Heimurn Chronicles (No, SV, you're a young valkyrie in the middle of a bizarre and dangerous journey)

[Teloch]

Contrary to the expectations of some from your company, the yesterday storm not only shook the earth with the ludicrous amounts of untamed arcane energies but also heralded the coming of spring with its roar. As a result, the riverside woods were covered with fog - not the type conjured by undead menaces as means of hunting on the living but the natural one. The air was even warmer than yesterday but not as hot as to make you want to undress to a single layer of clothes. Maybe it was due to the change of season or because of the yesterday phenomena, but as your group lined up to see a huge bridge across Tzuh-Aran, you could also see and hear the signs of the fauna opening the brand new season of the ruthless struggle between hunters and their prey.

The sounds of wildlife emerging from hibernation became dull and then non-existent when you all approached the mighty structure crossing the equally mighty river. The sound of the stream was unforgettable: fed by the melting of all the snow that was so frequent this winter, Tzuh-Aran gave you the allusions of a mighty beast, thundering its territories with the roar of awakening. Amalia, in particular, was wordlessly excited by the visuals and acoustics.

"Come here, Lucy, and take a look! I could have only imagined the mountain rivers having such strength of flow!" she cried out excitedly from the edge of the bridge, giving no thought about the risk of falling from it into the roaring waters below.

As for your impressions, you were anything but excited. Barely approaching the side from where Amalia was calling you, one single look below was enough for you to not want any further inspection. You were nervously fiddling with the amulet that you pocketed a day ago, trying to evade the memories of falling under the ice and nearly freezing to death once.

"How quick, do you think, we would've reached the ocean should we go on a boat downstream?" Amalia went on with her excitement while the rest of the group went forth.

"Come, now. Before we both have to go downstream just to catch up with the others" was your answer, after which you began to tug the lass away from the edge.

"Aww, don't tell me you are afraid of water!" she retorted playfully, not being exactly too far off from the truth.

"Not much water itself as drowning or freezing in it. I have nothing against water if it's a hot tube, which we can only dream of now".

"Don't make Karl a favor of being the second downer in our group," she spoke out teasingly, "we may find a warm lake somewhere on the plains! Imagine the stars, the breeze, and the sounds of nature - all while basking. Won't have such an experience in any manor or palace!".

You just shook your head at her words, finally making her follow the rest of your pack instead of prying down. You quietly wondered if there's anything that can hamper her enthusiasm about this trip because witnessing urban troubles and encountering undead menaces didn't quite cut it.

The structure you were traversing now was wide, sturdy, although having some time-conditioned deformities. Despite the construction being grand in scale and design (which was unlike anything you saw in Lyf), it also gave you an impression of being frequently patched as well multi-layered. In some places, you could see an odd onyx purple material carrying the more recent and conventional cobbles and stone plates.

"Ren, do you know anything about the history of this landmark? It looks weird - as if layered - and it is odd to see the construction of such a scale in so sparsely-populated place. Who even maintains is?" you decided to instigate a group chatter.

"Called Baitszun by locals, this bridge is older than any of the landers' or alvizian settlements on Pheotor. Do you see that dark material? It is the actual thing - the original construction left by precursors - the kin that lived here long before any of the modern folk. The stone lining was made by Pherinians and then by Freelanders from Baathor. Even the best craftsmen still do not know the properties and the recycling methods for this material. The plains are littered with derelicts likely made by the same hands as this bridge".

"Have you ever been inside one or do you know what are they purpose?".

"Not in the literal sense - no. But Karadan is built in the ancient mines and fortifications left by precursors, so I've been inside such indirectly. Many capitals and great cities were built from and around the remains of those unknown civilizations; even the famous Obsidian Tower, despite the humbug with which Westlanders are explaining its existence".

"Landers with their obsessive idea to have everything bigger, higher, and more authentic without learning how to be good liars in the first place certainly didn't help their agenda," Sephorah clung in, "Regardless whether their deity made their precious holy tower pop up like a sugar cane or not, they have nothing on Bael - an entire megapolis my people found eons ago. We brought life and gloss and glamour to that place, making it the jewel among other cities. Wish you could see the hanging gardens it has because it would take me too long to describe it to you with words and you still won't have the right impression".

"Is there a lot of hints about those cultures or how they disappeared?" You continued the chatter, noticing that Ren and Seph are able to communicate like normal people if they have a neutral topic, "I was just thinking if there's a chance I may look like them".

"No idea how they looked like, but judging by the dimensions of the door arches and shafts that their tunnels feature, I'd say they were bigger than any of the living kins. Sorry to burst your theory, but you are likely anything but one of them lost in time". You did not expect him to confirm your hastily-invented theory in the first place, so you weren't really saddened by the answer. "What wiped them out is one of the biggest questions all those academia types are arguing about. If you want my guess, I think they've got one or few particularly bad Gaian seasons and crumbled under the weight of problems. That was what claimed the Old Rhathon".

"Judging by those few frescos that remained, you are too cute, Sparkling, and lacking a whole bunch of facial tentacles" Sephorah continued the conversation, "And I bet they grew way too scumbaggy towards each other until their communities became unsustainable and died out. Legends say that the Bael at the time of its recovery didn't carry any damage that would indicate warfare or cataclysms, so whatever finished or drove them off was the inside work".

"Were there other remains except for structures?" you continued to develop the small in-group communication success while Seph and Ren didn't seem to recall that they are usually at odds.

"Little remained, but it is known that some fragments of tools as tall as you are, odd contraptions no one figured out how to use, and mighty furnaces preserved. Whoever those creatures were, their aptitude with craft surpasses anything we can put forward, and even then it didn't help them survive".

"Surprise-surprise! The northern precursors sound as boring as all the northerners. The ones that lived in Bael left observatories, sun obelisks, and even some pieces of art; strange and even creepy - sure, but art nevertheless, especially after the second bottle of mul'naur dew".

"Wow, guys. You have so much interesting to tell when you're not busy bickering among yourselves," Amalia voiced her amazement.

As she said that, Ulren snorted and turned his face away. Sephorah smirked and did the same. You gave Amalia a tired look, to which her face curved apologetically.

When your party approached the opposite end of the bridge, your descent to the northern shore of Blugd-Tur was obstructed by a group of armed people. Their tented camp was established by the exit from the bridge, creating a checkpoint of sorts. They weren't hiding - rather busy trying to kill the time they had. They wore tabards of different styles over the armor pieces composed of hardened leathers. One of them wore a scale mail. They were all armed with bows, round shields, short spears, and war hammers, but they didn't immediately clutch to their arms as your group approached. If anything, they seemed to be wary but also bored.

The one in a scale mail took his shield and stood in the middle of the road with two more of his party by his sides. He raised his right hand and yelled out to your party: "Traders, travelers, or raiders?"

Ren, who was resting his hand on the pommel of his mace until this, yelled out in the same manner: "Travelers from Lyf," shortly adding, "Why would it be of interest to Tchonun clan?"

"Not Tchonun clan but the great clans' assembly. Our task here is to catalog entrants and collect the fees. If you came from Lyf, then it would be twenty-five talers from a nose," the scalemail-clad man answered in half-official and half-tired voice.

"I've crossed Baitszun some years ago and this is the first time someone tries to tax entry to Baathoran territories. Why won't the clans sell trading and service permits at Baathor?" Ulren wondered.

The silence ensued and the men watched amongst each other, speaking wordlessly. Then, finally, the spokesman of the Turanians dropped the formal tone: "Listen, Naiz, they've put us here a week ago, listening all the scarce wanderers questioning whether or not we are the highwaymen straight in our faces. What we've got so far won't save our assess when Zuudarg would arrive to change us with freshlings and collect what we've gathered. Our scout has also disappeared in the recent storm, which certainly won't make things easier for us with chief's arrival. We are tired, bored, and hungry while Gehan clan rakes fortunes on the Eastern marshes outpost. For humility's sake, just let us do our work and let you through shortly".

"Easy there. We have nothing to do with your misfortunes..." Ulren said, "Why taxing, though?"

"How would we know? All I can see is the major up-an-downer brewing in between your folk and Southrons, with us being on their way and the Ertanghalian horse knobbers lying in wait to strike us from behind. If nothing else, these coins would likely end up buying pikes and raising towers, but what do we know?" The man's voice sounded frustrated if not distressed for a brief moment.

[] Plan A
-[] Pay 175 Talers (from party's stash of 1685)
-[] Bargain for a total payment of
--[] 140 (easy haggling check (17))
--[] 105 (normal haggling check (20))
---[] Pick a haggling character
-[] Bargain to find their scout for the entrance permit (very easy persuasion check (14))
--[] Pick negotiation character
-[] Sephorah hid behind everyone and has something on her mind (Sephorah's performance roll against very hard check (24) + 1/2 performance check of the assisting character)
--[] Lucifina assists
--[] Amalia assists

[] Plan B (If plan A fails)
-[] Pay 175 Talers (from party's stash of 1685)
-[] Sephorah hid behind everyone and has something on her mind (Sephorah's performance roll against very hard check (28) + 1/2 performance check of the assisting character)
--[] Lucifina assists
--[] Amalia assists
-[] Write-in

 

[Teloch]

You overheard the conversation between Ren and the spokesman of the checkpoint, figuring out that the best course of action would be to comply with demands claimed legal. But due to the impossibility of verifying what was the real tax grade per a person (as well as other details and nuances of this allegedly new tax law), you decided on trying reasoning with the Turanians. But before you could come closer to them, Sephorah's hushed words brushed your ears.

"Psst, Sparkling," the dusky woman called you from behind the rest of the group, clutching to a ball of rags and... preparing to stuff it under her shirt? "Help me out, would you? I'm going to give these yokels a performance they won't forget, all I need you to do is to play along as if I'm..."

"Please don't, Seph" you answered before waiting for further explanations, "We don't want to get in trouble with authorities before we even arrive at Baathor".

Sephorah just tilted her head in surprise for hearing you reject her plan right off the bat.

"I think these men are in precarious enough condition for me to try to negotiate better terms. Just trust me on this one, deal?"

"When we get to the city, I'm going to stroll you around until we shake off the brute's spell of tediousness that he put on you," Shephorah replied mildly disappointed by your sudden lawfulness, "go get them, girl".

You had no need in being told twice, pacing forward where Ulren was conversing with the Turanians. As you appeared from the side of your voluminous companion, the center of men's attention shifted to you, providing enough basis to inject yourself into the conversation.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir, but we have also suffered from the unfolding political tensions that you mentioned. Speaking frankly, we would not even be here if it wasn't because of the unrests at Lyf's southern border. As we departed to seek for safety in western realms, we did not foresee that traversing through the northern Turanian shore and crossing Baathor would require an additional toll on us. Should we know that earlier, perhaps we would have picked the southern route and thus do not happen to bother you like this". After you spoke, the flickers of thoughts appeared in the eyes of the outpost's captain.

"So, can you, perhaps, tax us fifteen talers per a person, so we could exchange whatever scraps of fortunes we have on us for supplies at Baathor instead of backtracking and making it harder for us - who already suffered from Olfadir - as well as Turanians who are at the risk of repeating our fate?" having said that, you supplied your attempt with the semi-sad and semi-pleading face, featuring a pair of big blue eyes staring at the interlocutor.

Was it the logical subtext of "either-or" that you have hidden in your short message or was it striking the captain's pity, but the man made a solitary shiver when breaking from your stare, waved his hand: "Phex take you!" he said, "That's a hundred and five talers from your bunch".

The man withdrew to give you an intricately-carved wooden label that signifies your permit. Rest of the Turanians instantaneously lost any interest in your party and returned to their time-killing routines. Amalia leaned to count the coins. Ulren gave you a head pat when he thought no one was watching.

_________________________
​

It is Hearthwind 10 of the year 1469 and we are now camping somewhere west from Baathor - our first major stop. Ren says that we are about three days of marching away from it, so it won't be too long before we could, for once, sleep under a roof. Since we crossed the Baitsuz bridge, there we no major circumstances on our way. We were prowled on by a trio of starving wolves, which is, judging by Karl's words, pretty strange in light of how predators never attack what they can't realistically tackle. I could not help but notice that after the last Gaian storm, the animals started to act odd (not like I've seen many animals before, but birds flying aimlessly as if chased by something invisible and then hysterically beating on the ground when they run out of strengths. I don't know if this is normal, but the wildlife appears to be all rattled.

On the notion of strange occurrences, there is something weird began to happen: one morning we found a dead burrik - an odd mix between a big rat and a compact hare - near our camp. These creatures are said to be omnivorous scavengers who often sneak into travelers' camps and feed on their food stocks, which would explain what it tried to do but won't explain how it, from Isaac's scribbles, ended up with the heart burst. Everyone explained it with the animals' odd behavior (If so, I don't understand why does our horse acts normally).

The next morning after that, most of us woke up to Sephorah's rant at Jory: she called him a "horny maggot" and was giving him some slapping and beating for rummaging through her belonging at night - the ones that no man should ever touch! Even though Jory seemed to be sincere in his yelps of denial of doing anything like that and I have seen him fast asleep that night, I still joined the "disciplining beating" just to make sure he won't be tempted to do anything as dirty in the future.

Also, when I was practicing breathing techniques, trance control, and spiritual sense one evening, I've felt an unknown presence - some form of un-life. When I attempted to look at it, all I saw was a moment-lasting flicker of two round eyes very close to the ground. After that, I tried to sense it again but to no avail. Whatever it is, it appears to be harmless (if very curious), and I have the suspicion that it might be caused by me taking that silver amulet. Can it be bonded to it? Did we disturb it from its slumber by taking the item? I guess so... or, at least, that's the best explanation I can provide. Everyone else except Jory seems to be rather skeptical about my theory, but he doesn't see me in good light or even considers anything but some mystical monster which should not be disturbed, not even mentioning approaching for a chat.

But as for good things: I've made some progress with the arcane spirit aspect. It is hard to progress with the life belt aspect without guidance, but I think I'm doing reasonably fine for now. After that event with the vengeful ghost, I've learned how to use my power of will to intervene with other spirits. I think I can try to smite them (overload them with the power of my own essence). I don't know how would it work on living beings (and I don't want to try it out this way, to be honest). I fear that at some point I will have to practice on other beigns, though, as progressing further becomes more and more complicating. But for the bright side - I am catching myself on musing about the metaphysical nature of soul sparks more often. Lots of questions pop up in my mind. Why do souls retain the form close to a persisting fire? How exactly the soul energy of a person traverse to other plains or do we exist on many levels of existence at the same time? Why are memories so significant to spirits and what is the natural meaning of souls being shaped by outside circumstances? Why? There are so many questions... Perhaps I will figure out at least some answers some day.

You looked around the camp, waiting for the inks of the new entry in your journal to dry a little. You were sitting near the campfire, for the duration of your cataloging exertions. Amalia was making an evening bowl of soup, humming a tune under her nose. Isaac was nearby - reading one of the books from the satchel that Rosaline charitably provided you with for this journey. Jory was in one of the tents, possibly not feeling comfortable in the center of attention due to what happened between him and Sephorah or due to not feeling welcomed by the half of the party in general. Karl was sitting near the campfire, silently staring at the flames with the absent gaze. Ulren was fiddling with inventory and supplies; from his bisk motions and facial expression, you can say that he's in a quite good mood, which doesn't happen very often. His daevish "nemesis" was casually walking in circles around the camp, occasionally stopping to take a look at the star-littered skies.

You sighed lightly and closed your journal, deciding how to spend the rest of the evening.

[] Continuation of @lazyminx "Plan Girl Night In" via spending some time with Sephorah (No interactive dialogue sequence, very compact highlight of the action in the next update)

[] Decide to have some time with (Interactive dialogue sequence with five inputs limit)
-[] Ulren
-[] Amalia
-[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Isaac
-[] Jory
--[] Start with the personal topic
--[] Start with the general topic
--[] Start with the topic related to the group
--[] Start with write-in topic
---[] Write-in conversation pitch​

 

[Teloch]

Your pondering of whom to chat with didn't take long. You carefully put the journal back into the bag, stood up, spreading your wings for a moment to shrug off the evening laziness, and paced to intercept your team's only daeva. On your way, you caught Ulren's attentive - if somewhat disappointed - stare following you. He didn't say or gesture anything, but the fact that you decided to hang out with someone he does not really like (or welcome, or even respect) certainly soured his mood. You could only hope that they won't start to contest for your attention in the future...

"In a mood for a walk?" You approached Sephorah both with the question and physically.

"More like in a mood to regain at least a semblance of my old sleep schedule," she answered without turning to you, staring at the stars instead.

"Is it that bad of a change?" you asked, rather expecting to break the ice than anticipating her answer.

"In Kathor, everyone except farmers goes to sleep some hours after sunrise and wake up not long before sunset. The southern noons are nasty for everyone, including those who acclimated to torrid climate. It wasn't easy to adapt to Pheotorians' schedule and our journey isn't much easier in this regard," she sighed, "But I digress. You wanted to ask something else, don't you?"

You always suspected her in being perceptive when it comes to people, so her indirect invitation to converse wasn't much of surprise for you. "Well, yes. I am still curious about what were you planning to do back then - on the bridge".

"I was going to do what daevas do best: to shock and impress, of course" she replied with a tad bit mocking voice, clearly "punishing" you in a playful manner for not backing her back then.

"Oh... so you can teach me how to be impressive by using a ball of rags, then?" you countered her witticism in the very same manner, making her grin lopsidedly.

"I was going to impersonate a woman in labor having sudden birthing spasms," she said, "if there's something that I learned from our encounter and the legend of that tree-possessing, fog-spreading, space-bending wraith is that Turanians would rather go great lengths to avoid helping out others, so I decided to put on a scene which would've made them want to get rid of us as soon as possible. Besides, what else frightens and disgusts men more than brutality and ado of childbirth, especially if conducted by a woman of another race?"
WIS and CHA triggered
You did not answer immediately, focusing on the deeper insight that was hidden beneath the jovial facade of the information that she dumped onto you. She indirectly got to learn about yet another vice of the world, "weaponizing" and planning to use it to her advantage later. And this is not the very first case you have seen her doing so - the case when she used the recollections of her home - which she looks like missing - to monetary advantage and then benefitting from helping to resolve the turmoil at the tavern. It seems like she learned to "turn the tables", as Lyflanders would call it, and, most likely, she learned it the hard way. Maybe that is why she was so hesitant about sharing the details of her past with you?

"Oh please, don't you pull your magic trance nonsense on me!" Sephorah shook your shoulder lightly, disrupting you from digesting the sudden insight.

"Sorry! I... It has nothing to do with arcane, really. It was just a random thought," you shied out, trying on an awkward grin as a mean to bait her curiosity.

"What thought?" Sephorah certainly baited it, "You wanted to comment on what a fun and inventive opportunity to get past those yokels without spending money we have missed, don't you?"

"Childbirth? How... how does it happen?" You've seen a woman with two sparks in her and repeatedly heard of two people somehow being able to produce children, but you have never had the full picture in your mind.

For a second, Sephorah was what you would call as dumbstruck. Then, she began to grin awkwardly. Somewhere in the camp - behind both of you - the sound of someone dropping something from their hands or even tripping over emerged, but you were too busy staring at the changing waterfall of emotions on Sephorah's face to turn around.

"Come, now," her grin transformed from embarrassed to silly back and forth for a few times, "you can't be serious!"

Well, apparently you were, giving the horned woman that fish eye stare with which Rosaline studied you in your very early days at her homestead.

"No. Way," Seph spoke out in disbelief after she registered your look, "How don't you even..." she abruptly paused her phrase.

You just tilted your head to a side and blinked, staring at her curiously.

"Never imagined that I would have to give this talk..." She muttered in a nervously-amused manner, "Fine then. Fine. What you need to know about it is..." she made a deep breath before continuing. "You need to know that this is a natural process, yet a very dirty, wet, and loud one, especially at the very start and end. It all begins when a man pours fertilizer into your underbelly rose, you know where that is, right?" she said while diverting her gaze. You just made a single weak nod. "Then, there is a chance that the seed of a new living being would take root inside you, growing out of your body's vigor and causing it to change in shape, like expanding your breasts and inflating your belly. Then, if nothing would go wrong during all those moons of you growing progressively chubbier, clumsier, and neurotic, the birthtime arrives. It is painful for many and even at times lethal for the frailer ones, but at this exact time, from the way it was planted, the new, blood-covered, screaming, and still attached to you by a cord new life would pop out - the new life that would likely become the center of the universe in your eyes or one of such in years to come".

Your eyes grew wide during this talk with all of its nitty-gritty while you also subconsciously enveloped yourself in your wings formed in a "cocoon", wordlessly expressing your protest against ever having your body bloated and your head brainwashed. You were utterly shocked and speechless.

"That's about all I can tell you and," she looked you up and down for a moment, "and about as much as you need to know. And before you ask - no, I never went through this, although many years ago, I had to see my mother and oldest sister going through it all. Well, how else would I be employed to look over a bunch of metaphorical kids if I had my own to look for?" As she said that, you still were speechless, even if little less tense. However, your state didn't prevent you from noticing that there was a flighty moment of sadness in Sephorah's eyes when she said that she never had children of her own. Adding this observation to how did she react to Merygold's legend, you could almost tell that she has a personal story that somehow connects to this topic.

"And there I was, at one point fearing that you were taken to Kirhol as an exotic and highly-prized commodity to pleasure rich men in some parlor" she muttered quietly, shook her head, and gave a flash glance in the direction where Ulren supposed to be. "Anyway!" she spoke out loud in order to drop the previous topic, "if you don't know even this, then what did Rosaline taught you? I recall you were content at some point about your stay there, so can you tell me more about your experiences?"

By the moment she changed the topic, you relaxed a little bit, growing able to actually answer questions.

"It was incomparably better than the first couple of weeks which I can remember," you answered with almost no hesitation, "Rosaline taught me the essentials of how to survive in the world of people while Ulren and Karl taught me how to defend myself and others. Various things happened, but there was more good to come, and I am grateful for the time I had there. I don't know what awaits us ahead, but I feel more ready to face it, and would gladly come back and to at least thank everyone"

As you finished your answer, Sephorah did not say anything in return, just looking either at you or maybe even through you for quite some long and awkward moments. Then, she turned her face from you and trained her aim at the stars above.

"I too, once, was all alone in an unfamiliar land, wide-eyed, hopeful, and unsuspecting of what is about to come. And ever after that, my opinion on my situation and the general course of life jumped from one extreme to another, from either wanting to return things to what they used to be before I fled my home and up to wanting to run as far and as long as possible, bearing no cares or concerns at all," she said in a quiet tone while not breaking her star gaze, smirking faintly instead, "You know, Sparkling, I am almost jealous about how fortunately things turned out for you in the situation alike to the one that broke me and how you manage to keep the middle ground between remembering where you came from and still accepting the world around".

As she fell in a moment of silence, you found yourself in an awkward situation of having to continue the conversation somehow. So, yet not recovered from the talk about proliferation, you settled on voicing your another concern in the same topic.

"Umm... Sehporah? How exactly what you said about, you know - making babies, how exactly would it work for me? I haven't seen anyone like myself and even Rosaline confirmed that she never saw or heard or read about the likes of me. So, uh..."

What you said made the horned woman shift her eyes back to you, watching abashed and, most likely, embarrassed. Her dark skin, as well as the lack of illumination, made it impossible to see the blush on her cheeks, but from the motions of her glowing orange eyes, you could say that you made her feel awkward.

"My word! If you are standing here in flesh and asking me all these spicy questions, then there should be those who made you in the way I mentioned. You may not remember who and where exactly, but I'm sure that you have or had your mom, dad, and maybe a bunch of siblings. Isn't figuring that out is a part of the reason why we're on the road?"

You chuckled lightly, probably due to the fuzzy feeling of someone telling you that you are not alone or maybe just because of the way she told it.

"Maybe they are somewhere..." you replied pensively, "I am just trying to understand what does it imply for me and whether or not I myself can..." you suddenly found it hard to speak out whether or not you can make babies of your own, "you know, if I won't meet anyone from my kind".

As you muttered that, you found yourself being inspected by Sephorah's rather smutty look. "Well, if it would turn out that you won't come across anyone from your kin in the future, you can try proliferating with other races".

What she said slightly dumbstruck you, making your head tilt to a side and open your eyes wide in misunderstanding.

"Some races do produce halfbreeds," she continued impudently, either ignoring your confused looks or even having fun from them, "Landers can do babies with other, more exotic Landers, and most of the elder races can do so between themselves. I'm not that knowledgeable in this topic, but I certainly know that Daevas can make offsprings with Alvizians and even," she made a quick shiver before continuing, "Rhoth partners, but no matter how long, hard, and persistent a Lander would ram against us, nothing will pop up out of that. So, if you would grow desperate for having kids at some point," she smiled dirtily, "you will be up for quite a series of experiments".

You sounded a tiny squeal and shook your hands as if they were stained with dirt. You wings unfolded subconsciously and your face morphed in a way as if you ate a raw lemon, making Sephorah miss through a hampered laugh from your reaction to presumed bawdiness. She was merciful enough to help you out with a topic change, however.

"My oh my, now aren't you adorable when shy?" she turned slightly more serious after saying that, "Absolutely unrelated to the previous topic: how come you've got yourself own Rhoth - and Bhiroth, nonetheless - to follow you like shade at sunset? Sorry if I'm prying too much, but who exactly is he to you?"
CHA and INT triggered
The last phrase of hers made you snap out of the somewhat funny reaction to the previous improper topic. Knowing about and feeling the turbulence between her and Ulren, you can say with certainty that she will likely use the information you are about to deliver to her in competing for your attention with him. But with that, her attempt to arm herself with information opens her up to your attempts to knowingly influence her opinion. Or at least to try to do so.

You considered the opportunity of nudging her opinion on Ulren or, at least, to convey that their irregular fire exchanges aren't making things easier on your part. But... you also got carried away by the process of figuring out what exactly do you feel about Ulren in general. The absence of any solid views on this particular matter, even though you did spend quite some time around this person, was a little bit embarrassing, and organizing the thoughts to classify this particular relationship brought up a series of cases and comparisons in your mind. As you tried to find the answer to this question, silently watching into nothingness, Sephorah cocked her head backward, raising the chin and curving her lips, delivering the "I'm waiting~" gesture.

"I think he is..." you began not yet sure yourself, "he's like a brother".

"A Brother?" you struggled to figure out whether surprise or sarcasm was prevalent in Sephorah's voice.

"I think so," you answered meekly and shrugged, "even though more often than not he acts protecting and overseeing, with a lesson or advice ready, I think he is more of a shy big brother". You looked in the way of the person mentioned, who was proceeding with whatever they were doing on the ground with his back exposed to you, "He may seem hard-shelled and paternalizing, but that is how he deals with the outside world, while inside he can be uncertain, worried, and saddened, feeling awkward expressing or otherwise letting those feelings - or any feelings - out. He also seemed to give me much more freedom compared to Rosaline and I think he was the first one to recognize me as an equal person and not some oddly-shaped feathery animal".

"Oh?" Your interlocutor was hardly amused but yet curious, "Sorry for not remembering if I asked you about it already, but how exactly the two of you met?"

"He found me," you answered with a cheery ring to your voice.

"Found you where?" somehow, your answer made Sephorah only more curious.

"Under a bush! The one he called something like holly, which is also how he called the sword that he gifted me with later".

Your answers were doing a poor job at confirming whatever theories Sephorah had on her mind, and you can see that in her eyes, "So, he found you under some bush. What happened after that?"

"Well, at first we were kidnapped by a patrol of people who seemed to be of his race, then, there was a pack of wolves, and then icy dead-raising ghosts or something like that. And after that, there was the first Gaian storm that I experienced and which I thought nearly killed me off. The next day after it, we arrived in Beilford. Ren was rather grumpy all along the way, spare the times I somehow got his attention with my problems or whims, but in the city, he was particularly depressed. After those sickly-looking people things attempted to invade our hideout, he took me out to some sort of an old chapel. That one evening, he looked like on the verge of breaking, and I remember giving him a squeeze with my wings. I still don't know how or why did it work on him" your faced curved in an awkward smirk which also as quickly morphed into a dreary expression, "And the next day, the havoc broke loose. You can tell what happened with us next".

"Right. Sorry for bringing this up," Sephorah said and gave you a gentle shoulder rub. As sweet as it was for her to say, it also came off as surface-y, with the thoughts or considerations much more intense - the ones she wasn't sharing with you - going under this surface of sympathy. "Say, how did he treat you all this time?"

"As I said before, he's very protective and caring and doesn't seem to like when I admit that. Back then, when we just met, he was a little bit cautious about me, but all the problems that we came through somehow bonded us" you grinned and looked down below, weakly punching a pebble at your feet, "Truth to be told, I sometimes get this feeling just from the way he always seems to know what to do that he might have had someone else to care about".

"Interesting..." Seph replied and brushed her chin, making you silently wonder why would she find any interest in a person she seems to progressively detest the longer she stays around.

You got Dusky wondering, and it was getting rather late. When you turned back to see what's going on in the camp, some of your group mates already retreated to your tents. And Ren preparing to carry out his half of the watch shift. It might be not long before you would have to call a night as well.

As your exotic interlocutor was clearly busy plotting something in her mind, you had to disturb her with your attempt of bringing up an important topic.

"Seph, we must talk about how our group members treat each other," you said, breathing in before trying to push the hard line, "Yes - you know what I mean".

"Oooh!" she reacted exaggeratingly, "Did the drunkard mage finally lose his cool and roasted the servant girl?"

"Erm... no? And what exactly do you mean by 'roasted'?" you started to get confused by what she was saying.

"Oh my! Have the mute boy spoke and his first words were of how lame our brute is?"

"No, and why would he do so? Don't you think you're..."

"Aww..." she interrupted, "I certainly would"

"Seph, I am worried ever since what happened back at..."

"Don't!" she dramatically grappled you by the shoulders and shook you slightly, "Fret not Sparkling! We would undress that useless maggot and tie him to the pack horse should he dare to rummage through our tent and desecrate your undies!... By the way, have you seen him this evening?"

No longer you were able to retain any cool. Your stomach nearly relieved its contents when your imagination painted the image described by Seph. Then, you voiced out your stress with a short yelp that would probably fit little kittens. You turned around towards the girls' tent, but it did not show any signs of less-than-proper activities happening within. Still disgusted and a little bit baffled. you lowered your shoulders.

"Sorry!" Seph spoke out with the voice ringing with fun, "It was a bit cruel on my part, but you are just so much fun". She stretched her hands sideways before lowering them and brushing against your soft pair of wings. "I think I'll get a nap before my shift - we don't want the brute yammering in the morning, don't we?" After saying that, she began to walk towards the tent. "Thank you for the nontrivial chatter! We should hang out sometime soon~" she spoke out to you without turning, making sure that Ulren will have no chance to miss it.

"Wait! I wanted to talk about..." you tried to call her out, but she ignored your attempt and disappeared in the tent.

And this is how you found yourself by the receiving end of Sephorah's performance talent - the very thing you started this whole conversation from. It wasn't anything major, but witnessing how others may exploit your weaknesses or peculiarities felt not-so-great. In mild frustration, you lowered your wings, catching Ulren's gaze on you and the subsequent shake of his head. You could not tell whether he was disapproving of his rivals behavior or your entire attempt to influence her, but his eyes weren't without at least some sympathy.

Bewildered, you shifted your gaze in another direction, on an instinct training it on what seemed to look like a pair of round dots in the darkness. A mere second after you registered the small lights, whatever projected them vanished into the night. Hastily, you attempted to scan the surrounding for otherworldy presences, but the only irregularity that you uncovered was an odd resonance from that silver locket you picked. This observation rendered the question of whether or not the item is possessed obsolete, replacing it with the question of what is this spirit in nature and how long has it been stalking you this evening. You caught yourself on hoping that it isn't menacing in any way.

 

[Teloch]

The last two days of the journey to Baathor passed relatively quickly but not eventlessly. On Hearthwind 11th, the weather deteriorated quickly and remained foul for the rest of the day, forcing your group to cut the daily march short and wait for conditions improvement. Thus, chased by the bone-chilling humid winds, you found yourself restricted to the camping tent with other girls. Having nothing to do except to share company, the conversation kicked off gracefully with you acting as an intermediary between Amalia and Seph, and it somehow lasted deep into the night, turning into a small outdoor version of a sleepover party. During this shared banter, you and Amalia managed to squeeze some background information from Seph, learning that she hails from the house Terphor - a rather famous Daevish clan that is known for producing many sought-after dancers, actors, and concubines for Kathor upper echelons' amusement. She also disclosed that at the time being the youngest among eight other siblings, she was a rebellious child, prone to running away and causing problems for her clan.

These recollections of daeva resonated well with Amalia, which wasn't something you weren't anticipating. Using this opportunity to sympathize on the criteria of childhood alikeness, Amalia told both of you how she used to live with her mother in post-war Eastern Kingdoms. With her father disappearing so early that she could not even remember him, she used to help her struggling mother a lot with the chores and odd jobs, spending whatever limited free time she had by running off to the hut of an elder Alvizian hermit who, despite living on a fringe of the settlement and rarely going for a contact with locals, was always eager to indulge her with seemingly countless stories about magic, gods, monsters, and heroes. That is how she believes her urge for adventure and faraway lands had been planted into her heart before her mother raised enough money to attempt moving to Lyf kingdom and trying to start life from a clean slate.

Despite your initial doubts, Sephorah reacted to Amalia's sincerity very positively. They carried on the conversation without your support for a while, jumping from the mundane details to philosophical musings on how mixed and yet thrilling it feels to realize yourself being a grain of sand in the wild ocean that is the world. But eventually, their attention shifted to you, causing you to keep up the conversation with whatever recollections and impressions you preserved in your memories. Your story of getting to Kirhol and then staying at Daugaard's mansion smoothly pushed the topic to more mundane things like cuisine, clothes, holidays, and other races. Despite the whimsicality of this social exchange, the "tent party" lasted long enough for anyone who would otherwise notice how unreasonably many supplies you consumed during this improvised partying fall asleep, letting the girly part of your group to grow more tightly-knit in peace.

But it wasn't only Sephorah and Amalia who decided that it may be a high time to go for a contact: the spirit bounded to the amulet that you uncovered also grew more active. One morning, Ulren asked you abashed if you had seen or sensed anything strange at night, elaborating that he had a few instances of sensations as if something was poking his nose when he was certainly-not-snoozing during his night watch shift. You told him that there is a chance that you might have picked up a spirit bounded to the locket you recovered from the cavern, which he left without a comment. The next day, Amalia complained that she had to wake up at night to the feeling of something sitting on her chest, which Sephorah rationalized as an odd case known as sleep paralysis or just having a bad dream she could not remember. You, however, had different suspicions, wondering what kind of a creature even behaves as this spirit does.

But not all events that occurred during the last couple of days before you reached the suburbs of Baathor were pleasant or awkwardly strange: not far away from one of the steads that were becoming more and more frequent the closer you got to Baathor, your party was attacked by a wild animal. It wasn't a difficult fight (or a fight at all), with the beast getting peppered with bolts, broken one of its legs, and then finished off on the ground. The surprising part took place after it was neutralized: Karl recognized the creature as a fork horn - a common herbivore of the steppes. This specimen, however, was dreadfully deformed, greatly oversized, leaking green ooze, and clearly rabid in life. Everyone's initial idea was that the critter somehow ended up afflicted by a disease shattered after Isaac assessed the carcass and scribbled that the creature was overcharged with the body arcane aspect. You confirmed the observation after scanning the arcane residues. The source and the methodology behind the animal's misfortune remained undeterminable, but the parallels with odd animals behavior were drawn and the consensus about discarding hunting for a time was reached. Somewhat fidgety, but Jory harvested some of the green arcane-infused goop for further study, attracting either disgusted or dispassioned stares.

_________________________
​

On sunny yet windy noon of Hearthwind 13, your group has finally reached the sprawling suburbs of Baathor. You started to encounter first clay and wooden homesteads long before Baathor's wall came into the vicinity, but the closer you approached what many call the foothold of civilization on Blug-Tur the more populated the surroundings were getting. Your team was mostly silent when all of you were passing by the steads with their busy owners making bonfires out of the leaves, branches, and other junk that littered their plots since the end of the previous year's autumn. You could say that the majority of your teammates anticipated even the temporary but still a return to civilization and its boons. They, however, were not unique in their eagerness to get behind the walls: horsemen, caravans, travelers on foot, locals and foreigners alike were hustling near the city entrance in great numbers, making the landscape look from afar like a bustling colony of ants.

As your own humble caravan made its way towards the massive wooden gates, surrounded by a half dozen massive flags hanging from the walls, depicting either regal animals or witty geometrical patterns, you all noticed irregularities in the surrounding hustle: the guardsmen were wary, observing sparse groups of people rushing to the gates as if they were running for their lives. You could see the same wonderment on the faces of adjusted caravaners that was occupying your teammates. Something didn't feel right and Ulren was the first one to voice his concern.

In a matter of a minute, the previously scarce groups running towards the gates increased in both numbers and sizes, making them look like entire waves. The sounds of screams and great commotion began to emerge from the west part of the suburbs. The on-duty combatants quickly grouped up and rushed in the general direction from where people were running away, sending but a couple of messengers behind the gates. As the situation unfolded, your group began to collectively murmur, voicing incomprehension, confusion, or, in Ulren's case, annoyance. The neighboring groups of travelers followed the example of your group, foreseeing delays and problems with passing through the city gates.

However, no one was expecting what was to come: about one and a half hundred meters away from you, near the gates, an entire wave of people rushed out from the row of farms and stables, many stumbling and ending up trampled by those running for their lives. A moment after, a huge beast appeared from the same row of buildings - covered in crimson fur, with chitinous tail adorned with a black spike on its tip, leathery wings, and a terrifying head with a dark mane. The creature jumped atop one of the unfortunate souls, tearing the runaway on two parts with its claws fang in a matter of a second, and then exhausting a blood-chilling roar. The shocked guardsmen on the walls recoiled from the sight, opening fire from their bows at the menace. The monster didn't seem to be fearful of getting harmed, lunging forward at everything that moved like a berserk, covering the scene with crimson and green - the same green ooze you saw on the deformed stag a day ago.

But that was not the end of it: as the masses of people around you witnessed the struggle, many decided to turn back in hopes to avoid the danger, only to see the suburban dwellers - entire families of adults, elderly, and even children - mixed with the travelers who were further behind rushing forth and colliding against the people who decided to retreat. From behind this mess of people you could see two more monsters: a couple of deformed, huge, and vicious hybrids between bear and wolf rampaging on the streets to the south from your position, sparing not a man, a child, or an animal. And if things were not bad enough, you could hear the same terrified shrieks mixed with familiar wolven howls to the south-west.

The situation turned grim as the panic around you ensued. Many people attempted hiding in or nearby surrounding properties while others just fell to the ground, feeling surrounding and unable to do anything but to call upon whatever higher powers the believed in for delivery from harm. More organized and guarded caravans unsheathed their weapons, bracing for unavoidable skirmish. Among those who seemingly preferred a fight to flight, you noticed a squad of people - three human men and one woman - clad in brigandines and leather cuirasses and armed with longbows, glaives, and masterfully crafted longswords. Another noticeable detail that distinguished this group of combatants from the surrounding mass of people was the symbol of an open palm with the fingers looking upwards depicted on their regalias, armor, or, in case of the woman, tattooed on her face. They didn't seem to talk among each other - just heading through the ensued mess with the clear intent of engaging the bearish beasts behind you.

In this quickly-developing storm of ferocity, even though there were those who decided to fight, there was little if any hope of avoiding committing to the violence.

[] Assist the guards against the chimeric beast! (Participants: Ulren, Sephorah, Karl, and you. Thee rounds skirmish against 84 - 1d20 team offense check, and 84 team defense check - 1d20, and normal constitution check (20) of the character with the lowest defensive score in case of team's failure to beat each new round's defense check.
[] Assist the squad of combatants against the bearish beasts! (Participants: Ulren, Sephorah, Karl, and you. Two team tests against 76 - 1d10 team offense check, 80 - 1d10 team defense check)
[] Brace for the skirmish with the advancing pack of rabid wargs! (Participants: Ulren, Sephorah, Karl, you, Amalia, Isaac, Jory. Normal individual offense check (20), normal individual defense check (20), individual luck rolls. Characters who roll above the checks will share the remainders of their rolls with those who failed the checks in the priority based on their views and relationships).

[] Your style
-[] fully magical (arcane exposure)
--[] onslaught (full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, luck roll)
--[] warding (1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill for defense, luck roll)
--[] supporting (1/2 or arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll, Karl gets his offense roll doubled)
-[] combined (1/2 arcane skill roll + 1/2 melee skill roll, 1/2 arcane skill roll + 1/2 defense skill roll, luck roll, per -4 to total offense and defense requirements for the target you are engaging)
-[] physical (melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)

[] Expose wings to help yourself in combat?
-[] Yes
-[] No​

Party's combat styles and rolls to make:
[locked] Ulren: melee/combined melee (melee skill roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 ranged skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
[locked] Sephorah: melee/combined melee (melee skill roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 items usage skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
[locked] Karl: onslaught (full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, willpower roll, luck roll)
[locked] Amalia (defense skill roll, luck roll)
[locked] Isaac (defense skill roll, luck roll)
[locked] Jory (defense skill roll, luck roll)

 

[Teloch]

To the great dismay of everyone who was at the gates, the city shut its entrance, leaving a platoon of guards to deal with the rampaging menace and cutting off the way to safety to all those slow enough to see the safety of the majority being ensured on their expense. And while the marked combatants' group moved in to engage a couple of hulking beasts behind your group, the approaching mix of howls, roars, and scared yelps from the south-west indicated that you ended up between the anvil that is greater beasts and hammer that is lesser yet not less furious predators. What made them hunt in the domain of people - you did not know, but what was clear is that your group needed to act quickly to break from this lockdown and, hopefully, open the path from danger to many others.

The combative of your group saw the situation in the same light you did; Ulren waved his hand to the rest of the team, signaling that it is time to lend a hand to the local militia at the gates, and lowering the curtain of his helmet. Sephorah followed with the clearly readable annoyance on her face. Karl's level of enthusiasm, as always, remained a mystery for you. Regardless, while Ren closed the grate of his helmet, Seph checked one of the pouched and counted the knives in it, and Karl crackled his palms in preparation to cast excessively, you tightened the belt around both the dress and the cloak, just to be extra sure that your wings won't peek out during actual fighting. Even though you felt like unfolding wings for the fight might have been beneficial for staying away from harm's way, still suspicious about the results of revealing your nature in the past, you decided not to draw unnecessary attention. With accelerating heartbeat, you rushed after the combat-capable part of your group, getting interrupted by Ren gently shoving you back and shaking his head on the move. You knew that he wanted you to stay away from it, but you paused but for a moment before moving after them anyway.

By the time your group's formation was moving in to engage, the crimson manticore was already causing major havoc at the gates, pouncing at groups of guards and civilians, shooting back with poisoned needles from its tail at the archers on the wall, and trying to get anything that moves with its claws or fangs in general. The analogy in behavior and even physical deformation with the deer that attacked your group earlier was clear, but this was a dangerous monster in the best of times, not just some arcane-crazed herbivore. The only saving grace of this mysterious infliction was that the dimorphism of flesh rendered the manticore unable to use its black leathery wings to fly - allowing only assisted jumps.

As the monster grew carried away with trying to kill as many living beings as it could only see, your party slammed at it with a mild element of surprise. Ren took the head of the charge, drawing the aggression of the rabid beast to himself while Seph attempted to flank the creature, avoiding its frantic swipes and ram attempts, which it performed on unbelievably high speed in regards to its physical sizes. You decided to mirror Daeva's positioning, pincering the creature from the other side. Karl took the rear and began to shower the beast with suppressing fiery projectiles. The monster was clearly enraged by the impunity your team demonstrated, vocalizing the abrupt roar that gave you chills while also making your heart beat in as rabid as this creature was moving, but you could not afford to falter, bracing for the up-and-downer that was very quick to follow.

As Ren locked on the manticore, the beast performed a flurry of swipes on him, causing the man to sidestep one strike, take three on the armor, and two on the shield. Trying its luck in continuing the flurry, the manticore attempted to use its advantage in sizes to mount and pin Ulren down to the ground, which resulted in Roth's close escape of the creatures descending claws and a mighty counter at its left paw with his mace. Enraged by pain, the crimson monster attempted to side-swipe Ulren only to get it's front right limb slammed again. Recoiling from the pain caused by the targeted strikes, the manticore suddenly decided to go coup-de-grace, making a few steps back and then attempting to bite Ren with its huge jaws. Pressed by the lack of time to react, all that Ren could do was shoving his shield into the creature's maw, locking it from closing its foul jaws, and beginnings to frantically strike its mug repeatedly while struggling not to fall under the rabid beast.

All this time Seohrah tried to combine lunges aimed at the back limbs and side torso of the beast with tossing knives, depending on whether the monster was temporarily recovering from motions or on the move. When Ren's shield stuck in the manticore's maw, you too - with serious mental effort - took the risk of lunging at the manticore's side, stabbing its hide for three times and causing its caustic blood to mix with the dirt below. But such opening could not last for long, with the manticore finally unclenching its teeth from Ren's shield and momentarily taking action at changing the tactic. On unbelievably high speed, it made two steps back, bent its body, and made a whipping round strike with its chitinous tail. With bare moments to react, you conjured a luminal barrier in front of you, which still ended up shattered under the force of the strike, sparing you a hit with the needles, but sending you flying backward for a meter. Sensing a brief relief from concentrated multidirectional attacks, the manticore disengaged unrelenting Ulren, sustaining a single hit of opportunity from him, and trying to dispatch Sephorah instead.

The dusky woman, being the creature of grace, dodged two consecutive stings of the monster's tail and one bite attempt. But, unfortunately for Seph, the monster fooled her with a fake telegraphed attempt at stinging with the tail that was followed with the real sting once she lowered her defenses. Even though she was fast in her attempt to evade the poisonous thorn, the stuck landed on her lower abdominal side. You heard Seph's yelp of pain and anger when trying to stab back limbs of the monster and, for a moment, you were close to panicking. Luckily for you and everyone else, Seph resisted succumbing to pain and, most likely, poison, dodging out from the monster's immediate reach with fiery fury in her orange eyes.

Your group wasn't the only one that fought this beast: the surviving guardsmen were lobbing javelins at the monster while the archers were raining arrows from the walls. This assistance coupled with the damage the beast sustained and the harassing fireballs conjured by Karl made the manticore change tactics from melee engagements to speedy charges. Even though it began to limp on one paw, the motions of the beast were still speedy, hinting that it was not reacting to pain as any normal creature would. With this change of pacing, Ulren proceeded from trying to anchor the threat to fighting in a mixed style, dodging or taking a hit on his shield, attempting to make a single powerful counter in melee, and then shooting off from his compact crossbow whenever the creature went for another pre-charge hook, switching its target.

Ren's new tactic proved to be effective in punishing the beast, but it did not draw away threat from you or anyone else, and so, soon enough, the manticore picked you as its next target, ruching up at you and dodging a massive fireball which Karl unsuccessfully tossed to force it to change the trajectory. Your heart froze and the time appeared to flow slowly as the foul bestial mug with jade-green eyes was quickly approaching you with the intent to bite you in half. With no time to attempt anything else, you raised your hands at conjured the barrier of the thickest density you could only muster, taking the mighty bite of the monster on it. For a couple of seconds that felt like a minute, you were face to face with the crimson frenzied manticore, staring at its glowing green eyes and separated from the killing intent in them by only a thin arcane barrier. You could say that even under the veil of frenzy, it could see your fear, trying to bite at the barrier and spreading bright fractures through its smooth surface. You took a stance and grappled your sword harder when the second strike came, making it look more like an intricate mosaic of glowing tiles. The third strike never came as you ejected the barrage of the barrier's remains into the mug of the monster, performing an advancing pierce as a follow-up, blasting a flash of light straight in its wounded face, and threw your body down and to the side, quickly rolling, crawling, and then getting up and running away from the whirlwind of claws to which the beast blindly tried to catch its offender.

Making at least some distance from the temporarily confused beast, you noticed that it opened only one of its jade eyes. Whether you half-blinded it with the magic or with the sword you could not tell, but it lost its initiative for the time, giving Ulren a proper moment to land a couple of heavy blows on one of its frontal limbs, making the monster dodge away from both you and Ren. While doing so, it attempted shooting at Ren with the poisonous needle from its tail, which he deflected with the shield. As it made some distance, the monster exposed itself to a barrage of arrows hailing down from the walls as well as Karl's fires, going for another leap just to get out from ranged threats. By haphazardly doing so, it jumped closer to Sephorah, limping on one of its paws (which could've been broken by now) and giving daeva the perfect opening to exact revenge for the wound sustained.

And Sephorah surely obliged, making a swift dash, somersaulting above the horizontal swipe of monster's claws, and landing on its back. As risky as such position was, the beast did not have enough time pierce the reckless daeva with its tail due to the series of downward thrusts that the furious woman performed, trying to peck the monster's brain out with her longsword. At least a couple of these thrusts were stopped by its skull, but one - the only one that really mattered - went down into the beast's head for more than a half of the blade's length. Sephorah down off from the maned menace shortly before the latter fell into a series of spasmodic thrashings. She smirked smugly, watching others rain bolts, fire charges, arrows, and even glowing wedges at the rolling ball of agony and fury.

Contrary to your hopes and expectations, it all this collective effort did not finish the beast off yet. The monster managed to regain some command over its movements, making the final attempt at killing at least someone from its adversaries by chasing and goring them, disregarding all the pain. It was not fighting to survive as normal animals would, it pursued only one purpose - to take out as many as it can. It shifted its targets chaotically from you to Seph to civilians and local guards, but by the end of this skirmish, Karl has properly fired up, if you could say so. The mage accelerated enough arcane powers to lob searing javelin-like projectiles. The beast was set aflame, prickled with all the projectiles, bleeding blood from numerous wound and the green ichor from swellings, and yet it moved even if increasingly slow and limping, trying to nail at least someone and to land the last kill in its furious life that was about to end. But it was not bound to happen as Karl conjured a mighty stream of flame, roasting the creature until the only moves its dying body could produce were the neurotic twitches of the lying on the ground carcass.

Everyone stared at the still-burning and twitching carcass of the once fearsome beast, ignoring the commotion further in the suburbia and just hoping that it would be the end of it. The creature exhaled a muffled dying roar before freezing still. But when the skirmish participants and the would-be victims exhaled relieved sighs, the beast twitched one last time with its tail, sending the last poisoned spike flying in the air with the characteristic swirl. A moment of collective confusion was broken with Sephorah's short shriek - the needle struck her in the upper chest area - somewhere above the heart. She recoiled from the hit, taking a step back and spelling a curse on her native language before slumping forward on her knees. The city gates behind her opened, allowing the survivors from suburbs to flush into the city. The help was on its way.

_________________________
​

Contrary to the books about adventures and heroic deeds, there was no cheering or celebration in Baathor that evening - only fear, sorrow, and confusion. The grim atmosphere covered the city, with civilians fearing to return to their homes beyond the walls, separated families crying out the names of their relatives and children, desperately hoping to hear back from those missing, while the rest were busy compiling body count and identifying those deceased. There was also frustration about the security of the city, with many citizens publically decrying the very fact that the city was besieged by scores of frenzied beasts, not even mentioning that the decision to close the gates led to many casualties among those who didn't make it to the city in time. The shrines and many public establishments were repurposed as infirmaries just to give a roof to those many injured, maimed, and dying.

With your team's assistance in taking down the most menacing beast, the local clans' combatants were combing the suburbs, culling off the remaining threats and searching for survivors who may or may not need medical help. Your group, alas, didn't make through the fight unscratched: Ren sustained minor cutting wounds from the claws of the manticore as well as plenty of bruises. Sephorah took the main hit; even though her body resisted the main poison damage, she was still intoxicated, and two moderately deep piercing wounds weren't making things any easier for her. As for you, your frame sustained a few new bruises. In truth, you were more damaged mentally than physically, having survived the most brutal fight in your lifetime. With the fade of adrenaline, you began to realize just how dangerous and risky it was, growing shaken from both the realization and worrying about Sephorah.

Your party stopped at one of the inns, with Isaac immediately treating Sephorah. Amalia and Jory, even if scared, still put your group's poor horse to stables when the situation stabilized. An hour after, Isaac informed everyone that Seph would likely recover in about a week of mending since her wounds were not life-threatening and her body resisted the main bulk of the poisoning damage. For now, all that she needed was rest, healer's periodic attention, and proper care. With that scribbled, he politely asked you and Amalia to leave him to his duty as a healer. Perceiving the request, Ren led you out from the inn allegedly to unwind, but you felt like he was using this opportunity to discuss something with you in private.

"Why?" he asked about a minute after leaving the inn with you, "Why did you throw yourself in it? Have you forgot what happened near Beilford?"

"The lives were at stake - both ours and others. I don't think I could just remain idle while others risk their everything".

"I do admire the way you are thinking, but have you thought what would have happened if it was you who got seriously injured or even worse?"

You found nothing to answer that question with, turning your face away instead.

"Have it crossed your mind what would happen if we lose you? Have you thought about which news we will have to come back to Rosie with?" Ren persisted, slightly raising his voice.

"It did not," was your answer, still avoiding looking at Ren's face.

The Bhiroth sighed frustrated and squatted to level with your face, purposefully invading your line of sight.

"Rosie lost her sister in a situation like this years ago, with me also being there but not being good enough to prevent the tragedy from happening," his voice was more tired and sad than angry, "I blamed myself ever since and Rosie never really recovered from that loss. And now, after she met and accepted you to her life along with the hope that thing will get better, you continue to act recklessly, disregarding your own safety". He gently turned your face in his direction, "Just know that if we lose you, I'm not sure I'll be able to cope with shame and Rosaline with grief. You don't want to do that to us?"

You wordlessly shook your head in refusal.

"I am proud of how you treat others and always willing to help, but if there is one thing that I learned is that one can not save everyone. Sometimes, you have to think about yourself, too".

"Maybe it is impossible, but does it mean we should not try?"

Your words clearly reached Ren on a deeper level. "Once, I was sure that I knew the answer to this question. But now, I am not so sure". The tension disappeared from his voice, "But what I know is that you would've made a perfect Bhiroth if you were born one". With that, he gave you a pat, "Doubt that my words would dissuade you from acting boldly in the future, but, if not for your own sake, try to be careful for Rosie and me".

You gave him a nod with a faint grin. That was one very odd way of saying "I don't want to lose you", but you grew to accept Ren's shyness by that time.

"Ren? If we're already out in the city, can we, perhaps, get something for Seph? Doubt it would make her recovery any faster, but I think she deserves at least a token of gratitude from us".

"As much as I hate to admit it, she was of great help today. The damage would've been much worse without her. Do you have any specific idea of how to reward her?"

"I don't but maybe we can figure something out if there is a market district in this city?"

"Baathor is one huge marketplace as you will soon find out, so there should be something of interest on sale even with all this mess happening around. Follow me, I know the place".

As the man spoke, you obliged to follow, silently musing on how the day's event made him open up a little and, what is more mysterious, how he happened not to loathe Sephorah as much you feared he would. Perhaps, these two aren't hopeless after all.
Ulren unclocked new trait ​

_________________________
​

Later that day, you and Ren arrived at the central market square, witnessing a mass congregation of city folk instead of the expected marketplace hustle. There was an improvised podium by the opposite end of the square, filled with combatants from various clans and a few richly-dressed landers. From what you can tell, the crowd was collectively expressing their anger at what transpired earlier today, and this whole event was an attempt of officials to pacify the citizens. Some cries were not on the Pherinian language, while others you could vaguely distinguish among the audial clutter; those weren't flattering cries.

Focusing better on what was happening on the podium, you noticed two figures sitting on their knees with their hands most likely tied behind them and a huge figure of an armored roth overseeing them. In the center, there were two smaller figures: two youngish Freelanders - a male clad in a robe and a female clad fur mantle and armed with a ceremonial-looking bow. When the woman began to speak, the mass of people relatively subsided. She was speaking not in the language you could understand, but you noticed how the crowd reacted to some of her speech lines. It appeared as if she was publically commenting on the day's event.

Closer to the end of the congregation, the culmination took place: the woman waved commandingly to the huge Rhoth man and other combatants clad in tabards depicting wolf heads, they dragged the captives that happened to share the same tabards forward, ending up hard-pressed against the floor with their right hands stretched up behind their backs, but only after they got publically stripped from the tabards they were clad in under the excited roar of the observing crowd. You gulped when one of the guardsmen tossed a sword to the noble-looking woman and she approached the captives with clearly malicious intent.

And then... you could not see anything from behind Ulren's huge palm that curtained your field of view. For a moment, you tried to shift it down, but you ceased these attempts once the sounds of painful cries and the wave of public cheering rocked the square. Instead, you turned to look at Ulren, who was staring at the event with an absent gaze. It seemed like his thoughts were far away from this place and, most likely, from the current time. He lowered his hand, letting you see both of the captives that were now missing their right arms being pushed down from the podium at the mercy of the heated-up crowd. The meaning of this event surfaced: the concerned and terrified citizens were pacified at the expense of these two unfortunates. Realizing this, you tugged Ulren by his hand, unwilling to see to the end of this event. He recognized the foul mood in your eyes and yielded to your silent plea.

But even though you were done with this event, the event wasn't done with you, as it became evident half an hour later when you and Ren were evaluating a stall with various - presumably curative - tinctures and herbs. The stall's merchant performed a deep and respectful bow from all the sudden, which caused you to turn around and witness the presence of both nobles from the square's podium. The woman clad in a rich mantle, decorated leather armor, and equally decorated weapons approached both of you with the open gesture, showing that she has nothing to hide and her intents are friendly. The young man, who shared the same black color and some facial features with the woman approached silently, trying not to draw much attention to himself. He, however, seemed to be more focused on you, studying you and Ren up and down in silence.

"Ah! The refugees from Lyf that crossed the old Baitszun and ended up robbing my men from the valor of taking down a feral manticore by the city gates. If the wanderers like you were somehow forced out from your homes, then I don't want to know what drove you out" the woman spoke, approaching both of you and giving a studying look. She spent more time evaluating Ulren than you.

"But please, don't think that monsters' outbreaks and deserting cravens are frequent in these lands - this day was rich on unforeseen events," she continued, "My name is Aela, and this cloud of gloom is my brother Ergon. We are the heads of the Tchonun clan - the most influential of the Baathor clans".

"So, old Yrman finally gave himself to the skies in my absence and passed the torch to his children," Ulren replied before you could say anything, which seemed to be on purpose, "You can call me Kyr, and this is sunny. As your men have already reported, we are travelers from Lyf heading west".

Ulren's words clearly left an impression on Aela. "So, you are not only a capable fighter but also been to Baathor in the past. Say, what would be your answer if I offer you to join my men? Thord sees we will need all the strength in the coming turmoil, but with it comes the promise of the richest plunder in generations".

"No can do," Ulren answered dryly, "ought is an ought".

The answer disappointed Aela only mildly as she didn't seem to expect anything opposite. Ergon raised one of his brows curiously but remained silent.

"Sorry to hear that, but it is still the answer worth respect," she said, "On behalf of Tchonun clan and all other citizens of Baathor, I thank you for valor shown in today's events. Unfortunately, I can't provide you with a monetary reward as everything that we earn is now going into reinforcement of our defenses in preparation for the new war between Nyth-Rhathon and Olfadir. But still, you have a right of dispensation and my pending offer to join Tchonun as a reward, should that ever interest you".

"Can we ask for the right of the quarry?" Ulren inquired after a moment-long pondering, "I know someone along our way who can make quality craft out of bestial bits".


"Frequent to Baathor and knowledgeable of Blug-Tur's sacred traditions. Why do you have to make me feel like making a mistake by letting you resupply and be on your way, Kyr?" Aela replied with a predatory grin that quickly faded. Ulren was unfazed by this witticism. "Indeed, as someone who took part in taking down that monstrosity, you have the right on its flesh. Its carcass is now being dissembled in the butchery by the western gates. Your group can claim whatever and however much of that carrion, and if someone would protest that, you have my permission to beat some sense into those fools".

Ulren nodded to the latest reply, "We will try to beat only the things that have bounties on their heads or whatever serves as such".

"Then Baathor and its denizens would owe you even more," Aela answered, "Now if you excuse us, we have an ongoing mess to sort out". With that, she turned around and began to pace away, while her silent brother gave you a small but polite bow.

When both of them disappeared from your sights, Ulren addressed you: "Lucy, go fetch the craven and tell him that I await him at the western slaughterhouse with tools. We have to support ourselves financially for the time we are to stay while the rogue is recovering"

"But we haven't bought anything for Seph" you recalled.

"We will do so tomorrow or later on".

You gave Ren a doubting glance, to which he said: "You have my word" and rolled with his eyes. Hearing that, you finally grinned and departed towards the inn where your group settled for a time being. The busy week was upon you.
_______________________________

You have stopped at Baathor. Your party sustained some damage, and it will take some time for full recovery. You can use this delay for various activities that may improve your skills, your relationships with teammates, or both. These activities will also have practical results such as monetary or inventory gain. Same as the votes from the second chapter, you are limited with available time, so choose wisely. You can pick whatever endeavors listed or make write-ins (to which I will assign costs and benefits). Some of the actions are repeatable. Some actions will be unavailable due to your current environment.

YOU HAVE 14 TIME POINTS

[] Spend time assisting Isaac and nursing Sephorah
-8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to pharma and treatment skill, 60% chance for additional +1 to pharma and treatment skill, 30% chance to get another +1 to pharma and treatment skill. Hard arcane skill roll (24) OR hard WIS roll (18) OR successful luck roll (37+) for ???. Free CHA roll for higher bonuses to relationships gain with Seph and Isaac.
[] Join Ulren and Karl at completing small-time bounties
-8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to melee OR arcane OR defense skill, 60% chance for additional +1 to melee OR arcane OR defense skill, 30% chance to get another +1 to melee OR arcane OR defense skill. Free melee, arcane, defense and LUCK roll for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Ren and Karl.
[] Assist Amalia and Jory with daily routines
- 8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to persuasion OR haggling OR daily craft, 60% chance for additional +1 to persuasion OR haggling OR daily craft, 30% chance to get another +1 to persuasion OR haggling OR daily craft. Free persuasion, haggling, daily craft, and LUCK rolls for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Amalia and Jory.
[] Spend some time with Ren at the smithy
-5 Time points, guaranteed +1 to weaponsmithing OR artificiery, 50% chance for additional +1 to weaponsmithing OR artificiery. Free weaponsmithing, artificiery, and LUCK rolls for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Ren.
[] Help Amalia with clothes repair
-5 Time points, guaranteed +1 to tailoring, 50% chance for additional +1 to tailoring. Free tailoring and LUCK rolls for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Amalia.
[] Assist Jory with alchemical commissions
-5 Time points, guaranteed +1 to alchemy, 50% chance for additional +1 to alchemy. Free alchemy and LUCK rolls for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Jory. He does not like you enough to accept any help.

[] Targeted skill training
-[] Melee combat
-[] Ranged combat
-[] Arcane skill
-[] Defense
-[] Willpower
-[] Arcane lore
-[] Lingual lore
-[] Daily craft
-[] Weaponsmithing
-[] Armorsmithing
-[] Artificeiry
-[] Pharma and treatment
-[] Tailoring
-3 Time points. Repeatable


[] Intensive training of attributes
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
-4 Time points, 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. Repeatable.


[] Routine attribute training
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
-3 Time points, 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. Repeatable.

[] Raise flight mastery by 1
-3 Time points, repeatable

[] Practice or study your aspects!
-[] Practice thaumaturgy
--[] Bonus 1/2 to melee combat
--[] Bonus 1/2 to defense
-[] Study soul aspect
-4 Time points. Repeatable. For thaumaturgy: current level 7 (+0/7 of the next level), above hard wisdom attribute (18), above hard intelligence attribute (18), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment. You can pick one of the bonus skills, but the maximum progress per a training session can't exceed 3/x of the next level. For soul aspect: current level 5 (+0/5 of the next level), above normal wisdom attribute check (16), above normal intelligence attribute check (16), below normal arcane skill (18) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment.

[] Try to bond with someone
-[] Ulren
-[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac (Easy CHA check (13))
-[] Jory (Hard CHA check (18))
-2 Time points, cumulative, write in cues and hints for me to flesh out in the next update.

[] Write-in
​

 

[Teloch]

You peeked through the door gap to one of the rooms occupied by your group at Moon Steed inn. Inside, you saw exactly what you expected: a dusky, horned damsel lying on a bed under a few covers, with her back facing you, and her hips protruding upwards like a miniature mountain. Even though she miraculously resisted the worst effects of manticore's poison, the injury and the residual toxins were still taking a toll on her, with the treatment procedures not being any more pleasant. However, after a couple of bounties fulfilled with the guys, you've got something to light her up a bit.

"Seph? How are you holding?" you inquired for politeness' sake, "I've got something for you~"

The woman did not turn around: "If it's again that serum which made me vomit, sweat, and urinate at the same time, then you better just end me," she weakly waved her right hand upwards without making any efforts to face you.

"Seph, you know that Isaac is doing everything he can to get you back on your feet, and I'm sure you do realize how lucky you were to get off so relatively easy"

"Yea, yea' pleasant medicine exists only in children games" she grumbled. You don't know whether it was the discomfort from the wound or just a simple irritation from having to impersonate a vegetable while everyone else was busy, but she's been like this for the last few days. Well, mostly - she stopped shooting with death-related jokes a couple of days ago, which can be considered as progress.

Seeing no initial progress in drawing her attention, you approached her bed, carefully poking her right shoulder to no avail, alas. "Come o-o-on, Seph. Or I'll start calling you Sephanie~".

"You can butter my nates and call me a biscuit but I'm not taking that cockatrice's piss ever again," she grumbled back, making it obvious that convincing won't work. Fortunately, you had a spare plan - two of them, in fact: white, soft, and fluffy.

After double-checking that you closed the entry doors, you uncovered one of your wings and shoved it close to Seph as if unintentionally. Credit be where it's due: she heroically resisted the power of cute for about seven seconds, after which she was reduced to an ooo-ing and ooh-ing creature whose sole purpose and joy was tugging your feathers. After about a minute in which she satisfied her tactile urges, she finally turned to you, noticing a bottle of gastronomical rather than pharmaceutical sizes and a pie on a dish in your hands.

"Why didn't you tell me that you've got something good?" she inquired with playful Incomprehension, to which you just rolled your eyes and grinned. In a couple of minutes, after you helped her to sit straight, you were already chewing to the treat - the juicy veal meat pie with veggies and seasoning. It wasn't tasty in a way the food in Lyf was, but it still was quite savory and even more so filling; the baker that sold it to you said that it's the traditional Baathorian snack which is popular among shepherds, couriers, and other trades that are expected to work away from the city and in long shifts.

You were less impressed about the drink, though: you could sense the fruit vibes, but the overall taste was weird in a way you could not describe. What you could describe, however, was the odd feeling of your nose tip numbing and body warming up.

"is this the first time you try a brew?" Seph inquired after watching you react to whatever the thing you drank was, "It's just a cider! Looks like last year's, but still weak enough".

"If it's weak, I don't want to know what's a strong brew is" you replied, rubbing your nose and registering the heat in your cheeks.

"Pffft..." Seph recoiled weakly, "laughing still hurts a little". She looked blankly at the bottle in question, "Never thought I will miss fyr dew one day," she spoke, catching your curious look, "it's made from the mix of fruits that grow only in Kathor river valleys. Most of them are sweet with varying sour or even spicy notes. All these apples and pears pheotorians cultivate are bland in comparison".

"Do you miss home?" you asked, jumping on the opportunity to shift the topic.

"Yes and no," the answer followed after a short pause; your question chiseled a complicated grimace on her face, which is odd given how easy the question is. "I still cling to the idea that I didn't leave but flee my homeland and with it the ways of my people. Siblings' rivalry, many-layered intrigues, feuds and hatred under the masks of politeness, and the main rule of Bael: either you destroy everything and everyone on your climb in society and thus the tower, or others cast you down in a blink of an eye and you will have to toil through your short days at the fringes".

You decided against interrupting her - whether her tongue loosened a bit because of her poor body condition or because of you growing on her did not change the fact that she was opening up little by little.

"Back then, I thought that I already knew enough about the world to be sure that a better life was just across the sea and nothing bad would happen to me if I try to reach it," she smiled pensively, with her eyes clearly looking somewhere in the past, "but I didn't realize that the world isn't better or worse from one region to another - it is just the different kind of mess in each part of it," after saying that, her smile became faint for a few moments before recovering, but this time with some dose of bitterness, "To think that I was stupid enough to believe that all northerners would be as good as you are, Sparkling".

This sentiment caught you off-guard, and you needed to do something about it. "But there is a lot of good people: Amalia is so dependable and doing her hardest to help us all or how Isaac is trying to be of aid to everyone despite being in a condition which no one would envy".

"Oh, I see where you're heading~"

"Well, yes. Even though you don't like him, I can't see how a person prone and capable of saving and trying to give a better life to complete strangers which they picked from some forest be bad," because it sounded a bit too emotional, you decided to water down the statement a bit, "just so you know, he told me that you were of great help back at the gates and that he might have something for you at the next city we are heading to"

"Please, remind me to teach you how to lie someday," Seph tried on a smug face.

You shrugged plainly, "Believe it or not, but I doubt it would change anything"

"... Things went from unbelievable to creepy way too fast for a convo that isn't a storytelling night around a campfire" Seph's smugness gave way to confusion, from which she recovered swiftly, though.

"A-anyway..." she muttered, letting the previous topic fade away, "It is probably the for the first time in years that I'm saying this, but thank you for taking care of me".

You cocked your head to a side, plainly passing her an opening to elaborate.

"Just before you start acting like all those horribly prim and terribly shy Lyflander damsels, just know that it's not a small deal. I have had many older siblings, but they were way too engrossed in competing for elders' attention and so patronage to give a damn about me. And on top of that, we - Daevas - are very dependable on the conditions in which we live our lives. So, as silly as it may sound, by such favors like today you are buying me time and..." in the last moment, she reconsidered finishing her thought, faintly biting her lower lip, "yeah. Thank you".

"If there is anything that I've learned from the first weeks that I remember is that one has to rely on and support others for everyone to get through. Whom would I be to turn a blind eye to a person without whom I probably would not have even reached Kirhol and who is the second person I know the longest?" you considered giving her a rub, but that would probably have to wait until her recovery, "I don't know if there's the real family that I have or had, but I have what constitutes as such, and you are a part of it".

"Aww. How many times have I told you that you're a peach?"

"This seems to be the third or the fourth time," you replied, receiving a weak but still a squeeze.

"Just, please, save me embarrassement and don't tell others that you got me all mellow"
_________________________

Baathor - the fortress of civilization facing the wild expanse. Life is harder here and so are tempers of locals. After the fauna outbreak in the suburbs, the city returned to its normal rhythm in a couple of days - a mildly shocking yet not entirely incomprehensible contrast with Kirhol, which stewed in fear for almost a month before the push came to shove and, most likely, did not stop painfully reacting to the happened crisis ever after. But here? The events and ordeals with oftentimes lethal or otherwise tragic outcomes were not unique, forcing the community into the learning of how to take a hit and how to move on over the losses.

With one team member being in the non-deployable state, you felt both the need and obligation to fill in her shoes to some extent or at least to reduce the pressure on others. And so, you volunteered to help Ren and Karl to earn some coin, getting shocked by how many menace eradication and person search bounties were pending for hirelings. Ren wasn't very keen on letting you do the nitty-gritty of these tasks first, but he still took you on board, probably deciding that he can keep the potential threats to you in check, that your unique abilities can prove to be of great help and even open way of completing some of the more specific bounties, and that some practical experience will do you good in long run.

And it seemed like his judgment was correct: during those few contracts that you have made with Karl and Ren, you have gained valuable experience. For example, there was a contract on one of those monstrous bears that terrorized the suburbs during your arrival - even if injured, it managed to flee from being slaughtered, caving not far from the city and starting to terrorize local farmers. It wasn't hard to seek out the beast but rather to put it down. It was where you learned two things: cornered animals are the most dangerous, and faux-dodges with redirections are as powerful in defense as faux strikes with follow-ups are in overcoming guarded stances. From the short but violent encounter, during which you had to deploy your magic and use wings add some extra velocity to dodging attempts, you've learned how to mislead your adversaries on how will you move in combat.

But your martial advancement was inferior to your progress in arcane. There was a unique and thus well-paid bounty on an ethereal threat eradication at the stead of one of the old Baathorian clans, the resident of which complained about the violent nocturnal activity of an incomprehensible shade-like entity. Even before your team spent a night at the mansion, weeding out the menace that manifested in clusters of objects and furniture that wreak havoc on the home, you sensed the reek of the void from the appointed location and the entity that haunted it. It's extinguishment, however, boiled down to demobilizing the unnaturally-fast, objects-possessing entity, and you exorcizing it, while the guys were trying to ward you from the being's furious resistance that lobbed everything that can hit hard. During this uncommon confrontation, the idea of using your luminal barrier technique to not ward yourself but to isolate the adversary struck you when the menace proved to be too fast for Ren and Karl. To their surprise and silent joy, you managed to perform the new trick without a hitch, which led to the poltergeist's swift deconstruction and then banishment by your thaumaturgistic capacities.

In the conclusion of that exotic bounty, Ren was visibly proud for the pivotal role that you shouldered, Karl was thrilled by the experience itself, and everyone was glad to receive a hefty monetary reward that wasn't even diminished due to the considerable collateral damage. After this event, you saw Karl showing signs of a careful enthusiasm, that manifested in drawing comedic parallels with all those violent and rowdy drifter hobos known as adventurers and how your team is exactly like them. What you found more interesting is his little input on the nature of the voidling menace that you took down: he said that he once knew an amateur demonologist of wanton habits and exotic companionship preferences that liked to share about his conjuration practices with convives. According to the volumes of unverified data that he shared, the thing your party encountered was most likely an imp on the verge of morphing into the higher forms, or, in other words, it was a void-originated phantasm that infested this house, feeding on plentiful memory trails and imprints of strong emotions, that was about to undergo the phase of conception. This phase is known and called so due to the void phantasms making a push for creating their corporeal shells either via hunting fresh flesh with the intent to bend and twist it or by possessing living creatures and burning out the previous owners' souls from the bodies before slowly starting to morph them. The first ones are classified as demons, while the latter are devils. The entity which you have exorcized was, apparently, preparing to go the first way, demonstrating demonic violence instead of devils' subtlety. You put down a mental remark that Karl can share quite an exquisite knowledge if he gets lively enough, which does not happen often.

This realization about your teammates' traits wasn't the only one, though. Along with more difficult jobs, your party also ran some minor ones. One such task was to find a child that disappeared from its family with no trace. Armed with your ability to read memory traces and compare them against the soul sparks, further reinforced by your ability to sense entities from the distance and your team's deduction, the job went smooth if a bit too overextended in time. The kid was found shivering from cold, hungry, scared, and lost in one of the nearby woods. The surprise came when Ren rejected the humble but still honest payment for returning the kid without justifying the reason neither to the contractors nor to you and Karl. Later that day, when you exchanged with stories of day's events with Amalia, she told you that due to Roth's women lower fertility and longer windows of recovery between consecutive childbirth, their race repopulates slowly, adding extra social value to motherhood and upbringing as a whole. Due to this and the alleged martial roots of their culture, which revolves around preservation and survival, many bhiroth males are likely to have this ingrained, deep-rooted respect for mothers - at times even of other races. Albeit mightily delayed, but it explained why Ren was acting like an obedient calf around Morinth back in Kirhol.

Regardless of your impressions, your first round of mercenary work with a part of your group went smooth and quite profitable. As a welcomed bonus, the experience had a teambuilding effect on Ulren and Karl, who were still often arguing about your talents, how to develop them better, about politics, bestiary, and many other topics but within the boundaries of a friendly rivalry. Additionally, you noticed that Ren's views on you have changed: no longer he saw you as a helpless cub that you once were, but rather like a junior sibling, showing signs of respect and pride whenever you managed to perform well. Something equal can be said about Karl's shift of perspective regarding you: it went from polite and careful curiosity to even more careful admiration. Perhaps, you enjoyed these changes, but it's not like you were feeling like talking about them: no need to get cocky and careless after one successful week.

However, fortune was accompanying your group not only out in the fields but in the common endeavors as well. While you dedicated your free time to read the pieces from Rosaline's library that were at hand and then polemize with Karl on the topic of arcane and the rules it obeys, Ren paid a couple of visits to local smithies, which oversized glaive. He also produced a spare arbalest with a simple yet effective mechanism, which he didn't sell right off the bat despite having such an opportunity, making you wonder why.

Isaac put quite the effort into patching up Sephorah. Even though he seemed to do better with the arcane part of the treatment, material means were also involved, setting up the wounded daeva on the road to speedy (even if not entirely complete, compared to Claudius's levels of mastery) recovery. When he wasn't tending to the patient, who mocked him for turning beetroot-red from staring at her left breast while treating the injury that was located slightly above it (and thus making him blush almost purple), Isaac also assisted Jory in studying that arcane-infused liquid harvested from the crazed animals. Together, they managed to determine that among the plethora of arcane influences, the substance resonated with the body arcane aspect, most likely causing abnormal vigor as well as deformities to those afflicted. The second part of the discovery was the fact that the properties of the substance were quickly diminishing, imposing the time pressure on studying it. With some effort uncommon to Jory in particular, the boys managed to conserve a couple of samples via using third-side reagents and produced a few samples of the test substance that could allegedly act as a strong painkiller and regeneration accelerator. Of course, they did not test it on people and had no plans of selling it to potential consumers, but the citie's alchemical atelier bought out the results of their work for a handy sum.

The week turned out to be productive for everyone except Sephorah (for reasons obvious), but Amalia managed to exceed everyone's expectations by shouldering the daily, logistical, and financial chores like a master. With her unrelenting productivity, your group had only to pay for the stable cell that the mount occupied, the price of materials used in various crafts, and little or sporadic purchases such as snacks or gifts. The total balance of 1580 talers with which your group came to Baathor has increased to the equivalent of 2230 in a week time. For most of the commoners, this sum would suffice to run a household for almost a year without being thrifty, but you had a long journey ahead of you, imposing the need to buy expensive supplies, tools, and consider procuring more mounts for the travel speed sake. There was a good thing about stocking up before having to depart, though: your group made quite a reputation during your stay, with some of the merchants recognizing you and hinting on discounts. However, it wasn't the only type of things attracted by your group's reputation...
_________________________

It was a cloudy morning in Baathor when you were summoned of all the sudden to the Tchonun longhouse. The beardless courier lad relayed to you that Aela took interest in the deeds that your group made as mercenaries and that she may have a lucrative offer for you. Ren was already starting to evaluate the groups' overall situation and readiness for departure, which is why he did not receive the new development all that enthusiastically. Still, declining an invitation for an audience from the current head of one of the leading Baathorian clans wasn't a real option.

Later that morning, you and Ren were led into the longhouse by one of Tchonun clansmen, encountering Aela not in a hall but in the armory, changing a string of a refined bow with other clansmen tending the similar duties. When you arrived, the banter that dominated the armory hushed down, with Aela shifting her face to you but not interrupting her weapon maintenance routine.

"You've made quite a name around here," she spoke without bothering for any formal greeting, "I bet that, given their family reputation, Sargays were lucky to have only one spook to rattle their house. Good job, though".

You just shrugged vaguely, not feeling particularly comfy with a half-dozen of rough-looking men (presumably hunters or militia) measuring you with their stares.

"So, what's the job?" Ulren spoke with his normal brick-to-the-face level of subtlety.

"Ah, down to business, it is~," Aela replied. You felt like she enjoyed such format of a conversation, which left its mark on her intonation. "You seem to be good at butchering uncommon threats and it happens that we have such. The beast is an aberration that, from the reports of scouts and survivors, looks like an overgrown bloody blend of a horse and a man or two, it is said to spew clouds of poison and rot at its victims and may have other unreported magic tricks stored up. It appeared about two moons ago near one of the villages south from Tevon-Talab, from which it banished all of its former residents and which it turned into its lair, where it resides up to this day. We are interested in that settlement and need the scum dead. I recall you saying that your route lies to the west, which almost certainly means you will pass Tevon-Talab. If so, what would you say about meeting our people there and helping them seize control of that nest of pestilence by killing off the pestilent scum?"

"And what would we have for it?"

"Hmm..." Aela hummed, testing the strength of the string she attached filling the hall with the muffled crackling of the weaponized sinew, "Does six hundred halbis atop of two donurgian steeds or one courser elasmore sound good to you?"

There was no immediate reply from Ulren - you saw his lips moving a little while he was most likely calculating the estimated price of the payment and compared it against whatever data he had in mind.

"Not bad," he finally spoke, putting a faint, one-sided grin on Aela's face, "But we are not yet sure if we can depart in a day or two as one of ours haven't recovered completely, not even mentioning that we haven't discussed this opportunity with the rest of the group. Mind us giving an answer a bit later?"

"Sure," Aela answered, trying her best to hide the annoyance brought by the second part of Ulren's answer, seems like she wasn't very fond of democracy as a concept, "Just report in when and if you make your mind. You will need to know whom to seek for in Tevon and what to give them in order to be recognized, so try not to ponder for long enough for those who have the intel to move out".


Shortly, you left the wolf-bannered longhouse, going down the street and listening to Ren's estimation of the payment (600 halbis converts into 450 talers, while two steeds of the donurg breed cost as much as an average courser elasmore - 2000 talers, making the total payment anywhere from 2200 to 2600 talers depending on the age and condition of the animals) when a familiar figure lined up with you. It was Ergon - Aela's sibling.

"Excuse my intervention," he began, "I believe we were introduced, but just in case - I am Ergon, and you talked to my sister earlier today." For a Turanian and a silent type which he came across as he was speaking quite elaborately.

"Aela has sound judgment and always been good at seeing people for their strengths, but she also always lacked carefulness and foresight, which made compensating her shortfalls my job. I am aware of the offer that she made you and, if you decide to take the commission, would like to aid you. Should you agree to join the hunt, do let me know so I could send a lieutenant of my own to assist your group. If not for the combat alone, I believe they are going to be of great help at surviving the journey through the plains."

"We will consider that," Ulren replied. You noticed a spark of suspicion in his eyes, or at least he, as always, wasn't particularly thrilled by the new development.

"Then, I dare not to delay you any further," he spoke and gave you something that looked like a medium between a nod and a slight bow. "have a good day, nokhod". With that, he turned around, pacing back to his clan house at a lively pace.

You exchanged looks with Ulren; it seemed like you were bound to make a big deal of decisions that day, not even counting the start of preparations for the journey.
____________________

[] Accept the job?
-[] Yes, let Ergon know. Depart this week.
-[] Yes, but don't let Ergon know. Depart this week.
-[] No
--[] Depart this week
--[] Stay in Baathor for another week

[] Your future route to Tevon-Talab - your next destination regardless of whether you would accept the commission or not.
-[] Straight western route through the grasslands (twelve to sixteen days of travel, three to four points of character development, open plains with scarce woods, high risk of people encounters, low risk of fauna encounters, very high supernatural risks, low odds of finding places of interest, below average hunting/foraging opportunities, scarce natural covers)
-[] South-west, through the river valley (sixteen to twenty days of travel, four to five points of character development, moderate plains with moderate woods closer to the river, moderate risk of people encounters, high risk of fauna encounters, low supernatural risks, high odds of finding places of interest, high hunting/foraging opportunities, plenty of natural covers)

[] Lucy's plan of actions
-[] Travel development plan (time point quotas depend on travel time)
--[] write-in

Spoiler: The list of options

[] Skill training
-[] Melee combat
-[] Ranged combat
-[] Arcane skill
-[] Defense
-[] Willpower
-[] Arcane lore
-[] Lingual lore
-[] Daily craft
-[] Weaponsmithing
-[] Armorsmithing
-[] Artificeiry
-[] Pharma and treatment
-[] Tailoring
-[] Sneaking
-[] Persuasion
-[] Performance
-[] Seduction
-1 time point. Raises by 1. Repeatable

[] Intensive training of attributes
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
-2 time points, 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. Repeatable.

[] Routine attribute training
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
-1 time point, 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. Repeatable.

[] Raise flight mastery by 1
-2 points, repeatable

[] Practice or study your aspects!
-[] Practice thaumaturgy
--[] Bonus 1/2 to melee combat
--[] Bonus 1/2 to defense
-[] Study soul aspect
-2 Time points. Repeatable. For thaumaturgy: current level 7 (+0/7 of the next level), above hard wisdom attribute (18), above hard intelligence attribute (18), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment. You can pick one of the bonus skills, but the maximum progress per a training session can't exceed 3/x of the next level. For soul aspect: current level 5 (+0/5 of the next level), above normal wisdom attribute check (16), above normal intelligence attribute check (16), below normal arcane skill (18) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment.


[] Try to bond with someone
-[] Ulren
-[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac (Easy CHA check (13))
-[] Jory (Hard CHA check (18))
-[] Ergon's lieutenant (if applicable)
-1 time point, cumulative, you can write in clues for me to flesh out in the next updates

[] Try to act as an intermediary between someone
-[] (specify person A) and (specify person B)
-1 time points, cumulative, you can write in clues for me to flesh out in the next update

-[] Stay development plan (14 time points)
--[] Write-in

Spoiler: The list of options

[] Join Ulren and Karl at completing the second round of small-time bounties
-8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to melee OR arcane OR defense skill, 60% chance for additional +1 to melee OR arcane OR defense skill, 30% chance to get another +1 to melee OR arcane OR defense skill. Free melee, arcane, defense and LUCK roll for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Ren and Karl.

[] Go on a series of shopping sprees with Sephorah and Amalia
-8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to haggle OR persuasion OR performance skill, 60% chance for additional +1 to haggle OR persuasion OR performance skill, 30% chance to get another +1 to haggle OR persuasion OR performance skill. Free haggle, persuasion, performance and LUCK roll for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Sephorah and Amalia.

[] Assist Ulren and Jory with arms and inventory preparations
-8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to weaponsmithing OR armorsmithing OR alchemy, 60% chance for additional to +1 to weaponsmithing OR armorsmithing OR alchemy skill, 30% chance to get another +1 to weaponsmithing OR armorsmithing OR alchemy. Free weaponsmithing, armorsmithing, alchemy skill and LUCK rolls for extra rewards depending on how many tiers above normal checks (20+) beaten and if luck is triggered. Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Ulren and Jory.

[] Join Karl and Isaac in some arcane practice
-8 Time points, guaranteed +1 to arcane skill OR one round of Thaumaturgy practice OR one round of Spirit magic practice, 60% chance for additional to +1 arcane skill OR one round of Thaumaturgy practice OR one round of Spirit magic practice, arcane skill OR one round of Thaumaturgy practice OR one round of Spirit magic practice. Progress is determined by the rolls needed to raise arcane aspects (INT, WIS, Arcane). Free CHA roll for extra bonding with Karl and Isaac.

[] Targeted skill training
-[] Melee combat
-[] Ranged combat
-[] Arcane skill
-[] Defense
-[] Willpower
-[] Arcane lore
-[] Lingual lore
-[] Daily craft
-[] Weaponsmithing
-[] Armorsmithing
-[] Artificeiry
-[] Pharma and treatment
-[] Tailoring
-3 Time points. Repeatable


[] Intensive training of attributes
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
-4 Time points, 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. Repeatable.


[] Routine attribute training
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
-3 Time points, 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. Repeatable.

[] Practice or study your aspects!
-[] Practice thaumaturgy
--[] Bonus 1/2 to melee combat
--[] Bonus 1/2 to defense
-[] Study soul aspect
-4 Time points. Repeatable. For thaumaturgy: current level 7 (+0/7 of the next level), above hard wisdom attribute (18), above hard intelligence attribute (18), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment. You can pick one of the bonus skills, but the maximum progress per a training session can't exceed 3/x of the next level. For soul aspect: current level 5 (+0/5 of the next level), above normal wisdom attribute check (16), above normal intelligence attribute check (16), below normal arcane skill (18) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment.

[] Try to bond with someone
-[] Ulren
-[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac (Easy CHA check (13))
-[] Jory (Hard CHA check (18))
-2 Time points, cumulative, write in cues and hints for me to flesh out in the next update.

[] Write-in

 

[Teloch]

Unlike the uncommonly warm week that accompanied your stay in Baathor, nature returned to what would be proper for early spring at the time of you leaving the Turanian bastion of civilization behind. Your group was moving the same road that led you to the city gate and all that happened there, for now, but you could not avoid noticing changes in the form of some local denizens recognizing your group and waving at your departure, the fact that your bunch managed to accumulate both supplies and money, and the faint feeling of your group members finally growing accustomed to each other as well as accepting (even if not willingly) the journey ahead of you with all of the hardships to come. These observations, the memories about three previous departures, and the windy, borderline rainy weather made you pensive, reflecting on how much has changed since the times you were a larva of a person fleeing the burning Beilford. Silently, you mused on whether or not would you even recognize yourself once you, hopefully, return to Kirhol.

"A bloody monstrosity that ravaged an entire village or two and which wasn't tackled down by an influential clan without side help of such idiots like us. What could possibly go wrong?" Unlike you, your companions weren't as quiet and brooding, which was obvious from Seph's attempt to sting Ulren verbally, which the man persistently countered with nothing but silence.

"I would've asked if you lost your mind if not for the notion that one can't lose something they never had, so I will just hope that the insight of how royally we screwed up by accepting this task gonna hit you before we'll have to risk our hides and inquire why, by Maath's mighty bosoms, we haven't spent the money in Baathor. It's not like it would be of any use if we wind up dead in the wilds because of under-equipment!" Even though her questions were legitimate, it's not like she was in the mood for any answers; more likely, she just felt upset because of spending a week or so in a room at the inn which didn't even have its musicians or songstresses to counter the boredom. You could read that it on her face: she wanted to provoke a nifty scandal for entertainment purpose. And, considering how staunching Ren was in denying her the drama, he also seemed to understand the reason behind her ranting spree.

"Did you eat a mouthful of horse dicks back in the city and now don't want us to figure it out?" Sephorah was heating up from having no response from her 'victim', supporting her jabs with the articulation one would not expect from a person who could barely move a week ago.

Instead of answering to daeva's blatant provocation, Ren mumbled something you could not hear and beckoned Amalia with a gesture. The former maidservant obliged, swiftly lining up with the bhiroth, who leaned down and sideways to whisper something into her ear. After perceiving that, she seemed to inquire something like "so soon?" and rushing back to procure something from the bags strapped to the pack horse after getting Ren's affirmative nod.

"Hey! It's with you I'm talking with!" Seph was growing clearly worked up at the moment Amalia handed Ren whatever he asked to fetch. "If you keep up the act I..."

The entirety of the group turned their heads towards the troublemaker, whose angry tirade ended with a loud, characteristic sound of someone trying to squeak with the stuffed mouth. Apparently, Ren decided to occupy her mouth with a flatbread lunch, executing the act with the grace of a prankster.

"A tool used for its purpose. Feels nice, isn't it?" He finally replied to confused Seph, adding salt to injury by lightly touching the snack protruding from her mouth with his finger as if playfully stuffing it deeper.

Karl and Jory cracked per a couple of giggles, instantaneously drawing Sephorah's scorching glare. Interestingly enough, she did not spit out the treat out of indignation, preferring to devour it despite the injured pride.

Some things never change, you sighed and shook your head at the thought, shrugging with your wings under the cloak.

"Umm... Ulren? Can we go again through why did we decide to pick the route along the river and not the straight one?" You knew that Amalia knew the answer, but it was also clear that she tried to salvage the situation before the real bickering would start. It actually amazed you how responsible and helpful she tried to be when it came to keeping your ragtag team away from each other's throats.

"Life is ruthless in these lands, so raiders, slavers, cannibals and other scum prowl the plains, attracted by any caravan they could spot. In the open, we would be sitting ducks, and that means it would not be the question of whether or not we will have to fight off people, but how soon and how many times. Killing people is different from killing beasts and, don't know about you, but I'd rather avoid it when there are alternatives"

"Can't argue with that..."

"Besides, the open plains can be quite... abnormal at times. Most of those tales and wild ramblings about the armies of the dead rising from the ground to fight their long-forgotten battles or scores of ghost riders descending from the skies to hunt the living - they all come from the open fields. Not like the riverwoods are significantly safer and unpopulated, but at least we would have better odds at knowing what we have to deal with and it won't torment our conscience afterward. Hopefully."

"I see. But still, I have this nagging feeling that we have made a mistake of sorts. Maybe, we should have used the help of whomever Aela's brother planned to send with us"

"Why would you think that it was a mistake on our side?"

"In the literature of our provisor's choice, the bands of drifting lunatics that are main characters' groups can't abstain from nabbing everyone and everything, eventually turning into traveling circuses full of armed freaks," Karl stuck into the conversation suddenly, "I believe that our dear miss Brant is experiencing a certain pattern break dissonance because of that"

"Norskov!" Amalia cried out with the kind of indignation that proved Karl not entirely wrong with his assumption. If she had something in her hands, she would have probably lob it at the man.

"The way he approached us away from the eyes and ears of his sister reeked of plots and politics - the kind of things better to avoid. He presented his offer as the last minute sudden aid, but in my lifetime, there was only one case when unexpectable circumstances led to anything good. His offer didn't feel like it even remotely, so we better seek for more hireling on our own if we have to"

Hearing that, Amalia turn her head to you with that knowing look. Seems like she figured which set of unique and unexpectable circumstances he referred to, squeezing a reserved smile out of you. Maybe, it was just your imagination or optimism, but it felt like your group members were finally stopping being strangers to each other. If only they would also start acting mature a bit more often, though.
________________________

Your party was leaving Baathor in a much better material situation than it came with, boasting with 1979 talers total after stocking up on provisions and medicine that would cover not three weeks but an entire month of travel. Unlike the packhorse who ended up loaded to the brim (and that was even without accounting the salvaged manticore skin pieces and some of its bones), everyone else was pretty content about the discounts that some of the merchants offered your group due to its high reputation in the city and among clans council.

From the equipment side, Ren got a new weapon, which, when holstered behind his back, made him look like an oversized banner carrier whose flag slipped from the rather exotic pole. Ulren's reasoning for crafting it was the efficiency of this oversized glaive (which he persistently called the staff-sword) against larger beasts due to its reach, mass, blade shape, hooks, and some nifty bhirothian techniques. What surprised you more was seeing Amalia fiddling and servicing the arbalest Ulren made the last week. She told you that he agreed to teach her how to use along with other skills essential for staying alive in wildlands. The way she said that made you simultaneously happy for Amalia, wondering if there is anyone Ren would refuse to train at all, and a little bit jealous that he didn't make a crossbow for you. Also, she was looking wicked with that monster of a weapon in her hands and that sunny smile on her face at the same time. In any case, the overall gearing of your team saw improvement on the offensive spectrum with only repairs and restocks when it came to armors and projectiles respectively.

Finally, on the account of everyone's physique and capabilities, the group saw some improvement compared to the times of your departure from Narvic. The only one whose state degraded was Sephorah: even with the wounds closed and blood detoxicated, Isaac scribbled that she would fully recover in a week or so. Sometimes, when she moved, you saw some tiny twitches of her body or noticed the decline in her usually uncanny grace - the pieces of evidence to Isaac's conclusion. Still, she was lucky to survive and even more lucky for being put back on her feet by a quite talented healer apprentice. This notion made you put down a mental remark that Claudiuse's protege might use some spotlight and recognition for his quiet but significant efforts.

But, unfortunately, your group's streak of luck seemed to come to an end soon enough. On Hearthwind 24 - one day since your departure from Baathor - you were still threading through satellite villages and steads which seemed to grow scarcer and poorer the further you ventured south-west. On the outskirts of Zogun - a small village known for its apiaries and the constant threat of predators coming from the river woods - your group was discomposed by the sounds of skirmishing that caused some of the locals to panic. Even though Ulren had shared a piece of Turanian wisdom that prescribed the total avoidance of other travelers beyond Turanian settlements to be the best etiquette on the plains, due to the situation's analogic development to what transpired at Baathor's gates by the time of your arrival, the decision was made to investigate the source of trouble.

However, when you arrived at the scene, you saw no locals being chased and slaughtered by crazed beasts; what you saw was a group of five well-armed and decently armored men grouping around an agonizing reptilian beast that featured elasmorish sizes and a fat living serpent instead of a tail. The men around the dying creature had their iron breastplates bear the marks of the struggle, and they themselves seemed somewhat tired from the confrontation. To the relief of your group's non-combatants, it seemed like your group's intervention was not needed, and you all decided to head back on your way.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to happen: a javelin landed near Amalia, making her squeal from shock and Jory yelping even louder. The group of men, after some brief negotiations among themselves, headed towards you, and it was then when you understood what was going on and who they were.

Four of the men stopped at some distance from your position, occupying the half-moon formation with only their apparent leader continuing to walk towards you.

"Well-well, lads! If it isn't the thievery whores and scumbags back from the Raider's Halt!" the man spoke while approaching and clapping his hands mockingly, "Had a good promenade for our money, ye bitches?"

"Shit and meatballs..." you've heard Sephorah mumbling out of vexation.

"I hope you did, ye damn wretches, 'cause we're now gonna take back what's ours from you and then some," The man stopped clapping motions, spreading his hands in the "come at me" gesture and lowering his voice.

There was something very wrong about his last line and the way he looked at you and Seph in particular. One of the assumptions of what did he hint at made you recoil, after which you began to hastily think what to do in the developing situation. Ren met the situation with his benchmark calm, assuming a treacherously relaxed stance and hiding his right arm behind his back, slowly shifting his right palm between the handles of his weapons as if deciding what to use. Karl remained as outwardly apathetic as always, with only the inner spark of arcane energies that you sensed emanating from him betraying the phlegmatic looks.

"Oh noes!" Seph replied mockingly and with an absolutely toxic grin on her face, "The big bad Lander wankers are flailing their fat imaginary dicks! What should I do?". As soon as she finished her histrionic phrase, her facial expression abruptly changed to something you could only describe as the most ominous sadistic grin you ever saw, "How about those of you who won't die outright experience it yourselves?~"

The assumed leader fell silent for a moment, probably processing the information and then slowly lowering the lid on his helmet and replying: "A tart with an attitude, how refreshing. We'll see if you're gonna start begging to slit your throat before we'll be done with the humpbacked slut"

In a brief moment, your mind began to process thoughts at the tremendous speed, suggesting that not trying to prevent escalation with briarites at Narvic was a bad move, that the ensued silence indicated the beginning of the standoff, and that the chimera about whom everyone seemingly forgot is still alive even if on the last breath.

In any case, it was your move, now.
_________________________

[] Fight
-[] Non-lethally (Participants: you, Ulren, Sephorah, Karl. One round skirmish against 68 team offense check and 72 team defense check. If the party effort would end up below the non-lethal resolution, it will automatically degrade to the lethal skirmish)
-[] Lethally (Participants: you, Ulren, Sephorah, Karl. One round skirmish against 64 team offense check and 68 team defense check)

[] Your fighting style
-[] fully magical (arcane exposure)
--[] onslaught (full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, luck roll)
--[] warding (1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill for defense, luck roll)
--[] supporting (1/2 or arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll, Karl gets his offense roll doubled)
-[] combined (1/2 arcane skill roll + 1/2 melee skill roll, 1/2 arcane skill roll + 1/2 defense skill roll, luck roll, per -4 to total offense and defense requirements for the target you are engaging)
-[] physical (melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)

[] Expose wings to help yourself in combat?
-[] Yes
-[] No

[] Try diplomacy
-[] Talk everyone down (Hard CHA check (18), epic persuasion check (32) OR very hard intimidation check (28), luck roll)
-[] Toss them ~100 talers and try to talk 'em down (Above normal CHA check (16), very hard persuasion check (28) OR hard intimidation check (24), luck roll. Fail would result in a fight with Lucy going for the combined style)
-[] Toss them ~200 talers and try to talk 'em down (Below normal CHA check (14), hard persuasion check (24) OR normal intimidation check (20), luck roll. Fail would result in a fight with Lucy going for the combined style)
-[] Toss them ~300 talers and try to talk 'em down (Easy CHA check (13), normal persuasion check (20) OR easy intimidation check (17), luck roll. Fail would result in a fight with Lucy going for the combined style)
--[] Persuade
--[] Intimidate
---[] Pick who does the talking

[] Try turning the tables around
-[] Attempt to bind the spirit of the dying chimera to its soon-to-be corpse to hopefully create a temporary distraction (No arcane exposure, hard arcane skill check (20), Luck roll. Fail would result in a fight with Lucy going for the physical style)
-[] write-in

Party's combat styles and rolls to make:
[locked] Ulren: melee/combined melee (melee skill roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 ranged skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
[locked] Sephorah: melee/combined melee (melee skill roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 items usage skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
[locked] Karl: warding (1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill for defense, luck roll)

 

[Teloch]

A wave of anxiety washed over you when the course of the situation's unfolding became clear. Your initial thoughts were about the unlikely peaceful resolution, hinging on the odd chance of Ren scaring off these violent hotheads. But, surprisingly even for you, the other feeling began to emerge from under the initial panic response; the feeling you had only a little taste before - wrath. As the recollections of the Beilford burning and its citizens being murdered on the streets by those drunk with power and unpunished forcefulness resurfaced, your mind shifted to the whole different paradigm. The parallels between the unrestrainedly-violent cultist army and these armed thugs who believed in their warranted-by-force permissiveness were too clear to ignore, causing something inside of you to demand the violent retribution. With your fingers already on the sword's handle and the arcane energies stirring up, you looked at Ren, who was giving the provocateurs a cold stare of a predator laying down the sequence of motions against its prey. So much for diplomacy.

And the violence indeed followed in a couple of seconds. The adversaries might have been tired and heated-up, but they were not stupid to ignore the perceived threat levels of your teammates, focusing their initial onslaught on Ulren. Your buddy bhiroth, however, nullified the initial hostile charge by taking two javelins on his shield, catching the third one with his free right hand, redirecting the partisan pierce with the shield upwards, landing a mighty kick on the bigmouth briarite who threatened your group earlier, causing him to stumble back over a meter, and then, after backstepping but before reaching for his mace, Ulren sent the intercepted javelin to its original owner. The sound of an armor pierced and a ribcage broke as well as a mixture of coughing and painful yelps suggested that Ulren's sentiment was received but not appreciated by the recipient, who was the first one to fall between the utmost right briarite and the group's apparent leader.

The hostile's offensive drowned entirely when the second volley of javelins blasted mid-air from colliding with the reactive heat barrier conjured by Karl. To amplify the message, the mage summoned a pillar of fire, from which smaller blazing walls were scurrying forth at the hostiles, causing them to break their already incomplete half-moon formation and to scatter to avoid getting roasted alive, providing your group with an advantage of picking them one by one without expecting teamed-up counters or covering projectiles lobs.

This is how you found yourself facing a hostile footman at the right side of the scuffle. He might have been separated from the rest of his team and staggered by the poor start of the scrimmage, but his posture and body language were confident when he saw that he was facing the one whom their leader called a "humpback slut". This confidence was not long-living: what he thought to be a moment's work turned out as an unpleasant surprise when you conjured a light orb with your left hand and flash-banged it in front of him, closing up to stab him through one of the armor gaps. The disorientation was successful but lining up for a strike failed at the last moment due to your adversaries' bristling reaction. Less confidently than before, but the foe attempted to bash you with a shield and thrust with a partisan while you were in his effective melee reach. It was during this counter-offensive attempt when he faced the unexpectable yet again: the "hump" of yours turned out to be a pair of wings which you deployed to assist with the spearhead deflection and backward propulsion. The growing panic of your adversary became too evident to miss it.

Unlike with the man against you, your heart was blazing with many shades of wrath and the mind set up for a kill. Almost unconsciously, you poised yourself to accommodate against the change of the foe's style, which shifted to defensive mid guard with the occasional short attempt of lunging. You were at the disadvantage when it came to the reach and overall armaments disparity, but you had speed, magic, and unpredictability that stemmed out of them, and most importantly - you knew it. This weird waltz of you and the footman's spearhead came to its culmination when you managed to feint-dodge the blow, effectively flanking the hostile and, almost instinctively, bursting a mass of hard light shards in a cone. And then again, and again, and yet again, filling the air with numerous short-lived sparks. They were not immediately lethal since they did not pierce through the foe's armor, but the second volley made your foe lose his poise, the third one tore the shield out of his hands, and the fourth one ruptured the leather belts that were holding his armor segments together. In this fleeting moment of seeing your foe finally unshelled, you obeyed what seemed as a directive from your inner voice to exploit this opening, conjuring a blade-shaped luminal wedge and sent it flying with all the power you could muster.

In a strangely rapturous heartbeat, the glowing projectile struck the man, heralding the impact with a splash of heated blood and a deep sound of meat and bone being cut. Your target got dragged for about two meters by the force of the swiftly-dissipating arcane projectile. Even though something within you yearned to observe your foe's agony, you turned your gaze in search for a new target, registering a whole storm of feeling rushing through you and making it feel as if your skin and guts were washed with fiery waves.


Your further involvement was barely needed, though, as your companions performed a series of executions not less efficient than the one made by you. Ren's adversary happened to be the bigmouthed leader of this group, and his combat proficiency wasn't far behind the sharpness of his tongue. But even then, the sharpness of his tongue was poor protection against Ren's gradually fastening bash-shove-strike combo and his benchmark diagonal arc "head crusher" strike, which did just that when the briatite could no longer cope up with the bhiroth's persistence and power.

Seeing the fragments of their leader's helmet and what once was his head flying high, a though of how fucked they turned out being for picking up on strangers has finally breached the minds of the two surviving hostiles. Due to either poor luck or insufficient recovery, Sephorah were not graceful enough to take down the foe whom she anchored, but despite that, she managed to disengage and dodge an opportunity blow, to accelerate on an intercept trajectory, and to perform a single piece that landed deep through the crack in the armor of a footman who attempted to run away from Ren's melee reach. As the unsuccessful runaway slumped forth on his knees and then flopped with his face into the dirt, Sephorah shook off the sword in her left hand from the blood and simultaneously reached for a throwing dagger, following the last enemy who was now running away like a scared peasant with a smug grin.

She was too slow to deliver yet another flashy execution due to Karl proving to be faster at sending a strong heat charge shaped like an arrow straight into the back of the sobbing, clumsily running last hostile survivor, whom Seph has worn down quite a bit at the start of the fight. The heat charge stuck, setting the man on fire and causing him to squeal like a pig being slaughtered. After about half a minute of the last loser's agonized wriggling which seemed more like a dance of a blazing headless rooster, the poor loser finally hit the ground never to move again. You could bet that these men did not expect things to go this way - not after getting hot-blooded and mightily-feeling from the chimera which, ironically, became their posthumous companion.
________________________

"Oh, what blighted thee - the legacy of pre-divided Lyf," Karl spoke out in an overly-dramatic manner while shaking off the ash from a roll-up's end over a corpse of a briarite knight, "Yesterday heroes are now but a slum rabble oblivious to the rules of engagement," he inhaled the smoke deeply after saying this.

"Legacy-schmegacy!" Sephorah replied mockingly while eyeing another corpse, quite possibly with a lucrative intent, "You live like scum - you die like scum, and rather sooner than later". As she said that, she squeamishly punched the headless corpse, turning over the remains of her rapist-to-be. "Doesn't look like these half-fucks carried out anything from the "disciplining" at the Raider's Halt. Well, maybe they have at least got somethin..."

"You don't learn anything either, nay?" Ren disrupted her mid-sentence, his voice was not particularly threatening but neither it was compromising.

"What's your problem?!" Seph attempted to fight back, but the expression on Ren's face made her think twice. "Alright! I'm sorry for sealing the fates of these shmucks by abrading them after the brawl! Who would have known that we'll see these wankers in the field, after all? Just, please, don't lecture me on all your effing morals since there is no big trouble we ended up in".

Ren just sighed, replying nothing and nodding his head in your direction.

"Oh," Seph muttered in response to what she saw, "oh..." her face changed, reflecting something that most likely was guilt.

Disheartened by this whole event, you turned away to absent-mindedly examine the surroundings. Before you were two heavily-mutilated corpses, one of which was of your doing, nearby was an assortment of two men pierced and one burned alive, a chimeric carcass was lying near the woods, sparkless at last. The soul sparks of the aggressive briarites who have put it down were dissolving into the realm like fading firebrand. Your heart was pumping wild while your mind was awash with all the new feelings and chaotic thoughts. Analogically to what you did a long time ago, you brushed your hand against your abdomen, finding no signs of blood at the place of an old injury. Nearly randomly, but your gaze shifted to your unfolded wings: the left one was stained with blood that wasn't yours.

The picture made you freeze. As wrath and anger were subsiding like a morning low-tide, a new, persistent sensation emerged. It felt as if you were burned both within and without, like falling into the endless pit, like having something inside of you irrevocably broken. You have killed a person for the first time, and something in the back of your mind was now whispering that you are no longer whom you were some mere ten minutes ago. You had been staring at your otherwise pristine pearly wings now stained with red for about a minute before raising your full of confusion gaze to your group members, who were staring back.

Ren seemed to be mildly disappointed but with the glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He said "We should hurry before the local onlookers see us here", after which he began to pace back towards the closest road, giving your shoulder a brief gentle rub when he was passing you. Sephorah said nothing (which is a rare event on itself), just following the bhiroth and hiding her eyes from you. Karl took his time to scan you up and down, probably hoping to understand what you have been feeling. As you turned, you saw the rest of your group and the pack horse at some distance. Amalia was clearly saddened, Isaac was on a verge of breaking into tears, and Jory was deathly-pale. Interestingly enough, Softie the pack horse appeared to be the least phased by the occurred even among all of you. The animal, apparently, began to get used to the trail of blood spanning after your party.

"B-but they are... were Briarites!" Jory's panic has finally become vocal, "We've just murder Briarites!"

"Not now, Jory," Amalia replied quietly

"We are risking to have a damn order on our tails and you're telling me 'not now'? Do you have a modicum of the thought of how screwed we are?! What's next? The entirety of Nyth-Rhathonian military reconnoitre?"

A soft slap rang.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"Just shut up and move, lest the order becomes the lesser of your problems"

Begrudgingly, Jory complied, following the group back.

You were about to follow too, but something made you stop to look back at the broken bodies of the troublemakers. Something strange inside of you made you look at the man you slew for the last time: he was lying on his back, with a bloodied gap where his chest should've been. He died to suffocation caused by the blood in his lungs. His eyes were glassy and trained on something in the skies. His face, unlike the moments when he and his pals have had the audacity to threaten you, was not wrathful or self-assured but clearly scared, resembling the face of a lost child desperate for their mother. You briefly close your eyes and think for a moment before turning around and chasing your marching group, wondering how hard or even possible it would be to wash your wings in more than just a literal sense.
________________________

In a few days, your group approached the riverbank north from the Turan-Suroh settlement. Even though no one spoke about what transpired near Zogun, the symptoms of changes in your group's morale were hard to miss: Isaac began to avoid the combative part of your group, while Jory's attitude towards you shifted from deep-rooted suspicion to overt fear. For some reason, it made you feel bad. Although, you yourself became less talkative, too, with this persistent feeling that remained after scoring your first human kill. You knew neither what to do with this feeling nor how to make it fade, putting the "I'm fine" facade to keep others from away from your problems. It might have even been strange, but you felt ashamed because of that, especially when Ren uncommonly subtly made you know that he'll be inclined to listen should you decide to share this new burden. Perhaps, you kept your feelings and troubles to yourself out of the sheer pride, or maybe you just didn't have the words to express how lost and confused you felt after that violent encounter. Regardless, the group carried on, and you found at least some retreat in practicing spellcasting, raising a couple of eyebrows in the process.

On Hearthwind 27, however, it became clear that the moral of your group is not the only issue you had to face. From the start of that day, you felt oddly invigorated, even though there were no weird dreams the previous night. Still, you presumed that there might be another Gaian storm coming, which shifted from suspicion to expectation when later the same day the weather began to gradually worsen. And it would not have been that bad since your group was moving through the terrain with lots of woods and natural shelters, if not for the sudden swish of an arrow passing nearby at the time you were conducting the aerial survey. Then, there was the second arrow barely missing you just because of the range between you and the presumed shooter multiplied on your flight speed. You managed to model the approximate trajectory of the last arrow and even the supposed point of fire, nearby which you spotted what appeared as movements of more than one entity. It was clear: in the middle of nowhere, far from the closest settlement, you've been spotted and shot at by the group of unknown. Unnerved, you hurried down to relay the bad news.

When you told others, the previously bleak atmosphere deteriorated to a new low, obtaining signs of an emergency. Essentially, you found yourself discovered by a quite hostile group of undetermined size in the middle of the wilderness at the time of approaching storm that may or may not be arcane-infused and have a potentially detrimental effect on you. The time was once again of the essence and the decision of how to react to the circumstances has to be made.

The course of actions?

-[] Seek and trace the unknown party (hard reconnaissance skill check (24) OR hard perception attribute check (18), sneaking skill check against 1d20+9 OR hard mobility attribute check (18), Luck roll(s))
--[] Pick characters for a scouting run (each character makes per one corresponding roll with the highest one being taken into consideration, the average score may yield minor effects. The occupied characters will be unavailable in the case of surprise skirmish)
---[] Write-in
-[] Seek for the closest viable place and establish a camouflaged camp (Very hard daily craft skill (28) OR hard micromotorics attribute check (18) AND Normal mobility check (15), sneaking skill check against 1d20+6, Luck roll(s)
--[] Pick characters for camping place search and erection (each character makes per one corresponding roll with the highest one being taken into consideration, the average score may yield minor effects. The occupied characters will be unavailable in the case of surprise skirmish)
---[] Write-in
-[] Flee the compromised place at the cost of exposing yourselves to the weather, the risk of an ambush, and possible extra loss of resources. (Team-average above normal mobility attribute check (16), Team-average sneaking skill check against 1d20+6, Individual luck rolls)

 

[Teloch]

The storm was approaching, bringing grim hues both to the overworld and to the faces of your companions. For the second time in a month, your group found itself between a metaphorical hammer and a no-less metaphorical anvil. But, contrary to the beasts outbreak near Baathor, this time around the magnitudes of risks before you were unknown or vague at best.

"So, we have a group of strangers counting from two and more, equipped with longbows that are most likely composite and thus able to reach Lucy's altitude, and who may or may not have a camp or a hideout nearby. And it's all taking place minutes before the storm that may or may not be anomalous," Ulren casually gave the layout in a manner that would suggest the mentioned circumstances are more of a nuisance than trouble, "quite clear what needs to be done, no?"

While others were either confused by the notion of considering the odds, Amalia made a motion with her lips as if rehearsing saying something before giving it voice. She turned her head towards Jory and Isaac, and only then she spoke.

"Guys, we need to scout for those who have shot at Lucy". The emphasis in "we" was hard to miss.

Isaac's eyes widened, expressing all too well what he could not speak out. Jory nearly dropped his jaw. "Has the fresh air drove you crazy?! In case you haven't noticed, they shot at... " he wriggled with his hands in your direction, clearly uncomfortable about calling you by name, "They are armed. Armed! And something tells me that for them, our lives don't worth a rat's fart! Why it struck you that it is us who must search for these thugs and not those who can fend for themselves?!"

"Because whoever made that shot may be already searching for us, means those able to fight should stay together. If we want to know what to do next, we need to know who's after us, and I doubt that Lucy and even more so Ulren are that good at moving undetected"

"But what if they would find and divide us first?!"

"We don't give them a chance, and if we fail, we ought to run like there's the wild hunt after us"

"No offense, but I feel like running like a rabid horse right about now"

For a moment, Amalia looked like struggling with the urge to burst with anger, but instead, she lowered and softened her voice which only made it sound more menacing.

"But of course you would rather run and hide. And nevermind that this may be the people who infiltrated the manor and killed Mirna and others," she shook her head in a mocking way "It is not like there is a risk that Isaac and I can be next. And even then, you still have a lot of friends who would be more fortunate, no?"

"Ouch~" Sephorah injected in a teasing manner.

Hearing that, Jory's face slowly curved in a way one would expect from sustaining a piercing injury. The lad permitted a couple of shiver attacks before barely getting hold over himself, hiding his eyes from Amalia, but still coming closer to her, making it evident that he will go with her. Isaac followed too; judging by how fearful his eyes were, he wasn't more confident in the endeavor than Jory was.

Seeing that the boys stepped over themselves, Brant sighed in weak relief, taking out the crossbow she was gifted with and putting her rucksack on the ground. "Just, please, stay here and wait for us," She addressed the assembly of those who weren't joining her scouting run, "We'll run back as fast as we can should we find where those people are so we would know what to do next"

"I hate to admit it, but your plan isn't entirely out of reason. Just, no heroics. Is that clear? And if you won't get back in twenty minutes, we will go after you"

With a weak nod, Amalia turned around and headed into the woods without looking back, followed by a couple of less enthusiastic lads.
_________________________

As the dark clouds amassed near horizon, turning into the dim bulwark, the minutes of suspense dragged on, reminding you how much you hate the situation when the only thing you can do is to wait in the midst the unrolling crisis. The winds stirred up and you have had a couple of cases when the spirit sparks that entered your perceptions perimeter were of the critters fleeing the storm instead of the companions who took the risk to scout ahead. Fully aware of your perceptions, the elder part of your group stood alarmed and yet kept their eyes on you, expecting you to be the first one who would sense the heralds.

As the wait dragged on, Ren and Seph grew restless if not annoyed, subconsciously brandishing their weapons ever so slightly out of the tension. It was when they were close to announcing the scrapping of the established plan in favor of venturing after the youngsters when you have finally registered the sparks that could only belong to your companions. However, there was a bad twist to it: there were only two of them - Amalia's and Isaac's, from what you could read. Jory wasn't with them.

Before you were able not just to startle everyone but also to hint at potentially bad news, the duo of 'scouts' emerged from the riverside woodlands, running at the speed that suggested no regards to the risk of stumbling and falling. The amount of dirt on their clothes and faces indicated that they had to crawl, crouch, slither, and whatnot; the tempo of their breaths suggested that the last minutes before their return they were running at the limit of their frames' capacities; the bolt still loaded in Amalia's crossbow was an evidence to the absence of combative engagements.

"Th-there is a a c-camp a-ahead," the lass barely spoke out cohesively, gasping for air while the mute lad collapsed on his four, "On the river shore, u-under ten minutes from here, in a ca-ave"

"And what's with the craven?"

"Isaac and I struggled to find anything 'till Jory caught a trace of these people and led us close to their hideout. They failed to uncover me or Isaac, but the hounds of those people caught Jory's scent and... and..." the expression of regret was written on her face, "they caught him. We heard his cries midst the yells, barks, and bawdry when running back". It was clear that she didn't even try to hide her shame.

"You did right," Ulren cut in dryly, which clearly failed to cheer Amalia up, "How many strangers were there? How well were they armed?"

"We saw four or five, and there were two hounds. As for their weapons, I-I... don't know. Some have had bows and were clad in odd jackets with square plates, while one was in a mail made of iron scales and with a beaked hammer on a long handle" Afte she muttered it, she looked at Ren, with the clearly readable plea in her eyes. The bhiroth just whistled.

"Any hints from your previous expertise?" Karl invaded the exchange without any warning, as he usually does.

"Long-range bows, hounds, composite armors, and a secluded hideout, camouflaged and most likely fortified. They are either river raiders, slavers, or anything in between". When Ulren said the word "slavers", Sehorah suddenly straightened up in a way as if she was struck with a bolt of lightning. One of her eyelids twitched, and she froze in this odd posture, staring into nothingness. But it wasn't like Ren took notice of her odd behavior or, even if he did, he deliberately ignored the notion.

"I'm starting to realize what did you really mean by saying "we'll likely encounter all sorts of oddly-shaped beasts if we go by the river". Never before have I suspected bhiroths to have such love for allegories".

"Help Jory, please..." Amalia's voice cut through Karl's typical snark. The word 'please' sounded pathetically plaintive as her cheeks turned red and her eyes grew soggy.

Ulren gave her an outrageously neutral look, then sighed, flexed his shoulders, and said "Ah skїt, here we go again" while reaching for the handle of his mace and turning his gaze onto you. You knew him for long enough to understand that he wanted to see your decision on this matter.

[] Make your case for abandoning Jory (Below normal persuasion skill check (18) and free CHA attribute roll to determine the magnitude of consequences on attitudes toward you)
[] Support the raid on the brigands' den
-[] and join the fighting core despite the risk of being hit by the storm that may or may not affect you (mini-updates sequence with various choices)
-[] but stay with non-combatants to evade the risk of being stunned by the storm in a middle of a fray (1d100 for 67 or below for the outcome. Individual luck rolls of Ren, Seph, and Karl for adjustment)

 

[Teloch]

Your eyelids are heavy, same as your consciousness. If only you knew these sensations, you would've told that you were pulled out from a dark yet cozy ocean and then abandoned on its shore. Your mind quietly protests against such rudeness while you blindly fumble with your fingers around. Sand. With quite some surprise, you register the fact that you were lying face-down in the soggy sand. With the mind still recovering, you sit up and take a look around, finding yourself sitting on a beach of a small mass of land that appears to be surrounded by restless waters. You can't see the sun above the rugged veil of dark clouds, but you feel it's there, which is also supported by the degree of moderate visibility. The winds howl and chase around like predators, carrying cold with them and creating odd contrast with the warm sand. You stand up and assess the island itself while your mind is attempting to puzzle out the questions of where are you and how did you end up here. This small mass of land is not devoid of vegetation, which seemed to be more lush and green than what you have seen in Blugd-Tur so far. It's still spring in here, but a bit riper compared to what you can remember.

When your inner voice began to bury you under all the "wheres" and "whys", your eyes catch the shapes of the first noticeable landmark: a grassy glade and an old lonely tree neath the beachline. But, more importantly, you see what appears to be three figures congregating beneath the latter. Then, it takes you a couple of seconds to process the visual feedback along with a few eyes rubs: those are not just three people, they are winged; all of them. A new emotion strikes you like a bolt; an odd mixture of hope and belonging wipes out the confusion that accompanied your awakening. Without any second thought, your rush ahead, too excited to yell and watch under your feet, which results in you stumbling over for two times and cuddling the sand first and the grass after. But you don't care - you can't care about such triviality while running toward people who may be your kin. While hastily approaching them, you figure out that they haven't yet taken notice of you, most likely due to being too absorbed by the exchange they were having. But finally, breathing heavy due to not exhaustion but anticipation, you approach them, nearly breaking into their circle, which makes them turn to face you...

It takes a few more seconds before you recoil backward and fall on your bum: they are not like you - they are you. The one to the left - the one with a circle braid as hairdo, with the sporadic brown feathers in wings, and with a couple of arrows tied up by a maroon ribbon in the left hand - she is you. The one against you - with the long hair adorned by an elegant lily flower, with the half-transparent yet gilded wrap as the only clothing, and with the elaborate body language - she is you. The one to the right - the one levitating in the air without a single flap of radiant wings, with dark skin tone, and with pure light radiating from the mouth and eye sockets - she's also you. Dumbstruck, you get up, registering that your invasion likely interrupted what seemed to be a heated yet audibly soundless dispute between the versions of yourself. While they all emotionlessly stared back at you, your glance slid down to the patch of grass over which they stood.

Your knees suddenly lost any semblance of solidity when you saw yet another version of yourself - pale as snow, with the eyes staring into the oblivion above, with the bloodied gap where the chest should've been, lying in the same pose as the first person you slew except for the scattered wings. Your heart took a low start, accelerating its drumming with each second. Your bare feet dipped into the wetness, which too crimson for ordinary morning dew. On the verge of panic, you looked in the faces of yourself. The braided one paid you back with a stern yet non-hostile stare akin to how Rosaline used to look at you during lessons. The glamorous one turned her back to you and threw a particularly sad glance over her bare left shoulder. The radiant one, judging by the shape of her mouth and eyes slits, was giving you a smug grin - the one which you would've probably shown should you feel yourself in total control over something or someone. You began to whimper, but there were no sounds of it. Then, drawn by the unknown force, you looked down, meeting the soul-piercing stare of the corpse of yourself which wasn't there a moment before. All the thoughts inside your head tied up in a single, undiscernible ball while the panic took over and you attempted to scream. But instead of hearing the fearful cry emerging from your lungs, all the four version of you exhausted a singular terrified shriek, screaming you out of your mind.
____

You woke up in cold sweat and nearly screaming. The sudden lifting of your chest made a journal slip down from your laps. A few moments of the disorganized gathering of recollections, you finally recalled that you wanted to make a journal entry after the events of this week. You wanted to but, evidently, from the blank page, you did not have enough spirit for it and dozed off before mustering the courage. You sighed heavy after catching yourself on this thought. The week was hard indeed, and not just in a way you used to in your early weeks. Feeling discouraged by prolonged hiding in the tent, you crawled out of it to face the consequences of your recent misadventures. It was already darkening, and your group assembled around the campfire, resing but not yet ready to go to sleep.

Ren was sitting against the girls' tent, wrapped in fresh bandages, partially unarmored, and receiving a steaming jug of anesthetic tea from Amalia's hands. A day and some hours ago, back in the slaver's den, he got under a whole lot of beating. As he told you later, there were almost three dozens of criminals in there. He, Karl, and Sephorah made a good job neutralizing the guards and breaking into the fortified grotto cave, but when they took down about a half of the hostiles, an enemy elementalist emerged, turning the tide of the skirmish. Sephorah went berserk by that time and uncooperative, which resulted in no cover-up for Ren and the consecutive series of shock discharges he suffered in addition to minor physical wounds. When the offense has drowned, he and Karl had little to no option except to make it for the cells and to break free half of the prisoners whom the slavers amassed, including Jory. Then, the scene engulfed in chaos as most of the freed captives took this chance to run for their lives. Not everyone made it out, though, but at least they have bought time for others, including your group with utterly shocked Jory and completely inadequate Sephorah, whom Ulren dragged out and away from the last strengths. The number of time he had to bail out not only you but everyone else was starting to look awkward.

Karl was lying next to him but not exactly close. His jacket was taken off and handed to Amalia for repairs. During the retreat that followed the assault that nearly succeeded, he took two arrows in his right hand and shoulder. Now, he was lying wrapped in bandages, with an empty flask in his left hand, and with the never-vanishing cynical grin on his drunken face. Perhaps, he was proud of himself, as it was him and not Sephorah who proved to be the second most performing participant. Though, the reason why did he drunk himself senseless had more to do with easying Isaacs attempts at stabilizing him than with this pride. Regardless, he was now relatively fine and in possession of one more reason to call himself a part of "your typical literature adventurers who start from slaying rats and wolves and then proceed to bandits and basilisks".

Unlike Karl, Sephorah was deeply melancholic. Ever since the raid on the slaver's den, she hasn't said a word to anyone. Now, she was sitting against the guys, but rather at quite some distance and with her back turned to them. She embraced her knees, stared into a single dot, and persistently ignored the steaming tea Amalia placed near her. During that skirmish, Sephorah got a few more cuts, which wasn't something serious, unlike her moral state. The fact she fell into an uncontrollable rage at the time of confrontation was a surprise for you: until now, she always behaved collected even at the most intense moments. This fact turned into unwelcome evidence of her background and, most likely, the reason why of all times it was now when she felt the need to keep away from the others. And the others obliged, either due to the lack of will to confront her about what happened or due to the lack of basic care for her.

Isaac was sitting on his knees next to snoring Karl. Poor lad assumed a vulnerable-looking position near the flame and wrapped his hands around own chest. Dute to empathy principle of the life aspects' belt and body aspect, in particular, a healer has to siphon their own vigor to their patient or even share their pain. In light of all the harm that your party endured recently, he had a lot of work that left him withered and in pain. Now, the lad was sitting motionlessly, staring blankly into the fire. In the bottom of your heart, you could find some sympathy for him: he does what he can for the sake of others regardless of the discomfort or the absence of praise. Perhaps, it would only be fair if you recognize it during an exchange with him that you have planned.

Jory was lying next to Isaac, curved in a fetal pose and eyes wide open. Poor lad experienced the shock that made him remind a panicked wild animal rather than an educated resident of an advanced nation. You don't necessarily commend his behavior or views, but you can relate to the ordeal he went through. During his short captivity, the slavers attempted to beat out a confession about your groups' whereabouts out of him, which makes you feel good for the fact that, regardless of personal opinions on him, the group did not leave him behind. Now that you were thinking about it, Jory might have made the hardest attempt at bending himself into doing what was right at the time. You can't say that you like his attitudes towards you or other things or events, but he proved that he isn't irredeemable.

The last one to get in your sights was Amalia. She was hustling left and right, distributing the brew and making sure everyone is as comfortable as they can only be in the current circumstances. Even though there was a bittersweet grin on her face, you could feel the same vibe about her motions and gestures that encompassed her efforts back in Baathor. She certainly felt horrible for provoking the situation with the slavers by guilt-tripping Jory into helping, and now she was trying her best to be as useful as possible to make up for it. The fact your pack horse has had a panic attack during the storm and lost some of the bags with sustenance during the messy retreat did not make anyone including Amalia more cheerful, but the girl is juggernaut when it comes to her duties.

While you were deep in your thoughts, Amalia caught you staring at her, and returned her understanding gaze. It seemed like she knew what was on your mind, and it appears that she knew that you felt bad too. After all, the storm that threatened to stun you turned out to be just a storm with no arcane properties. When retreating, you felt guilty for not taking the risk and helping others, which would've resulted in less harm to those you care about, more saved lives and freedoms of those enslaved, no resources loss, and, most likely, much higher morale of your group. A part of you which you thought obliterated was happy for not having to confront and kill people, but the other one was now torturing you with the price of this soft-heartedness or even cowardice. You did not feel well ever since you scored your first kill. You knew that this journey will change you, but being aware of the metaphorical abyss and letting it influence you are very different things and, considering your latest dream, you weren't so good at coping with the outside world and the changes it left on you.

On this deeply-philosophical thought, you snapped out of musings. The bonfire was crackling softly, and you have had some time until the sleep. Maybe - just maybe - it was the prime time for some company. Ulren has been showing you the hints that he would listen to your concerns and maybe disclose something more private while Seph displayed the signs of willingness to tell you something. Perhaps, you would even be able to get the company of them both at the cost of them not getting too open with you in each other's presence.

[] Don't socialize (No interactive dialogue with anyone)
[] Socialize with (Interactive dialogue phase with 6 inputs cap)
-[] Ulren
-[] Sephorah
-[] Amalia
-[] Ulren and Sephorah

[] ... on the topic
-[] about the briarites
-[] about the raid on slavers
-[] about the journey
-[] about your dream
-[] about them/their past
-[] about (write-in)

(as always, the more you design the input cues, the better the conversation goes)