"Mae'rel Elerron. Of Lady Lissentoria,” the mysteriously masked monk replied, “My pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam Rosariel. It is indeed a greeting, you did use it correctly."

Rosariel nodded, “Thank you.”

"I have no experience with anything like this,” she continued, “I traveled with a teacher for several decades before he passed, and I have healed many wounds, but I've never been in the company of such... interesting folk. No offense to yourself, or any of the others, of course."

“I understand.” Rosariel conceded, “I grew up isolated from most anyone different from those in my village, save for when a merchant would come through, or when I would join the traders to barter in different, larger places. Even then I could feel we were not like most. This group, though, I’ve never seen such a variety in one place.”

"Where do you heed from, Madam Rosariel? I grew up in Coria. The tongue of the Sylvari isn't even my native tongue if you would believe such a thing, though I imagine my accent may have already given that away?"

She smiled, “A little. I’ve heard that accent before, though not commonly from Sylvari mouths. And please, you may call me Rosariel. Such honorifics as ‘Madam’ are uncommon where I’m from. If you prefer to use a title, you may call me Noldo’dainme, that is what I was called in my village.” Her smile shifted to the side, “Though I imagine a ‘wise woman’ from a tiny, isolated village like Dor’ghen Loth in the middle of the Sylvari wood might be held to a different standard than one from someplace like where that one must be from,” she said, nodding to Seleniniel before turning back to Mae’rel, “Either will work.”

Their small troop set off shortly after, their ranger proving time and time again over the course of the first two weeks why he had been selected to head such a tenuous endeavor. Their course was long and took them deep through the Sylvari wilderness. Rosariel felt both at-home and alien here. In the weeks leading up to Isil’nari’s call, she had spent much more time than ever in and around the more settled towns and cities. It was fascinating to see these new places, but it was not a space she was yet comfortable traversing. This though, brushing by leaves that looked slightly different than those she grew up with, trees with different designs, soil that pressed differently back against her feet, and Tubs enjoyed the new berries she found for him here--this felt both new and known all at once. Even the creatures sang a slightly different tune to the ones who grew up in her wood, and there was nothing quite like learning a new beautiful song.

Up until this point the trip had been relatively uneventful, if you could call new leaves and birdsongs uneventful, but other than that Rosariel had spent most of her time staring at the back of the mage’s head as they traveled. Not much changed there. She tried not to think about it too much, since that would lead her to think about what Dak had been forced to stare at for the majority of his trip behind her. She was grateful for her cloak.

Rosariel was deep into thinking about an interesting fern in the brush they had slept near last night, and definitely not thinking about Dak’s current point-of-view when the shriek rang through the open space and her head whipped to the right to see it. A massive creature, at first glance a bear, but no, she had seen this creature once before. Before they had settled, when she was a child, one had struck their camp at night and took several down before the hunters were able to slay it. Rosariel had lost sleep for weeks after having to assist in cleaning up the carnage.

“Owlbear!” she shouted to the group, rushing behind the fighter ahead of her. The owlbear charged them full pace, no hesitation, no fear, pure beast. It would never retreat. Brave but foolish amidst such a talented group.

Rosariel raced forward toward the fighter ahead of her, the sound of music suddenly filling her ears. She realized, now as her hand reached out to touch the armor before her, that the fighter she had chased after was the bladesinger. An actual bladesinger in action, Rosariel had only heard tales.

Pushing her awe aside for now, she reached into her bag and produced a small strip of white cloth, coated at the tips with fresh sap, an offering from one of these precious new trees to the goddess for her protection. Rosariel grasped the piece of stag antler that hung over her chest as she pressed the sticky cloth to the back of the bladesinger’s armor, “Huntress, Taudor Salka, be with this warrior in her hunt, send her aid to slay this beast before us.” Bright, golden specs like the sori she found beneath the leaves of the fern the night before swarmed her forearm briefly, following the arm to the hand pressing the cloth to the fighter. Rosariel jumped back, leaving the glittering sori behind to become absorbed in the cloth at the bladesinger’s back.

The owlbear now upon them, Rosariel ran backwards several feet, leaving the fighters to fight. She once again reached into a pouch, her fingers seeking the soft, flat feel of fungi she knew would be in there. Once in hand she held it on her flat palm, the gills facing skyward, and mumbled another prayer to the woodland dancer for assistance. Once completed, she blew overtop the mushroom, and spores lit by foxfire sprang forth in a bioluminescent mist, swirling and spreading above her comrades, settling abruptly above the owlbear before falling elegantly to coat the creature and guide the weapons of their warriors.

As the fight continued her hand remained grasped around the antler at her chest, ready to provide more aid or support as their hunt continued.

The journey had been enjoyable for Arathea, she found the serenity of the woods around her to be delightful. She also found the company to be enjoyable in spite of the oddities of the group, she found something endearing in all of their quirks. Admittedly it seemed she was surrounded by an entire group ranging from socially anxious to just anti-social, but there was at least some level of conversation to be had, and to Arathea it was enjoyable. Though she immediately came to the realization that the Cidal had clearly lacked an understanding of basic manners, which brought a constant stream of sighs and second hand embarrassment whenever Arathea observed his antics.

The warrior had to consider more than how enjoyable the groups company was however, she also had to calculate their role in combat, negotiations, and so on. Their personalities and unique skills offered their own perks and cons, and Arathea knew that Tansathil has almost certainly considered all of this and picked the best of the best. Still, Arathea did not have the knowledge of Tansathil, and she realized she would have to get to know them much better if she were to take the lead.

 There will be plenty time to analyze this band of misfits and wanderers I'm sure, I take it Dak and Rosariel are the most friendly, though Dak seems to be much more private in his dealings than the others. The monk with the mask seems to be a good soul at the very least, and I'm sure she can prove herself more than useful, Tansathil wouldn't send a mere village nurse to aid us I'm sure. 

As she pondered strategy and the like Arathea felt some excitement about Hyanda Nost, it was a location she'd seen more than once but it always did impress her, though Megilindar Nost always did put her in more awe. She followed behind the taur'ohtar and in front of the rest of the grouping, always ready to rapidly respond and charge at any threat at any time. Then a noise came, she heard Rosariel shout out, "Owlbear!' And the tails rushed into Arathea's mind, though she'd never engaged with one she knew well the danger posed.

Quickly her mind thought strategically, she saw the wizard preparing a spell and remembered this group was experienced, she didn't have to hold their hand on every little task, they could handle themselves for the most part. She signaled to the Bofír warrior behind her to join her charge and called out for the taur'ohtar to support them. This will be over soon, you may be a formidable monster but we've been preparing since before you hatched... or we're birthed, I'm not quite familiar with how you freakish beasts work.

Quickly a new sound broke through the forest, the sound of a song that predated the rise of modern kingdoms, a song that sounded almost alien to most ears. Arathea quickly pulled out her blade as the world around her began to slow, her focus reaching every fine detail as the sound of the blade freeing from it's sheave broke through. She noticed Rosariel reaching out to touch her prestigious leather armor, but Arathea's focus remained elsewhere. She quickly calculated in her mind what seemed like the straightest and most advantageous path and began to charge, hoping that her and the Bofír could keep the beast busy while the taur'ohtar and the spell-casters provided magical and ranged support. 

Ruadhrí looked around, tense and uneasy, Cazarin pass, Lindrough overlook, Manifarks chasm, areas like this never are as simple as go through the pass unscaved, be it rockslide, arrows, or vicious beast, something always happens and someone always gets hurt.

The peircing screach of A monster made his tinnitus act up and he recoiled for A moment, Ruadhrí looked up and saw Dak running away and a panic begining to ensue, vicious beast it is he thought to himself and turned around to see A big, clawed, feathery? He had never seen anything like it but he feared not, it was barely taller then him.

He began to unclip the great ax on his back and let the head plant itslef in the ground then squired himself with Owlbear and made eye contact "I've killed Tornig bears alone, with A team like this i could kill you in my sleep" he then lifted his ax, inhale and wait...1...2...3....RAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH 

(bassicly hes gonna hit until it stops twitching and then hes gonna hit it more)

The Journey had been uneventful so far, filled with peaceful forests and flatlands and a variety of scenery. It reminded Mae'rel of the travel she often took on alongside Ignacio, except this time she was in the company of a small fellowship. From their travels so far, Mae'rel had gathered a few things about a few different people. The Bladesinger knew her way around more than a blade, she was good company and interesting indeed. The bull.. was a bull, though friendly then she might have expected at first. Rosariel was nice enough, even if a bit awkward. The other few though? She hadn't quite drawn full conclusions yet, though she did note the Cidal seemed to be a bit of a troublemaker.

Of course, things changed when a monster jumped out at them and came at them as if it intended to made the group it's next meal. Immediately she could identify it was an Owlbear, thanks to the voice she heard declaring such, and the plenty of bedtime stories about this sort of creature. Some kind of experiment gone wrong, no doubt, Owlbears were cruel creatures. Everything wrong with bears and owls, and seemingly neither of the creature's good traits.

Mae'rel calmly collected herself, taking a deep breath and muttering a few words. She grasped the rose emblem around her neck into her left hand, and retrieved a small mirror with the other. Looking at her masked face through the mirror, she completed the spell by angling the mirror with her emblem, and she became but a blur to the monster, if the spell worked properly.

She calmly stepped away, enough to give the warriors their room, and she waited to make her next move.

It was not an unfamiliar sound, but it was one Rain always dreaded to hear, especially when in a group. Alone, if you were fast and lucky, it was far from impossible to slip away into the woods, into high places or narrow spaces you couldn't be followed. But those were options he didn't have this time, he thought to himself, already speeding back towards the group. He had to hope he'd get there in time to make a difference, or this would be a short errand indeed.

(((Rainminainen will speed back towards the group. If angle allows a safe shot, he will fire upon the beast from a distance. Should that change, or be unavailable to him, he will draw swords and close in melee)))

With a gurgling exhale, the creature heaves forward, collapses, legs splaying in surrender under its own heft… coming to rest, eerily still, mere moments after unbridled violence.. The stillness punctuated by a wet thunk as the Bofear’s axe sinks into the lifeless hulk, the bullman now a butcher, not warrior. She eyed the bipedal beast cautiously as he tugs the greatweapon free, still-bulging muscles… and eyes. Unclear from his rage-contorted features if he knows, or cares, the battle is over. Almost.. personal. Best watch this one.

The parting rays of sunlight illuminate the bull’s massive head, like a mountain, the last to lose the sun. Towering over the lithe bladesinger, now at rest, demeanor as starkly juxtaposed to the bull's as her frame–calm composure as she wipes blood and matted feathers from the elegant blade, casting light of a different hue in the deepening shadows of oncoming dusk. Seleniniel eyes the blade keenly. A story behind that, to be sure. An old instrument, older than her grandparents I'll wager. Good. She'll have earned it on more than mindless beasts. 

She gives the bestial head a parting kick, not spiteful–a signal to the gods, or whatever produces such monstrosities, that she is unimpressed. As she does, her spell releases, the felled beast regaining its once-massive form. Seleniniel stumbles as a rapidly-expanding forequarter knocks into her. She keeps her feet, barely on the rock-strewn path, turning an ankle in the process. Steadying herself… The second kick has more malice. 

As the ranger reaches them, breathing easily despite his hard run, she takes inventory, seeing now the blood soaking the pacifist’s robe, torn in places and revealing a surprising tapestry of scars beneath the ivory veneer. Aikanaro… to bear those and still refuse to lift a hand… faithblind fool…

The cid unwinds his hasty retreat, Seleniniel levels a flat gaze, one eyebrow raised at him, accusingly. In an equally flat tone, “I suppose this isn't your forte, master sneakthief. Still… perhaps next time you might muster the courage of our Lissentorian devotee. From the looks of her, she's weathered the worst of it with neither weapon nor complaint… nor retreat.”

((OOC assume Dak’s response is generally consistent with his deferential and good natured manner of dealing with Syls))

“Hmph. As you say.”

Her eyes return to the West, to the ranger, silhouetted by fading light. The same light illuminating the indifferent clouds, rolling lazily through the autumn sky, cast in a spectrum that matches the autumn forest around them… matches the red rivulets making their way through stone and dirt, inexorably crawling downhill from the corpse that produces ever-lengthening shadows along the once-again quiet wilderness path. Evening birds slowly resume their melodies, eventually returning the forest to its status quo ante. 

Seleniniel does not revel in the sunset or the ever-elasticity of the forest. She waits impassively for their guide, content to resume her own, silent, status quo ante. As the adrenaline fully leaves her system, she inhales deeply, shrugs in an exaggerated gesture, rolling shoulderblades back and down, tilting her head side to side in a half circle, slowly exhales… as if stretching muscles used too infrequently of late. 

She eyes Rainminainen, expectantly. 

((OOC: Assume Rain will counsel shelter and safe camp, while Rosariel wants to go hunting. Seleniniel will welcome another beast to slay.))

It truly lightened Rainminainen's heart to see the monster dealt with so quickly, and with only slight injury. He made a note to double check on Mae'rel later, but the cleric did not seem to be in immediate danger, and so he moved on to other worries.

Ignoring the byplay between the group's mage and the Little Man, Rain spoke urgently, raising his voice so all could hear him."I'm afraid we're not yet done, friends." He looked around, then gestured to the corpse of the grotesque creature. "Such as these are relentless, hunting and killing all that lives in whatever territory they settle in." Rainminainen now gestured to the land around them."Before rest is taken, a throrough search must be made. There will be a cave or similar nearby the foul creature uses as a nest. We must find it, and ensure it is empty, for owlbears are, on occasion, found in pairs." Rain supresses a shiver. "Or, if we are extremely unfortunate, we will find a mad wizard nearby."

(((A brief pause here for interjections, but assuming no major arguments yet)))

"In either case, I would hesitate to make camp before we've scouted the area, lest we be attacked again while off our guard." He attempted to stress the point as best he could. Rainminainen had once, in his youth, made the mistake of thinking killing the owlbear in front of him was enough.

Just once.

Some lessons, Rain mused to himself, sheathing his blades and awaiting the group's reaction, you need not learn twice.

Well, Dak mused, returning the unused dart to its pouch as he wriggled free of the cleft between the rocks, that went better than I imagined it might, and much quicker, as well.

Clapping his hands, he wandered back toward where the party was gathered around the owlbear’s carcass. “Well done and efficiently fought,” he lauded the group, giving the felled creature only a cursory glance, “Very impressive!”

“I suppose this isn’t your forte, master sneakthief,” Seleniniel chastened, fixing him with what he imagined was supposed to be an accusatory glare, “Still… perhaps next time you might muster the courage of our Lissentorian devotee. From the looks of her, she’s weathered the worst of it with neither weapon nor complaint… nor retreat.”

“You are correct in, at least, part of that, helkaer,” the Cid countered with a sardonic smile, lifting a brow to match the mage’s, “Combat is not my forte. Not directly, at any rate, and certainly not with the likes of that…” he waved dismissively at the creature’s corpse, “…Such a beast would surely have devoured me in a single bite, perhaps two had it gotten to me after you shrunk it, hm? Either way, I would have fared far worse than Lady Mae’rel.”

His gaze ticked to the Lysoran priestess then, and he offered her a respectful nod. “I am sorry for your suffering, arwenamin,” he offered with sincerity before turning his eyes back on Seleniniel.

“Now, as to what you see as retreat, Lady Isil’nari,” he quipped, rolling his shoulders in the semblance of a shrug, “I prefer to think of as strategic relocation…” He padded closer to the fallen owlbear and plucked a feather from the frill at its neck and, with a grin, used the quill to gesture at the more martially inclined members of the troupe, “…Is it my fault that this lot made such quick work of the foul beasty before I managed to put a dart in the thing?”

“Hmph,” the mage puffed in that curt way of hers, “As you say.” Her indifferent gaze tore away from him and turned to Rain then, and Dak’s followed.

“I'm afraid we're not yet done, friends.” The ranger’s gaze swept the group and the woodlands around them before he gestured at the creature. “Such as these are relentless, hunting and killing all that lives in whatever territory they settle in. Before rest is taken, a thorough search must be made. There will be a cave or similar nearby the foul creature uses as a nest. We must find it, and ensure it is empty, for owlbears are, on occasion, found in pairs.” Rain suppressed a shiver. “Or, if we are extremely unfortunate, we will find a mad wizard nearby.”

I think we have already found one of those, Dak snickered to himself, flicking a quick but pointed glance in Seleniniel’s direction, Perturbed, at least, if not altogether mad.

“In either case, I would hesitate to make camp before we've scouted the area,” Rain suggested, underscoring the need for caution, “lest we be attacked again while off our guard.”

“Agreed,” the halfling nodded, gesturing with the feather in the direction from which the attacker had come, “That way seems to be the likeliest place to begin such a search…” He crept toward the brush line, casting a quizzical glance over his shoulder, “…Shall we?”

((OOC: Translations – Helkaer = “icy one,” Arwenamin =  “My Lady” (familiar/informal) ))

With the final gouging of her swift blade and the conclusion of her battle melody, the bladesinger felled the unnatural beast with what seemed to be nary a scratch. Nonetheless, Rosariel jogged forward, already forming the first somatic structures of a healing spell with her fingers as she approached the Sylvari warrior.

“Bladesinger, are you well?” Realizing this was the greeting Arathea had offered her when they met, she clarified, “I mean were you injured?”

((OOC: assuming she confirms she’s all good))

“Good, I’m glad I….” Rosariel trailed off, noticing the rhythmic hacking of their bofear cohort. She stepped toward the now mutilated carcass of the owlbear, now more mince than beast.

“Ruadhri?” No response, “Ruadhri, I think you’ve finished it.” A rage seemed to have overtaken him. She had seen it in hunters before, but usually it was after an exceedingly excruciating or frustrating hunt, or when seeking revenge against a creature that had hurt it or a loved one. As far as Rosariel could tell, neither seemed to be the case here, and yet a bloodlust had enraptured him.

She took a few steps back, unsure how clearly he’d be able to think, should she redirect his ire, but also hoping to spring him from the tunnel vision of his quarry. Rosariel opened the top of her waterskin and dipped a finger in. A bead formed at the tip and she flicked it before her, capturing the splatters within the somatic forms of her hands and murmuring her wish to Taudor Salka to assist her in clearing this hunter’s mind. The equivalent of one bucket’s worth of water formed above the bofear’s head, falling as Rosariel completed the spell, and drenching his ravaged face.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted, taking a couple more steps back and raising her hands up apologetically, “Are you with us now, Ruadhri?”

((OOC: hopefully a yes, but I’ll revise per your response <3 ))

Rosariel relaxed, “Okay, is this… a common reaction for you? And is there a way you prefer to be helped out of it, other than being doused?” She tried for a friendly smile, despite having soaked her new ally, “Though I am happy to accommodate.”

((OOC: any response))

She nodded, “Very well. Happy hunting in the future. I’ll do my best to support you.”

Her attention was then turned to their taur'ohtar. With her two nearest companions seeming taken care of, she was able to focus on the second thought on her mind, reiterated almost exactly by the taur'ohtar’s words. One owlbear was concerning, both for their immediate ferocity, but even more so for their implications. Rosariel didn’t have much knowledge on mad mages, but she did know that these unnatural creatures tended to reside in pairs. Normally a beast of the forest she would have no concern moving on from, but these were not from the forest, and they created an imbalance she couldn’t abide, if it could be helped.

"In either case,” he said now, “I would hesitate to make camp before we've scouted the area, lest we be attacked again while off our guard."

Rosariel nodded, “Agreed taur'ohtar. I am with you.” She gazed across the faces of the rest of her companions, hoping to see a positive response from them as well. A fight against one of these creatures would go much differently if not everyone wished to accompany them.

It was then she noticed their monk. Their reserved, masked, and now blood-stained monk.

Sarigra! She cursed to herself as she made her way to her splattered ally, “Mae’rel, my apologies for not coming sooner. You should leave the one on one fighting to the fighters, yes?” Rosariel tried to offer a smile, but her concern couldn’t help but seep through, “Can I help you? I know you are a talented healer, I can offer my assistance as well if you need it.”

((OOC: If yes, Rosariel will cast a cure light wounds, if Mae’rel’s got it she’ll hold off))

In a battle trance Arathea pushed on with ease, striking at the beast in front of them with precision and extreme focus. Finally with one final strike the monster fell to the ground, and the wordless song ceased. Arathea felt herself returning to normal slowly and perceiving the world outside of battle. The once seemingly terrifying monster was brought down in what seemed like mere moments; Arathea checked for any real injuries and counted herself lucky, she had only been scratched.

"Bladesinger are you well?" Oh she's growing fond of saying that... I suppose it's fully appropriate in the context at least, Arathea thought as she she heard Rosariel speak. "I mean were you injured?"

Arathea gave a gentle smile to Rosariel before responding, "Yes darling I feel wonderful, I was only scratched." She prepared to say more after Rosariel's reply but instead she watched the huntress lose focus and put her attention elsewhere, specifically at Ruadhri. Arathea shook her head before calling out with Rosariel at the bull, "The monster is dead! There's no need for that dear-" She paused, there was clearly no breaking him out of his spur it seemed.

Arathea turned her attention elsewhere, noticing the bickering of the Seleniniel and Dak, which prompted a sigh. She saw more than bickering however, she analyzed the party strategically, noting visible strengths and weaknesses, pondering how best to use them. "The spell was magnificent Seleniniel, it made all of our lives much more pleasant I believe." 

The taur'ohtar broke more discussion from happening, showing his expertise on these beasts. It is most useful having him with us. She pondered for a moment longer before speaking up, "Very well, let us see if there are any more threats in the area. I would advise to us all that we stay extremely prepared for another battle, but I would assume we all know that."

She turned her attention to Ruadhri yet again, hoping the bull had calmed himself down. "You were rather impressive darling, I knew you would be capable but you are far more than just that, I believe that you may be one of the most fierce warriors I've met, though you lack... elegance." She reached up to pat Ruadhri's shoulder, feeling the fur through her glove. The man truly was impressive, a total sight to behold upon in battle, even if his way of combat was the polar opposite of Arathea's own.

Hmm. Mad wizard… I wonder if old Tamlaiion is still pottering around. Hells… he’s about five days’ ride from Ela-Ishtel… surely not… this… though. Her eyes dart down to the monstrosity, narrowing a bit, considering it’s now obvious unnaturally-wrought anatomy for the first time. She looks around the group, eyeing the treeline with renewed interest as the ranger imparts his woodsy counsel, soon echoed by the other woodsy one. Pah. As if she needs coaxing… 

As the cid beckons, she shrugs, again, begins to follow.

“You’ll forgive me, master Cid, if I follow your intrepid scouting from a distance.” “Perhaps, as you say, you might remain strategically positioned in the vanguard, to better my aim in this dimming light” Her mind is only half focused on the words, the other on a less-used inner pocket, finding it. Her right hand emerges as thumb and midfinger slide together, crushing the firefly, smeared bioluminesce illuminating for an instant, then fades. Her eyes follow the cid’s bobbing topknot. “Aure” 

A luminous glow springs from the cid’s head, he jumps a bit as it dispels the long shadow from the red-goldening sun, replacing it with a new array cast by the sterile monochromatic globe. 

"I won't miss." Seleniniel smirks. "Trust me." Petty satisfaction, perhaps, but satisfaction.

When she had first charged forward and began calling out to the Blue Lady to conceal her from those that would seek to do her harm, Mae'rel expected that she would complete the casting before the Owlbear had made that ground against her, or that the warriors could distract it. She was wrong. Just before the Syl's patron could reach her, she felt another hand wrap around her, though this one was very physical, and very violent, if you could even call it a hand. A vicious claw, well, more than just one, would be a far better way to describe it, and it tore into her with no remorse. Searing pain filled her body, particularly her right arm where the beast had torn into her, but she maintained her focus as she watched into the mirror, and in a moment, she watched herself disappear from the silver frame, and the spell had been completed.

"Hells, that hurt.." The monk muttered to herself as she quickly made her distance, the party coming to her aid as they engaged the wicked beast. "Watch the claws! I've personally confirmed, they are QUITE painful!" She shouted now as she pressed her other hand to her right arm, pulling it back and observing the blood. Stinging pain confirmed the wound wasn't shallow, not to mention her robes that were quickly becoming more similar to that of a worshipper of Shinara in color.  She found it in herself to calm her mind, even despite the fiery pain that seared through her body, and she focused instead on alleviating it. Once again, Mae'rel called out to her Goddess as she closed her eyes, blocking out the sounds of the beast's awful screeches, and she instead focused on her heartbeat as she placed her hand once more upon her arm. She felt her heartbeat return to normal, and the wounds beneath her hands seal, the blood drying with haste on her arm, but there was further wounding still, in fact, relatively significant wounding, still.

She opened her eyes and kept an eye about as she moved slightly closer to the combat once more, watching for the beast wounding anyone. The monk saw the beast attempt to strike their Bladesinger, but she was practically a weapon wielded by the wind itself, and even though the creature was fierce, fast, she was both, and she was more, nearly dodging it's attacks completely. Ruadhri was quite fierce, seeming to think of nothing but battle as he tore into the creature, his rage and fury unending. Before Mae'rel had to move to assist anyone further though, the beast fell still with one final strike from the Bladesong, and so she allowed herself a moment to relax, taking a seat as she inhaled deeply. The bull made sure the creature was dead, no doubt, continuing his assault even after it's death, and so Mae'rel had no concern it would get back up. Her eyes closed for a moment when she heard the voice of Rosariel, prompting her awareness once more.

“Mae’rel, my apologies for not coming sooner. You should leave the one on one fighting to the fighters, yes?” Rosariel tried to offer a smile, but her concern couldn’t help but seep through, “Can I help you? I know you are a talented healer, I can offer my assistance as well if you need it.”

"My apologies, Madam Rosariel. I meant not to engage the Owlbear, only to provide aid to our blades. Diola lle, for your offer of aid, though the Blue Lady shall seal my wounds. I don't believe anyone else was struck, but is Madam Arathea alright?" Mae'rel listened to the concern in her fellow Priestess's voice, which was mildly visible on her face. "And, while we are on the manner, you are unaffected by the beast's claws, though I still shall ask, are you alright? I gather you've faced far more fearsome opponents in worse circumstances, but I still must inquire."

(OOC: Assuming positive response BUT I will edit as needed. Also, she's casting Cure Light Wounds on herself here)

The priestess nodded as she took a moment to focus on her own wounds, sealing them once more, she felt the pain leave her body yet again. She came to her feat again, allowing a small bow to Rosariel. "May you remain well, then. A battle like this is not of my expertise, and I will admit, I find myself slightly shaken. Shall we rejoin the others?"

The Owlbear hit the ground with a deafening crash, but even though it fell the sound of crunching bones could still be heard, Ruadhrí was hacking and slashing at the now well butchered Owlbear corpse, he hacked and slashed over and over again until the Owlbear became a well-used skin suit.

You could almost feel physical heat around the Bofear as he hacked at the still corpse, he raised his great ax for the dozeneth time when - SPLOOSH - he stood still a moment before gripping the ax again and beginning to stalk towards the Vilathera cleric.

“I’m sorry! Are you with us now Ruadhrí?” these words were muffled to near-silence, like wearing a pillow on your head and ear plugs, he continued to walk towards the priestess with no sense of the world around him.

What? What happened? Where are the others? He thought before looking around, fire everywhere, soldiers in the distance butchering Bofir, his party lay dead at his feet and Andriv to his right, being kicked by a soldier, five more stood in front of him, weapons brandished and armor blood-stained, the priestess’s words still echoing through the back parts of his mind, he must protect his tread, he must avenge his party.

Rosariel tried to step back as quickly as he gained on her, her hands up in defense, but never taking her eyes off him. Man and beast alike were difficult to reach in the type of blood rage she saw in this bofear’s eyes, and one should never turn their back to either, “Ruadhrí, easy friend. It’s Rosariel.” He huffed, continuing his pace and gaining on her, his grip tightening around the handle of that massive, bloody ax.

Thostome, I just need him to hear me. She stopped suddenly, the large, bull-like man bearing down on her, but she stood tall and took in a deep breath, “HALT.” She demanded in a voice unnaturally hers, like several in one, deep and commanding. A gust of wind surged from behind her, forward into the bofear and he stopped, not of his will, but she just needed him to listen.

Rosariel held for just a moment, while he stayed locked in place. She could tell from his heavy breathing and the deadly look in his eyes that he did not quite enjoy being held against his will, and she couldn’t blame him. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it however, and so she slowly made her way up to him, her hands up once again, empty, until she was right in front of him. Once there she put her hands on his shoulders--a little bit of a reach, as he was taller than most of the Sylvari there, and she was on the shorter side of their group, save of course for the Cid.

She squeezed his shoulders, trying to get him to notice it was his ally, and that the danger had gone, “Listen to me Ruadhrí. Listen. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s over. Listen to my voice. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

Ruadhrí stopped dead in his tracks when a voice of many yelled “HALT” and he could no longer move any part of himself. He saw a soldier walk forward and sheath their weapon, he fought for something as small as a twitch of finger but it was for naught, hate, rage and grief all ruled him as he fought to try and escape the super-natural binding but he couldn't get a twitch and he felt… fear?

Fear began to color him as the faceless soldier reached up at his face and he nearly shed a tear, he had failed, this was where he would die, by the hands of a faceless grunt on ground of blood and mud, but as what he expected to be a stab in the neck he felt familiar hands touch he shoulders, Rosarial?

He felt the hands of the priestess touch him and the world around him began to crack and warp, Rosarial? Rosarial im here! Where are you? If i could feckin move, he thought to himself before realizing that this was a battle of mind, not of metal, he looked around and tried to heighten all of his senses, he began to go from smelling smoke to smelling green lush forest, he tasted pollen on the tip of his tongue, he felt dirt under and in the crevices of his hooves, and finally he heard the words that broke him free.

“Listen to me Ruadhrí listen. It's okay, it's okay. It's over” with each word more and more of the environment began to shine through the thick black smoke and flames surrounding him, “You’re safe. We’re safe” the first thing to break through was her eyes, followed by the rest of her body and the sun shined through and the vibrant forest of reality shattered the lies of his mind. “Rosarial?”

She visibly relaxed, a relieved smile on her face as the spell came to an end and the bofear seemed to come to. “Yes, big guy,” she patted his shoulders before stepping back again, “Welcome back to us. How are you feeling?”

“Tired” the ox-man said with a drawl to his voice, he may not have feld the Owlbear but he did butcher it. “That wasn't me, I did not have any wish of harming anyone, it is out of my hands what happens after a battle”.

She nodded, “Well I'm glad I was able to get to you. You don't have to tell me where you went, but if there is a way to help keep you here better than splashing water and holding you in place, I'm happy to help.” She folded her arms, “We may be facing another one of these, or something even worse very soon, so the sooner we can figure something out, the better. You are a fierce fighter, Ruadhrí, I'm more than grateful you're on our side.” Her smile widened, “I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Must we chase death?” Ruadhrí said with a twinge of sympathy for the animal, “They breed, breathe and live to hunt, it's not their fault what they do, I say we don't follow death”. Although massive, the Bofír are a remarkably peaceful race, Ruadhrí was no exception to this, he did not wish to insight more death, “I must tell the others what happened”.

He stepped back from Rosarial and let the massive ax head plant itself in the ground before reaching into his belt pouch and producing a small fiber cloth of fine making and kneeled down beside the ax. “That was not me” he began to speak as he cleaned the ax head “it is hunger, pain, suffering, all embodied in pure, unfiltered rage” he said picking a part of intestine off his blade “it doesn't care what you are” he said tossing the organ into the open chest cavity of the Owlbear, “this isn't the first time it's happened, but it's the first time since the sendrian border. The bottom line is stay out of my way until it burns itself out” he said picking feathers off his blade before pulling it from the ground - leaving a massive crack in the ground - “Arathea make sure you clean off all the blood from your blade” he said casually before clipping the ax on his back again, he held an ora of normalcy but under it he held shame, he just hoped it would not happen again.