Race: the new nameless humanoid species
Gender: Female
Age: biological - around 21 in human years; actual(?) - almost half a year (?).
Background: protege of a natural science scholar, unknown origins
Status: Healthy
Perk(s): "Follow the white cat" - you have a moody guiding spirit at your side who can boost your spirit aspect advancement should you get on its better side (+1 spirit arcane charge point after passing hard charisma attribute check (18)), expect its occasional interference.
"No one is an island" - you get 1 + n bonus to all social influence skills and CHA rolls when applied to teammates, where n is the number of steps of the target's affection tier beyond neutral (applies to both positive and negative affection dimensions). Additionally, get +3 to the mentioned bonuses if Amalia is around and can provide quick advice. Passive effect: unearth more insights on followers.
"It's in my blood" - you get a permanent +1 bonus to Intelligence and +1 to arcane skill. Actions that train arcane aspects have a 1/6 chance to double the yields unless the base earning equals or exceeds one full level. You are more prone to magic-related actions and thoughts. You might find it harder to resist the allure of magic in some situations.
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
9
9
4
Constitution
16
16
11
Mobility
10
(+2 cond.)
10 (12 cond.)
5 (7 cond.)
Perception
11
11
6
Coordination
14
14
9
Micromotorics
13
13
8
Intellect
18(+1/3)
18
13
Wisdom
17
17
12
Charisma
20
20
15
Luck
4
4
4
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Dice bonus
Melee combat
1
4
5
Ranged combat
2
2
Arcane skill
7
7
(+1 cnd.day)
14 (15 cnd.day)
Defense
3
4
1 (+2 cnd.w.)
8 (10 cnd.w.)
Objects usage
2
2
Mounted combat
3
3
Willpower
7
1
8
Balance
2
(+2 cnd.w.)
2 (4 cnd.w.)
Sneaking
3
3
Reconnaissance
5
1
6
Persuasion
10
2
12
Intimidation
6
6
Haggle
7
7
Performance
8
8
Seduction
8
8
Geography lore
7
2
9
Nature lore
7
1
8
Arcane lore
7
5
12
Social and cultural lore
9
2
11
Craft lore
7
2
9
Lingual lore
9
9
Daily craft
6
2
8
Pharma and treatment
7
3
10
Weaponsmithing
4
4
Armorsmithing
6
6
Tailoring
7
2
9
Art
7
7
Artificery
6
1
7
Burglary
5
5
Huntsmanship
4
4
Alchemy
7
7
Sorcery
7
7
Flight and wing-related traits
Wings skill level
13
Flight mastery level
advanced
Normal speed
above average, can forcefully accelerate to considerably fast
Maximum range
considerably far, anywhere up to twenty-eight kilometers.
Maximum height
considerably high (up to 250 meters)
Maximum extra lifting weight
low (10 kg)
Balance
above average, withstands weather and can try to regain without landing
dodge extra propulsion, posing, enhanced balance, enhanced surface acceleration, shielding with wings
#1) Thaumaturgy level 7 (6/7 to level 8):
You can sense the activity of the entropic aspects within ~1000 meters radius, and unusual concentration/malfunction of other aspects within ~200 meters radius.
You have gained the permanent +1 bonus to constitution
You have gained the permanent +1 bonus to wisdom
You regain mental strengths a little bit faster during the daytime.
Using thaumaturgy during the daytime requires less mental and physical effort.,
You can allegedly see prophetic dreams
You can temporarily nullify magic in ~30 meters radius or in a 45 meters-long 30' cone a few times a day, or emit an anti-magic field up to ~15 meters radius a few times a day.
you can temporarily amplify the aspects power around you once a day
you can temporarily amplify or suppress the aspects power of a target up to two times a day
You can try to scan surrounding areas for traces of planar breaching with very high odds to succeed and sense the short residue of extraplanar entities.
You can conjure light on the basic level (sparks, flashes, rays)
You can shape light on the basic level (flash explosions, molding into orbs, luminal barriers, luminal domes, wedges of solidified light, sparks strike)
You passively gain +1 to arcane skill when exposed to the sun but also get -1 to arcane skill at night AND in dark places.
#2) Spirit level 7:
You are able of an advanced Nether-realm vision
You can assess the memory traces of objects and entities via nether-realm vision and tactile contact
You can sense soul sparks in ~75 meters radius
You can sense the sparks of the living, undead, minor spiritual beings, bound spirits, phantasms, genius loci, and some other spirits
You can sense concentrations of the Limbus energies, the thickness of the barrier, and traces of spirits from the material plane
You have gained the permanent +1 bonus to perception
You have gained the permanent +1 bonus to wisdom
You can scan the target's soul characteristics and receive advanced-depth results
You can try to smite a spirit
You can try to disperse a spirit
You can try to temporarily bind or scare off a singular lesser spiritual being
You can communicate with discovered spiritual beings
#3) ~Open affinity slot~
Your journal, a comfortable set of clothes, a plain dress, a custom-made set of lightened composite armor, an arming sword ("Holly"), a high-quality rondel ("Mercy"), a decorative blue ribbon, a silver necktie with a bounded spirit, superb leather harness.
Capable of crudely repairing clothes, making basic tailoring items like belts and patches, and producing low-effort/cost items like stuffed toys. Capable of applying first aid to prevent bleeding. Knows how to make and disinfect bandageware.
Ulren Kyres (aka Ren, aka Mountain boy)
Race: Bhiroth
Gender: Male
Age: 68
Background: mercenary, former soldier, outcast
Status: Healthy
Perk(s): "Not on my watch, not again" - shields Lucy from considerable harm in combat situations at own expense.
"I promise you that" - when in the same group as Lucifina, will make the second set of saving rolls to avoid critical health conditions.
"Odd kind of friendship" - when Ulren and Sephorah are fighting crowd-controllable enemies (not giants, flying creatures, etc.) in the same team, the one who makes the lowest total offensive or defensive score out of two can reroll that offensive or defensive roll set (only the highest score counts).
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
21
+1
22
17
Constitution
21
+1
22
17
Mobility
14
-1
13
8
Perception
12
12
7
Coordination
15
15
10
Micromotorics
13
13
8
Intellect
14
14
9
Wisdom
18
18
13
Charisma
9
9
4
Luck
2
2
2
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Total value / Dice bonus
Melee combat
9
9
18
Ranged combat
5
5
10
Arcane skill
6
6
Defense
10
10
20
Objects usage
6
3
9
Mounted combat
8
8
Willpower
6
-3
3
Balance
7
7
Sneaking
4
-5
-1
Reconnaissance
5
4
9
Persuasion
4
4
Intimidation
9
9
Haggle
3
3
Performance
3
3
Seduction
5
5
Geography lore
6
5
11
Nature lore
6
3
9
Arcane lore
6
6
Social and cultural lore
5
5
Craft lore
6
6
12
Lingual lore
5
5
Daily craft
6
4
10
Pharma and treatment
5
2
7
Weaponsmithing
6
6
12
Armorsmithing
6
6
12
Tailoring
3
3
Art
4
4
Artificery
5
7
12
Burglary
4
4
Huntsmanship
5
2
7
Alchemy
6
6
Sorcery
6
6
Unknown, but he demonstrated feats of great balance, stability, and hardiness. Perhaps, he might have an undiscovered arcane aspect bound.
A very worn half-plate armor set, worn set of clothes, a glaive, mechanical mace with spare heads, heater shield, hand crossbow, one quiver of bolts, enchanted amulet (+1 STR +1 CON - MOB)
Semi-proficient in the daily craft. Adept in smithing (martial-level weapons and armor). Proficient in artificiery (lesser contraptions). Expert in picking/maintaining war gear, and capable of minor mechanical upgrades of such. Knows the basics of hunting and skinning.
Sephorah of house Terphor (aka Seph, aka Sephie, aka Princess)
"Odd kind of friendship" - when Ulren and Sephorah are fighting crowd-controllable enemies (not giants, flying creatures, etc.) in the same team, the one who makes the lowest total offensive or defensive score out of two can reroll that offensive or defensive roll set (only the highest score counts).
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
15
15
10
Constitution
15
15
10
Mobility
16
16
11
Perception
14
14
9
Coordination
18
18
13
Micromotorics
12
12
7
Intellect
14
14
9
Wisdom
12
12
7
Charisma
18
18
13
Luck
2
2
2
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Total value / Dice bonus
Melee combat
7
6
1
14
Ranged combat
4
4
Arcane skill
4
4
Defense
6
5
2
13
Objects usage
4
5
9
Mounted combat
7
7
Willpower
4
4
Balance
8
8
16
Sneaking
7
8
15
Reconnaissance
4
4
8
Persuasion
6
5
11
Intimidation
7
7
Haggle
6
2
8
Performance
6
7
13
Seduction
8
7
15
Geography lore
4
4
Nature lore
4
4
Arcane lore
4
4
Social and cultural lore
5
6
11
Craft lore
3
3
Lingual lore
5
5
Daily craft
3
2
5
Pharma and treatment
4
4
Weaponsmithing
4
4
Armorsmithing
4
4
Tailoring
5
5
Art
5
5
Artificery
3
3
Burglary
4
6
10
Huntsmanship
6
6
Alchemy
4
4
Sorcery
4
4
Unknown if any. No signs of her having seeds of arcane aspects bound so far.
A set of clothes and undergarments, a superb set of compositive medium armor (manticore materials), a superb leather harness for bags and tools, a qualitative longsword "Ember", a parrying dagger, a quiver of tossing knives, a kit with burglar's tools.
You suspect she's incapable of legal manual labor aside from the bare basics of daily routines.
Karl Norskov (aka Mage, aka 'that' mage)
Race: Human (unknown heritage)
Gender: Male
Age: appears to be in the late thirties to early forties
Background: elementalist mage, major arcane enthusiast, disowned son of a noble family.
Status: Healthy
Perk(s):
"Old habits die hard" - when making an offensive arcane skill roll in combat and getting less or equal to four, reroll it (only the highest score counts). This perk also applies to combat rounds where Karl makes an arcane skill roll only for the defensive score.
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
11
11
6
Constitution
11
11
6
Mobility
11
11
6
Perception
13
13
8
Coordination
10
10
5
Micromotorics
16
16
11
Intellect
20
20
15
Wisdom
16
16
11
Charisma
14
14
9
Luck
2
2
2
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Total value / Dice bonus
Melee combat
1
1
Ranged combat
4
4
Arcane skill
8
9
17
Defense
1
2
3
Objects usage
5
5
10
Mounted combat
2
2
Willpower
7
6
-2
11
Balance
1
1
Sneaking
2
2
Reconnaissance
6
6
Persuation
7
7
Intimidation
2
2
Haggle
5
1
6
Performance
6
6
Seduction
3
3
Geography lore
7
7
Nature lore
7
7
Arcane lore
7
9
16
Social and cultural lore
8
5
13
Craft lore
8
8
Lingual lore
8
7
15
Daily craft
8
8
Pharma and treatment
9
9
Weaponsmithing
7
7
Armorsmithing
7
7
Tailorng
8
8
Art
6
6
Artificery
8
8
Burglary
7
7
Huntsmanship
3
3
Alchemy
9
9
Sorcery
8
3
11
#1) Conflagration and radiation level 7:
You have gained the permanent +1 bonus to strength.
You have gained the permanent +1 bonus to intellect.
Your casting in dry weather or nearby fire sources amplifies pyromancy.
You can regain mental strengths faster near the heat sources.
You can sense and read the heat sources in a vast area.
You can channel the arcane powers to temporarily amplify own physical strength.
Your spellcasting uses both mental and physical strengths or the varying proportions of such.
You can temporarily infuse objects (including tools and weapons) with pyromancy powers.
You can conjure heat on the intermediate level (sufficient to melt iron)
You can suppress and channel heat on the intermediate level (rays, waves, charges, orbs, tactile)
You passively gain +1 to arcane skill for every 3 points of STR above 10. This trait also applies -1 penalty to arcane skill for every 2 points of STR below 10. Does not apply in the case of arcane self-empowerment.
A worn set of travel clothes, a backpack, a grimoire (or a diary), an old pocket chornometer with a chain, an intricate smoking pipe
None you know about
Amalia Brant (aka Lia)
Race: Human (Eastlander)
Gender: Female
Age: Young adult
Background: Former maidservant
Status: Healthy
Perk(s): "Shipper on deck" - +3 To all social skill rolls against the companions with positive affection levels (neutrality affection level excluded). If previously gossiped with about other characters that she knows, can provide a one-time boost of +3 to all types of social interaction skill rolls to the requester.
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
12
12
7
Constitution
15
15
10
Mobility
11
11
6
Perception
16
16
11
Coordination
12
12
7
Micromotorics
18
18
13
Intellect
12
12
7
Wisdom
20
20
15
Charisma
11
11
6
Luck
2
2
2
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Total value / Dice bonus
Melee combat
2
2
Ranged combat
7
3
10
Arcane skill
5
5
Defense
4
1
5
Objects usage
7
3
10
Mounted combat
4
4
Willpower
8
3
11
Balance
2
2
Sneaking
4
4
Reconnaissance
7
7
Persuasion
5
5
Intimidation
4
4
Haggle
5
4
9
Performance
6
6
Seduction
3
3
Geography lore
8
2
10
Nature lore
8
8
Arcane lore
8
8
Social and cultural lore
6
2
8
Craft lore
8
3
11
Lingual lore
6
6
Daily craft
8
10
18
Pharma and treatment
7
7
Weaponsmithing
6
6
Armorsmithing
6
6
Tailoring
5
9
14
Art
7
3
10
Artificery
8
8
Burglary
7
7
Huntsmanship
7
7
Alchemy
7
7
Sorcery
6
6
Uknown if any
Leather camisole of fair quality, compositive crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a bag of small tools, a rucksack, a set of road clothes, a plain cloak, a knife, a belt water bag.
Master of daily craft and inventory management. Fairly good cook (specializes in fried snacks) and knows how to correctly ration different foods. Good tailor, capable of qualitative repair of clothes and production of professional effort/materials goods like suits and dresses. Her designs lean towards practicality rather than fanciness.
Isaac
Race: Human (unknown heritage)
Gender: Male
Age: Young adult
Background: Healer apprentice
Status: Healthy
Perk(s): "We are of one blood" - Any non-hostile actions towards animals or beast folk have +4 bonus to attributes or skill rolls. Can use WIS instead of CHA for interactions with animals and beast folk (aka empathetic approach).
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
13
13
8
Constitution
15
15
10
Mobility
12
12
7
Perception
14
14
9
Coordination
10
10
5
Micromotorics
17
17
12
Intellect
15
15
10
Wisdom
14
14
9
Charisma
7
7
2
Luck
2
2
2
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Total value / Dice bonus
Melee combat
2
-5
-3
Ranged combat
5
-5
0
Arcane skill
6
6
12
Defense
4
1
5
Objects usage
6
-5
1
Mounted combat
3
-7
-4
Willpower
5
7
12
Balance
2
2
Sneaking
2
2
Reconnaissance
5
5
Persuasion
1
1
Intimidation
3
3
Haggle
1
1
Performance
2
2
Seduction
1
1
Geography lore
5
5
Nature lore
5
2
7
Arcane lore
5
5
10
Social and cultural lore
3
3
Craft lore
6
6
Lingual lore
3
3
Daily craft
6
3
9
Pharma and treatment
6
7
13
Weaponsmithing
6
6
Armorsmithing
7
7
Tailoring
5
5
Art
4
4
Artificery
7
7
Burglary
7
7
Huntsmanship
3
3
Alchemy
6
6
Sorcery
5
5
#1) Body level 5:
You can sense breathing and blood pulse of living entities in ~100 meters radius.
You gain the permanent +1 bonus to constitution.
You gain the permanent +1 bonus to charisma
You can scan the detailed physiological state of a target in many details including sicknesses, inflammations, as well as the state of physical integrity.
You can make an attempt for a minuscule boost of the physical performance of oneself or a target at the cost of own mental strengths.
You can accelerate the metabolism (and so, often times, the recovery from ailments or traumas) of living creatures at the cost of own mental and physical strengths.
You can try to numb the minor pain of a target living creature at the cost of both mental and physical strengths or share it with yourself with the low transference loss ratio
A robe with a hood, a bag with bandages and medications, an old iron amulet, a belt with tincures
Good at applying and synthesizing remedies. Capable of providing first and complex medical aid. Has some skills in inventory management.
Jorgen Ostgard (aka Jory, aka Craven)
Race: Human (Lyflander?)
Gender: Male
Age: Young adult
Background: Alchemist assistant
Status: Healthy
Attributes
Base value
Modified value
Total value
Dice bonus
Strength
11
11
6
Constitution
11
11
6
Mobility
12
12
7
Perception
18
18
13
Coordination
12
12
7
Micromotorics
15
15
10
Intellect
16
16
11
Wisdom
13
13
8
Charisma
9
9
4
Luck
2
2
2
Misfortune
2
2
2
Skill
Attribute value
Learned value
Modified value
Total value / Dice bonus
Melee combat
2
2
Ranged combat
6
1
7
Arcane skill
5
5
Defense
2
2
Objects usage
6
4
10
Mounted combat
3
3
Willpower
6
6
Balance
2
2
Sneaking
5
4
9
Reconnaissance
7
5
12
Persuation
2
2
Intimidation
1
1
Haggle
3
3
Performance
2
2
Seduction
1
1
Geography lore
6
6
Nature lore
6
4
10
Arcane lore
6
3
9
Social and cultural lore
4
4
Craft lore
5
6
11
Lingual lore
4
4
Daily craft
5
3
8
Pharma and treatment
6
6
Weaponsmithing
5
5
Armorsmithing
5
5
Tailoring
5
5
Art
3
3
Artificery
6
6
Burglary
7
7
Huntsmanship
6
6
Alchemy
6
6
12
Sorcery
6
6
Unknown if any
A robe with a hood, a traveling cane, a bag with small instruments, a belt with glasses, a rucksack
Good at synthesizing remedies or other compounds from both organic and inorganic ingredients. Fairly good at understanding how chemistry works and has an eye for experimentation. Capable of locating and recognizing substances. Has basic skills in inventory management and knows a thing or two about craftworks.
General condition:High morale, everyone's healthy, two weeks worth of food supplies, sufficiently-budgeted, low on alchemic reagents. Money: 1081 Talers Food: 82 food units (9 full days of sustenance on Bloom 28) Food consumption: 8.5 food units per day
In this chapter, the academic style of thought and word, which Rosaline instilled in her dearest protégé, reaches a new level. Really shows how much Lucifina has changed since we first met her.
Just imagined Rosie squealing in delight, lol. Maybe along with @veekie for directing her into a Lady from the capital L since the beginning.
I probably wrote it before, but anyway: I constantly see the characters through the prism of how they would pan out in the longer term, and Lucy is heading in the direction of Rosaline 2.0 with extra charm/allure, the paranormal guide function, and more girlishness than tomboyishness. Quite a wonderful person to know, really.
Sorry for the late reply but YESSSS!!!!!! I am ascended!!!
I am really happy with the last update;
Jory finally finding his balls and getting filled with team......Acceptance? Grudging respect? for every wolf and nokhtolg bite
Lucy unintentionally showing the uncannyness of high charisma+spirit knowledge on Inga
Ulren and Septh interrogation and growing bond
Karl being a somewhat helpful dick
Lucy calming Issac with the winger cover... Cute
Our Baby Girl getting to fly and dealing with more of the contienent's further fucked creatures(Will we ever get a chance to figure out what's teh cause of the Gaian Plague?)
Although I missed the vote; It feels so good that we finally have the right time to bury the hatchet with Jory.
Now all we have to do is get the scoop with Inga and her deteriorating hunter family
The moonlight seeps through the cracks in the window shutters, and the gentle spring breeze rustles the nature outside the hull of the barn shelter, playing its part in the nocturnal symphony. You can't sleep: partially because of the distractions and partly because your liver feels like turning into Lyfland's cheese with all its holes. That experimental healing potion you made from the mutated manticore's ichor began to take its core effect after the initial boost kicker, making your mouth feel as dry as sand in an hourglass. But at least it utterly curbed pain, replacing it with absolute numbness everywhere the local fauna's fangs and claws dipped into you.
With all of these sensations on top of the light chill in your limbs, you were in no condition for a sound sleep. As you lie in this sorry state, you listen to the surroundings, registering no signs of motion whatsoever; Isaac's measured breaths emerge from your left, where your healer pal is curled in the sleeping bag, probably seeing nightmares after today's event. Somewhere from behind the hanging linen curtain, you hear the quiet snores of the winged girl who utterly flabbergasted you by her appearance when you had thought all hope was lost. You don't feel like pondering about it much because when you try to, the guilt begins to haunt you like that mythical barghest.
Pressured by both physical and emotional discomfort, you feel the need to wet your throat at least, but with almost everyone too focused on patching you up for most of the late evening, the idea of filling a decanter for the night slipped everyone's minds entirely. You spend a couple more minutes hunting for any audial cues of activity, but there seem to be none. So, finally, you decide to stand up and limp to the water barrel outside. If Highfather shows mercy on your bitten arse, you may not even fall and open the freshly-closed wounds.
You lift your torso with little effort, and so far so good; your battered body obeys your command. A faint hope emerges that, perhaps, you weren't that badly harmed after all. But when you attempt to stand up, the barely responsive thighs and legs shatter your fragile hopes. Reluctant to cede defeat just yet, you roll to your belly and crawl to the nearest wall like a toddler who has noticed something inedible that it absolutely must stuff into its mouth. There, you help yourself upright by grappling to the wooden crates until you can lean onto the wall.
After taking a few moments to verify your half-stiff legs could support you and to quietly cheer for this little victory, you begin the slow voyage to the barn's entrance, proceeding with the four speeds of a snail at best and at all costs avoiding touching the bhiroth's oversized glave on your way, which he stubbornly calls a "sword staff"; the last thing you need is to overturn it, wake up the whole shelter, and get another earful. But with cautiousness and persistence, you made it to the doors, and even better: you felt the blood circulating in your legs again, along with a bit better control over them, which promoted your mobility capacity from a snail plastered to a wall to the one of a particularly hammered boozer.
Moving out of the shed with the grace of a drunkard thrown out from a house by his angry spouse to sleep with the dogs, you headed right toward the barrel with water, hoping there was some of it left in it. Nearly collapsing to a side, not once but twice, you reach it, leaning and clutching like a sailor would grapple to any floating chunk during a shipwreck. The lid comes off easily: it was mostly the lower part of you that suffered punishment, and the coveted liquid finally brings relief to your throat that felt as dry as Kathor valley's badlands. Quenched, you take a few meditative moments, enjoying the spring night briskness, the symphony of nocturnal insects, and the gentle breeze. For a moment, all that transpired to you during the day feels distant, and you feel a semblance of peace...
... only to twitch sharply, startled from suddenly hearing the familiar low voice saying: "Skipping bedtime, eh?" You instinctively turned your head and witnessed the bhiroth chilling on the bench by the shed's wall, whom you did not even notice during your wobbly march.
"J-just had to dampen the throat, with the bleeding and chugging metabolic potions and all that." You answered, leaning on the "trophy" barrel.
"I see... Got some nasty marks on yourself, did you."
"The wolf and some of those things sure did take a few bites of me. When barely wriggling out, I panicked and climbed the nearest tree instead of trying to run away. I was worried they would go for Isaac, for he's meatier of us two, but it seems Turanian predators prefer their lunch already blood-caked." You try to laugh, but neither you nor the bhiroth is amused. "Never got this hurt before, but Isaac estimated that I had it relatively lightly," you conclude, letting the prolonged silence set in.
"Why did you even do that?" the burly man inquires anew when the silence becomes borderline awkward.
"I wanted to get some material for making some bomb filling. You know - the likes of which you used. Thought they might come in handy with how often we run into things that want us dead..."
"... I see." was the bhiroth's pensive response. You get the impression he somehow wasn't satisfied with your answer as he mumbles it.
"Ye, all things considered, it seems like I've got lucky for once, if for a terribly wrong reason..." You try to keep the conversation alive, but the bruiser already stands up and angles to leave. "Err... And thanks. Thanks for coming for us, I mean."
Your last phrase makes the pugilist stop in his tracks with his back facing you. Then, you observe him shake his head at no one and exhale tiredly before turning back to you. You did not have enough time to react as he stomps closer, lifts you by your armpits like some pet, closes the lid of the barrel, and sits you on it in the same manner as a baker would put a cake in a shopfront. All you can do is squeak awkwardly while he squats right against you, somewhat equalizing your eye levels, and stares directly through you.
"When I was a bit younger - relative to you right now - all I wanted was to peacefully hammer years away in a smithy or tinker with machinery. Life had other plans in store for me, though: the first time when I was transferred from artisan tuition to soldiering during the mobilization with the outbreak of the First Star's war, and the second time after I disobeyed the orders and refused to throw away the lives of what remained from my unit during the Strasford crisis over ten years ago. I was banished by my people: torn away from the branches of my kind and thrown out into the outside world without much knowledge of how it works, with barely no connections, but with the doubt of being cut fit to even be a good member of my kin in the first place. Does this sound familiar to you?"
Even though your interlocutor's voice sounded calm, you could not help but feel the intensity of the conversation, barely giving an unsure nod after comparing the disposition he mentioned to yours.
"With no other options, I had to dive into this sea of unknowingness, eventually finding a good place under the sun, meeting people who accepted me for who I am, making a lot of dumb mistakes later, encountering those who made me acknowledge those mistakes, steering the course to how things should've been, and then winding up forgiven and reaccepted by those who stretched me a hand in my exile in the first place. This is also why I did not go hard on you: doing so to someone in the same situation I once was in would've been a waste of life experience and ungratefulness for the chances I was given by others; the others, ensuring the safety and happiness of whom is now the central purpose which wakes me up each day. You do realize why I'm telling you this, right?"
Without the slightest change in the tone, this exchange feels more intense, so you give him a nod, even weaker than the previous one. You... don't like the thought he is hammering at.
"As a man to a man, tell me of your purpose, as I feel like you don't quite realize it yet, and hence are doomed to repeat my mistakes, likely harming others in one way or another."
When the last word slips the lips of your hulking interlocutor, his question bites you deeply - way more painful than the fangs of the predators that tasted your blood and flesh within the last half a day. You feel exposed, helpless, and vulnerable. You try to seek at least some answer, but ultimately, your attempts fail, with your defeated look substituting the expected mention of any coherent plan you should have for your life.
The painful silence does not stretch for long, though: bhiroth exhales softly and says: "I see, then... We'll have to do it the long way, then."
His words mend your sorry insecure state just a little; what does he mean by that? Flashes in your mind.
"Why did you decide to go for those ingredients?" he asks, "not in the sense of what for, but what drove you to do it, and what did you expect to get in return from achieving your goals?" Although his tone did not change much, he now sounds more like a teacher than a prosecutor.
"I-I..." you think you understood his question, but the way to the cohesive answer seemed obstructed by the tangle of your past experiences and undealt with frustrations stemming from them. You struggle for a time to pick the right words, and the man against you seems perfectly fine about having to wait, but something inside of you pushes you to drop the filters and just let it out. "I think I just wanted to... prove myself? To make a point, perhaps," you finally speak out, and the mountain squatting against you shifts its weight slightly.
"Useless oaf, disappointment, Jory the layabout, that weird guy, craven. I've been called all this by my siblings, parents, some maids at Dalgaard's estate, and Erika Holt. Not only is it possible to start believing in how others characterize you justifiably or not, but the lack of opportunities to prove it otherwise is even worse as I never was entrusted with anything significant."
Some alien instinct forces you to stare the bhiroth in the eyes as you excavate and share your uncomfortable experiences. "And to make matters worse, after we barely fled that cursed valley with our lives, this fear settled in - the fear of never managing to carve my place in this world properly before getting snuffed out by something. The fear of ending up vain."
"Girls from Rosie's manor? And your family?"
"Well, the maids didn't really degrade me much: after some point, some of them just began to treat me as an odd oversized housepet for some reason; not that bad, but not exactly a pleasant state of things. But as for my family..." you take a moment to decide how to proceed, "I'll just say that ever since I was seven, the pile of unmet expectations my father had for me rose gradually. So much so that when my sisters, whom I genuinely believed to be my close friends, slandered me so hard I would not have been able to even remain in Lyf without my family addressing the "issue" quickly and effectively, he did not question the truthfulness of situation he was presented with in the slightest."
It is painful to relay even so little trivia regarding the causes which led you here - sitting on a barrel in the middle of nowhere with your meat chewed by wildlife. Still, you make an effort and continue: "But, it doesn't matter now: I had been disowned, and that's it. For all intents and purposes, I have neither a family nor a desire to dwell on it."
"Some of your landers' families are puzzlingly weird if you'd ask me. Still, you've at least got Isaac and Amalia as the close circle."
"Well, yes: Isaac is sure a friend, as the last events confirm. I still feel bad for letting him get into trouble because of his willingness to help. Sometimes, I'm not even sure we would've become friends if we weren't the only two lads of the same age in the manor to hang around. But there he is - ready to assist anyway and at his own expense per usual. And as for Amalia..."
You shift a little over digging for the right words and registering yourself sharing your deep thoughts with someone you never imagined would lend an ear, much less seriously considering them. It feels somewhat unreal but simultaneously cathartic, so you continue. "Amalia is sure a friendly presence, but I can't shake that feeling that she's something else entirely. I mean, have you noticed the way she sees and speaks of the world? And how she appears to understand others way better than they might know themselves? She has always been among the more mature maids and probably the most clever of them all, not in the sense of being capable of making quick alchemic calculations or anything, but rather understanding how the world works in general. Sometimes, I have this odd feeling that she is like one of those household gods the tribal cultures worship, hiding her persona in clear sight, doing her part, and watching how our stories unveil while remaining at the stretched hand's distance."
"Well, she sure wasn't happy about you leaving her in the dark about your story twist, wasn't she? You might want to consider a tribute to allay her now," The giant grinned slightly.
"Yeah," you looked down, hiding the awkward smile, "good thing I was battered enough to dissuade her from slapping me - she has quite a punch for someone of her frame."
"Still, aside from your desire to prove a point to yourself, there was no reason to go into it almost alone: none of us would've lessened the worth of your idea should you enlighten others as there's nothing to us from doing so. Actually, I think your idea is pretty clever: those bombs can be handy in a pickle or when trying to give non-combatants extra means to defend themselves, and the more options like this we possess, the better for us all."
You looked up at the man again, thinking whether or not it would be appropriate to justify doing what you did by being afraid of rejection and humiliation, but decided otherwise; from how it looked like, he knew or at least suspected it already, so the only thing you manage to mutter back is: "Yea, my bad."
A long pause ensues as no one speaks. The experience of confiding in someone with more life experience than you is so novel that it feels like swimming through uncharted waters. Yet, unlike most previous instances of having to take a brush off the unknown, this one feels oddly satisfying, as if you are catching up on something you missed without even realizing it.
"But back to the original topic," the bhiroth says, "one clever person once told me that there are two types of freedoms: the freedom from and the freedom for. The self-doubts absence is not an end goal in itself but a means of reaching one. So, for which ends do you need this proof of yourself?"
Unlike your interlocutor, who elaborated his purpose in a sentence without even batting an eye, reaching out for your answer proves to be more challenging due to the lack of certainty. But with how you already submitted your fears and reason, relaying the fragmented mess you had for aspirations did not sound all that misplaced.
"I... don't actually know," you say with a delay, "Don't know in a sense there's nothing I set in stone for myself to chase after, even though I did daydream about many futures, none of which is quite frankly realistic."
"How so?" rings back, but you can't shake off the impression he's being patient with you, not without an effort. Still, you continue.
"After I got disowned, I had also been expelled from the academy during my studies. If it wasn't for Holt's negligence with background checking and willingness to go for the lowest offers, I might not have had a roof over myself for a few years. Still, with infamy like that, obtaining any degree or a stable position in Lyf and, arguably, Rabenia was out of the question. So, at times, I dreamt of having an atelier or an official position somewhere else."
"Like where?"
"Oh, many places, really. At times at Lothar, or when I happened to overhear something exotic, then Eiborea or even Soltsveig."
The mountain before you pauses to ponder, unfocusing his eyes from you before replying: "Those are either Alvizian domains or with high shares of them in the total inhabitants count..."
Feeling prickled by the bhiroth's unexpected perceptiveness, you abruptly shut your mouth and look down at the moonlight reflecting from the grass. A mild blush starts to creep your cheeks, but you revealed a lot already, so what's worse that could happen?
"Well, yes," you mutter, "I-I think their girls are... p-particularly charming." You barely squeeze this confession out of yourself and immediately expect to be laughed at.
"Ah, southern damsels," the man's voice breaks the tormenting silence, "oftentimes quite a handful, but at the same time seldom boring. Or so they appear to be." You notice he might be trying to withhold a faint smile as he says this.
You giggle in equal parts of astonishment, nervousness, and ironic amusement; the last thing you'd expect is to have banter involving girls with a burly pugilist twice your size and, likely, a kill count twice higher than your age or more. But here you are. "I know, right? They just have this... humor and grace about them. And a warmer disposition."
"Anyway, there's a trick about those dreams of yours, right?" The hoarse-ish voice cuts your weird joy of having a legit boy talk for once short.
"As you correctly said: those are just unsubstantiated dreams of having the life I could not attain. No connections, no means, no..."
"So, you've done what you did last afternoon to attest if you at least have the grit for it, right?" His question (which sounded more like a statement) abruptly cut down your self-deprecating spree. Although, you could not muster the strength to speak up as your mind knows it might not be the case while your heart begs to differ. Conflicted, you look to the side, answering nothing, only to feel the touch of a massive palm on your temple, prompting you to turn back.
The giant takes a few more moments to stare through you before he speaks: "Listen, I've been there, thinking almost the same until I realized that life is too short and fragile to hinder oneself with such nautskїt. Veering off and dancing with some measure of success around what you think your life should've been would make you feel more rubbish than trying to go for it and failing. I'm talking from experience here."
You just stare back at the bhiroth in silence; his words resonate with you and stir some unaccustomed feelings, the likes of which you have never experienced before.
"Also, more snippets from experience: compared to blacksmiths, tailors, and other mundane artisans, alchemists and apothecaries are scarce, meaning they are in a way better position to swap places with less initial fortune needed. Damn, when I was moving to Ebongale across the Eastern Kingdoms, I came across at least three towns and villages lacking a single alchemist and willing to provide such lodgings and reagents should they appear on the horizon. I'm sure the potion vendor whom we shook to learn of your whereabouts jumped on the exact same opportunity with little possessions of his own."
"I... Believe it or not, my parents did not see me as an academic, arcanist, or any associated artisan. Instead, alchemy was just among a few subjects that stuck with me during those few years at the Lyf academy." The sensation of irrepressible excitement seemed to grow the longer this conversation lasted. It felt like a warmth spreading through your otherwise battered body.
"Fortunate for you, then: the vast majority of people don't even have a hope to attain the skills which you might have by now, even if very limited. Besides, you mentioned another detail of your situation: there might be a choice to either capitalize on Rosaline's increased goodwill once we return to settle in Lyfland proper, sticking to it as the hotbed of knowledge advancement and that fancy new alchemistry trend or to take advantage of our journey to rub knowledge from the cultures we come across, to build up connections, and also ideas. Don't underestimate this last part: with how difficult and expensive long-range travel is, an artisan knowledgeable of outlandish craft lore will inevitably be worth more due to the simple law of scarcity wherever they decide to operate."
"So... that idea with bombs, is it good? Can we do something to improve the concept? Oh, and I think the ichor from the mutated fauna carries an innate boost for the life-belt-aspected effects, meaning those five blanks we've made can be filled with something pretty handy!" The feeling of creeping warmth within you grew into a blaze of enthusiasm, "Please, can you bring those harvested herbs to the local hermetic so I can begin work? And, maybe, buy some extras for improvisation?"
Even though your tirade seems to evoke positive vibes from the bhiroth in front of you, the notion of the alvizian potion maker made his lopsided grin somewhat awkward. "Oh, about that..." he looks to the side while speaking, "perhaps, I'd have to coax our rogue with the prospect of a new sword she wanted to have her go there accompanied by Amalia and Isaac to do just that and a bit more."
"A... A bit more? Like... uhh. Don't tell me you..."
"The alvizian and his property are mostly fine, unlike his pride. Our daeva might have destroyed it while wrangling out your approximate location." You stare back with googly eyes in disbelief: you thought he was implying her to nab something, not what he said afterward. "It could've been worse, but you probably would not want to know."
You stare at him for a few moments, then shake your head and get back to the topic of what you can offer in the field of chemistry, but just when you begin to talk again, the sensation of a vast paw touching your head's temple reoccurs, interrupting your spree.
"If it was something you doubted, then there you have it - you do have enough heart to pursue that high echelons practice with an alvizian lass you dream of. Whenever you feel like starting to doubt again, remember that you have faced the risk of death on this journey three times already. Act, think, improve, learn, and suggest, grabbing the moment while we'd see what we can do from our sides. But first, we'd have to properly patch up your silly bits so your bleeding does not attract half the forest scum as it did today."
As the man retracts his hand, your spectrum of emotions gains a new one: the sweet sense of peace from someone's belief in you. You weren't accustomed to this before, but you could not deny you needed it. Although you did not expect to get what your own father refused you from a person you never suspected of ever looking at you with any respect.
"Hey, Ulren?... Thank you." You let the words out.
The bhiroth looks back at you for a few heartbeats and then squirms as if swallowing half a bucket of blackberries. "The best gratitude for me will be this talk achieving something in the long run. And ideal - if you, in some distant future, grant someone who needs it with the same courtesy." He pauses before speaking again, "if you need to get it out of you, then I suggest you thank Lucifina for bailing your fanny out there. After all, you did hurt her with your accusations back then, so you might as well use it as an opportunity to apologize. Knowing her, I think she'll try to talk to you sooner rather than later anyway."
His last sentences are like a bucket with water: as soaring with enthusiasm as you were, the reminder of your earlier misdeed put you back on the ground. As scary and confusing as her powers and origins are, she did nothing to warrant you accusing her of all the woes. If only you could go back, you would've stayed shut. But that's adulthood and accountability for you.
"Anyway, I'm going to catch a nap. Would've done the same if I were you." Ulren grumbles while turning around and offhandedly waving his hand backward at you before disappearing into the shed's dark depths.
"Sure," you say, "Just a few more moments..."
Now alone, you look up at the moons: the weather has been a blessing for the last few days, the choir of nightly insects is as melodic as it was yesterday, and your limbs are about as numb as they were half an hour ago, but your heart now beats different. And for once, you see the change welcomed.
It's beautiful, a Rory W and Ulren further solidifying his place as best Onii-chan big bro!!!
Also; Jory being into Alvizians/Elves....... I hope he's into the scholarly archealogist-mech riders because we have a pretty and pretty cool elf noble lady one quest over who has potentially enough royal pedigree to rub it in on Jory's former family members.
I can't wait for the next instalment of Atelier Jory and the Lost Self_Efficacy: Winged Arch-Cutie Edition
The mountain before you pauses to ponder, unfocusing his eyes from you before replying: "Those are either Alvizian domains or with high shares of them in the total inhabitants count..."
Feeling prickled by the bhiroth's unexpected perceptiveness, you abruptly shut your mouth and look down at the moonlight reflecting from the grass. A mild blush starts to creep your cheeks, but you revealed a lot already, so what's worse that could happen?
"Well, yes," you mutter, "I-I think their girls are... p-particularly charming." You barely squeeze this confession out of yourself and immediately expect to be laughed at.
"Ah, southern damsels," the man's voice breaks the tormenting silence, "oftentimes quite a handful, but at the same time seldom boring. Or so they appear to be." You notice he might be trying to withhold a faint smile as he says this.
From the south check. Check
A handful in multiple ways. Check
Seldom Boring??
Oh Ultren, we all know Seph is almost never boring. Hahahhaha. Obligatory Ulren/Seph Agenda posting
Hmm... I'm now curious about folks' opinions on what types of people would be good pairings for the cast.
Just some morbid kind curiosity which I would probably regret later XD
Pairings is not how I tend to think of characters.
Plus I've long fallen off this story wagon-the catching up is intimidating. Sorry Lucy!
But uhh…Pairings?
Aside the obvious duo, none really come to mind that strongly.
Edit: Oh! What KIND of characters? Hrrm…
Lucy: Honestly? I kind of feel like she's nice enough to work a lot of personalities, and while high Charisma does not necessarily mean you're going to be the life of the party all the time, I feel like the real question is what would help her continue to be such a wonderful lady…
But a part of me is most fixated on more Lucy for Lucy!
Sephora: She's going to demand her mate be able to keep up with her lifestyle. Which I think does mean some amount of will to travel and desire for adventure. Beyond that I'm less sure…
Ulren: I see him being happy with…Kind of the image of a classic 1950 American wife- kind of person: Someone who more compliments and assists him.
…The other members of the party are more fuzzy to me: I think as of this edit the furthest I've read was Lucy getting that Ghost Cat familiar…
1. He truly is!!! He's the most responsible adult among so he kinda has to.
2. FREE AGENT, BABY!!!! WOO!!!
As for Character Pairings(Not just my personal musings and hopes for the character interactions);
Lucy: With her general sweet disposition and slight control from the readers, there is practically no other personality I can't imagine her not to jive well with, save for maybe inherently cruel or sadistic ones. Even the latter would have an interesting dynamic with her innocent but assertive personality.
Although I do wish for her to interact with a Highfather Zealot, I want to see how the science-minded and accepting Lucy interact with a potentially xenophobic religious person, especially with how Lucy's race naturally wields thaumaturgy, supposedly the gifts of the HighFather.
Ulren: I think people who best work with him are people who can lower his initial judgements and stoney walls. From either the innocent, the hardworking, or the driven are alll easy ways to get into Ulren's softer side and from how is culture operates. It took a long time for Ulren to warm up to Seph with their bond only solidifying from a combination of protectiveness for Lucy, fighting together, Lucy's insistance, and surprisingly, their shared situation, running away from something.
Amalia: Amalia, Bless her, always seemed the type that can match anyone but truly thrives with those who are naturally curious and adventurous. Although that could just be another Lucy tbh
Karl: We are still getting to know him but as long as they can keep up with his snark and smarm, I think that's all tha matters. An asshole is at their best when they are excahnging wittisms and are shown that they maybe the smartest int he room but the others are not that far behind.
Seph: Similar to Karl in that someone who can either tease or banter with her would be a good start but also at the same time can help ground her from her own shit-stirring tendencies. Someone grounded and open to set ther fears at ease.
Isaac: I'll be honest I'm not quite sure who he would pair well with due to his introverted nature and we;re still getting to know the guy. I guess someone who can get him to be more assertive and outspoken I guess?
Jory: I guess someone who is honest to a fault and has faith in his skills. Jory from what I can tell due to his insecurities would try to compare himself to everyone as a way to beat himself down and is only starting to shake it off. I always figured Jory needed a very direct and patient but trustworthy person that can aasuage his insecurities and can give him a reality check when needed. Essentially a Sam for his Mr. Frodo...... or a Dommy Mommy, witht he empasis on "Mommy"
I want to see how the science-minded and accepting Lucy interact with a potentially xenophobic religious person, especially with how Lucy's race naturally wields thaumaturgy, supposedly the gifts of the HighFather.
Had a chance to happen. Here. She could've been in a weird spot where she would've hated everyone in the group except for non-combatant humies and Lucy. If you thought that Seph-o-Ren bickering was counterproductive, this chick would've instigated the group's cold war, attempting to hijack the de-facto group leadership and rights for Lucy in particular. Funny enough, this would've made Seph and Ren bury the hatchet way faster. However, if she had been recruited, the group would've had one or even two sharp internal crises by now. But there would've been odd faith-related dynamics between Lucy and this damsel nevevrtheless.
Jory: I guess someone who is honest to a fault and has faith in his skills. Jory from what I can tell due to his insecurities would try to compare himself to everyone as a way to beat himself down and is only starting to shake it off.
There was a chance for the group to stumble at a character who would've been extremely predisposed to click with Jorgen. Here. One of them was a red-headed huntress lass. Ridiculously no-bullshit-minded due to living all her life under the constant pressure of needs and limited resources, utterly unskilled in social matters due to barely socializing outside of her late family, and with this scary-wondrous reaction to the wider outside world, which she knows little about. Jorgen could've become her guide to it, and she might've turned his reality checker, prompting this cooperative growth of sorts. Oh, and she also has a rather... hipe-ey lineage involving a lost house of the Pherinian Pentarchy (which she, for obvious reasons, has absolutely zero clue about).
Anyway, burgers - V, soda & snacks - V. Time to get back to writin'
Amalia is sure a friendly presence, but I can't shake that feeling that she's something else entirely. I mean, have you noticed the way she sees and speaks of the world? And how she appears to understand others way better than they might know themselves? She has always been among the more mature maids and probably the most clever of them all, not in the sense of being capable of making quick alchemic calculations or anything, but rather understanding how the world works in general.
While I'm writing the last remaining scene for the next mainline update and devise a mechanic through which Jory will be useful, here's little something I scouted out recently:
The new day welcomed you with the moody, windy, changeable weather and soreness in your back. Yet, while the former provided a refreshing sense of variety, the latter indicated possible unaccounted drawbacks associated with abstinence from flying. Quite reasonably, while dedicating some extra attention to your wings, you recalled the idea that slipped your mind on the return march from the forest: your pearly wings got smeared pretty nasty by all the nokhtolgs' blood and other secretions, splattered around by your strikes and conjurations. It would probably have been more practical to have black or peregrine wings, but you still loved your silky ivory wingies, even at the cost of more taxing maintenance. Fortunately (for you), Amalia loved them as much (especially as impromptu blankets), which exempted you from spending any time or effort persuading her to wash and groom them for you.
Sitting in the yard with a mug of meadow grasses & honey tea in your hands while Amalia did her squire-esque mojo to your "flappies," as she nicknamed your wings, you observed the hustle of your party not unlike a luxuriating princess. With Jory rendered temporarily incapable of any sort of labor, Ren took a share of the extra daily routine onto himself, rolling in new water barrels, going out to check on the draft stallion Softie, then helping Hjorn with kickstarting a busy day at the smithy, and patiently listening the latter's concerns regarding the upcoming shipment of iron and premonitions that it might get delayed or worse. Isaac tried to help around the property as well, but having to keep an eye on Jory rendered his beneficence limited, for which Sephie had to begrudgingly compensate. And Karl? You suspected him of gravitating between the "find something to smoke" and daydreamy modes.
With the drink emptied, wings plastered with an immodest number of towels, and Amalia dismissed to whip out something for lunch, you decided to follow up on the earlier plan to check on Jory. You may not be among the people he would be happy to see, but he's a part of this expedition, and you want to ascertain his (at least relative) wellness anyway. Having your mind set on this task, you slinked from the yard into the innards of the shed shelter and, passing by food-hexing Amalia in the "common" section, approached the boys' side, poking at the hanging curtain barrier and asking: "Can I come in?"
As if in response to the quite literal poke, the space behind the curtain reacted in Jory's half-sleepy and half-confused groan. It wasn't "no," though, so you cautiously parted the cloth barrier and peeked with one eye at the miniature domain of chaos that the boys call their "room." Midway from the mound of Ren's armaments to a few paper sheets resting on a crate, with some (most likely Karl's) herbs drying on top of them, there was Jory's sleeping bag, pedestaled on two adjunct wooden pallets. The eyes of the bag's owner stared at you with a mix of wariness and bemusement. Even though adequately concealed under the blanket, with everything unsightly hidden from your eyes, Jory might've felt embarrassed for you seeing him in such a state.
"Hey, how was the night? Are you holding up well?" You tried to initiate the exchange as smoothly as possible, knowing Jory's... alertness.
"Unironically good," he replied after a moment of pondering, "would've been even better if only I had a tad bit fewer holes in me."
"To each one according to their deeds," Amalia's grumpy voice emerged from the shared section of the shed, accompanied by a series-like clatter of kitchenware.
"You sure made her angry," you remarked, forming your lips in an ironic grin.
"Seems like it. And they said that I could not achieve the impossible..."
"Worry little of it: if she were more bite than bark, then Rosaline might've got a new pair of lizardskin shoes made by Lia long ago."
"Hey, I heard that!" The still-angry voice emerged from behind the even more energetic sounds of a spoon colliding against a pot, "Also, Copper can be cute enough for a pardon. Sometimes." The tone in which she ended her justification suggested she wasn't entirely sure about her claim's validity.
You smiled wearily at him before looking at the edge of the pellet on which his bedroll rested. And once he caught your gesture without voicing any objections, you sat there, shifting your still-damp, towels-plastered wings.
"So... what did Isaac say about how badly you got hurt? Is there anything especially concerning we should know?"
"Not really. I will probably get back on my feet in a few days, and until then, I should be more concerned about not catching the secondary poisoning and bricking my liver. Like, I was as lucky as someone getting a dozen or two fresh bite marks can be, mainly because of timely chugging that mending potion prototype we made from the body-aspected mutagen ichor." As he said it, he looked away from you at the shut window, "Worse, we are now low on medicine, and that compound I gulped could've been distilled onto three to five bases for other concoctions."
"Indeed, yesterday's endeavor was unfortunate in its entirety, and I can't escape feeling some guilt for it. After all, Isaac did inform me about your "home project," with which you might've used a hand but was too shy to ask for it. Perhaps, should I not long-shelf the matter..."
"Nah," Jory interrupted you, "it wasn't you who instigated this whole jig, so you have nothing to blame yourself for. Moreover, in a way, I might've needed it to go the way it did just to see some matters in a bit different light."
To that answer of his, Amalia sighed heavily behind the curtain. You were also about to say something along the lines of harm being impactful if also a strict teacher that turns suboptimal when it goes too far, but from the look in his eyes, Jory might've learned it himself. You caught yourself registering him acting unusual: collected and more open, if a bit ironic; more... mature?
"And, uh, I'm sorry."
"For what?" You perked your wings in surprise at his sudden apology.
"For, err... blaming on you for this whole trip and all that's happened. After that valley, remember?"
"You really shouldn't," were the words that slipped from your lips as you curiously tilted your head, "I kept no grudge against you from that occasion. It was evident you weren't exactly rational back then; none of us entirely were, really."
"I-I'm not exactly sure if you really think so or are just saying it out of politeness, but please bear with me: I just need to get it out of my chest."
You threw one of your legs on the other and crossed your hands on your chest, quietly preparing to listen to what he had to say. You would struggle to characterize such behavior of his as something normal, so you were extra tempted to measure the differences and flirt with the idea of attributing them as an impact from yesterday's event.
"Just like you said - we were all scared. And I was utterly blue with panic in particular. But still, the thought of the imminent gruesome death to some unnatural entities or causes had just whipped me to pour out all the angst I had. I was afraid of your lack of background, distinction from the others, and, most of all, your ability to sense and tamper with souls. There's hardly anything more terrifying than the idea of an invisible, unknown threat. And until quite recently, I still clung to these reservations. But then, you flew along to bail me out, quite possibly not without the help of the magic of yours I was so afraid of. So... I just thought that you, at the very least, deserve to know how I felt and that I would've never said all those things if only I knew better. Uhm... so, that's that."
You listened to him with a brow raised. Who would've known he could be this sincere? Regardless, you slightly raised your hand to gesture to him to take it easy, saying: "Fair, but let bygones remain bygones." A pause ensued as you quietly stared at each other; Amalia, surprisingly, remained silent as well, reminding of her proximity only with busy footsteps and sounds of cooking hustle. Sensing this change in Jory's attitude, you spent a moment locked in an internal struggle around whether or not you believe in him enough to return the gesture, and then...
"If it would give you at least a token of peace, I myself am anxious about the magic that runs in me as I never chose to have these arcane bounds in the first place. And while thaumaturgy doesn't cause many issues, the spirit link makes one capable of seeing disturbing things and getting into situations with morally-debatable solutions while delving deeper into this slice of arcane. It would've been simpler if I had a mentor who threaded this path before and could warn me of its pitfalls. However, that's not the case, leaving me slowly exploring it alone and near blindly, ever fearful of taking the wrong turn and unintentionally causing harm. And the worst part is that I can't even ignore this facet of my nature as it is etched into my perceptions and will defiantly make itself known despite my unwillingness to notice it."
Your barter offering in insecurities made Jory lower his eyes pensively - the giveaway sign of him, if not outright sympathizing with you, then at least trying to comprehend your situation.
"So," you drew back his attention with a small clap of your palms, "What were you going to do with those ingredients the local alchemist offered you for the service?"
"Oh? Oh! I thought of making the filling for bombs." Jory's eyes immediately ignited once you brushed the new topic, "You know: like the one Ulren had on him back when we departed Kirhol. I thought they might be useful in certain situations, especially considering their ease of usage. And then, maybe, craft some potions from the remaining bargain's bounty."
"Some spare potion? Do you know many recipes?" You asked while overriding your mental voice's query if this was the first time you heard Jory calling Ren by name.
"Uhm, not that many, but Rosaline used to task Holst - who then dumped it all at me - to produce significant numbers of remedies and stimulating tonics: from solutions for faster recovery and painkillers to physical performance or fortitude boosters. Some had to be concocted so frequently that their recipes probably bounce off my teeth when I'm asleep."
"Just so you know, it does sound interesting! Can you also come up with new formulas?"
"You think so? Well, yes, I guess. With abundant materials and some direction, I might improve some formulas or even develop new ones. Even more so if we get a hold of unique ingredients like that mutated manticore's ichor. Oh, And speaking of materials: thanks for not leaving my bag out there. I hoped to be able to go to the atelier and hand over our part of the bargain, but now it seems a bit too optimistic of a thought."
"So, I presume you would like us to go there and submit the job in your stead." You continued his thought.
"Yes, but as I said earlier - we negotiated for a bundle of entries. I'll need to write down what's required so we don't wind up with useless substances." He looked at you, "Can I borrow your writing equipment?"
"Sure, just give me a moment!" you chirped and burst out of the boys' quarter, having a couple of towels slip down from your wings as you went. Grabbing ink and the plucked & hollowed feather from yesterday, you refrained from tearing any pages from your diary, as it somehow felt utterly sacrilegious (seriously: it felt like having to tear off an ear of a friend, and why would you even do this to Rosaline's gift?). Instead, you returned to the boys' paddock and, with a mischievous face, flinched one of the sheets on which Karl dried his herbs.
"Don't tell him it was me," you muttered to Jory while handing the objects. However, he did not have a chance to reply as Amalia peeked at what you were doing.
"Mess the bandaging again, and I'll send you to Highfather," she said while menacingly pointing a sizeable wooden spoon at Jory before disappearing behind the curtain once the message came across.
Jory's puppy eyes trained at you. "Worry not: you can just iterate what you need, and I'll write it down," was your reply, shortly followed by the action. Thyme, nightshade, moon salt (whatever it means), and many more - you've been compiling a surprisingly long list of entries supplemented with approximate estimations.
But not even a couple of minutes after you completed the list, the familiar heavy footsteps interrupted the hangout you've been having.
"Oi, Lu? Are you here?" Ren's voice emerged from the shed's entrance.
"Yes!" You perked up and answered with a ringing voice, "Something's of the matter?"
Judging by the sounds of commotion, Ren passed behind Amalia, tried snatching something from her cooking, and got his hand spoon-slapped by the gasping maid before perking his head into the guys' section.
"We need you at the smithy: Hjorn needs to take extra measurements and whatnot to proceed with your armor set's design."
"Sure, but I've been seeing Jory here, and he said that it would've been nice if we got to turn in the herbs to that alchemist and get his part of the deal." You said, raising Karl's ink-slashed paper scraps that evaded the fate of being incinerated as cigarettes, "We've got the reagents' list down, so I thought to go there and retrieve them for Jory."
"I know, but others can do it in your stead, unlike with the measurements and trials. Besides, I managed to bargain with our rogue to go there and, ugh... undo what she did yesterday in return for a new sword she's been wangling for since earlier. This means I also need Isaac and someone else to keep an eye on her, which leaves Amalia."
"Hey! I haven't finished cooking yet!"
"Ack, we've got some eggs and flour left, so pan those meat strips and be done with it, or let someone else do the grilling for you."
"But it's the spring leak season! Why would one sustain on meat, bread, and meat with bread when there are seasonal veggies?!"
A silent scene occurred, with Ren and Amalia playing a short but intense staring game.
"Ah, boys... You really are incorrigible, now, are you? Fine, but don't run to me saying you have stomach cramps."
Without saying a word, Ren turned his face to you and gave a thumb up with a playful look. He was in a silly mood today, which was indeed a rather exotic occurrence. Was this the weather or, perhaps, something else? Yet, after getting your confirming nod, he disappeared behind the curtains just as suddenly as he appeared. And, in semblance to when he approached, the sounds that followed from behind the linen wall suggested he managed to nick something from Amalia's table, getting a spoon projectile hit in return over Lia's grumpy cluck.
Retraining your eyes from the curtain to Jory, you grinned token apologetically, "All things considered, it looks like an improvement to how our group was in the beginning, don't you think?"
"Yea, you're right," Jory muttered as you prepared to stand up and hand Amalia the list before proceeding to the smithy. "Can I ask one more thing, though?"
"Why yes?" you answered while piling up the damp towels from your wings.
"Call me Jorgen if you don't mind - that's my actual given name, while Jory is what the maids at Dalgaard's mansion came up with," he took a tiny pause before following his plea up, "Given how and where I winded up at, that nickname might be less fitting than it used to."
You sensed that there was more to his little request than just tiredness from an outdated alias, but still, you tilted your head sideway and smiled broadly & warmly, saying: "Sure, Jorgen. It's nice to meet you."
Your gesture made his pale cheek fill with pink and caused him to hide his eyes somewhat abashed. Perhaps, you overdid with the cuteness part, yet it still felt like the course and the aftermath of yesterday's events allowed you to start over from a clean slate in his relations book. Perhaps, it even felt refreshing, if a bit overdue.
________________________
But as you handed Amalia Jory's cramped list and promised to finish the group's meal in her absence should the bhiroths liberate you before her return, the day returned to its track of mundanity, with you presenting yourself to the smithy. There, surrounded by various implements, the names of which you could not possibly know, the duet of bhiroths was infusing the smithy with bustling life through the shimmer of the searing metal and intricate orchestra of tools clatter. Ren was actively switching between working on a weapon - presumably, the sword he mentioned promising to Sephie - and more mundane tasks like forging nails and horseshoes. Hjorn, in his turn, was ablaze with subjecting you to weird experiments like having your shoulders shifted to their forward and rear limits with the wings both folded and unfolded while having a wooden plate pressed against your spine. Or, from the simpler things, having you apply your weight on what you identified as sole prototypes placed on a soft wooden plank.
Obediently following his instructions, similar to how you did in times of Rosaline's lessons or studies of your biology, you tried to comprehend the numerous commentaries that the smith voiced, most likely, for your oldest companion's ears. And multiple they were, indeed: from a heated debate on whether the T, Y, or У-type composition of greaves would be ideal for your spectrum of mobility-related shocks to whether or not the petal layering design is superior to the scaled one. From the layman commissions alone, no one would generally deduct the depth of the blacksmithing art, like you, finding yourself colliding against more unfamiliar terms and concepts than during Jory's alchemy-related rants you overheard.
But even without demonstrating any grip on the subject of their lively banter, you felt charmed by the atmosphere and the company. In part due to the combination of it reminding you of those simpler times when you sat with Ulren and Claudius in Dalgaards' workshop hut, savoring a sweet treat and explanation of the bhiroths' caste system. The other half of the reason you stayed even after Hjorn harvested all the data he needed was Ren's uncommon level of liveliness. Since the day he rescued you from the snow in the middle of nowhere, you knew there was a softer, merrier person behind his stoic facade, yet, you struggled to recall an occasion when that side of his peeked from behind its defenses so naturally and seamlessly.
Carried away by the atmosphere of a "living" smithy, you attempted to partake in this almost ritual-like sequence by intervening via questioning if Ren is making a longsword for Sephie in semblance to the one he made for you earlier. Not even a couple of moments after the last sound left your lips, the "heartbeat" of the smithy stopped for a moment, in which the bhiroths looked at each other first and then at you. The recognition of your mistake came in with the fervent lecture and demonstration of the difference between the longswords like the one Ren was making and arming swords like the one in your possession. You found the improvised class informative, if a bit too technical. Still, when the degree of your ignorance regarding armaments began to evoke questions like whether or not you were maintaining your "Holly" properly and when was the last time you practiced with it, you resolved to flee the scene, excusing yourself by the promise to continue Amalia's cooking.
And just like that, less than half an hour later, you were sitting in the yard before the cooking fire, with your wings wrapped away from the oil of not your secretion, tendering, flour-coating, and grilling meat dumplings. As lively as it was, your mind was too pent by the triviality of this amateur recipe and constantly wandered away, either diving into recollections or vying for wild ideas like a wildcat hunting for songbirds. During one of such mental escapades, the sense of wistfulness moved into your mind once it recalled the growing gap of time since the last occasion you tasted anything remotely confectionary. Was it back in Baathor? It should've... Who knew that the greeneries needed for cultivating herbs
for chocolate would be this unbelievably scarce? If only you had known before departing, you would've insisted on packing all the cocoa in Rosaline's estate. However, you could only pout now, taunted by the northern confectionary in your daydreams.
Thinking about the tastes of your packmates, you thought others might've been better off without the preference for the luxury desserts you developed. For example, Ren could eat anything, but the eagerness with which he devours bakery, meat, and cheese makes you believe he could sustain himself on those alone, especially if that's a bakery with meats and cheese. Unlike him, Isaac appears to favor "healthier" foods, like fresh seasonal fruits, veggies, and berries, although he also absolutely loves honey. Jorgen and Karl appear to be genuinely omnivorous, but the prior shows mild preference toward hearty stews and soups (if the short-lasting sense of peace they give him could be taken as a preference). Sephie, in general, appears to devour anything fresh; the fresher, the better. Perhaps she would not have qualms living off the unprocessed fruits or had an episode in life when she did this. And Amalia... she's a passionate foodie who treats various cuisines as a continuation of those cultures' lore, ravenously absorbing recipes and even food-related legends into her nexus of handiness knowledge. You can almost hear her precious heart break a little each time she whips out a new dish for everyone, only to listen to the "When there's gonna be meat stew?" question from the boys. With this thought, you looked to the side at the lonely, abandoned bowl filled with marinaded radishes with seasonal herbs sauce that Lia made yesterday to no one's amusement. The further course of action was obvious: you must eat them yourself, thank her when she's back, and give her a quality hug.
And, to Lia's poorly-concealed relief and joy, you did precisely this once she returned with Isaac, Sephie, and a whole sack of bottles, medicine, and alchemic reagents. The haul was so large that the shopping group had to expend nearly everything they got on their hands, which is 210 talers in equivalent or around 1/6 of the team's overall budget. Sephie was brimming with a broad smile while instructing utterly unamused Ren on the purposes of over a dozen and a half potions she bought to make amends with the town's alchemist. For a moment, Ren seemed on the verge of scolding her for such an uninhibited wastrel behavior. Yet, when she squeezed a few jars under his crossed on-the-chest arms, saying that she thought he could use some extra quality of life with antistress sedatives, incenses, and mild painkiller-energizer solutions, he abandoned any attempts to express anger, looking tired and disarmed instead.
And quite a good resolution it was as in the evening of that day, by the time the sun was on its slow promenade to the horizon, painting the landscape in posh mahogany, Sephie, forgetful of her initial surprise of obtaining a longsword instead of a saber that she asked for, excitedly swung her new weapon, the quality of which even Ulren seemed to be proud of. She twirled, feinted, maneuvered, and brandished it with the unconcealable agitation of a child who had just got a new toy they coveted for a long time. Meanwhile, Ulren, pulled in by the whirlpool of the daeva's rapture, lectured her on how to handle and manage it properly, similar-ish to the lesson he gave you earlier today on your own arming sword named Holly. "It was a good day," a thought flashed in your mind as you leisurely returned to your books while overhearing the cacophony of Lia arguing with Jogen over confiscating his alchemic tools and not letting him practice until his wounds close securely enough at the very least and Karl questioning everyone present if they had seen his paper sheets. You wish there were more days when your family-of-a-group could enjoy such peace.
____________________
Under the shroud of the night skies and a moon peeking from behind clouds moving across this starry celestial glade like a pack of nomad elasmores, you threaded through the Tevonian eastern suburbia, passing by the dark shapes of residences and moving forth the mills, where Inga was supposed to wait for you.
You walked alone, but not entirely dismissed: Ren and Sephie took a covert shelter at some distance from the presumed meeting place, agreeing to intervene should you send a signal with your magic in case of any problems or if you'll take too long to report back. Dissuading them from backing you up was a flawed idea from the start, so the most you did before leaving Hjorn's yard was ranting half-heartedly about how you are an adult woman capable of tackling issues at hand, just to prevent them from getting an idea of you overhearing their discussion from earlier.
While you walked alone, your observations began to send tiny shivers down your back: you remember this place - this is close to where Rene sent you to... You stopped abruptly, staring at the black shape of the once-haunted house. No light shimmered through its glassless windows, and a chunk of the shattered door, still attached to the doorway, clapped against the rundown wall, played with by the restless, mischievous wind. You allowed your inner voice only to recite a tiny hope for that lost child to find peace wherever it may be now before forcing yourself to proceed. After all, what's done is done, and you had to attend to the task at hand lest you see it end the same way or even worse.
Propelled by the breezy night winds and the bad memories, you picked up a jog, soon reaching a clearing overlooking the town's wall and the lake's shore. There, in the middle of the slanted glade behind the mills, you saw a figure sitting on the lush carpet of spring grass, staring at the paler moon's reflections against Tevon's lake surface. It didn't seem to register your presence. You could not confirm the details from a distance, but she did seem to possess the proportions of a roth female, and her soul spark felt familiar enough for you to ascertain her as your contact. But before you announced your presence, you followed the instructions and scanned the surroundings for other entities, registering no one else in proximity.
"Have been waiting for long?" You inquired while approaching the figure, which, in turn, faced you.
"Oh! Thank goodness it's you. I... wasn't entirely sure you'd come, but now I see it was just my nerves acting up." The figure that replied was indeed Inga. You looked into her face once you slowly sat near her, paying attention not to disturb the faux rucksack that was torturing you again by restraining your wings. In the pale moons' light, you could describe her expression as tired relief, something one might witness from a person freshly-medicated or just too exhausted to feel pain or anguish anymore.
"How are you feeling?" You started politely, "After all that happened and enduring the information I bucketed at you, that is."
"I..." She looked back at the lake's surface about a hundred steps away from you, "Have been better - that's for sure, but I no longer can bring myself to pretend that all shall be fine and nothing is going on in the house I grew up in." She sighed, and a tense pause followed. It was wiser not to push her.
"If you don't mind, I'll get to the point after a... little self-indulgent digression. Maybe, it will help you try on the perspective of being one of ours, or, at the very least, it would help me not to break later on. Just be warned that I may not be the best storyteller."
"Sure, I'll listen." Contrary to Sephie's suspiciousness of her, Inga did sound blatantly genuine to you. "We're here to help each other, after all, so I'm all for it."
"Thank you," the gvuroth lady replied simply, wrapping hands around her legs bent in knees before her. Only now, you noticed that her glaive was idly lying nearby its owner in the grass, gathering night dew on its moonlit blade.
"If you got to Tevon from wherever you hail from, you could easily see I'm not exactly one of the natives," she began while submerging her stare into the lake's cold black water, "I don't even know from where exactly do I hail, to be frank, or when I was born, for that matter. There are just a few scant recollections from when my real parents were around. All I can remember is that my mother loved vanilla orchids, the little I always anticipated my father's attention, I might've had an older sibling, and that we either lived or passed near Baathor."
You remained silent, wondering why she began it from such an unrelated point. Still, you at least felt sympathetic as your own earliest memories and level of awareness were not much different from hers.
"Then, there was a clog in my memory: I don't recall what transpired aside from me being mightily confused. And then, there's that early but clear recollection of Timgur - my mentor - introducing the tired and shivering from the road me to the congregation in the Kheree's longhouse after the dinner."
You looked at her, wondering what happened to this person she mentioned, but she intercepted your stare with a side glance of her own, giving the answer even before you could voice the question: "He passed eight years ago. He wasn't a spring chicken when he brought me to Kherees, and thirty years later, he was an old, sick man living his last months in only a half-lucid state, with one of his legs frequently drifting into the dream world. I cared for him until his last breath, just like any kheree should do for their mentor, as the bundle of strays such as us, our teachers are our family."
"So, you never knew any other life, then?"
"Mhm. I grew up in the old walls of the longhouse, proving the worth of my salt with whatever chores needed to be done, ravenously devouring any lessons or stories I could reach, and not hesitating a heartbeat when I came of age and was formally asked to join the society." She paused. "Do you get the idea why I am telling you this?"
"Uhm... to tell that your group isn't exactly homogenous?"
"Erm... excuse me? I might've missed what you're trying to say."
"Oh! I'm sorry. I wanted to say that your group seems to compose of people of many backgrounds and origins."
"Ah! Yes, indeed... That's one of your mages' fancy words, I guess."
"You can say that. Sure," you grinned meekly and bit your lower lip feeling awkward.
"Anyway, you are correct: most of the kherees as "strays" - people of all ages and legacies having nowhere else to go but the heart of the Blugd-Tur plains. Sure, there are some internal dynasties within our ranks, but even nowadays, more than half of our recruits have no liaisons with us until they reach Tevon. And despite renouncing everything that bound them to the outside world when joining our wider family, garnered views are not so easily discarded."
"And this spread of views becomes a soil for conflict." you picked up her trail of thought.
"Indeed," she sighed, "but our sect's paternal hierarchy is usually enough to handle the squabbles. I can recall only five cases in over thirty years of me as a kheree huntress when the worst came to pass, with four ending in banishment, and in one, the perpetrator got himself killed. Sounds terrible, I know, but for a society of over a hundred heads strong at all times, this is pretty tame. Or at least it used to be this way."
"What happened?"
"The wild season happened," she answered blankly, probably meaning what you know under the "Gaian flood" term. "Yes, it wasn't the war - quite the opposite. I remember those years, even though I was pretty young back then: thousands of people fled from the Eastern kingdoms, Olfadir, and Lyf, taking their chances to find new homes in the Blugd-Tur's wilderness instead of attempting to wait out the havoc in the east. Ignorant of the Turan's many dangers, many families perished or winded up enthralled, but even more did manage to find their place on the great plain. At a time, we've had over one-third of all our members related to these refugees somehow."
She let go of her knees, visibly relaxing in posture before continuing: "As cynical as it may sound, those were the good times for kherees: we've got a lot of the new blood, including some outstanding talents. There was no rest for us, as we had to do twice more work to preserve the balance in the plains and keep Tevon running, but it was also when the place was the most "alive," if you get what I say. Things began to get worse only in the last decade: a surge of wild beasts' population, including the gigantic ones and those considered legendary, chipping away even the best of our hunters. Five cycles ago, there was an entire year when the soil and trees bore barely any fruit or crop due to incessant rains and the tainted skies, worsened by the coldest winter in my memory that followed. We did our best to provide, often at our own expense, but one can go on the game alone only so much. And then, weird places and... uh..."
"Anomalies?" you attempted to assist her with the vocabulary, supplementing with "zones of unexplainable effects or activities?" immediately.
"Yes, these. These cursed places began to awaken all over the plains like pimples on the unwashed butt or like mosquitos in the summertime, sometimes devouring entire caravans overnight. This made trade with other towns scarce, yet again putting pressure on us to compensate for the lack of materials and medicine. We've also had two waves of fewer in the last ten years, and now an animal blight drives the creatures mad and malforms their flesh, rendering them useless as a game."
You noticed that Inga's face began to grimace again, yet, she stretched out on the grass carpet, staring tensely into the cloudy night skies instead of employing "defensive" body language. "We were spread way too thin the last year, and things were starting to get out of control: some places could no longer be patroled, and some animals hotbeds either changing positions or disappearing entirely, with the trade becoming almost non-existent on the background of increased dangers and the renewed tensions between Nyth-Rhathon and Olfadir. Any power structure can handle only so much dissent when the threats endanger one's existence, and powers that be keep watch for when you'd fall to scavenge their benefits."
"So, the divide within kherees became political..."
"No, not entirely: as I mentioned earlier, we've experienced an influx of people from outside who were introduced to our creed instead of growing up with it. None of the camps wanted to throw our clan into the jaws of any foreign power - only to barter for assistance for the price they deemed acceptable, which was the main dividing factor. Meanwhile, the conservatives, mainly composed of those born and raised on the plains, called for greater consolidation around our creed and doubling down on the approach that led us to the dire straits. It became a conflict between various visions of modernization and the dogma that held us together and directed us where it did."
"Could you tell me more about these camps?"
"Sure. That's what I was going to do anyway. So... The first group that emerged was the one that advocated us establishing ties with Baathor and adapting the organizational clan system. It did have a great promise of prosperity and bolstered security at the cost of becoming the enemies of Ertanghalians and having to deal with the dynasties squabbling for power, of course. However, just as Baathor was effectively the military protectorate of Nyth-Rhathon in the same vein as the Lyf Kingdom, many began to shift their sympathies toward the providers of security of those whom they considered as our viable protectors. And I can understand them: bhiroths can be very blunt and inflexible in terms of what they demand, but they appear to avoid enforcing their views on those dependent on them and usually go for practical things like produce, knowledge, and places for military outposts against Olfadirians. And like the saying goes, a bhiroth would sooner break their back than their word, which spurred the popularity of this idea, even if it painted us as Olfadir's legitimate targets whenever the next war breaks out."
"Do you think the war will break out soon?"
Inga sighed heavily to your question, staring into the skies and pausing before speaking, "My low spirit might cloud my judgment, but I'd say yes rather than no. Maybe not this year, perhaps not even in a decade, but Olfadir would sooner crumble than make peace with bhiroths, whom they blame for the collapse of the Pherinian empire. 'Tis one of those eternal enmities that give purpose to one or both sides, so to speak."
You lowered your eyes, disappointed from having your worries confirmed by an independent party. "What about other camps, if there were any?"
"Yes, there was another one: the pro-Ertanghalian monarchists. They advocated for closer ties and an alliance with the Ertanghalian kingdom and reformation of order in Tevon that would see all the groups holding any significant sway uniting into clans by blood or interests, and the free townfolks either pressed into one of these, enthralled, or banished. This would've meant the reorganization of kherees into a dynastical clan that could potentially pretend for power in other Ertanghalian domains or the kingdom as a whole. In short, at the cost of the established order in the city, kherees would've had to become a family in both spirit and letter, securing the acceptance and possible support of the Western clans in return for reverting to the ancient order of things in Blugd-Tur before the emergence of the free Tevon-Talab. This group had the quietest voice, but it did exist. Perhaps, some still hold these views close, biding time and waiting for an opportunity."
"So, when push came to shove, and the old hierarchy began to shake, the group divided from within, advocating for conflicting visions of the future for everyone..."
"Correct. Although it was essentially just the advocates for the Northern League against the Kheree conservatives, the Ertanghal sympathizers were more of an odd outcrop that seemingly dissolved once the figureheads of the reformist group disappeared from the picture."
"How so?" You perked up a little, feeling the approach of the conversation galore to the most essential part.
"It all started last year at the summer's end: it was a black year for us as among over a dozen members we've lost, three of them were our most experienced hunters, two of which were also officers and mentors. It became clear that for the upcoming season, we'd either have to focus on securing the land, allowing locals to harvest in relative safety, or stock enough meat, hides, and fat from hunting, but not both. It was the main reason that caused those dissatisfied with the situation to voice the idea of seeking a mutually beneficial agreement with Baathorian clans. But when the news of Olfadir reigniting holy wars in the Eastern kingdoms reached us, those fearing the approach of a new war began to also demand an alliance with Nyth-Rhathon."
"What happened with them?"
"Termen - our fellowship's current patriarch - rejected any pleas for discarding our traditional neutrality and even discussing any changes to our creed. The argument deteriorated into a standoff, with some outstanding seniors and aces leveraging their skills and following. But Temren and other conservatives were unyielding, which led to those unsatisfied vanishing from the ranks one by one, causing many of their followers to leave as well."
"Vanish? What do you mean by that? And what happened next?"
Inga sighed tiredly, still drilling the skies with her stare, "We barely made it through the winter despite losing some of our best and brightest. And by "barely" I mean that without your crazy lindwurm-slaughtering friend, we might not have made it to the first springtime boons without bunches of civilians hitting the streets to beg or steal food."
"Hey, he's not crazy! In fact, he's the most level-headed of us all! He just had a score to settle with those beasts in particular." You instinctively jumped to fight what sounded like blatant slander of your closest person, to which Inga gave you an amused glance before retraining her eyes on the stars.
"Well, how he settled it was certainly not something one would expect to see in a lifetime. But anyway, how you inquired about "vanishing" tells me you thought of them being murdered. Knowing those who left us, I would not put my faith in it. However, with all the killings happening now, this assumption is rearing its head among our cohorts. This causes even more damage than the loss of life as we lose trust in each other with each such case, and without it, even speculating if we'll make it through the coming winter is too optimistic."
"You said you knew those dissent figureheads. Mind telling more? Like, what could have driven them away, or if they had enemies?"
Inga hesitated with the answer, sighing profoundly and contemplating for a few moments like a person would do before leaping into an ice-cold river. "The way I expressed my... distress might have skewed your perceptions, after all. No - I don't think any of them had "enemies," as you put it. Quite the opposite: many who voiced their concerns were the brightest in their batch. Ayla and Tymor, for example. She was an orphaned alvizian refugee from the war-engulfed Cullanor, and he was a native freelander pal who knew his way around people. They became my friends the same years they joined our community, and we grew very close. She was exceptionally talented: easily the best scout and marksman we've had, graceful and speedy, and even came to start mastering magic. And he, despite not particularly special physically, had that talent of mastering and sharpening skills twice faster as anyone else. One of our most skillful and meticulous hunters at a fairly young age, even for a lander."
For the first time this night, you registered a faint smile forming on Inga's lips before disappearing behind a cold, pensive grimace about as suddenly as it emerged. "They fell for each other, and, given the popularity of each, we all rooted for them to get the patriarch's blessings to become a family, just like the creed requires. I don't know why, but Temren never obliged them with such. They yearned for it for a few years, growing impatient, but nothing budged. So, when the glint of hope of changing kherees ways arose, they were among the first to advocate for it, but the result was the same. I believe they ran out of hope. On one of the last occasions I chatted with Ayla, she begged me to consider leaving, but... I just couldn't, and we've quarreled that night. Soon, she and Tymor were gone with their stuff, and we never saw them again."
A long silence ensued, giving place to the serenade of the nocturnal insects and fresh leaves rustling to the whims of the winds. "I think... they either ran out of the last hope or, what's more realistic, conceived a child and jumped on the desperate chance to remove the very need of legalizing it. But when it became clear that it was not meant to be, and they were to be exposed and banished as the tradition requires, they decided to leave on their own terms. I believe this because it gives me hope they might be somewhere out there, either expecting or already greeting a little one into this world. Of all people, I wish them to be happy."
As she explained her theory, the sensations you suddenly felt on your skin urged you to have a spontaneous midnight swim in the lake. Thankfully, you were willful enough to divert your thoughts, refocusing on Inga's experiences and some elementary logic before the abashment could strangle you. "Were they the most prominent advocates for reforms?"
"No, they weren't," Inga's words carried a vibe of perplexion as if she did not expect you to ask this, "It was Bodonchar, or Bodie, as we called him. A burly, if a bit short, freelander hailing from the Baathorian region. Compared to others, he wasn't exactly graceful but rather sturdy and, most of all, a knowledgeable man. He knew seemingly everything about plants, fish, birds, and animals that live in these lands, and he was the go-to person for the foreign wise men if they needed anything that could be found in Blugd-Tur. If a beast was tameable at all, then Bodie should've known how to subdue it. He managed to impart some of his solid knowledge to Elgar - his protege. Despite some local townies giving Bodie trouble out of thinking he was a witcher of some kind, the man had a heart of gold, a darling among locals, and a certain way of looking at matters at hand. He incessantly insisted that the challenges we've been facing and our diminishing forces warranted a nigh-certain doom should we face an unforeseen misfortune and not have the backing of bhiroths, lyflanders, or at least baathorians." She sighed again, "Seasons after, we're neck deep in crap, about to turn onto ourselves, and it seems like he was right as always..."
"What happened to him?"
"He died on an extermination raid. A group of experienced hunters gathered to get rid of an alpha behemoth terrorizing the northern outskirts of the Tevonian region. They said the hunt's plan went belly-up at some point, and Bodie ended up torn limb from limb by the foul beast. I don't think I could hate those dumb brutes more than I do..."
"Anyone else?" You inquired, hoping for something that won't sound like an ice-cold trail or a dead end.
"There was also Eljidey. An odd fellow he was: decisively average with a bow or anything physical but with iron nerves and fiendish cunning. He was eccentric: keeping to himself most of the time, seldom talking without a good reason, and never celebrating anything or being cheerful. Bodie was the only one who found a way to befriend him. Together they pulled out some fantastic stunts, like that time when some bigwig from Lyf commissioned the capture of a living bauvghai. The rascals actually pulled it off via a custom trap, unique handmade sedatives for the bait, a plan, and a lot of discipline and coordination. That was the fattest paid gig I recall us filling. Eljidey was cold-headed and with a plan at all times and in all situations, so when he directly supported Bodie, arguing that allying with Bhiroths would cost us the least of all the alternatives while providing security and a vast field of knowledge and practices to learn and exchange, many heeded their ear out of respect for his competence."
"Did he disappear after Bodie died on the hunt? Or was it vice-versa?"
"The former. And he did in more senses than one: even though we never saw him grief-stricken, he somehow found a way to shelter himself from us even more, just going through the motions and sometimes not even speaking a word for days. There were plenty of rumors that he acted differently when he thought no one was watching. He disappeared when I was away from Tevon in one of the forward outposts. When I returned, some other hunters murmured that he had developed a hunch against Temren for some reason and even got into a fight with him before disappearing. Yet, our leader denied it, and there was no evidence to support the rumors. Moreover, he tended to disappear for a day or two now and then, and we initially thought he might be back once he "attuned," as he called it, but he never did."
"I see... were there more notable dissidents?"
"There were other hunters who left us behind one by one or in tiny groups of two or three. I recall fourteen of them, but none could pretend to be an influential or at least vocal opponent of our old ways." Her voice sounded hushier as if she was starting to feel exhausted.
"Then we must start our investigation by seeking out the places these former fellows of yours frequented and the possessions they might've left behind, so I could try reading memories off them and see if there was more to the schism that sundered your group. I am unsure if it is still possible, but maybe you could also try interviewing witnesses of those events?"
"That I will, but..." she answered with an even weaker voice while you slowly stood up and faced her. The pale moonlight illuminated her face in a way that highlighted all those tiny hints that betrayed her tired state, and not just physically exhausted from sleep deprivation and whatnot. Her impassioned eyes were still aimed upward as if she were giving the cold and careless stars the most unamused face in the world for them being so distant and indifferent to the plights of mortals.
"When I was much younger, my mentor loved to tell me stories to fill the gaps in my knowledge of Blugd-Tur. Once he told me that centuries ago, after the first Olfadir-Rhathonian wars, kherees were nearly destroyed, saved from oblivion by little more than a mere dozen of its surviving members. Since then, I have dreaded even the assumption of being burdened with such a responsibility. But now..."
With eery smoothness, she turned her face to meet your eyes, staring through you with that distant, unspeakable heavy gaze. "I am not asking you this as a local enforcer, craving for the peace and quiet to return, but as someone way past quietly watching everything she cares for crumble apart while everyone else desperately ignores it. I am asking if you will stick with me until the dust settles, and we see if there will even be a dozen of us left to keep Tevon's heart beating."
You had seen this oppressing look before - it was in Ankbar's dead eyes. But unlike him, Inga still had a chance to turn things around for herself and all those she cared for. "Sure," you answered simply, supplementing it with a slight nod, "All the reasons I stated before still stand, and I would also hate to let you lose your world and family like that."
Gradually, a genuine, if pained, smile crept to Inga's face as she closed her eyes and exhausted a relieved exhale. She looked like someone with an arrow or an old swollen tooth removed from her. Perhaps, a part of you felt cozy for granting her this temporary easement, and, in a playfully-inviting manner, you stretched your hand down to her, offering her a lift. Registering your gesture, she grinned and took you on it, but like it frequently happens with your strengths estimation, instead of helping her stand up, you flopped down at her with a tiny squeal. Luckily, the cover of your wings endured both the fall and Inga's subsequent pull of you onto your feet. At least you both giggled through the experience.
"Then... I'll try to find some leads and turn some stones in search of places of interest, clues, and witnesses," Inga said while lifting her glaive from the ground and fixing it behind her back, "I'll try to get back to you with findings in two or three days, and then, we'll see what to do next."
"Sound like a plan," You replied, beating the dust off your dress.
"By the way, why do you always carry this bag with you?" her eyes darted at the leather bulge behind your back.
"I've been doing some business in town and had no chance to change. It's just... mages' stuff, you know." You had to lie, growing worried she might have started to suspect something.
"Oh, I'm sorry - I wasn't trying to pry or anything," she quickly allayed your concern. "Do... you want me to escort you back to Hjorn's place?"
"No, that won't be needed as I still have some endeavors," you turned down the offer, growing a bit uneasy about whether or not Ren and Sephie were still waiting for you in their hiding spot, "but thank you for your concern."
"Are you sure? I'm surprised your group let you out all alone at this hour. I know I would not have let Elgar or Loїс go out like this, even though it would've been against the agreement. Don't they value you or something?"
"Oh my," you giggled a little nervously. "They absolutely do, but they also know I'm an independent lady who can fend for herself," you said with a cheeky voice, "You know: magic tricks and all."
"Heh, then take care and stay safe, ye strong and independent spell weaver lady," Inga laughed, passing back your playfulness, "Here's hope we'll see you in a couple of days and not without good news to share. And... thank you. Thank you for hearing me out. I didn't suspect how much I needed it."
You exchanged parting nods and soon went in different directions, with you hurriedly jogging to Seph's and Ren's hiding place, hoping they neither grew bored enough to cause trouble to themselves nor sufficiently impatient to go out searching for you. As your feet hastily beat against the road, two thoughts warmed you from within like gentle hearth fires: it felt great to give someone hope, and you now had up to two days - long enough to drag Ulren outside the town and finally have some unhindered, freeform flight!
_________________________
General plan:
[] Go camping with Ren and another companion outside the town to spread your wings!(The gains will include flight practice and, along with random stat bonuses, additional benefits depending on whom you'll take with you. You will also have one minor action to spend) -[] Take Sephorah
-[] Take Karl
-[] Take Amalia
-[] Take Isaac
[] Don't go camping and occupy yourself otherwise(You will have two major and two minor actions to spend)
[] Join Ulren and Karl for a raid to solve Hjorn's issue with the disappeared metal shipment. (Non-repeatable, free arcane, melee, defense, persuasion, recon, intelligence, perception, and strength checks to determine the material results. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill/attribute up to one of the checked stats. For every pair of checks scored over 22, the number of randomly distributed stat-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 3, including the guaranteed one)
[] Grab Ulren and try joining a kherees hunting party. (Non-repeatable, free arcane, mobility, coordination, sneaking, huntsmanship, nature lore, geography lore, and constitution checks to determine the gains. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill/attribute up to one of the checked stats. For every pair of checks scored over 22, the number of randomly distributed stat-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 3, including the guaranteed one)
[] Go to town with Sephie and Karl to complete townfolks' requests and bounties. (Non-repeatable, free persuasion, object usage, willpower, intelligence, charisma, haggling, cultural and social lore, and performance checks to determine the gains. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill/attribute up to one of the checked stats. For every pair of checks scored over 22, the number of randomly distributed stat-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 3, including the guaranteed one)
[] Embark with Sephie and Isaac into the wilds to forage additional alchemical materials and foods. (Non-repeatable, free nature lore, alchemy, recon, arcane, wisdom, coordination, intelligence, and geography lore checks to determine the material yields. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill/attribute up to one of the checked stats. For every pair of checks she scores over 22, the number of randomly distributed stat-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 3, including the guaranteed one)
[] Volunteer to stay at home and assist Amalia, Jorgen, and Hjorn however you can. (Non-repeatable, free micromotorics, alchemy, daily craft, charisma, wisdom, craft lore, intelligence, and pharma and treatment checks to determine the benefits such as projects speed-up. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill/attribute up to one of the checked stats. For every pair of checks she scores over 22, the number of randomly distributed stat-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 3, including the guaranteed one)
[] Intensive training of attributes
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA (Repeatable, each round raises an attribute by 1/2 if the base attribute is X < 14, by 1/3 if the base attribute is 14 =< X =< 17, and by 1/4 if the base attribute is X => 18)
[] Practice and study your magic disciplines!
-[] Practice thaumaturgy
-[] Study soul aspect (Repeatable. For thaumaturgy: current level 7 (+3/7 of the next level), hard wisdom attribute (20), hard intelligence attribute (20), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment. For soul aspect: current level 7 (+0/6 of the next level), hard wisdom attribute check (20), hard intelligence attribute check (20), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment, Mia's +1/6 yield applies after hard (20) charisma check)
[] Routine attributes training
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA (Repeatable, each round raises an attribute by 1/4 if the base attribute is X < 14, by 1/5 if the base attribute is 14 =< X =< 17, and by 1/6 if the base attribute is X => 18.).
[] Try bonding with someone
-[] Ulren
-[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac
-[] Jorgen (Repeatable, but it can only be one bonding attempt per person. Free Charisma attribute check for extra effect. Write the addition of the topic for the bonding if you have something specific in mind.)
- Jorgen will attempt crafting potions using the alchemic materials stocks, but you aren't close enough to request particular ones yet.
- If you decide to stay at the base, your party members will occupy themselves how they see fit.
- Same stays true for those party members whom you won't take with you and Ren for a short camping trip.
- Write-ins are allowed but will be reviewed
Didn't know there was a spin-off…But uhh.
Given how badly I fell off Lucy's wagon I don't have high hopes I'll stick around but…
I'll see how long I hold.
