t know how and even if I did… I have nothing to fight with. I just want to go home! Eofara was right, I should not have come. What if I die? Here under the stench of that… that… thing. What if they all die? What does she want me to do? I’m just a little girl.
The tears that had until then been too frightened to spill across her cheeks start in a downpour now. Through them she can still see those around her and the creatures; she can see the blood and hear the battle that rages.

The darkness starts as spots, dots of ink that take over her vision and her thoughts. They quickly spread until just before the world disappears for her she whispers into the air.

“Lady Mirros… guide me!”

The young woman falls against the ground, eyes rolling back into her head as she falls and goes limp there in the middle of all the chaos.

Volla 28th, 1021
Aur’Varsa Forest, Alcana
Inner Glade
Grit and determination began to show on the side of the party as the death count against the assailants began to rise. Or perhaps it was a newfound drive to protect the young priestess, whose screams trailed off as she lost consciousness at Rose’s feet, fainting from fright.

Standing on swaying legs above the girl, Rose hefted her shield just in time to dump her weight behind it, stopping short the incoming bloodied axe. As the gnoll recoiled from the swing, the Heaven Knight shouted her faithful declaration through clenched teeth, and lashed out with all her might. In an upward crescent, driving power out of her hips, her sword split through the gnoll’s protruding lower jaw and cut a clean line through its hyena-like face. Bits of bone and blood launched in a fan-like spray, dissipating into the night while the beast toppled backwards beside the campfire.

Breathing deeply just as Eofara arrived at her side to protect Thea’s fallen form, the two turned to face the remaining ambushers on the other side of the glade.

The dwarves managed to hold their own against the remaining feral beasts, with Igni loosing another bolt from his notched crossbow. He smiled slightly as it thudded forcefully into the leather-plated armour worn by the ragged creature, but his smile was wiped away as it jerked its head his way, black eyes settling on him, and with long loping strides, advanced on him, clearly unhurt as the quarrel failed to penetrated the armour.

Agrin, spotting an opening on the gnoll, swung hard with his mace, but his head still spun from the blow to his head, and he failed to find home with the heavy weapon. Shaking his head to clear it thoroughly, he locked eyes on the fallen beast at his feet, trying to drag itself into the trees with a pathetic whimper, and his hatred for all unlike himself drew him to it. Fingers wrapped tightly around the haft, he raised his mace high and dealt a mighty blow to its sternum, crushing its ribcage and bursting its organs.

Stout fingers working to reload his crossbow, Igni took a step away from the advancing beast, trying to earn a bit more space, but its powerful legs devoured the gap, and its sword flashed through the firelight towards the Duskarn. The spellcaster braced for the impact, and heaved a huge sigh of relief as he saw the gnoll’s eyes flicker with confusion as the blade stopped short against the tightly bound ether. Cocking the weapon, he raised and fired in retaliation, this time the close quarters placing the heavy missile right into the creature’s belly, draining the life from its midsection as it fell at his feet.

Now stained with moss and dirt, Kammie pulled herself away from the thrashing pair of gnoll and lupine. Shaken and bruised from the assault upon her, a counterattack was not on her mind. Rather, she was content to let Joseph’s wolf deal with it. Fur flew from both combatants in the tangle, stained with blood. Snarls resonated through the dancing firelight of the clearing until a loud crunch rumbled, and Tristessa dismounted the gnoll, its neck broken by her savage jaws. Growling at it as she backed away slightly, she limped on her front left leg, blood staining her fur from numerous rends and tears across the slender limb.

Silence held, apart from heavy breathing and groans of pain. The orange glow set a definitive worsening appearance to injuries, regardless of how major or severe they may be. Thankfully, despite her terror, Thea had managed to avoid harm, though blood dripping from Rose’s dredged armour plates tainted the young girl’s garments. Both the paladin and the Mith’ganni had received the worst of it, but none had fallen in their first united conflict, despite the odds being against them. At the same time, though, it set in deeply just how far they had to go in order to overcome the challenges before them.

None but Tristessa noticed Joseph emerge from the treeline at the edge of the clearing, his footfalls bearing no sound upon the primal domain of the forest. He’d failed to arrive in time to assist, and had returned to a bloodied companionship instead, though better bloodied than deceased like the mangled carcasses of the gnolls. Loping over as best as she could with her damaged leg, Tristessa rubbed against the druid, whimpering slightly every time her foot touched down.

Despite all things, it certainly could have been worse.

(OOC: Success! Might not be a great update, but its just to wrap things up. All gnolls are defeated. Detailed injuries are as such:

Anora: 2/11 – Bleeding from the sternum. Cracked ribs.
Eofara: 6/12 – Bleeding from shoulder. Motor functions with left arm impaired.
Agrin: 5/12 – No major injury.
Igni: 7/7 - Perfect health.
Thea: 10/10 – Unconscious.
Kammie: 5/8 – Bruised ribs. Twisted ankle.

As you can see, being hit in my combats means more than just HP loss )

Someone had wrapped her in heavy black velvet. She couldn’t move, but her breath clung to the velvet and stuck to her with warm moisture, and distantly voices tried to come through but they were muffled. Time went on, but she was not sure how much. Finally the velvet was pulled from her and for a moment her world was assaulted with a rush of bright white light, and in it she would later claim that she heard Mirros speak to her, whispering words that she tried to cling to but could never quite make out.

Then the world came back and she found herself staring up at the Wild Man. He was speaking to her, but the words were just as hard to focus on as Mirros’ had been. She sat up and brought her hand to her head, trying to recall how she had gotten on her back in the first place. Before the memory came back though, she noticed the blood. It stained her pure white robes, mingling with grass and dirt stains. She gasped and searched her body with her fingers, looking for the source of the blood, but she wasn’t injured. The blood was not hers. Her eyes, terrified blue orbs, turned back to the Wild Man.

He was saying her name she realized. She also realized that he was not covered in blood. Had he attacked them? Brought them here to slaughter them? Quickly she pulled back from him with a hiss, the terror rising in her again. If he had and she was still uninjured he would kill her too now, or perhaps he had killed them to get her… she almost wished he would just kill her if that was the case.

For a moment she pulled her eyes off him to look around, to see if she was right and the others were dead. But the scene of carnage that displayed itself around her was not congruent with that assessment. There were large hairy creatures on the ground with her friends. Then it hit her. The creature coming out of the woods, coming at her, Rose pushing herself over Thealora in order to save her from the attack.

Rose! Thealora clambers to her feet at the thought and searches out the fallen figures to find the red haired follower of Lirros. As soon as she finds the woman, however, she falls back to the ground.

“No! no no no…” Thea repeats dismally as she lays her hand upon the broken breast plate, watching the blood poor through her fingers as she does. “No! Please… don’t let her die!”

The young woman closes her eyes and reaches her unseeing gaze up toward the heavens. Rose’s warm blood rushes through her fingers as she begins to pray. “My benevolent Mistress… do not let this woman suffer any longer from the pains of this battle. She offered her life in return for mine, please hear my cries for her now. Find it in your heart to bring mercy upon her, see her safely back to us. I beg of thee, I am but a humble servant of you Lady Mirros and promise to remain so for my life… please… grant me the gift of healing for my sister here…”

((OOC: If she manages to heal Rose, which I am assuming she will be able to accomplish to some extent at least, she will continue to go around laying hands on those who will accept her doing so and praying for the power of healing until she has pestered her Goddess enough (runs out of spells) for the day. I imagine there will be a moment of overt blubbery when she heals Rose, and will likely seem a bit embarassed to place her hands on Eofara if/when that comes up.))

Rose watched as the last of the foul creatures dropped to wounds and exhaustion around her. She coughed and tasted blood within her mouth, her crimson spittle blending with the already tainted earth around her from the fight. She dropped her shield and clenched her chest, finding it hard to breath, each inhalation caused a sharp pain to go shooting through her body.

Kneeling, the paladin turned to Thea, lifting her head gently, shaking her with the intent to wake her, though she didn't mean to frighten her upon concsiousness with her own bloody visage.

In a raspy voice filled with pain, Rose took a look around before speaking. "Wake child, it... it's over for now." As she spoke she felt almost guilty as each word sent small flecks of blood upon Thea's once pristine white attire, now marred with dirt blood and tears.

The gnolls had been finished, the ambush not as half as damaging as it could have been. Experience told him he had two priorities, first he must check every opponent was down, second he mus tend to his own wounds. A quick glance around the clearing showed no obvious threats but he couldn't see to his own wound as it's location on his shoulder stopped him tying a bandage around of above it to cut of his blood. Neither could he hold the injury above his head as by definition a shoulder attaches your arm to the rest of you so has to be below your head, at least it wasn't lower then his heart.

His culture demanded a further thing from him, he must see to the creatures that had attacked them. He thrust his sword into the ground, so it quivered slightly standing alone, with his good arm and drew his axe with the same hand. The closed fist of his injured arm held in front of his opposite shoulder more to stop the pain then anything else. He walked from gnoll to gnoll turning them on their backs as needed, cutting the creatures throats with the razor sharp blade of his axe to stop their suffering if they still lived or to help them pass on if they had already died. He realised it must have been a funny site to the dwarfs who must have never seen anything like it or would probably never understand it, the humans had probably never seen it either but stood more of a chance of understanding. When he came to the one with bolts stuck in it he would have removed them it he'd had two good arms, in fact he did try but grimaced with paid as he attempted to grip the bolt, injuries were always worst after the battle.

In all the two dwarfs had fared much better then he had having not suffered a major injury, Igni was untouched due to the choice of using a shooting weapon whatever that thing was. Anora was in a bad way having taking so much damage and Thea was up again and looking at Joseph who had entered at some point at the end of the fight, not exhausted from running but he had been from the manner he had appeared.

“No! no no no…” Thea repeats dismally as she lays her hand upon the broken breast plate, watching the blood poor through her fingers as she does. “No! Please… don’t let her die!”
Thea was gazing up at the sky as he watched her interested.

“My benevolent Mistress… do not let this woman suffer any longer from the pains of this battle. She offered her life in return for mine, please hear my cries for her now. Find it in your heart to bring mercy upon her, see her safely back to us. I beg of thee, I am but a humble servant of you Lady Mirros and promise to remain so for my life… please… grant me the gift of healing for my sister here…”
He wasn't sure what this was but it seemed to have some effect on Rose, some devine magic he hadn't seen before maybe? She had been bleeding badly but the spell had stopped the flow already. He focused on his heart and breathing, slowing it's beat and his breathing to a normal pace, to calm him and slow blood loss. The pain was terrible now he'd fully realised it and he needed the wound tended to as soon as someone could, he couldn't tend it due to it's location. 'Why couldn't the gnoll have cut his arm, it would be easier to treat.' he thought.

(OOC: May not be the best post, a lot of it focuses on my characters actions rather then those of the other characters.)

Volla 28th, 1021
Aur’Varsa Forest, Alcana
Inner Glade
Amidst the moments of aftershock from the attack, Joseph’s return to the clearing had gone almost unnoticed – till he awoke Thea from her unconsciousness-by-fright. She first lay her eyes upon his rugged figure, then scanned the area to see what was happening. The gnolls had all fallen. The dwarves stood together on the other side of the clearing, speaking to each other in their rocky tongue well away from everybody else. Eofara moved about the clearing to perform the finishing rites to the fallen beasts, while Kammie was nowhere to be seen. And Rose…

The blood ebbing from the broken breastplate of the temple knight stole the breath from the young priestess’ lungs. It took her all to summon the courage to begin chanting a prayer to Mirros, her words whispers at first, rising up in volume to become audible to all.

Blood seeped through her small hands as she covered the wound, trying to keep Rose from toppling from exhaustion. She could feel her prayer answered, and the holy light of Mirros entering her body, channeling up from her very core. White light encompassed her hands, and she passed that warmth onwards into Rose’s battered form.

Knit bone,
darn flesh,
stitch skin,
weave breath.
The healer’s chant worked over and over through the young girl’s mind, guiding her through the process. Her first blessing was enough to work over the greater damage, shutting the gaping wound, but it was her second one that truly restored the colour to Rose’s flesh, her drawn breaths fuller and stronger. After the severe beating Rose took in her very first real conflict, she would wear the scar upon her flesh left in the wake of that heavy axe blade. But, a scar was preferable marker to a headstone.

Moving on from the paladin, the next nearest bearer of injury was Eofara, whose arm was slicked with blood from his split shoulder. Repeating her ritual upon the Twilight Elf, Thea continued to pass forth the energy bestowed upon her by the Goddess, and repaired the wound upon her companion. The life flow waned off, and the slash was replaced by a jagged scar beneath its bloody paint.

The pair of dwarves seemed fine, with Agrin having tended to his own scrapes with the gift of Hamar. There was still no sign of the young Syln streetrat, who seemed to have vanished into the trees in the wake of the conflict. She had hardly said a word in the time she was amongst them, so her absence was barely missed, but it did mean the group was one shorter. And to those who had come from Vyrrmas, that meant one fewer whose skills would help them overcome the challenges of the ruin.

That would have to be dealt with on the morrow, for fatigue was rapidly overtaking everybody. Rations were devoured hungrily for the lack of a fresh meal, and the bodies of the deceased gnolls were dragged away into the trees to clear the campsite. With two-hour shifts set as watchmen, the remainder of the night passed quietly, and the dawn approached to bring promise of a cool, but sunny, morning.

(OOC: The dawn of Volla 29th is the current time. Party is rested, nourished, and spells recovered. Thea and Agrin have restored all lost HP. Kammie has fled during the night (But nothing is missing) Joseph can show the way to the ruins.)

“Bloody, schweisschillen tick-lickers,” murmured Agrin as he gingerly inspected the minor cuts and a moved his body to feel where the bruises would eventually form if left alone. Fortunately, he didn’t have to leave them alone.

“’And from the Earth ye shall come, until ye return, to the embrace of the Stonefather’,” said Agrin, as he reached with his soul towards the deeps of the earth, towards where he sensed the source of power those of his church could access. Hamar granted him a miniscule portion of power but it was enough to cleanse his body of those wounds.

As Hamar felt the pain of his injuries melt away as a gentle heat washed over his body. A healing of Hamar always left him feeling like he had spent an hour sitting in a hot rock room in one of the carved out bathhouses near the cathedral of Hamar. The small rooms were constructed near veins of stone that conducted heat from deep underground. Agrin could smell a hint of baking granite as he remembered the few times he had had time to relax in one of the small chambers.

Instead, the sharp and unpleasant smell of human and gnoll blood stung his nostrils and his eyes narrowed as he witnessed the incompetence of the lesser races as they recovered from the short combat. One of the humans wailed over another that lay bleeding from chest wound. That one would perish without aid and Agrin, despite his prejudices, knew that even these softskins would be useful in the coming trials. He would have traded them all for a pair of Stoneoath sentries in a heartbeat but that wasn’t even close to being an option. At least the Duskarn, despite his insanity of dabbling in the arcane, had managed to hit the blasted creatures without getting cut.

As the others collected themselves, Agrin turned to a more gruesome task of dragging the bloodied and cooling gnoll corpses together; taking time to relieve them of their meager goods and coin, Agrin piled the bodies together forming a bloody mass of dead flesh off to the side near a small tree. Again, he wiped his hands on the clean grass, this time using a bit of water from his canteen to clean the blood and filth that wasn’t just intangible.

“There isn’t much here,” he said blandly. “I’ll hold onto the coin. Stonelighter, you take some of it, too. That way ye all can’t blame me when ye can’t hold onto yer own pursestrings. The rest, well, my life is better trusted to a dead stick.”

Agrin's watch shift was uneventful, for which he was grateful. He felt much more comfortable sitting in the darkness away from small fire that the other watchman stoked. He hadn't even bothered to check who he was with. They wouldn't be able to spot danger coming in the night, anyways, with their feeble, light-hungry eyes. His were adapted to the darkness; the moonlight was different compared to the tunnels of the Deep but better than a cloudless day in these surface-lands.

The pocket-picker still hadn't shown her face. At least the most spineless of the surfacers hadn't ran away after she had been brought around. The hope that Agrin would escape the underhandedness of these men was still burning in his chest but it seemed dulled.

Agrin's thoughts wandered about as he shifted to the other side of the campsite to check, careful of averting his eyes from even the embers of the fire. They seemed as bright as a torch to his adjusted vision. The soft crunch of leaves beneath his feet reminded him all too much of how much he missed his home under the mountain. Even the companionship of the Hamarian envoy he had been sent with was enough to ward it off but now...

Agrin fell into reciting scripture, the first book of Golus in it's entirety, while he finished out the last hour of watch. His sleep was untroubled and as the sun peeked over the horizon, Agrin heard the shuffling of the others as camp broke. He scrubbed his hands through his beard and over his face and bald head. He was accustomed to being dirty and dusty; one could never keep a path in a cavern from being completely void of dust or sand or silt. But this dirt was different on the surface. There was much less stone in it. It made him feel unclean in a way he had never known.

Finished with his packing, Agrin sat on a bare patch of earth to do his daily exercise of prayer. An hour later, refreshed spiritually, Agrin pulled out the dwindling bag of food that he had been able to bring from his inn room. There wasn't much more than a day's worth of food left, even for a dwarf. He would have to find some other source very soon or be hungry. It wouldn't be the first time he had fasted but it would be the first he had been traveling and fighting while fasting.

His hunger sated for the time being, Agrin pulled his belongings together and joined the others in the center of camp.

"So the spineless Syln hasn't had the piss to come back?" He said, to no one in particular though his eyes landed on Igni the Duskarn longer than anyone else. "And ye, Woodsman, are ye going to stick around longer than a pebble in an avalanche? Damn, bloody surfacers can't seem to commit to a problem."

He'd put his axe away as Thea prayed over Rose's dying body.

"Knit bone,
darn flesh,
stick skin,
weave breath."
There were power in the words that he hadn't seen before and indeed Thea's hands glowed. She repeated the pray again as it become a chant and this time Rose seemed to find her strength again. Thea moved to him next, he wasn't quite sure what he should do but kneeling or at least crouching seemed sensible so that the girl could reach the wound, he felt slightly bemused by the situation as this was something he never though he would do.

The warm energy crossed from Thea's hands and into his flesh, he felt a tingling around the edges of the slash as it closed; he knew it was closing as the cold flow of his fresh and seeping blood had stopped. Once she had removed her hands and moved away he stood up and cleaned the would, dribbled a little water onto the rough cloth his fletching supplies had come in. He took the cloth and drew it over the scar on his shoulder, higher up his body and it would have been his neck!

Kammie had fled at some point during the fight.

“There isn’t much here, I’ll hold onto the coin. Stonelighter, you take some of it, too. That way ye all can’t blame me when ye can’t hold onto yer own pursestrings. The rest, well, my life is better trusted to a dead stick.”
Tipical, he had heard stories of how almost all other races worshiped gold as it a god in itself. None of the stories ever described dwarfs as being anything less than fanatic about anything shiny.

(In Alcanese) "Your welcome to the gold. How should we dispose of the bodies?"
He had never battled in woods before, only on the open plains. They would always lay out the bodies so that they could be pecked clean as carrion but he wasn't sure of what would happen in woodlands. He supposed wolves would do the same thing. He agreed with the dwarf though, he would rather trust his life to a single arrow then to one of the gnolls weapons.

They piled up the corpses beyond the edge of the clearing. He wasn't too sure he approved of the magic that had been used to heal his wounds; he should have been left to heal naturally so that if it was his to die then he would do so. Over the meal that followed Eofara turned the conversation to tracking the creatures that had attacked them. His argument can be shortened to the abbreviation below.

(In Alcanese) "Ends must be made, hang the quest as we are away from the city. If we don't look after ourselves and hunt down the rest of the gnolls they will send scouts to hunt us. I can track and we can shoot and fight but if we don't attack or flee then they will kill us."
That night he took third watch, sleeping through the first two watches under the thin canvas of his tent gave him the four hours of sleep he needed. Over his own watch he tended the fire, kept quite and didn't wake the next person to take watch, or the person after. He was happy of company if anyone did wake but the open night sky was a welcoming presence, although he needed company to feel at home.
As dawn broke he took up his bow and 10 arrows, removed the armour (assuming leather of hide) from one of the fallen gnolls and pinned it to a tree with his knife to form a target to shoot at. This done he packed up his tent and began his practice, taking time to aim each shot carefully so he wouldn’t miss the armour. Once the dwarf had awoken he saw the creature looking into a bag of food he had, his expression was obvious.

(Untranslated Mith’Ganni) "Skxawng"
Eofara lazily fishes for a pack of rations within his supplies and tossed it to Agrin.

After passing her healing abilities around to those who would let her Thea essentially shut down. Rations were distributed for dinner but, very surprisingly, the tiny red haired girl did not have an appetite and nibbled slightly on the food before passing it on to someone who was not bothered by the scent of gnoll blood on the air. The only words she spoke were to Rose, a whispered plea to sleep near the warrior woman, casting nervous glances at the shadows in the woods and even her fellow travelers between those few words.

Curled up close to Rose, wrapped in the soiled cloak she trembled and cried until exhaustion drug her into the depths of sleep. She woke still feeling tired, despite the fact that she had not held watch as the others had, probably a decent thing for them all, considering. The jar of honey she took from the temple made an appearance with her morning rations.

As the sweet heavy taste of the golden elixir ran over her tongue she closed her eyes and let the others discuss their plans. She was no leader, she was no hero or adventurer either. She just prayed that whatever it was that they decided that it wouldn’t involve more of those hideous creatures. For now though she would seek solace in the honey.

Pain
Rose’s breath was shallow, each inhalation threatened to sweep her up into an increasingly inviting blanket of darkness. Rose didn’t even register the small hands of Thea as she began her chant, her plea to the Goddess to restore life and vigor to the broken body of the vigilant knight.

Knit bone,
darn flesh,
stitch skin,
weave breath.


Rose’s breath halted for a moment, caught in her lungs as muscle and sinew mended, and bone regenerated from the crushing blow of the gnoll’s cruel axe. Her green eyes shot wide as the last of her armor was pushed forth from woven skin and flesh, healed anew, and she cried out in shock. “Thea!”

Turning to find the young priestess before her, her own eyes tear filled and hands trembling, Rose’s gloved hands instinctively reached out of her, and wrapped her into a hug. Holding her close, she let her own tears fall as her eyes surveyed the results of their first victory in combat as a group. Whispering into Thea’s ears, barely audible even at such intimate proximity, Rose spoke. “Thank you. I knew Mirros would guide you.” Squeezing her a little tighter, before breaking the embrace, Rose lifted herself to her feet, scanning the area.

Fatigued, sore, but alive, the companions sorted out their immediate vicinity into a campsite, suitable for a much needed rest. Thea had shimmied up close to Rose as bedding was layed down, and Rose found it hard to sleep, even as Thea’s trembling form finally succumbed to exhaustion. Rose, waited until Thea’s still form was lost in the depth of slumber before shifting, Wrapping the youth in her own bedroll for added warmth, before getting up and going over to her broken armor. She sat quietly as her fingers ran over the deep tear in the metal, the sides folded in, her blood still stained upon the jagged steel.

She looked over the campgrounds, realizing that the other young Syln woman was not amongst them for the first time. The quiet female must have thought her odds better on her own, than with this argumentative and divided group. Rose watched as Agrin moved about the campgrounds, speaking in his harsh tongue, but unable to decipher anything audible. The dwarves, different castes as they were, were still content to segregate themselves, from the rest of the group, while Eofara had his own perception of things, and Joseph, well, they didn’t know their would be guide well enough to draw any conclusions. Thea however.. Thea was a shining beacon of everything Rose fought to protect. The youth had no place in this group, in this life.. Certainly none of them deserved to be persecuted as they were, but Thea, no.. she just didn’t belong. Everything about her gave her purpose.. She’d see Thea free from this accursed thread of fate so long as she still drew breath.

It was on that thought, that sleep finally took her, and she passed out still resting against the tree, broken armor in her lap.

In the morning, Rose awoke and the camp was already abuzz. Breakfast was being served by those who had food, meager as it seemed. Standing, and carrying her scale mail in hand, she approached Agrin, and quietly set the piece down before him. “Good Krosan, I know not if you’ve the means, but I know your kind have the knowledge and skill in crafting weapons and armor moreso than I could likely learn in a lifetime. If you’d be willing and able to repair my armor, I’d be more than happy to try and pay you..“ She looked at his dwindling rations before adding.or if coin seems less valuable given our predicament, a portion of the food I have left.” The dwarves her family had dealt with in many past trade negotiations were always shrewd but fair merchants, Agrin certainly wasn’t as approachable as say Igni may have been, but he was outspoken, and Rose respected that. Even if he was a self serving racist son of a gravel pit.
(Expecting to be turned down but who knows) (can backpost or PM results with Vilyamar)

Afterwards, Rose approached the wild man, nibbling on her dried tack for breakfast. Greeting him warmly she said “Glad to see you are still with us, and in one piece. Last night’s affairs were less than amicable for conversation or knowledge sharing. As it stands, you did mention that you were hear for a reason, and since we’re needing a guide. Perhaps we could continue our interrupted intentions of last night whilst we head towards the ruins nestled within these woods?”

(Obviously for sake of game moving on, I’m trying to ‘vote’ or whatever that we continue on the task, whilst still allowing pc interaction etc in back posts )

Volla 29th, 1021
Aur’Varsa Forest, Alcana
Inner Glade
Gathering possessions and taking care of the campsite in the crisp morning air, the group, one shorter with Kammie’s departure, found themselves at another standoff point; whether to seek and destroy the remaining gnolls in the forest, or whether to continue forth to find the ruins.

As if to emphasize his point, Eofara nailed up a battered tanned-hide breastplate to a tree and began firing arrows into it. Ten arrows, ten struck targets, to demonstrate his talent with the weapon. However, his want a single vote against carrying forth, while Rose opted to carry on. Thea joined with the temple knight quite hurriedly. The remaining voters were silent, or minding their own personal business. From the whole group, two votes said going, while one said hunt the gnolls. Shouldering gear and cleaning up the campfire, they allowed Joseph to lead the way through his wilderness domain.

While still sure that tracking down the gnolls would be the best course of action, Eofara performed a quick assessment of the possibilities. He was suited to running the flatlands of the world, not places where trees clustered and obscured vision. He did not know the lay of the land, hiding places, or even how to properly disguise himself amidst the ancient sentinels of the forest. Had this been a prairie, he would have been in his own environment. But here…he was as much a foreigner as Thea in a conflict zone.

Reluctantly, Eofara hurried to catch up with the others.

********

Four Hours Later…

Bypassing a bramble patch, which only Joseph was able to easily circumnavigate, a clearing emerged into vision, revealing a ruined citadel completely overtaken by mosses, vines, and forest growth. Across the years, the planet had begun to pull the ruins back into its embrace, gradually crumbling the stone and eroding the labours of the dwarves of old.

A handful of birds chirped somewhere within the trees, their songs penetrating the clearing and providing a soothing background hymn to accompany the ruins of Gurit’Marnairan.

Cracked and broken walls edged around the large glade, crumbled to the ground in so many places. Verdigris covered the unhinged gates, tangled in the long grasses, and the group carefully picked their way across it so as not to trip and fall.

Crossing the shattered flagstones that once formed the walkway leading to the low-level fortress, bootsteps echoed from the ancient brickwork. Aside from the birds in the trees, there was no sign of wildlife or anything within the area. In the middle of the day, this was not unusual, but there seemed to lack any sort of bedding made within the sheltered area. Overall, it seemed quite a tranquil domain…were it not for the large spider emblem crafted directly onto the heavy stone doors at the end of the walkway.

Inverted, legs spread, the eight foot tall door boasted an arachnid that covered the entirety of the barrier, the one thing to break the peaceful feeling within the clearing. This was an oddity for dwarven masonry – the citadel itself was built in the Duskarn fashion, barely clearing twenty feet high, and being quite compact in its dimensions, but likely extending quite far beneath the earth. The spider bore no explanation…

Its eight eyes appeared to have at one point housed stones or gems, but robbers had cleared them away long ago, leaving the empty sockets. A close inspection, however, revealed that one of them was slightly different in its shape, and had a small hexagonal indentation at the back. Obviously, this one was not for holding a gem.

(OOC: Not much, but it moves things along. Time to pick this up again.)

Volla 29th, 1021
Vyrrmas, Alcana
Market Square
The smell of freshly brewed Kaff lingered on the morning air near the streetside establishments. Importers of the strange dark beans, ground and steeped to create a strong drink, found their shops generally quite busy in the early mornings. Citizens of all classes tended to congregate in such areas, whether stopping in for a morning pick-me-up, or to meet with friends.

Such places were often ideal for the exchange of information, in many ways serving as an early-morning tavern in terms of collecting the latest news. Taking the opportunity to enjoy a cup of Kaff on this clear morning, Luke and Rory sat on the terrace, providing them a means of listening both in and out of the establishment. Their contact was to meet them here, but was running a bit behind schedule. Still, alternative means of passing the time were what made such a place preferable under the morning sun.

An urn between them on the rickety wooden table, the two Raslan kept their eyes and ears open to the crowds, trying to prune and informative leaves from the shrubs of people.

“….execution set for the morning…”

“I heard that the Veytheir army has been…”

“Tabac crops are doing well so far.”

Finally, Rory’s keen hearing picked the information they truly sought from the din around them. With a tilt of his head of brown shaggy hair, directed to the street, Luke casually focused in as well.

“Oebern just started work in the Buckwald Estate.”

Both sets of eyes picked out a middle-aged K’urn passing by on the street, a green sash dangling from the red-skinned man’s waist being the indicator that he was their agent. Certainly not the little-folk that comprised their guild, but sometimes, it was easier for others to find the right information in a society dominated by big-folk.

The information had been delivered in a fashion that fit right into the marketplace. The pair of Raslan got what they needed.

The Estate was to the south of Vyrrmas, sited within view of the city walls, but far enough away to allow a tabac field to grow healthily. What could Oebern be doing there? Obviously, ‘work’ was a coverup for whatever reason he may actually be there for, but it was evident that it was not by choice.

As of late, a number of the Slum Birds had been vanishing without trace, disappearing like shadows into the night. It was partially suspect that the witch hunt had flagged a few of them, but there were no outward notifications. The temple of Mallien made no secret of it when they had found themselves a witch in their midst, either, so it ruled that option out. Still, whatever was going on, Oebern had been the newest to disappear.

This was just the kind of lead the two had needed to track down one of their family. In a world that didn’t want to see them a part of it, Raslan had to stick together. Such is how their little organization had come to flourish into what it had become. But somebody was picking off their members. This had to stop. It was time to make it happen.

(OOC: LONG overdue, and crunched in during a short packing break, but its sufficient to start out. Welcome, Ayrn and Shield Wolf, to Season of the Witch.)

Thealora had been quiet this morning. Yesterday she had jabbered on with Eofara until they reached the campsite, curious and excited. Today she was jumpy and nervous, giving up on conversation when she realized how dry her mouth was. Every snapping of a twig around them made her hair stand on end and her heart skip a beat. She imagined more of those hideous creatures leaping out at her with bared teeth and foul breath ready to tear out her throat. Frowning she would finger the stains on her cloak. Only the day before it had been a beautiful pure white, now it bore the signs of her first combat. Flowers of Anora’s blood, streaks of dirt and tumbling crashes of grass told a story she did not care to remember across the cloth.

As they neared the ruins she let the bird’s song and the feeling that perhaps they were nearing the end of this journey start to calm her. Breathing came a little easier and a smile teased at the corners of her lips for the briefest moment. Any sensation of comfort shattered the moment she made eye contact with the blind spider rising up above them, however.

“Lady Mirros be merciful…” she whispered before letting her jaw drop in awe at the sight. There was something powerfully haunting about the eyeless spider. Even she could tell it did not really belong here.

Keeping her eyes on the arachnid as if it might animate itself and pounce her at any moment she muttered to Rose, “Tell me we don’t have to go in there. I don’t know if I can… I don’t know that we should…”

It seemed that over breakfast it had been decided that they should carry on with their appointed task. They had every right to disregard it and the person had no right to force it upon them but the task was being done out of some sense of nobility, honour or other misplaced sense of duty.

Having packed up his own gear earlier he helped the others with theirs if they were willing to let him help. The battle had reminded him of his home but the meal was alien to him, very little talking, so he found himself more the outsider. He was an elf among men kind, he didn't have a companion to trust in as the two dwarfs did. He gently eased his arrows from the armour he had attached to the tree and tugged his knife from the tree's trunk. The armour fell to the ground with a soft thud. He replaced the arrows in his quiver, looking around the campsite the though edged into his mind that he was out of his element. He could track the gnolls but they knew the land and he did not. Reluctantly, he hurried to catch up with the others.

Four hours of following Joseph later and they arrived at a ruined citadel, conquered, reclaimed by the forest. The groups footfalls echoed across shattered broad stoned as birdsong surrounded the ruin.

Aside from the birds in the trees, there was no sign of wildlife or anything within the area. In the middle of the day, this was not unusual, but there seemed to lack any sort of bedding made within the sheltered area. Overall, it seemed quite a tranquil domain…were it not for the large spider emblem crafted directly onto the heavy stone doors at the end of the walkway.

Inverted, legs spread, the eight foot tall door boasted an arachnid that covered the entirety of the barrier, the one thing to break the peaceful feeling within the clearing. The citadel itself was about twenty feet high, and being quite compact in its dimensions, but likely extending quite far beneath the earth. The spider bore no explanation…

Its eight eyes appeared to have at one point housed stones or gems, but robbers had cleared them away long ago, leaving the empty sockets. A close inspection, however, revealed that one of them was slightly different in its shape, and had a small hexagonal indentation at the back. Obviously, this one was not for holding a gem.
The travel so far had been in almost silence but Thea interrupted it.

"Lady Mirros be merciful... Tell me we don’t have to go in there. I don’t know if I can... I don’t know that we should..."
(In Alcanese) "None of us need to go in. But if we are then lets go now and seal ourselves in so we can not be followed."
No words of comfort or kindness for the girl now, he had chosen to come as he could see her innocence. And in honesty he was not a fan of such a big spider himself. He had only seen 'small' onces prevously. Cirtanly nothing bigger then the span of his hand.

(OOC: OK, I got lazy and coppied a lot of text)