The Administorum
Battle Related Forums => Board Battle Archives => Board Battles => The Scrap Heap => Topic started by: Kitharsis on November 01, 2013, 08:58:01 AM
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The two guards at the gate grip their weapons tightly. Their eyes are drilling into the man lumbering towards them in the brisk morning air. He looks like some kind of barbarian that got blown off his mountain from the north. Even though they can see their breath from the chill, the man wears no shirt. The scars covering his body betray the toughness and experience he has accrued through the years.
The guards are apprehensive, but they let him pass through with a stiff nod. One would consider them foolish, but the platoon of armored men standing just inside the gate shows otherwise. They all turn and stare at the scarred man, causing him to pause in his step. Some stand from their seated position. Others crack their necks and knuckles. They seem on edge and ready for anything.
A tall, lanky fellow nearly sprints over to the lumbering man.
"You!" He shouts. A crossbow slung over his shoulder bounces with each step. "You must join us!" He stops a yard away from the newcomer, staring intently.
"We're hunting a beast. It has already killed a man, and burnt down my damn inn! Yes, yes. You will join us!" He says with enthusiasm.
"Emery!" One of the armored men shouts scoldingly. "You're liable to get your head chopped off before we even leave town, acting like that."
The lanky man, Emery, scowls and ducks as if struck. The other man calmly walks over to them with a welcoming smile.
"Now then, I'm Alec, Guard Captain. What Emery is saying is true. We are hunting a beast today, and from the looks of you we could use your help. Might I ask your name, friend? And if I could be so bold, your assistance?"
Bjorn Halfskir has been given quite a welcome to this rural keep. And it seems he has little time to decide. The group of soldiers looks ready to depart.
Alec adds, "We'll put you up in a room for the night, along with a plate of dinner for your trouble."
------
The wheels of the wagons grind against the hard packed dirt. Occasionally a rogue stone sends a jolt through the line. Each of the wagons bounce over it in time.
Bounce... Bounce... Bounce...
The caravan leader, Mitoli, sits at the head of the middle wagon. His thick mustache twitches as the bounce from the stone shakes his body. A young monk sits beside him, his eyes casually taking in the copse of trees that are passing by. Jin has been traveling with Mitoli for about a month now.
As the monk was passing through a town, he was nearly starving. His silver had run out, and no one was looking to toss a few his way. He found himself in an alley behind a tavern, waiting until the cook tossed out any leftover scraps or heels of bread. Mitoli was passing through, and without a thought he asked the lad if he wanted to share his night's meal. Mitoli was in poor health at the time, and being in Jin's presence made him feel noticeably better. On a whim, the caravan leader asked the monk to join him until he could get on his feet. An assured meal, a few silvers, and aiding a kind hearted person such as Mitoli was difficult to pass up.
"Hey there, Jin." Mitoli says, with a nudge with his elbow. "Go grab a water skin and see if Afanen and Ragnar are thirsty. It's been a while since we started rolling today."
About two weeks ago, Afanen Blodwen and Ragnar Thorburn came upon a traveling caravan that was meandering through the Treymara region. Mitoli propositioned them as guards for a time, seeing their weapons. They had no other direction after their departure from their home, having left so quickly. Considering that a pocketful of silver was better than nothing, the couple accepted the offer.
It has been easy work. There are few bandits these days, and Mitoli seems to have the devils luck when it comes to skirting around danger. During the few stops you have made you heard reports of bandit raids on a few of the traveling wagons. There are murmurs of other strange attacks, but most folk wave those away as tall tales.
Afanen and Ragnar are on foot, walking on either side of the wagons. The mules pulling the caravan have endurance, but speed is not their strong suit. It is quite easy to keep up with them.
Mitoli cups a hand to his mouth and calls to them, "See anything interesting yet?" He chuckles and lowers his hand. "Wonderful morning for traveling. I do think the sun is going to burn this chill away and give us a nice mild day. Don't you think so, Ragnar?"
-
Bjorn fixes the captain with a stern stare, his gaze falling over all of the gathered soldiers, his glare seeming stern and almost glowering.
But then, as if in a complete reversal, he gives a smile that almost seems ill-fitting on one as scarred and worn as he is.
"Yes, I will aid you, of course." placing his open right palm with fingers spread on his heart in the traditional þrekstaðr salute. "In taka yðvarr beiða. I am bound to your quest. Please, allow me the time to prepare. It will only take me a moment."
The berserker strides past the group to the most open area of the camp and sits down with his legs crossed, drawing his weapons and laying them crossed in front of him. Pulling the wolf's pelt over his eyes, he plants his hands on his knees and begins to utter some strange prayer.
"Óðinn, in biðja yðvarr speki, skafa me yðvarr vald. láta yðvarr nafn fá me logn. láta yðvarr hylli fá me þrek. láta yðvarr rún vísa me stígr. in biðja yðvarr mannvirðing. at vér knátta hitta inn Valhallan."
A fire struck up around Bjorn, and its flames fed into his frame. He took a deep breath of the fire as it was absorbed into his body, and his muscles tensed with renewed energy. When he lifted the wolf's pelt from his eyes, there was more life to them, as if a flame had been lit in his soul that gave him new strength. He seemed almost larger than before, a if his muscles had been filled to the brim with power, almost as if he had gotten a full night's rest from his appeal to his gods. Standing and taking his weapons in each hand, he turned and faced the Guard captain.
"Lead the way captain. My blades are yours."
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"By all means," Alec offers a slight bow as Bjorn strides past and begins to prepare himself.
The platoon goes back to double checking supplies and equipment, although they never fully take their eyes off of Bjorn. Alec stands with his arms crossed watching the man as he mutters an odd prayer.
A fire springs to life around the barbarian. The entire town freezes in their tracks. They watch as the flames gather and absorb into Bjorn's body. All eyes are on him as the barbarian stands and addresses Alec.
"Lead the way captain. My blades are yours."
Emery shouts a curse and raises his crossbow at the "Damned demon spawn." Alec has precious few moments to analyze the situation. The wolf pelt, combined with the sudden fire match the description of the beast that had attacked the town a few nights ago. But Bjorn was seemingly unaware of the attack, and why would the beast waltz into town and cheerily agree to hunt itself down?
"Hold, Emery!" The lanky innkeep's finger is resting on the trigger of the crossbow. His long face is contorted into the meanest scowl you could imagine.
"Dammit!" Alec leaps and pushes Emery and the crossbow off target at just the last second. The bolt whizzes past Bjorn and digs itself into the packed dirt behind him. The guard captain tears the crossbow from Emery's grip and shoves it into the hands of a waiting platoon woman behind him.
"He is not the beast, just a fool Caller with terrible timing." Alec narrows his eyes at Bjorn. "At least he better be, otherwise our hunt will be over before it began."
The platoon woman holding Emery's crossbow clears her throat. "It's not the same color fur." She points to the wolf skin draped across Bjorn's shoulders. "Not hardly. The fur we found was bright red. His doesn't match at all."
Until now, one of the individuals of the group hasn't made a peep. A man wearing plainclothes steps up and studies Bjorn. He has two short swords hanging from his belt. A red bandana holds back his shoulder length hair.
"Just a fool Caller." He says calmly. "I'll keep an eye on him."
Alec looks from the man in the red bandana, to Bjorn, and back again. "Fine then. We haven't seen a Caller for many years, and given the situation we're in it's good to have you on our side." The guard captain mimics Bjorn's open handed salute over his heart, hoping the gesture is enough to assure Bjorn of his trust.
"Move out!"
---
Daccio Bajihri stretches her arms and yawns. She shuffles around, trying to get comfortable on the pile of ferns she found. Her make-shift bed is situated behind a row of bushes along the road. She is covered well enough that no one should be able to see her unless she wanted them to. It is nearly mid-day, the perfect time for a nap.
Sleep almost finds her, but a tingling of her metal sight ruins it. It starts small, but before long she can tell that a large amount of metal is making its way toward her. She can start to hear footprints and voices as the bulk of metal approaches. Her curiosity gets the better of her.
Daccio peeks her head out of the bushes and finds a platoon of soldiers walking down the road in her direction. Most of them are wearing polished breastplates with shields on their backs and swords at their hips. Some carry bows and crossbows with a quiver on their back. Three other men follow behind. The large one wears leather skins and seems to be missing his shirt. It was warming up since the morning. But it was still not quite warm enough to warrant going shirtless. The lanky one wears plainclothes with a crossbow on his back and a scowl on his face. The third is average height and also wears plainclothes accented with a red bandana.
A soldier at the front of the line points in her direction and shouts, "Ambush in the bushes!"
In a surge the platoon rushes forward. Swords are drawn and arrows knocked. Alec is at the front of the charge with a determined grin. He is straining to see who or what is hiding in the bushes. His hand is held in the air waiting to give the signal to fire.
"Identify yourself! Or you'll be making an impression of a pincushion very soon!"
Daccio Bajihri's peaceful mid-day nap has taken quite a turn for the worst.
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Bjorn seems unfazed by the various threats and surprised reactions around him, even the crossbow, as if he didn't notice them. However, he fixed Alec with a look that almost seemed to be a knowing smirk.
"Foolish? That prayer was for the sake of your protection. I'd hesitate to call it foolish." He gave his twin weapons a short twirl in his hands before preparing to follow the group as they moved out, striding to the side of the regiment but still moving with them, providing the distance they likely sought from him but still keeping pace.
-
Daccio's peaceful mid-day nap has taken quite a turn for the worse, and to top it off, she was grumpy because she had just about fallen asleep.
She stumbled out of the bushes and onto the road, long legs stepping over the undergrowth. She yawned almost unconcerdedly and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands sleepily. She wore a long dark grey cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding her hair, but it was clear she was a pretty young woman.
She looked up and jumped at the sight of all of the men with leveled weapons at her. Daccio held out her hands to indicate that she wasn't holding any weapon and as her cloak opened, she wore tight black trousers and a sleeveless black shire, revealing swirling tattoos starting at the base of her wrist and running up under the shirt. At her belt was two knives, but they were sheathed. She wore dark boots made of soft leather
"Uh, hey. I didn't do anything, what's this?" She demanded, motioning to the weapons
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Even before leaving their humble homes in Oakvale, Afanen and Ragnar had learned to always keep their weapons at hand in case they were needed. However, you can imagine what a stir it caused if one was to carry their greataxe or hammer on their person to and from church. It had been a bone of contention with both Afanen’s father, and the local clergy. Well-ingrained habits are hard to break, and it was for this reason, that despite the absence of any threat, Ragnar walked with his greataxe in hand, the long handle leaning flat and fast against his brawny shoulder.
Ragnar eyed the sky at Mitoli’s comments upon the weather. The old man had been quite pleasant company, and his young travelling companion seemed to have a certain charisma that made him endearing without even trying to be. Though the boy had the qualities of a monk, he was far removed from the stories that Ragnar had heard in his lifetime. Ragnar had taken quite a shine to the lad, even attempting to show him a bit about how to wield the axe, though the weapon was likely heavier than the boy himself. Even Afanen, usually begrudging conversation with those she wasn’t well accustomed to, had spoken at length with the boy, wanting to learn as much as she could about the lands he hailed from and how he wielded the bo he carried.
“Well, sir, sky looks mighty fine to me,” remarks Ragnar with a grin. “Couldn’t ask for a better day in more pleasant company.” He could practically feel Afanen glaring at him from the other side of the carriage. She knew he was lying. In fact, she was probably working her sniffer right now to scent it out. It was hard to tell when it would happen, but there was certainly a storm coming, and both of them knew it.
“As for seeing anything interesting… can’t say I’ve seen anything interesting. At least, not in the last couple hours.” He gives a meaningful glance in Afanen’s direction, as he can’t see her over the wagon. However, he can practically feel her blushing. They had thought it best to each guard a side of the wagon, with both paying heed to the rear as well. Though his view of her was obscured, it was difficult to hide his excitement about journeying with his oldest and dearest friend. There had certainly been some bumps along the way, but since leaving Oakvale, Ragnar had become increasingly optimistic about their future.
“Well, I’ve seen plenty of interesting things,” comments Afanen. “Such as that rather brazen squirrel that just made off with the remnants of your breakfast, Ragnar. You should really tie your pack tighter. You’re a walking cornucopia for these creatures.”
Afanen's disposition, too, had taken a turn for the better since departing her home. Funny how leaving the only life you'd ever known could have such a positive affect on one's humor. Though she missed her father, and worried what had happened in the aftermath of her hasty departure, she knew as a long standing member of the council he would receive condolences rather than condemnations for his child's unfortunate "condition."
After all, hadn't the other townsfolk warned him about marrying an outsider? Unlike the other residents of Oakvale, Kalia Blodwen's complexion was bronze opposed to white, and her hair dark rather than light. She had been a peculiar traveler from the south, a native woman of one of the primitive tribes. It would be obvious Magnus had not failed his daughter. His wife was to blame for their only child being tainted with the Calling.
As for Ragnar's absence, Afanen knew that, sadly, his father would likely be far too drunk to even realize Ragnar was missing, at least until he needed his son's help stumbling home from the tavern.
The townfolk would likely assume that Ragnar, ever brave and constant, had followed his former friend turned abomination into the woods to capture her. In fact, they may even assume she ate him due to the absence of a body. Afanen chuckles at the thought.
"What's so funny?" asks Ragnar.
"Your cowlick," returns Afanen teasingly. Ragnar had always been needlessly self-conscious about how a small spot in the back of his hair stood out at an unruly angle, no matter how much he tried to smooth it.
Ragnar frowns and reflexively runs his left hand through his hair to flatten it. "Haha, Fan, very funny. You should take that show on the road since you fancy yourself a jester."
"I thought we already had," smiles Afanen goodnaturedly.
-
Alec slows his charge and waves his hand in the air dismissively. The rest of the platoon stops their charge and lowers their weapons.
"At ease." He says with a bit of disappointment.
The guard captain closes the distance between himself and Daccio. He holds out his hands similar to how Daccio is, showing that he similarly means no harm.
"It is rather dangerous around here, m'lady. We mistook you for a beast that has caused us a great deal of trouble. Apologies for the hasty charge. We're actually hunting the beast at the moment."
He frowns and rubs his chin hair with a chainmail covered hand. "We're quite a distance from the safety of our walls. I can tell that you can handle yourself, but with a creature like that running around I can't in good conscience leave you out here alone. Please, come with us."
You can tell that the rest of the platoon is on edge. Some of them study Daccio and her odd attire. Others are scanning their surroundings. Concern is clearly marked on all of their faces. The tall lanky man in the back seems in a particularly sour mood. He glances at the large scarred man with a scowl occasionally.
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Daccio lowered her hands, her cloak falling back around her. The hood was still pulled up and she made no move to change that. Daccio grumbled under her breath. Something about being woken up at absurd times of the day, before nodding. If they were going to think her higher than her station, she was not going to discourage that.
"Very well, I agree" She said it in such a way that it almost sounded as if she had suggested the idea, and he had willingly agreed to it. She glanced at the large scarred man, noted him as being seemingly unnafiliated with the others and moved over to follow the group, scanning the rest of the soldiers. She used her metal sight to distinguish what weapons were made out of metal. Her look returned to Alec
"What is this beast you hunt? It obviously has you on edge." She asked.
-
It had been quite some time since Jin had heard anything from pursuing forces, left with few hints as to Jin's whereabouts aside from sunny weather, increased rates of health in sporadic villages, and strange behavioral patterns of crops. He was far from his homelands, and as long as he did not use his powers, he would be impossible to locate. He was finally coming to believe their pursuit was too fruitless to continue, and was feeling comfortable having found some companions to travel with now that he had lost his pursuers. Afterall, Mitoli had a strange gift of staying out of trouble; a trait Jin hoped would rub off. Or at least that's what Jin told himself these days, right before he would sigh and have to admit to himself that he was also incredibly desperate for food when Mitoli found him.
The world outside of the monastery had been rough to say the least. He knew he had much to learn, and was eager to do so. The matters of the caravan that Mitoli dealt with were still well above his head, but the discussions regarding martial arts drew a great common ground between himself, Afanen, and Ragnar. Jin turned his palms upward, and stretched his palms toward the sky, feeling the gentle soreness of a great workout run up his back, marveling at the sheer weight of Ragnar's weapon of choice. While he had been meaning to test his strength with Afanen's warhammer as well, it seemed she was even more interested in the bo. Sadly, his skills as a teacher were not on par with her skills as a warrior as of yet, and he had been pondering for some time on ways to improve so he could show her the intricacies and flow of the staff.
Afanen was somewhat stern, and had a powerful hunger for self-improvement. Ragnar was incredibly warm, and perhaps brought a light to the caravan brighter than Jin's. Though many of the philosophies suggested against seeking to become like others, there was a part of Jin that saw them as wonderful role-models.
He felt a familiar bump from Mitoli's elbow. A strange show of endearment he was not used to, but had come to enjoy. Upon Mitoli's request, the young monk nodded and gave a friendly grunt. With one agile maneuver, Jin was on top of the wagon, and began digging for water skins. Seconds later, he raised two above his head victoriously. He waved them enthusiastically over the sides of the wagon.
"Water for the love birds?" he asked, his eyes squinting as he giggled at his own immaturity. "Also, I happen to know that cowlicks build character! Some of the greatest men in history have had cowlicks!" He raised a brow, his eyes darting about in thought as he attempted to retrieve the names. "Well... I don't have any specific examples... but I'm sure there must be!"
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Mitoli wears his usual carefree grin during the exchange between his newest traveling companions. He didn't typically bring along so many strangers, but in the past few months a good amount of his crew decided to part ways. Jin and the couple from Oakvale are great company, and the caravan leader is happy to have them along.
"Oh yes, Jin. Cowlicks and great men go hand in hand. Sad to say I don't have one. I'm afraid I'll never elevate myself to the greatness of a cowlicked man." Mitoli lets out a hearty belly laugh.
"Say then, we're coming up on a small place by the name of Keep Yond. A minor lord keeps charge of the town, but he hasn't done much in his old age. Few have even seen him outside of his own chambers for some time now. Alec, the guard captain, runs things with the lord's words behind him." Mitoli takes a swig from his own water skin before continuing.
"Well, thats nothing we're concerned with. It has high walls and soft beds, two things I wouldn't mind taking advantage of. I think its about half a days travel yet. Lets see if we can make some silver and get a good nights rest while we're there."
The three wagon caravan keeps its slow pace down the dirt road. The sun does indeed warm up the chill of the morning, giving way to a pleasant day. The guard couple and young monk continue jesting all the while, and Mitoli's cheeks hurt from smiling so often.
Up ahead, the road takes a sharp turn around a thick patch of trees and underbrush. Mitoli's chuckles stop as he studies the dark stretch of forest. He grabs his spyglass and extends the metal cylinders. Holding it up to his eye, he lets out a grunt as he gets a better look at the suspicious patch of trees.
"Ashes." He states. "Covered in ashes, with a big pile of them in the middle. Now how and why would so much of it be thrown about like that?"
The caravan leader stows his spyglass away again hurriedly. "Afanen, Ragnar, Jin, keep on your toes. This might get interesting."
---
Dete na Plemeto has just finished breaking down his camp. He prefers to follow game trails, rather than the large dirt roads cutting across the land. He had found a nice spot on the side of a hill to rest and eat. The rabbit he caught yesterday was finished, and his water skin was getting low. It might be time to venture into the keep he saw a few days ago while he was hunting the area.
This camping spot looks out over one of the dirt roads he tends to avoid. Travelers are lazy, and the roads are usually the quickest way to find a town. Dete plans on following it to the keep.
His long strides eat up the hillside as he makes his way down to the road. The sound of wagons rolling their way towards him reaches his ears. Not wanting to be caught off guard, Dete ducks behind a tree and watches as the wagons approach.
Three wagons slowly roll down the road, being pulled by large oxen. Two guards are walking alongside. Just a trader and his wagons, it seems. Dete decides to bypass the road and cut cross country to the keep, but something catches his eye further down the road.
A piece of the forest juts out and causes the road to take a sharp turn around it. The trees and bushes are much darker than they should be for this time of day. Something is very unsettling about this patch of forest. This would be something to steer clear of, but the caravan is heading right next to it seemingly unaware. Dete looks at the patch of dark forest again. One of the shadows moves.
Dete can now make out just why it is so dark. The entire area is overrun with ashy creatures. The realization hits that this caravan will be overrun by these things. The two guards won't be able to fight all of them off. The caravan is nearly upon the dark patch of forest. Dete will need to act quickly if he is going to help them.
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At Jin’s “love birds” comment, Afanen’s cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson and her nostrils quite literally flare, expelling miniscule puffs of steam. Ragnar’s smile never fades, and he grins widely, neither confirming nor denying Jin’s words. Both Ragnar and Afanen gratefully accept the waterskins from Jin. Their own had run dry a day or so ago, and they were heartened by Mitoli’s announcement they were nearing a town. Ragnar hadn’t enjoyed a pint in weeks, and he was hoping a few hours at a tavern would allow Afanen to cut loose a bit. It was evident Oakvale was still on her mind, and Keep Yond would hopefully be a welcome distraction.
Ragnar and Afanen continue to banter with the young monk while the caravan continues down the road. As they progress further down the path, Afanen grows silent, the fine hair upon her arms rising, and a heavy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Something was amiss, though what, she could not say. Eventually, the ever jovial Mitoli grows silent, and that is further cause for concern.
Ragnar’s eyes narrow. “I’ve spent my whole life in the forest, and I have never seen anything like this.”
Afanen quickly moves close to Mitoli at the front of the caravan, prepared to protect her friendly employer should the need arise. “Sir, halt the wagons. Whatever is up there, it would be a folly to draw any nearer without knowing what we may encounter.”
-
Alec bows as Daccio agrees to accompany them in the hunt. "I'm glad you've agreed to join us. My platoon should be able to dispatch the beast, but stay alert. We're still not sure exactly what we're up against."
Alec motions for everyone to continue the march. He lets the rest of his platoon march on ahead and hangs back with Bjorn and Daccio.
"I've already discussed this with the soldiers, but you both need to know what we're after."
Emery gives a "Hmph," and plods over to the three of them. "I'll tell you what, its probably a fool Caller that lost his wits." He looks sideways at Bjorn. "A traveler showed up bloodied and battered. Alec took him in the keep and found that he had been attacked on his way into town. Whatever was after him took out a whole caravan. He was belligerent, couldn't get much more out of him. After that, well." Emery shakes his head.
Alec pats the innkeep on the shoulder. "I decided to put the man up in The Clover, Emery's inn. Well, whatever attacked him on the road came back to finish the job. It leaped over the wall, killed the traveler, and burnt down The Clover in barely a minute. It howled like an entire pack of wolves, but we could only see one beast."
"Sure sounds like a Caller, doesn't it?" Emery nearly growls. "And this big fella here is one. Wolf pelts, fire, the whole deal."
Alec stares Emery down, "We've already been through this. Bjorn is on our side, Emery. You can shut it or find you way back to town yourself."
Emery crosses his arms and looks away from the group. "Fine," is all he replies.
Alec pats the innkeep on the shoulder again, "Okay then." He gives a nod to Bjorn and Daccio before striding to the front of the line. Emery sighs and follows after the Guard Captain.
The man in the red bandana gives a wave and walks over to Daccio and Bjorn. "I'm new here too. Just got to town before they shut the gates last night. Sorry about the 'fool Caller' statement earlier, Bjorn. You look like no fool I know. The whole town is on edge from the attack, just wanted to try and diffuse the situation." He offers a handshake to both of them in greeting. "My name is Rand. Where are you two from?"
-
Bjorn accepts the handshake with a calm smile. "I understand. Tempers are high, and Óðinn smiles on he who can keep his cool. I am of the Drengr, the warriors of my people. Vikings, you call us. The 'barbarians of the north'. I hail from the northern reaches of þrekstað. The cold tundras are my home, and the wolves of the frozen wastes are my brothers in arms." He gently strokes the white wolf's pelt on his shoulders. "Though they must sadly also be my food and warmth in times of need. It is this beast that concerns me most. It holds grudges, kills a target and causes wanton destruction. It is not a beast of the wild. I know their kind. They kill for food, and every death is a sacrifice so that another may live. Not out of savagery or hatred, but mere survival."
Bjorn seems to gaze off into the distance, as if remembering some past event. "This...'creature' is different. It knows hatred, a creation of human kind. I'm not sure the claim that it is a mad caller is entirely inaccurate. Óðinn's gifts are hard to fathom and even I am not entirely the master of my abilities. That is why I offered a prayer for his guidance at the fort. To help me control myself in the inevitable conflict."
-
Jin's senses are not nearly as keen as his traveling partners', but he trusts in their instincts. The boy's usually festive demeanor becomes one of stoicism and vigilance as he jumps to his feet on top of the wagon. From his vantage point, he scans the treeline in all directions, his grip firm on his bo. After observing more closely, he can comfortably say his companions are correct in their assumption; something is not right.
He calmed himself, and began to breathe slowly, focusing only on the flow of air in his body. This calm allowed him to enter a meditative state, and erase distractions from his mind other than the task at hand - sharpening his senses. Jin repeated these words to himself, calmly... "I must not use the light. To use it is to invite danger to others."
Again, and again he repeated it to himself until it became a rhythm in his head.
His body lowered, his legs limber, ready to move at a moment's notice...
-
She listens as the beast is explained, Intelligent eyes peering our from under the hood, not missing a thing. She nodded ever so slightly to the explanation, and as rand approached she hesitated a moment, as if unsure, before taking Rand's hand lightly. She shifted as her tattoed hand dissapeared under her cloak again. She yawned, jaw cracking, as if she had just woken up.
"You would not know where I am from. Some little remote fishing town, that is all" She said, shaking her head, before looking to Bjorn "You are a caller? One of the legends?" She asked, curious now, surprise flitting across her shadowed face.
(OOC)
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Though Dete shies away from too much contact with other people, he was raised well enough to not turn his back to those in dire need.
He leaves his position at the tree and approaches the strange creatures, under the cover of the forest. His leather boots are soft and don’t make any noise when he walks. Crouching near a bush in the vicinity of the creatures, he takes his bow and holds his breath. Dete looks at the sky and after a few seconds’ exhales.
(Apex Predator) The hunter’s eyes grow wider, as a surge of heat goes through his body. The smallest indication of a smile appears on his lips for an instance. This is a state he has been in before, many times before. Now he is ready to face this enemy.
Dete takes an arrow and nocks it. In one movement he pulls the string of the bow to its limits and comes out of his cover. The hunter releases the arrow into the mass of ash creatures, drops his bow and charges forward with his spear. The only noise he makes during all this, is the noise of the arrow flying through the air and the bow dropping to the ground.
During his assault on the creatures, he will keep his distance and use the reach of his weapon and long limbs to his advantage.
-
"Sir, halt the wagons. Whatever is up there, it would be a folly to draw any nearer without knowing what we may encounter." Afanen's suggestion is a wise one. Mitoli slowly nods, not taking his eyes off of the ominous patch of forest.
"I suppose you're right." The caravan leader unwraps the leather leads for the oxen and holds them in his hands. "Drat! Who ever heard of stopping a good days roll for a pile of ash." He hauls back on the leads and gives two clicks of his tongue. The large animals shake their heads and slow their already sluggish pace to a stop.
The two other wagon drivers do the same. One of them pulls out a crossbow and a dagger he had stashed under his seat. Mitoli pulls out his own along with a quiver of arrows. Not one to skirt away from danger, the caravan leader hops down to the ground.
"Well, lets go check this nonsense out." He motions for Afanen and Ragnar to follow him. "Jin, keep an eye on the wagons. This could be some kind of setup."
Mitoli barely takes three paces away from the wagon when a man pops out of cover and fires an arrow at the darkness.
"Whats he up to?"
Dete's arrow flies true to its mark. It hits in the direct center of the large mass of shadow. He can see what looks like a large number of the creatures scatter as the arrow makes contact. But instead of hitting something solid, the arrow sails through the mass of ashes and hits the ground behind.
As he circles around the patch of dark forest he can't find any trace of the shadowy creatures. All that is there are ash covered trees and the large pile of it in the middle. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?
Mitoli calls out from the wagons, "Ho there! What's in those trees? Can't say I've ever-" The caravan leader gasps sharply as the pile of ash explodes. Flaming streaks shoot out of the blazing pile in all directions. As the streaks arc downward and hit the ground they take the shape of running wolves.
The wolves seem to be made of living flame. Their bodies roll and flicker as the flames catch the wind as they charge. Their eyes are like two burning embers, and their paws leave patches of scorched earth with each footfall.
A pack of six flaming wolves charges towards Dete. They surround the hunter and run circles around him. One of them lunges, fangs poised to strike.
An even larger pack rushes by and focuses on the caravan. Twenty flaming wolves streak down the road like living fireballs. Mitoli curses and scrambles to get back onto his wagon. The oxen are spooked, and are going to take off at any moment. The pack splits, half on each side of the wagons.
Two of the flaming wolves lunge at Afanen on her side of the wagons. On the other side, one of the larger flaming wolves squares off against Ragnar. Jin is unaccosted at the top of the wagon, but it is clear that he won't be for long.
-----
Further down the road, the platoon of soldiers and the mysteriously well timed travelers are continuing their march. Alec and Emery are having a heated exchange at the front of the line while Alec's second in command shakes her head behind them.
Bjron feels a tickle. It's hard to explain, but his Fire soul is reacting to something. He hasn't felt this before, and it is quite unsettling. It fades as quickly as it came.
Seconds later, an explosion of fire and flame racks through the countryside. You can see the heights of the flames streak high above the trees.
"That must be our beast! Move out!" Alec shouts. They are on the wrong side of the sharp turn in the road, and it will take some time to get to the site of the explosion.
"What the hell could have done something like that?" Emery yells as the hunting party storms down the road.
No one replies. The protectors of Keep Yond haven't ever encountered anything like this. Alec's jaw is set in determination, but the rest of his platoon is stark white with fear.
"Alec, what did that?!" Emery yells again, this time more frantic.
"Whatever it is, its going to be dead soon. Keep your wits about you, and watch each others backs."
At the back of the line, Rand runs alongside Bjorn and Daccio. He looks thoughtful. "Those soldiers and their heavy armor need to stick to the road." He talks low enough for only Bjorn and Daccio to hear. "But we can cut through the woods and get there much faster. Something set this off, probably another travelling wagon. They'll need help."
The man peers off into the woods. There is a game trail cutting through that should lead close to where the explosion came from. He brings two fingers to his lips and blows a quick whistle. Alec turns to see what it is about.
"We're taking a shortcut." Rand yells, as he motions for the two of you to join him. Alec nods and turns front again.
The three of you take off into the woods. You keep pace with Rand easily thanks to your animal souls. The game trail winds through the patch of forest. Trees fly by as you race through the woods. You can see the edge of the forest on the other side, and the site of the explosion isn't far away at all. Flashes of flames catch your eyes.
The flashes are from a pack of flaming wolves darting through the trees toward you. Rand digs his heels into the forest floor as a large fiery wolf blocks his path. Three wolves, with fur of flame and eyes of ember stand before you with haunches raised. With a fierce growl they attack at once.
-
Bjorn's eyes flash for a moment. These creatures. They aren't natural. They almost seem like some form of semi-caller. A creature of Fire and Wolf, but no soul of humanity. Only the burning rage of fire and the pack mentality of the wolf. But there was no time to contemplate that. Battle was stirring, and Bjorn felt a familiar sensation building in his chest.
"Get down..." Bjorn growls, his eyes glowing red as his teeth elongate into fangs. "GET DOWN!" he shouts, charging forward, threatening to barrel through Rand and Daccio if they did not move aside. There are no more words from this point. The flame of battle has taken him, and he has become its machine. His wordless cry of battle echoes in the forest as he swings wildly, blade and axe crossing, striking, hacking, never letting up the assault, unwilling to allow the wolves even a moment to strike back. An overhanded chop of his axe falls toward one wolf's head while he simultaneously kicks a heavy boot at another and sweeps up with his sword at the third, his weapons glowing hot in his hands as he attacks with wild abandon, all defense thrown to the wind as he settles on all-out assault. He doesn't just stop with his triple-attack, he continues to barrel at the central wolf, his boot planting on the ground only to be followed by his axe, sweeping in from its original strike to attack his main target. Following through that blow, he spins and brings his sword around in a wide arc at the beast, fangs bared in a canine growl as his burning red eyes seethe with the rage of fire. He or his opponent would fall before this battle was done. There was no other course of action left.
-
A great roar erupts from Ragnar’s lips, and for a moment, the typically affable and gentle young man seems more beast than human. His eyes grow wild and he stamps his foot upon the ground. The earth beneath his feet begins to tremble, and sheets of rock explode from the earth and clamp onto the entirety of his form, shielding his body in rock armor.
A nearly identical roar, though higher in pitch, but equaled in ferocity, can be heard from Afanen in response to Ragnar’s call-to-arms. From afar, it almost appears as if her form appears to waver, much like heat rising off of exceedingly hot ground. How better to protect against fire than to become it? Her strangely colored eyes begin to glow even more brightly and within moments, her entire form is engulfed in billowing flames. She moves forward just enough to ensure the caravans will not be lit aflame.
She glances back at the caravan behind her and shouts for her companion. “Raggi!”
“Got him!” Clearly on the same wavelength as Afanen, he knows exactly what to do. His employer’s safety must be seen to immediately, and Ragnar, ever selfless, will do all he can to ensure his generous leader survives.
“Jin! Cover me!” Ragnar shouts to the monk atop the wagon.
Ragnar quickly maneuvers himself away from the large, charging wolf. His speed is preternaturally quick, and he knows his rock armor will bear the brunt of any damage, should the creature manage to catch up to him. Let the beast take a shot at him; he has more important concerns on his mind. He reaches into the wagon, seizes Mitoli around the waist, and with incredible strength, launches his unsuspecting employer into the high branches of a nearby tree. At the mill, he had made a game of tossing logs like cabers. Now he relied upon his strength to get Mitoli to safety.
Ragnar’s knowledge of the forest tells him the tree will easily sustain Mitoli’s weight, and should the wolves manage to catch the tree on fire, such a massive arboreal tower will take quite some time to burn away completely. If the oxen do becomes spooked, he cannot risk them running right into the enemies, and delivering Mitoli to these creatures. Even if the wagon becomes forfeit, Ragnar is committed that Mitoli’s life won’t be.
Afanen clutches her warhammer in her hands, and with a steady gaze, eyes the two advancing wolves. Flames dance around her body and down the length of the weapon she wields. As the beasts draw nearer, she attempts to slam the hammer into the skull of the wolf on the right. With such great force propelling her weapon, should the blow connect, it will easily knock the beast into the path of its companion, greatly injuring both.
-
An explosion rocked the caravan. Jin had not heard such a sound before, and even his steady soul was shaken. Now was not the time for panic, however. The cattle grew restless, and at the moment, a good man's livelihood depended on them remaining calm. Jin let loose a calm and relieved breath, as though a boy cut from his binding. Though one could not tell from a distance, the monk's eyes began to glow gold as he unbound his Inner Light, the soothing aura washing over those close enough in the caravan.
More strange occurrences. The earth split and adorned Ragnar in a formidable armor of rock, and Afanen was clothed in red-hot flames. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. Jin had heard from Master Lao that there were others similar to himself. Could it be that-
Suddenly, Ragnar called for assistance, and snapped the young monk out of his daze.
"I'm on it!" Without a moment's hesitation, Jin sprinted across the wagon tops to Ragnar's former position. He quickly identified his foe, and it was indeed a fierce one. He had little idea as to how to defeat such a beast, so he treated it as he would any other flame, as a breath to candlelight.
With an agile leap off of a wagon, Jin raised his bo high above his head, gathering as much force as he could muster, and bringing his staff down upon the whole of the wolf's body in an attempt to disperse the flame entirely. The very instant before contact, his body flashed with a Blinding Visage of the boy monk, hoping to distract the beast just long enough to daze it momentarily, and utilize what extra energy it may give him. If all goes according to plan, the flash will be quick enough to draw little to no attention to Jin's gifts, the flames shall be scattered.
-
She loped effortlessly alongside Rand and Bjorn as they moved through the forest. Her animal soul made short work of this, allowing her to move through the trees gracefully. Bright flashes of frames threaten to distract her, but Daccio keeps her vision peeled for any threats. She skidded to a halt next to Rand as a giant fire wolf blocked her path. Her eyes widened slightly, she had never seen anything like this.
"GET DOWN!" She suddenly heard Bjorn bellow. A quick glance back saved her as she Leaped to the left, getting out of the charging man's way. She would need to remember, that, he was very very aggressive. Not someone to anger lightly.
As she too a stance that would give her good balance should they come after her, she drew the two knives at her waist. Should the beasts come close, she would last out in counterattack, but Bjorn seemed more the front line fighter type.
-
The tribesman’s arrow hits its mark and much to his surprise it passes through what he assumed were ash creatures. He sees the creatures scatter and vanish as soon as the arrow connects. Confused, the hunter inspects the ash covered patch of the forest, wondering what just happened.
"Ho there! What's in those trees? Can't say I've ever-"
The stranger’s words are interrupted by the sudden explosion of the dark patch. Dete barely manages to leap back and protect his eyes with his hands, causing him to fall on his back. He quickly scrambles up on his feet and finds himself looking at a few dozens of wolf shaped flames, scattering in every direction. Six of those advance on him. When wolfs hunt, they want their pray to run, to tire itself out, while they take turns chasing and conserve their strength. Dete’s instincts kick in and he holds his ground. Grasping his spear with both hands, he prepares to retaliate. One of the wolves lunges forward and attacks the hunter. The lunging wolf is on the right side of the tribesman, he turns with all the speed he could muster and thrusts his spear into the creature’s head, while still trying to be vigilant of his exposed back.
-
Bjorn finds his relentless attack to be fruitful. The wolf on the left that caught his boot on the chin reeled backward, then darted to the side. The central wolf dodges the overhanded chop of his axe, but the rightmost wolf is cut through with the length of his sword. As the weapon leaves its fiery body the wolf falls apart into a pile of ash once more.
The central wolf counters and snaps at Bjorn with its jaws, but the berserker's unceasing attacks overwhelm the fiery beast. It puts up a good show of dodging each blow until Bjorn's final wide spinning arc. It is sliced in two, showering Bjorn in soot.
The leftmost wolf bursts from the woods to the side of Rand and Daccio. Rand springs up to meet it midair, his twin short swords strike with two flashes of steel. Ash rains down as he lands in a crouch.
More wolves pass by them, heading straight for what looks like a trade caravan on the other side of the woods. It seems that the wagons are their primary target. They will be overwhelmed in short order without assistance.
"We need to hold them off until Alec's platoon gets here." Rand shouts, before taking off towards the wagons and their assailants.
----
Mitoli sits atop the wagon, aiming his crossbow at one of the flaming wolves. Two ferocious roars break out on either side of him, causing him to nearly fall from his seat and drop his crossbow. As he rights himself he finds Ragnar and Afanen covered in rock and flame. The caravan leader slaps his leg and cheers.
"I pegged you both as Callers, I did! Hey lad, what are you doing? A caravan leader never leaves the wagons! Don't you toss me in that blasted tree!"
"Oof!"
Mitoli lands in the branches, cranky and grumbling. He refused to let go of his crossbow and he shimmies to get into a firing position.
While Ragnar still has his back turned from tossing Mitoli into the tree a fiery wolf has snuck up behind him. The beast pounces, going for his neck.
Afanen's mighty swing of her war hammer connects into the skull of the rightmost wolf. The fiery beast jolts to the side before exploding into a pile of ash. The wolf on the left fares little better than his ashy friend. It has little time to dodge as the heavy war hammer sails towards it. The war hammer catches it on the shoulder, resulting in another explosion of ash that covers the burnt ground below.
As Afanen looks up from her successful attack, she sees even more wolves approaching her side of the wagons. Their burning eyes all focus on her.
----
Jin's Inner Light works wonders on the oxen. Their stamping feet settle, and the beasts fall into a state of calm regardless of the chaos swirling around them.
The wolf anticipates Jin's leap. It crouches, preparing to leap and catch the boy midair before he has a chance to strike. It pushes off with its hind legs, but before it leaves the ground it falters because of the Blinding Visage that flashes from the young monk's body. Dazed, the wolf puts up no contest as Jin's bo slams down on top of it. The bo his the ground as the wolf is split into two waves of falling black ash.
Now that Jin is on the ground he is open to attack. More wolves circle, threatening to swarm the young monk.
----
Daccio finds the immediate threat gone, thanks to Bjorn. Rand is concerned with the wagons, and takes off through the forest towards them. It seems that the bulk of the wolves are focusing on the caravan. There are stragglers wandering through the woods near them, but they haven't taken notice yet.
She needs to decide her next course of action before another pack notices her.
----
Dete is wise to hold his position. Prey turns tail and runs, but a predator stands its ground. Yet he is at a disadvantage from his back. The lunging wolf did not anticipate his speed, and Dete's spear pierces through its open, flaming mouth. The wolf explodes into a pile of ash that rains down on the hunter.
The rest of the fiery wolves jump back and fan out after seeing the first wolf's demise. They put distance between the hunter and themselves. The wolves howl, shimmering the air in front of them with their hot breath. Their howls draw the attention more fiery wolves nearby. It is clear that Dete will not be easy prey. The pack focusing on him nearly doubles in number. The wolves' flames dance and flicker as they surround him.
-
She growled under her breath, and darted into the forest growth off the game trail. Activating earthen stamina, she gave herself more strength so she could run faster and further. Her cloak sailed out behind her as she darted through the cover of the trees towards the caravan. She would not let these people perish, not with the gift she had to protect them. As she passed through a clearing, a Fire wolf move in to intercept her, lunging for her throat.
Daccio dropped to one knee without hesitation. She had been trained to flawlessly react to surprise and it seemed that it was a very skill to have. The wolf's jaws snapped close where her throat had been, and in three quick, strikes, her knives lashed out, peircing it along the chest. It let out a yelp, then a growl as Daccio's momentum carried her forward into a roll. She sprang to her feet, turned to face the wolf and leaped immediately, aggressivly attacking even as the wolf lunged at her.
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and terror threatening to rise. Jerking to the left, the wolf slammed into her, it's jaws snapping shut where her head had been. With an upward strike, she rammed the dagger in its chest and with her other arm, a sideswipe, burrying the steel into the beasts neck. She jerked the knife and with a yelp, the creature exploded into ash.
She tried to shake her nerves. That was the first time she had really fought and killed something. Oh, she had encountered theives and bandits before, but she was always able to get away with convincing them to walk away before it ever came to blows. Taking a deep breath, she know she could not let herself get distracted. She spun and darted off towards the caravan once more, cloak now billowing out behind her as she sprinted full force. It was hard to match her speed, her enhanced legs pushed her further and further and ate great strides of ground before she burst out of the woods before the caravan.
-
Bjorn can hear nothing of the others. He doesn't hear any shouted orders or attempts to assist the caravan. All he sees are enemies before him, enemies he would slay. Taking a running start, he leaps and crashes into one Wolf, ignoring the flames that lick his body as he drives his sword into its throat, charging through the ensuing ash cloud into the next, shouldering it to the ground before stamping on its skull, showering ash all around him.
It seems he has gathered the attention of the wolves as a significant threat. A small group of them begin to circle around him, as if planning to overwhelm him. Bjorn would not give them that chance. Three more wolves. Three more piles of ash. They charged him at once, and he met them with a snarl and whirling steel. His axe embedded in one's skull and his blade sheathed itself in another's mouth. The third pounced on his back, its claws raking through the wolf pelt into the bare flesh of his shoulders, causing him to roar and drop his weapons reflexively.
Clenching his fists, he shoves the wolf off of his back and turns to pounce on it, locking his legs around its body as Bjorn rained repeated punches into its face, his clawed gauntlets tearing into its burning fur as Bjorn battered it to death, beating it until it was a pile of ash, and then beating the pile of ash until he collected himself enough to retrieve his weapons and roar a further challenge to any other wolves who would come to face him.
-
After tossing Mitoli up into the tree, Ragnar can sense the presence of an enemy behind him. As the creature lunges towards his throat, Ragnar puts his boxing skills to good use. His natural speed, thanks to his bear soul, allows him to deftly dodge away from the attack, and he follows with a well-placed right hook to the wolf’s head. Over the years, Ragnar’s fists, coupled with the exceptional strength granted to him by his bear soul, have become devastating weapons, capable of inflicting deadly blows with nearly perfect accuracy. The odds already in his favor, the rock armor that serves as a gauntlet upon Ragnar’s fist causes the damage to be even more devastating.
His fist slams into the head of the wolf and encounters no resistance. Ragnar flexes his fingers as they emerge on the other side of the wolf’s skull. With a shake of his arm, what is left of the wolf’s head sloughs off Ragnar’s bloody hand.
As another group of wolves approaches Afanen, the smith is undaunted by the fact she is considerably outnumbered. There are four of them to one of her, yet her weapon is an extension of herself, and she wields it as if it was part of her physical being. The flames continue to engulf her body, dancing around her form in strangely elegant patterns.
Her warhammer held firmly in her hands, Afanen’s movements are fluid, yet powerful as she smashes the head of the hammer into the ribcage of the closest wolf. A second blow connects with the hind quarters of a second wolf, crippling the beast where it stands. Afanen’s foot slam’s into its spine as she lunges toward to strike a third wolf. She draws back her warhammer with such power that the force of the blow cuts the wolf in twain before slamming into the side of the final wolf in the fiery smith’s path.
-
Dete’s spear pierces the wolf and much to his surprise it explodes. In an instant, sparks flash everywhere and disappear, leaving behind only a pile of ash. The surrounding wolfs quickly move back and put some distance between themselves and the hunter. After a howl, more wolfs join the pack surrounding the tribesman. That, however, was not the most important thing. The fact that the wolves stepped back, this is what was important. They have the mentality of a real wolf and this can be exploited to his advantage.
The hunter is not a defensive fighter, if the wolves had rushed him they would have undoubtedly overtaken him, but now odds have shifted in his favor. With offense serving him as the best defense, at the moment, Dete leaps forward and feints a thrust towards one of the wolves. The startled wolf jumps back only to be caught by the tribesman’s thrown spear, when he lands. Piercing the middle section of the wolf, the spear goes through effortlessly and impales the ground behind its victim, which explodes into a cloud of ash. Dete dashes forward and pulls out his spear. Not letting his momentum go to waste, he darts towards one of the retreating wolfs and manages to strike him above his left hind leg. The creature whimpers and shortly after explodes. After taking a deep breath, the tribesman looks around and sees that the wolves have further increased the distance between him and them.
-
Jin stares quizzically at his bo for a moment as the large wolf dissipates. The feel of the blow was a strange one, and all that came from the wolf was black ashes. However, now was not the time to contemplate exactly what these things were, and now he knew for certain they were not living beings. As more wolves closed in, Jin's feet began to dance about, his bo flowing gracefully along with him as he completed the necessary forms. The first wolf lunged, only to be plucked out of the air and turned to a cloud of dust behind the young monk. Two more dived in, and Jin evaded backward effortlessly as they passed him, now pacing about looking for a second opportunity.
More came, and the monk maintained his calm. He swatted at them with his staff, and dipped elegantly out of the path of their fiery fangs, maintaining a defensive stance. The wolves were more clever than he anticipated, however. Seeing Jin was busy, one began to seek out other prey. Jin's eyes widened, "No you don't!" He lunged at the beast in order to scatter it to the winds. His bo connected with the ground once more, and nothing but ash remained.
He let out a small yelp as he split his legs in order to duck an attack from behind, the fire of the wolf's belly close enough to burn what little stubble remained on his scalp. He leaped back to his feet and turned to face any more attackers, and found four. With a powerful kick, the monk flung a sandal from his foot into the beast's face, momentarily startling it long enough for a follow up attack. More ashes scattered to the winds. He planted his now bare foot down, and swung with all his might in a wide arc to meet two more attackers head-on as they sought to finish the boy with a pincer attack. It was sloppy, but effective, and Jin's brightly colored clothes were turning grey with the ash of his attackers. However, the wide swing left him wide open to attack from the front, and he had less than a moment to spare before the fires of the last wolf consumed him. With the quickest movement he could manage, he raised an open palm in front of him and closed his eyes tightly...
Unlike the others, this wolf seemed to literally explode as a searing light exited its eyes and mouth. It was instantaneous and far too difficult to see exactly what happened in that flash... or at least, Jin hoped so.
The entirely soot-coated Jin began to cough as though he'd lose a lung. He coughed into his free hand, only then noticing he had burned his arm by using that technique on a creature made of fire. He sighed, nearly cracking a smile, his hindsight getting the better of him. "Not your wisest move, Jin..." Done lecturing himself for now, he drew his sleeve over the wound so nobody would notice its regeneration, and quickly went to check on Ragnar and Afanen.
-
Two flashes of steel precedes another shower of ash as Rand sprints through the woods. He clears the treeline with a leap and quickly scans the scene surrounding the wagons. His eyes go wide as he watches the wolves get cut down by the many warriors.
Two of them are obviously Callers, their bodies covered in rock and flame. A young man in dress he is not familiar with moves with surprising grace and agility. A flash blinks from his body before he obliterates a wolf in front of him.
A tribesman far from his home is tearing into a huge pack of wolves on his own. Surprisingly, he is pushing them back. It would be a good bet that this man is a Caller as well.
Bjorn is also a Caller, and even thought Daccio hasn't shown many signs, she is probably one too. It is too early to tell yet whether such a large group of Callers is a good omen, but he is staying optimistic for the time being. One thing is for sure, this small string of wagons wouldn't have stood a chance without such a gathering.
----
Mitoli fires a bolt at a wolf that wanders too close to his leafy perch. The bolt sticks in the ground with a pile of ash falling around it. He is still grumbling about leaving his wagons as he pulls another bolt from his quiver.
"Seems my luck is still holding out..." He says to himself as another bolt flies from his crossbow. "If we ever make it to Yond I owe everyone a few rounds of ale, especially that hunter fella."
He pulls back the strings of the crossbow and locks them into place. With a steady hand he places a bolt into position and aims at another wolf as it charges by. Before he can fire, a mass of shiny breastplates and glinting blue shields round the corner. A man with long black hair and a goatee is at the front with his sword and shield drawn. The soldier points his longsword forward, and a half dozen archers behind him let their arrows fly. Six of the fiery wolves explode into ash as the arrows hit their mark.
"Whats this now? A small army!" Mitoli cheers as the platoon surges through the battlefield.
The fiery wolves howl and bark as their numbers are mercilessly cut down. A few of the soldiers cry out as they are lashed by claws and fiery teeth. The wolves are outmatched, and the combined forces of the Callers and the soldiers stamp out the last of the flames. Those that have not been struck down by the Callers meet a quick end by the soldiers' long swords and arrows. A few wolves take off into the woods only to be caught by Bjorn's axe and sword, and Daccio's knives.
The area surrounding the wagons is covered in ash. The last traces of the fiery wolves has been snuffed out, and the country road returns calm. The platoon of soldiers are all breathing heavily. Most are taking a knee or outright sitting down for exhaustion. Alec is checking on each of them, noting a few that have suffered burns from the scuffle.
Mitoli is busy sliding down the tall tree he was tossed into. He lands hard on his butt, and finally gives up and just lies on his back.
"Unbelievable." He mutters, as he stares at the sky.
Alec, satisfied that his soldiers are in good shape, walks towards the wagons. His second in command walks next to him with her weapons still drawn.
"What in the blazes happened here?" He calls.
"Fire!" Mitoli shouts from his back. He sits up and attempts to dust the ash off of his clothes. Finding it hopeless he shakes his head and continues. "A damn pile of ashes exploded in the trees just over there." He points to the dark copse of trees with his chin. "Next thing ya knew there were near a hundred of those flaming wolves tearing through. They were after the wagons."
Alec, having made is way to the seated Mitoli, extends his hand and helps the caravan leader to his feet.
"I'm Alec, guard captain of Keep Yond. We have been hunting a beast that has been attacking trade wagons. It seems we arrived just in time."
"Aye, Alec. I'm Mitoli, and this is my caravan. My guards and that hunter fella were holding them off well enough, but I'm glad you lot came around."
Mitoli frowns. "I'm not sure if we're in the clear yet. These things just fell to ash. Could be more of them out there."
"I'm aware of that, Mitoli. But for now we need to get you and your wagons to safety. When you are ready we will escort you back to the keep."
"Aye," Mitoli nods in thanks.
The caravan leader shuffles over to Ragnar, pointing a finger accusingly. "Next time leave me to my wagon! I ain't yellow enough to turn tail and hide in a tree!" He glances over at the seat on his wagon.
A pile of ash covers it along with a few scorch marks. Mitoli shudders at the sight. "Hmph... Thanks lad, I suppose you did save my bacon from the frying pan."
After Ragnar's response, Mitoli calls out to Dete. "Hey there lad, I owe you a great deal for sticking your neck out like that. Please, come join us for the trip to town."
Mitoli hops back onto his wagon and inspects the oxen. He stares at the animals for a moment, clearly pondering something. With a shrug he lets it go.
"You did very well, Afanen and Ragnar. And Jin, you surprised the heck out of me with that bo. Very impressive, lad." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Now, we'll talk about your Calling later, you two. In the meantime, is anyone hurt?"
----
Rand sheathes his short swords. He is still posted at the side of the forest, watching as the caravan and the soldiers unwind from the melee.
"It's over, guys." He calls into the woods for Bjorn and Daccio. More quietly he says, "There are an awful lot of Callers here. The two caravan guards are Callers, and I'm not sure that the hunter and the young monk aren't Callers too."
He motions for them to follow him toward the resting soldiers. "As rare as Callers are, this is a very large gathering of them. I'm not much for omens and all that silliness, but I can't shake the feeling that..." He trails off. "Just be ready for anything."
-
Ragnar chuckles as Mitoli waggles his finger at him. “No one would ever accuse you of hiding, sir! You weren’t hiding! You were thrown! Totally different!” Ragnar claps Mitoli on the back. “Besides, Mitoli you are not merely my employer. I have come to regard you as a friend and certainly weren’t about to take any chances of the caravan being burnt to a crisp or the oxen taking off with you upon it!”
Ragnar stamps his foot upon the ground and the sheets of rock that encase his body swiftly fall away and are promptly reabsorbed into the dirt. Simultaneously, Afanen dispels the flames that envelop her form. She is silent and her gaze watchful as she observes the others in this area.
“Seems we aren’t the only Callers here. I don’t know if I believe in coincidence,” she says just loud enough only Ragnar can hear.
“What do you think those wolves were?” ask Ragnar. “Seems like something you’d do. Maybe someone with a fire gift?”
Afanen shrugs. “Could be. Whoever was controlling those beasts did not seem to be after the goods upon the caravan. Why send creatures that could potentially burn up the spoils? The motive was destruction. You heard that guard captain. There have been other attacks on trade caravans as of late.”
“If it was another Caller, do you think he or she knew we would be here?” questions Ragnar.
“Not sure, Raggi. Only thing I’m sure about is I could certainly go for a pint when we get to Keep Yond.” Afanen notices Jin a few steps away. “You alright, Jin?”
Ragnar scoops the monk into a big bear hug, lifting him so high the young man’s legs dangle in the air. “Of course he’s alright, Fan!” Ragnar places Jin back on his feet. “Did you see him? He moves like lightning with that bo of his!”
-
Bjorn calms himself from his battle rage in stages. In a few minutes he manages to calm from roaring and frothing to seething, to breathing heavily, and finally back to his normal calm self. He relaxes his grip on his weapons and takes a deep breath, looking at the ring of ash around him. He turns to look at Rand as he speaks to the two of them and nods quietly at his words, following to the rest area.
Striding to the emptiest place in the resting zone, Bjorn sits down, crosses his legs, pulls the wolf's head over his eyes, and rests. The claw marks on his back slowly bleed, though they don't seem to be too dangerous a wound. The edges of them are slightly scorched from the wolf's fiery skin, and the blood flows down his back at a trickling pace, though he seems to ignore the apparent pain of the wounds. They don't appear very deep, though the pain they cause must be significant if only for the sheer area of the lacerations, but Bjorn seemed numb to it, meditating quietly while the blood dripped from his back.
The flow already seemed to be slowing, though it would be some time before the wounds themselves healed. In the end, they would serve as yet more scars in the Berserker's collection.
-
Jin turns the corner around the wagons, suppressing his aura once more and hiding his golden eyes. He thanked the powers of the universe that allowed Afanen and Ragnar to be relatively unharmed from such an assault, and let out a sigh of relief. Then, he noticed Mitoli inspecting the cattle. Jin gulped, but his nervous approach was soon interrupted by Afanen's kind words of concern, and shortly after, a bear hug the likes of which only Ragnar could deliver.
He laughed as his feet left the ground, his white teeth showing brightly from under his soot-covered face. His laughter stopped suddenly though as he looked on, seeing the wounded soldiers that had come to their aid. His feet touched the ground once more as Ragnar released him, and Jin bowed humbly. "Your praise is truly too much. I'm afraid all my 'lightning' fast moves can be very exhausting... I think I'll go and have a seat for a moment, and meditate on the events that transpired. I have so many questions, but for now... I'm just glad you three are well." He giggled lightheartedly, "Not that I was worried, of course!" Though he was smiling as he usually does, something about Jin's pace and mannerisms seemed... off; almost evasive. With a pat on Ragnar's shoulder, and a wave to Afanen and Mitoli, Jin made his way to where the soldiers rested.
Having found a suitable spot that would no doubt tend to the most soldiers possible, Jin sat, and closed his eyes. He let his inner light spring forth and flow out from within, his eyes glowing faintly under his eyelids. No doubt it was dangerous for him to attempt to heal their wounds in such a manner, but Mitoli raised a fine point. There could be more out there, and Jin could not sit idly by while these brave men suffered. Should battle be met again, they would be ready.
-
She falls in behind rand as they move through the forest, watching Bjorn move on ahead. She spoke to him quietly as the moved, making sure her hood was situated and her hair was still tucked back in so no one saw it. She was amazed at how open these other callers were. She would not get so positive a reaction where she had come from. Her father had figured out what she was and had sent her on her way and it was why she wore the tattoos on her arms and chest.
"The fight in the daylight, open for all to see, i have never seen callers do such a thing. I knew one once, but he stayed to the darkness so others did not know him, and protected our realm from threats by shadow..." She frowned at remembering him. It still hurt how he had abandoned her.
"Oh well, it is over now" she nodded as they stepped out onto the road, surveying the scene. She spotted Bjorn sitting across the way. Frowning at the blood oozing from his wounds, she slipped past Rand and moved across the road. She moved over to Bjorn, kneeling next to him.
"Well, you never answered my question earlier, but i suppose what happened back there proves it, you are a caller. Are you okay?" She asked "It looks like you can help yourself a bit, but do you need anything?" She was speaking quietly, her voice only a buzz to those away from the two.
-
Dete’s battle with the wolves was at a standstill. The animals were on the defense and he was about to take the fight to them yet again, right before howling and barking came from the direction of the caravan. Distracted, the wolves proved to be an easy prey for the hunter. He quickly dispatches a few more before the platoon swooped in and wiped them out completely.
After retrieving his bow, the hunter goes back to the black patch of the forest where all this began. He looks for any traces or clues, which may give him information of how everything happened. The tribesman is looking for any lingering smell or something out of order, through the ash covered trees and bushes. Finally he checks the surrounding paths for any indication of an unknown presence having been there. The horde of burning wolves would have probably destroyed any such clues, if there were any to begin with, but the hunter gives it a shot regardless.
"Hey there lad, I owe you a great deal for sticking your neck out like that. Please, come join us for the trip to town."
Dete goes to the group, stands in front of Mitoli and looks at him. The difference in size between the two men is clearly seen. “Yes I will join you. The road ahead could hold more dangers.” He takes a few steps around and makes a note of all the interesting looking people, than looks at Mitoli again. “You owe me nothing. Should you wish to repay me, simply offer help to those in dire need, the same way I helped you. That would be payment enough.” Even though his words seem kind, the way the man speaks gives them a cold and emotionless feeling. His accent and his expressionless face, give off a weird vibe around the man.
-
Ragnar and Afanen exchange glances as Jin takes his leave of them. During the time they have spent with him, they have come to know a bit about his mannerisms. Though Ragnar has an inkling something is amiss, Afanen has always been the more perceptive of the two.
“Something’s wrong,” speaks Afanen with a frown. “He puts on a good show, but something is off.”
Ragnar nods. “Is it just me, or did he seem surprisingly… alright with what just happened here. I know Jin isn’t exactly your typical teenager, but most kids I know would be a bit unnerved by all that.” Ragnar sniffs the air in Jin’s direction. “He doesn’t smell afraid.”
“It’s not fear,” states Afanen.
“Want me to talk to him?” asks Ragnar.
Afanen shakes her head. “Whatever is on his mind, I’m sure he’ll tell us when he’s ready. I wouldn’t press him about it.”
Ragnar watches intently as Mitoli converses with the strange tribesman, the one who had shot the arrow. “What do you make of him?”
Afanen shrugs. “Seems selfless enough… if but a bit distant. At least the sentiment is there.”
“I’m going to go talk to him.”
Afanen groans. “Really, Ragnar? He’s a perfect stranger. Think about everything that’s just happened. Don’t you think we should be a bit more wary of strangers?”
Ragnar chuckles. “You, always the worrier. Strangers are only strange because you haven’t met them yet.” Ragnar lumbers towards the tribesman and grins widely as he offers a polite nod of acknowledgement. “Hello, sir. Ragnar Thorburn. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You uh… well, you don’t look or sound like you’re from around… well, anywhere I’m familiar with, not that I’m all that well-traveled. I’m one of Mitoli’s guards. That fetching young woman over there is my friend Afanen.”
Afanen offers a polite wave.
“What brings you this way?” asks Ragnar with a smile. Dete can easily tell that Ragnar seems very outgoing, approachable and friendly, while his companion eyes Dete warily, her gaze keen and observant. While her expression is not unfriendly, she seems far more cautious and reserved than her affable counterpart.
Afanen glances towards the piles of ash at her feet. She reaches into her pack and carefully extracts a small glass vial. She snatches a nearby stick off the ground and uses it to scrape a bit of the ash in a vial. She's not sure where these creatures came from, but perhaps their remnants may somehow be helpful in tracking their true point of origin.
-
"I'm fine. The pain helps me focus." Bjorn says, lifting the wolf's head to look at Daccio. "But thank you for your concern." The Viking takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling softly.
"You saw me during the heat of battle. I still don't remember all of it. I pray to Óðinn for control because I fear I may lose myself to the rage. More than once I have injured someone I call friend in the heat of fury. It's best you do as the soldiers do, and give me a wide berth."
There was a hollowness in his eyes, carved out from the loneliness of travelling alone for so long in the harsh wintery north. He almost seemed to be looking past Daccio, at some distant event on the horizon. He has consigned himself to being alone, in order to prevent his power from injuring more allies.
"The wound is not deep, you need not worry. It will heal in time. The wolf's claws burned as they struck, so there is no fear of infection." He says, pulling the wolf's head back over his eyes. The blood slowly began to pool behind him, but the flow was slowing down, and soon would stop altogether as the blood clots over the wound.
-
She nods at his words.
"Well, so long as you are not going to bleed out right here, but I suspect a warrior does not last long if he or she is easy to kill." She laughed quietly "I suspect callers are quite hard to kill though"
She stood, turning to face the rest of the caravan, to see what was going on.
She glanced to the soldiers and then to the others, taking them all in.
-
Dete looks at the broad shouldered man walking towards him. Until now he had not seen a whole face turn into a smile.
“Hello, sir. Ragnar Thorburn. Pleased to make your acquaintance… What brings you this way?”
Dete looks at the man’s grinning face, than at the woman at the back. Without diverting his gaze he responds with a monotone voice. “I am Dete na Plemeto, it is a pleasure as well. Call me Dete if you would prefer,” the hunter looks at Ragnar now. “I come from the far west, you would not have heard of my people, even if you were well traveled. As for a purpose…” The tall man looks around, looking at every one in the area. After a few more seconds of thinking he replies. “There is none. I go where my feet take me.” A sudden movement of the eyebrows of his emotionless face indicates the occurrence of a thought, which had not crossed his mind until now. “Hunting… yes, hunting would be the closest thing to a purpose. I am always looking for a good hunt.” The hunters face quickly returns to normal. “What of you? What is your purpose?”
-
“Dete.” Ragnar repeats the name as if to commit it to memory. “Well, we are quite fortunate you were here! Between your quick reactions and Afanen’s keen eye, I think we were able to keep Mitoli’s excellent luck intact.”
“Well, I can certainly relate to following one’s feet. That’s what Afanen and I have been doing for quite some time now. We’ve been vagabonds of sorts, little direction, just going wherever the roads take us. We had to… make a hasty retreat from our homelands, and our sole purpose has been putting as much distance between there and us as possible.”
“A hunter, you say? Certainly a noble pursuit. Afanen and I have done a bit of hunting in our time, though we’re likely amateurs compared to you. Admittedly, I have spent most of my life in the woods, so observing the comings and goings of beast and man are second nature. I suppose… I suppose when you get right down to it, everybody is hunting for something.”
“As for my purpose…” Ragnar thinks on this for a moment and casts a glance back to Afanen who is sifting through piles of ash for lord knows what purpose. She always seemed to be a step ahead of him. “I have followed a single purpose for as long as I can remember.” He blushes slightly and quickly returns his gaze to the tribesman in front of him. “I like to think it a noble purpose, and I will follow it to the ends of the earth and the last of my days.”
Ragnar glances over towards Jin, who appears to be in one of his meditative states, eyes closed and sitting in silence. “That’s Jin.” He directs Dete’s attention to the young monk. “He’s another member of our company, and as good a young man as they come. He’s doing his… uh…” Ragnar gestures with his hand towards Jin’s form. It’s obvious he has little knowledge to account for what it is Jin is doing. “Well… uh… he’s doing whatever it is Jin does. Perhaps when we get to Keep Yond you’ll join us in the tavern. I’m sure you have plenty of interesting tales to tell of your journeys, and we’d love to hear them!”
-
As Dete inspects the dark patch of trees only the smell of burnt ash reaches his nose. He can tell that the trails around the area have been vacant for at least a week. The wildlife has been staying away, sensing the danger. As Dete lingers in the area, an ominous feeling is slowly working its way into the back of his mind. It is as if something is watching him intently. Mitoli calls out to him, and as the hunter leaves the dubious patch of woods the ominous feeling fades.
Mitoli waves off Ragnar's comments about friendship and caring about him. The caravan leader hasn't ever been one for outright sappiness, but you can tell by his demeanor that he would agree with the sentiment.
Mitoli greets Dete from atop the wagon with a smile, and nods vigorously when the tribesman agrees to accompany them to Keep Yond. Upon Dete's comments of owing him nothing, Mitoli scoffs.
"Nonsense lad! Of course I will always help fellow travelers, no matter how great or small the need. Rules of the road, and all that."
Ragnar introduces himself and Afanen, and Dete does the same. Mitoli watches the exchange with interest.
His smile curls his thick mustache at the mention of the tavern. "Of course he will be joining us! I owe him a pint and a good meal. Actually, I owe all of you!"
Afanen finds that the ash she has scraped into the vial is still slightly warm to the touch. Her fingers tingle for half of a moment, just short enought to second guess if it actually happened. Peculiar.
"Get your things together, Alec will want to make for town soon."
----
Bjorn strides past Rand and takes a seat off by himself. Rand watches the berserker for a moment, waiting to see if he is going to burst into flames again. It seems that he is just meditating.
Daccio's comment about how open the Callers are with their abilities seems to strike a chord with Rand. He quirks an eyebrow at her thoughtfully.
"That struck me too, Daccio. Most Callers go to great pains to hide their nature, for fear of retribution." He glances at Bjorn again. "I have heard of cities where they persecute Callers, hunt them even." He gives the girl a reassuring smile. "Alec seems to tolerate Callers. I don't think they will have anything to worry about at Keep Yond."
Rand barely notices as she slips away to ask after Bjorn. As he sees her walking towards the berserker he wonders just when she left, and if she even heard what he said.
He doesn't spend much time wondering, as the young man in the unfamiliar dress catches his eye. He is sitting in the middle of a group of soldiers. They don't seem to mind him there, quite the contrary. The soldiers close to him seem more healthy, their wounds closing and much quicker than they have a right to. Any doubt that Rand had that this young man is a Caller has vanished.
----
"I know that Kate."
"Then why are we still sitting here? We need to get back to Yond."
Alec taps the hilt of his sheathed sword with his thumb. The chainmail glove clinks against the metal pommel with each tap. Kate, his second in command, glances down at his hand after a particularly loud clink.
"The troop manning the gates won't hold out long if the beast decides to attack while we are gone. It's clearly not here. None of these blasted things left a body."
"I know that too, Kate." Alec replies, still tapping. Clink... Clink... Clink...
"And where the hell is Emery?"
The clinking stops, Alec's thumb halts in midair. His head jerks to look down the road the way they came.
"That fool!"
Almost like clockwork, a lanky man hobbles around the corner. His crossbow has half of its strings snapped, and his quiver is empty save for one lonely bolt. It circles the hard leather quiver with each labored step.
"Light save us, what happened to him?" Alec asks.
"He doesn't look burnt. More dusty than anything." Kate replies.
With one last clink of his thumb, Alec trots over to the limping innkeep. He takes the broken crossbow from him and gives him a shoulder to lean on as he leads him toward the rest of the platoon.
"Twisted my damn ankle." Emery says, the angst filling his words previously now gone. "Did you kill the damn thing at least?" He groans.
Alec eases him down on a patch of grass and lets him get situated before responding.
"No. This was some sort of trap. These things were attacking the traveling wagons when we got here. We are going to escort them back to town." Alec responds.
"Back to town?" Emery seems on the verge of bursting, but the rage building in his eyes quickly fades. A defeated look washes over him as he hangs his head. "I suppose that's fine. I'll need a ride back anyway. Can't hardly walk as it is."
"I'm sure Mitoli will oblige." Clink.
--
Emery gets situated on the second wagon in the caravan. It's the least Mitoli can do, he says. The caravan leader is in such high spirits after making it through that scuffle that you'd think he would promise the moon if asked.
Alec rouses his surprisingly well recovered troops, and lets everyone else know that they will be moving out soon.
"If we leave now we should get to Keep Yond just before dark."
-
As Ragnar chatters away at the tribesman, Afanen focuses her attention upon the vial in her hands. The strange warmth of the contents is peculiar to say the least. She reaches into her pack and extracts a small scrap of cloth from the generous lining of the bag. Next, she reaches for the waterskin Jin had provided not so long ago. She pours a minute bit of the liquid upon the cloth, and lets it absorb. Next, she opens the vial, places the cloth over the top and examines it thoroughly. Water is the bane of fire, so if any of the contents are still active, the water should render them inert. Furthermore, water, dampness helps to bring out scents. Think of the woods after a rainy day, every scent that abounds is amplified by water. The cloth will ensure that Afanen does not accidentally inhale any of the ash, such a foreign substance could be dangerous.
She knows that animals are more sensitive to aberrations in the natural world than anything else. They are far more perceptive than humans, and it is due to this, she closes her eyes, summoning the heightened senses offered by her bear soul. Suddenly, her nostrils flare as all the smells of the natural world drift to her nose. She presses her nose against the damp cloth that covers the vial, hoping the water will amplify the smell of the ash, allowing her to track it further than the ashy copse of trees.
“Raggi…” She summons her companion.
Ragnar glances back to her, knowing her desire at once. He closes his eyes and call upon his incredible sense of hearing. He hears every conversation occurring in the area, and his gaze falls upon Jin, and the strange buzzing sound that seems to emanate from him as he meditates.
“You must excuse me, Dete,” speaks Ragnar as he takes his leave of the tribesman. “My companion needs me.”
Ragnar, using his sense of hearing, and Afanen, using the exceedingly developed sense of smell that their bear souls offer, prepare to follow the ash and their perceptions to whatever further evidence can be offered in this area.
-
Dete nods in agreement with Ragnar. “We all have needs and desires. It is what we are willing to do to achieve them, that I believe truly sets us apart from one another. As for the tavern...”
"Of course he will be joining us! I owe him a pint and a good meal. Actually, I owe all of you!"
Dete has not met many people like Mitoli and Ragnar. Usually, people are far more reserved and cautious around the tribesman. He saw no point in trying to get out of it and accepts the offer. Best get it over with and be on his way, a far easier way than making up a reason to deny the invitation. It was also better to spend the evening in town tonight. With all that occurred, who knows what might happen in the outskirts.
“You must excuse me, Dete, my companion needs me.”
The hunter looks in the same direction when the broad shouldered man takes a quick glance towards Afanen. He notices the vile of ash in her hands and when Ragnar takes a step away to leave, Dete grabs him by the hand and pulls him in close enough to whisper to him. “Be very careful of what you do with that.” His voice is rough and alertness can be felt in it. “I looked through the point of origin and I felt someone's gaze upon me... no, not someone's, something's gaze.” The hunter lets go of the man's arm and starts stepping away. “If you feel it too, throw it away!” He turns his back and leaves Ragnar on his own. The tribesman does not want to feel the ominous feeling again and for now he will keep his distance from this unnatural ash.
-
Observing as the soldiers' health improves, Jin hops up and practically skips back to the wagons, the gold from his eyes fading as he exacts control once more. It seems the wonderful sight of recovery on their part has rejuvenated him, and the meditation has steadied his question-filled mind. It's at this time he notices that a man holding a crossbow - about as covered in soot as the monk is - entering the second wagon, appearing defeated, saddened, and exhausted. Jin feels no pity, only joy, knowing he can help yet another wounded person, and perhaps gain a little insight on what's been going on. While he sat among the soldiers, he overheard something about a beast, a little about an inn, but nothing else.
As the soot-covered man entered the wagon, Jin quickly popped in from the opposite side, his pearly teeth and the whites of his eyes practically glowing in contrast to the ash on his face. "Whoa! By the looks of you, you must have taken on a dozen of those wolves! Our caravan leader uses a weapon like yours, but I have to admit, I think I'd hurt myself just trying to load it! Sorry, I'm not from here, what is it called?" Before Emery could respond, the excited teenager quickly pummeled him with more questions. "Is this the first you've seen of these wolves? Does this kind of thing happen often around here? What's your name? I'm Jin!" He paused briefly to sneeze, the sudden jerk motion causing dust to cascade off him.
"Do you have a cloth I can borrow?"
-
The ash begins to cool as the strip of cloth is placed over the vial. Afanen breathes in the smell of the ash, and gets a sense of it. The substance that was burned to create the ashes is no more, but a few faint smells linger. The smell of an animal touches her nose, she is almost certain it is a wolf. This in itself isn't surprising, given recent events.
There is also the smell of a man. It is faint, being overwhelmed by the smell of spent fire and wolves, but it is still present. As she tracks the unique mix of smells to their source, she finds the ash pile as the largest concentration of them. The smell circles the area, cutting across the road and through the woods. The battlefield is littered with it. Each fiery wolf carried the same mix of ashes, the same smell. It is nearly impossible to tell where one trail begins and one ends. A very faint trail leads up the hill where Dete was camping, but it stops abruptly.
Afanen begins to feel that someone is watching her. As the vial finally loses the last of its warmth the feeling fades.
Ragnar strains his ears to hear anything out of the ordinary. The soldiers' chatter hums along around Jin's buzzing. Mitoli rambles on behind him, talking with the poor spirited Emery. He catches Alec and Kate's conversation as they discuss how to split the platoon most effectively to protect the wagons.
Off in the distance a couple squirrels bicker as they chase each other around the branches of a tree. The sound of a running stream babbles from the other direction.
What is left of the pile of ash is still, with no sound coming from it at all. It would seem that the immediate area is clear.
----
Emery is clearly in sour spirits. After a brief conversation with Mitoli he gets situated in the second wagon. As Jin pops into the wagon the innkeep merely stares at him. The young monk asks an avalanche of questions, followed by a sneeze that sends a puff of ash falling around him.
Emery raises a skeptical eyebrow at the young man. He gingerly digs a handkerchief out of his pocket and shakes the dust off of it.
"Here." He says as he hands it to Jin. There is something about the young monk that is disarming, and Emery doesn't mind his company.
His broken crossbow is leaning against a crate beside him. He looks at it wearily.
"I didn't fight no wolves." He picks a stray piece of grass that was stuck inside his sleeve. A clump of dirt rolls out with it. "I was running after Alec and his soldiers. My foot caught a rock and I fell."
He curses under his breath and shakes his head before continuing. "Twisted my damn ankle and broke my crossbow." Remembering Jins question he adds, "That's what it's called. A crossbow." He points to the broken weapon with his thumb.
"What's somebody like you running around with a trade caravan anyway? You didn't fight those things, did you?"
-
Jin uses both hands to thoroughly drag the handkerchief across his face, blackening the cloth in entirety. "Whewf! That's better." The young monk shakes it off the outside of the wagon, in a hardly successful attempt to dust it off before handing it back.
Jin lets out a light chuckle as he considers Emery's question, reflecting on when Mitoli found him. "Well, I suppose I felt the need to see the world in order to grow - to learn more of the oneness that encompasses us all. And, for some time, I felt that being on my own would be the best way to go about it, but..." The monk shrugged, and his cheeks perked. "Just as you stumbled, so did I. Mitoli showed me that it is good to have close friends around for those times where an obstacle - even small ones - catches us unaware."
Another puff of dust came as Jin tore the sleeve from his uninjured arm. "Show me your ankle." Should Emery provide his foot, Jin would wrap it in an improvised knot in the guise of foreigner miracle medicine, knowing his new friend's foot should be fully recovered by the time they arrive.
Having just remembered the last part of the man's question, Jin seemed unusually thoughtful considering its simplicity. "Well, about fighting those things... heh, I suppose I did!" He laughed. "Strangely enough, when I use my martial arts, I rarely think of it as 'fighting.' When the wolves came from the trees, I guess my only thought was... 'protect.' Perhaps the way we perceive things can be altered by the nature of our goals."
-
A wave of sleepiness hit her now that the action had stopped. She should be asleep right now. Her jaw cracked as she yawned and she glanced up at the sun. Barely passed midday, she thought to herself. Daccio was loathe to sleep around strangers but it seemed that these were people all of similar interests heading to the same place so she decided to risk it.
She shook her head gently and looked down at Bjorn. He seemed to be concentrating deeply so she left him be. She looked around the wagon train for a likely spot. She caught some of the others talked as she looked, and saw some of them investigating the ash. Quietly she turned and padded off to the back of the wagon train without making so much as a noise. She walked with a slow deliberate movement so as to not attract attention.
As Daccio arrived at the back of the wagon she stifled another yawn and looked around. Seeing no one was directly looking at her she swing up into the back of the wagon with no noise. She was light enough to not really shift the wagon around much. Settling down inside of the thing, she curled up into a ball next to and under various objects in the back, whatever they might be. She pulled her cloak over her an in moments had drifted off to sleep.
-
Dete is not easily frightened, but the ominous feeling from the ash got him on edge and he needed to calm down. After his conversation with Ragnar and Mitoli, he moved to the last wagon. Looking for a place to sit down and relax, he found a suitable tree nearby. Climbing quickly to one of the bigger branches, he places his back on the tree trunk, puts one of his legs down the length of the branch and lets the other one swing freely on the side.
The tribesman will remain there and relax for a while. Even though he is resting, he will still keep a lookout, from his position on the tree, until everyone is ready to move on.
-
Emery stares blankly at the young monk while he thoroughly dirties the handkerchief by dragging it across his sooty face. As Jin merrily hands it back to him, the innkeep flatly states, "Keep it."
Jin's attempt to wrap Emery's ankle is well received. The grumpiness in his mood begins to wane. As the young monk puts the last touches to the wrap Emery gives a simple, "Thank you," and a nod.
"Protect." The innkeep considers the word. "Some folks are made of stuff that pushes them to aid others. World's better for it, most times. Just make sure you protect your own neck while you're at it. Won't be able to save nobody if you're dead."
---
Before Daccio finally conks out, the wagon driver knocks on the outside of the wagon from his seat up front.
"Just don't touch nothin." He says, gruffly.
---
The trip back to town fills out the rest of the daylight. The sun is kissing the horizon as the spire of Keep Yond pokes out in the distance. The Keep itself rises above the town with high walls and many large, brightly lit windows. A small town sprawls out around it, surrounded by a shorter wall dotted with guard posts.
As you get closer to the town, you can see the remnants of a building that has recently burnt down. Luckily, Emery is asleep in the back of a wagon, otherwise you would be graced with the longest and crassest string or curses you've heard at the sight.
The sun dips below the treeline as the heavy wooden gate shuts behind the last handful of soldiers that took the rear guard. Mitoli leaves his wagons in the hands of the other two drivers as they get situated in the stables.
Emery wakes up from his nap. As the sleep leaves his eyes he looks at Jin. "We back in town already?"
The wagon driver from earlier knocks on the wall again for Daccio. "Just passed through the gate. Time to wake up sleeping beauty. I'll be locking up the wagon for the night. So unless you intend on staying in there until morning I suggest you make your way."
Alec waves everyone down in the middle of the town square "Whether you meant to or not, you've all helped us against whatever evil has targeted Keep Yond. Please, take a room at The Armpit, and have a pint and a meal. I will compensate Boris on behalf of my lord for his trouble."
"Hey there Alec, let me repay you for saving our bacon. A round of ale on me if ya stop by later." Mitoli would never turn down a free room, but he would still like to repay the guard captain.
"Very well. I have some things to tend to first. Until then." Alec gives a wave before turning and walking toward the Keep. Kate falls in at his side as they pass through the inner gates.
Rand speaks up as they walk away, "I know the way to The Armpit." He motions down one of the side streets. "If you want I can take you there. Or you can look around town for any supplies you might need. There is a general store, a blacksmith, and a butcher that I've heard of."
"I need an ale, I know that much. You lot can do what you like, I'm headed to The Armpit." Mitoli says.
Rand nods. "The Clover, whats left of it, is over that way. Might be worth a look before the ale starts pouring. Not sure what you'd find now that its dark, but you Callers might see something the rest of us can't." He waits to see who is coming along to The Armpit before leading the way there.
-
She jumped slightly when the driver pounded upon the side of the wagon. She held a knife in one hand, read to throw, but she did not remember pulling it. Yawning loudly, she slipped the dagger back into her sleeve and stretched the best she could in the confines of the wagon. Seems she had gotten a good amount of sleep. The sun was just hitting the horizon as she climbed out of the back of the wagon.
Giving one last stretch as she stood straight, she fixed the hood of her cloak and headed over towards rand, listening to what he had to say. Daccio looked very bright eyed, as would someone who had just woken up to start her day. Eyes alert, she looked around as rand talked.
"I am not sure what help i could be, but i would like to go look at the clover before we retire." She didn't want to admit that she didn't have any money sooner than she had to, the last of what she had long gone.
-
Bjorn remained calm throughout the walk, and by the time they had reached the fort the blood flow of his wound had stopped entirely, and the blood on his back was beginning to dry. He quietly listened to the words of others as they spoke of the fort, and heard Alec's offer of food and ale. But he also heard Rand's note of the clover. That was something he wished to see.
Wordlessly he made his way to the charred ruins of the Clover and sat in the middle of the wreckage, in his familiar cross-legged, weapons crossed stance. As he sat, he attempted to commune with the spirit of fire and the spirit of the wolf. Again the circle of flame struck up around him, but this time is merely burned its circle around him, wavering and flowing as he attempted to learn what he could from the remnants of flame in the area.
"Bál, syna me yðvarr fróðleikr. Valdr, syna me yðvarr gata. láta me vita of yðvarr augas."
-
Afanen glances towards the slip of a woman who had been snoozing in the back of the wagon, then to the exiting barbarian. Without a word, she exchanges glances with Ragnar who immediately nods in understanding. Both know that examining The Clover may prove useful to the investigations surrounding the town’s recent troubles, yet a commonly known phrase in Oakvale came to mind, “Too many cooks in the kitchen can lead to one falling in the fire.” The more people that investigated the area at once, the more likely they would find little. At any rate, Afanen knew what she was after. When she had inhaled the scent of the ashes from the vial, she had easily smelled flame and wolf, yet there was a lingering sense of a man as well. It was this man who was likely the true origin of these problems.
Afanen and Ragnar move away from the rest of the group and find a quiet place to discuss matters.
“What do you say then? We wait until it quiets down a bit and go have a looksy?” whispers Ragnar to his companion.
“As Rand said, it's getting dark,” replies Afanen quietly. “No one will want to be around that place at night. We wait until The Clover's ruins are unoccupied, when there aren’t so many people around. I’ll repeat my experiment with the ashes… see if I can get a better scent of the man. Too many people around right now. I think I have a better chance of finding something if we can isolate the area. We’ll give these officials any information we can find, then we take our leave of it. I don’t mind lending a hand, but we don’t want to get too involved. We’re just passing through. This isn’t our problem.”
Ragnar looks disappointed but agrees with his companion. “You’re right. We just left a hornet’s nest when we fled Oakvale. We don’t want to go blundering into another one.”
“Besides… we have to bear in mind that there are always two sides to the story.”
Ragnar chuckles. “Heh heh. You said ‘bear.’”
Afanen rolls her eyes. “Really, Raggi? I swear you are far too easily amused.” She runs her hand through her hair, all the while, her thoughts still racing. “All I’m saying is, it’s obvious whatever has been attacking these caravans isn’t after goods. Sending wolves of flame? If we hadn’t been there, the caravan would have been charred to a crisp. Whoever did this, he seems to be after some kind of revenge, and who are we to determine that he isn’t deserving of it? I’ll grant these soldiers and townsfolk have been helpful and kind so far, but so are the people of Oakvale as long as you’re not a Caller.”
Afanen puts her hand upon Ragnar’s. “You were right when you said those wolves looked like something I could do. I don’t doubt that it could be another Caller. So why assume he’s bent on some agenda of evil? There’s got to be more to this story. You know people tend to have loose lips when they’ve got enough booze in them.”
Ragnar nods. “So we head to The Armpit and listen in. See if anyone shares more information than they should.”
Ragnar and Afanen rejoin the group. The former claps both Dete and Jin on their backs. “Well, gentleman, it seems the little lady and I are bound for the tavern to sample the local fare. You’re more than welcome to join us for a pint.” His face still wears its seemingly perpetual grin.
Ragnar leans his head down to whisper into Jin’s ear in a conspiratorial way. “Or perhaps two. Though if Fan asks, you’re drinking nothing but apple cider, lad.” He winks to Jin.
Ragnar turns back to Afanen, offering his arm to her. She loops her arm through his and the two make their way towards The Armpit.
-
She growls under her breath as the barbarian takes off to the clover without so much as a word after she had announced her intentions to go along. She glanced at rand before he had a chance to reply and spoke.
"I'll meet up with you later."
With that, she stalked off after the barbarian who had left. As she approached she spoke up
"Hey wait up!" she called quietly, yet loud enough to be heard. She slowed and stopped though, as he sat in the middle of the wreckage and spoke himself.
"Bál, syna me yðvarr fróðleikr. Valdr, syna me yðvarr gata. láta me vita of yðvarr augas."
She listened intently to his words, though she could not understand. While he was concentrating, she decided to do a little of her own looking and her metal sight flowed from her. To her eyes only, she could see faint traces of metal around, particularly those in Bjorn's blood. She glanced about the ruins before moving into them, trying to see if there were any metallic clues as to what might be going on. She walked with almost no sound, circling Bjorn, concentrating.
-
Jin grunted cheerfully in response to Emery as they approached the town. Due to recent events, there was indeed a lot on the young monk's mind, but his curiosity overwhelmed his feelings of uncertainty. He knew he should not draw any more attention to himself, but could he truly sit still? How many people would be hurt should Jin fail to act? What if wolves attacked again, and Afanen, Ragnar, or himself were not there to protect Mitoli?
Jin's eyes widened for a brief moment, as if realizing something obvious. Mitoli. Why did the wolves attack his caravan? If there was something in common between Mitoli's caravan and The Clover... perhaps there would be clues as to where it may strike next.
As if serendipity, Ragnar asks Jin to the Armpit - the same place Mitoli will be going. As things were, his friend and caravan leader seemed unaware as to why the fiery creatures would act in such a manner toward him. Perhaps the power of western drink would allow him to think outside the box, or to reveal details he had not originally deemed significant.
At least, that was going to be Jin's excuse to enjoy the joviality of a pub. Jin laughs as Ragnar conspires with him. He returns an enthusiastic nod, choosing silence over drawing any more suspicion from Afanen, and follows his friends to The Armpit.
Jin stops in his tracks and looks to Emery excitedly, seeming to have taken a shine to the somewhat gruff man. "Emery! You should come with us and celebrate! To our good health!"
The young monk picks up pace to catch up with Mitoli. "Mitoli! Do you have any written inventory of what was on the caravan? If so, I have some ideas, and I'd very much like to look over it if you don't mind!" His chipper tone sombers, and his eyes meet the stones upon the ground. "I... want to keep this from happening again."
-
On the way back, Dete follows the caravan on foot accompanying the rear guard. He takes note of the burnt down inn. Since he would prefer to avoid the ominous feeling from before, this is a place he will stand away from. The guard captain gathers everyone at the town square and the hunter joins the back of the crowd.
"Whether you meant to or not, you've all helped us against whatever evil has targeted Keep Yond. Please, take a room at The Armpit, and have a pint and a meal. I will compensate Boris on behalf of my lord for his trouble."
"I know the way to The Armpit." A man with a red bandana and two swords speaks from within the small crowd. "If you want I can take you there… Not sure what you'd find now that its dark, but you Callers might see something the rest of us can't."
Dete gives a harsh glare at the man with bandana after his comment. Apart from his tribe, no one knows he is a caller and he wants to keep it that way. The fact that this man suggested to know got him on edge for a few seconds. He quickly dismissed the thought, thinking it was just him misunderstanding the statement. After all the bandana man didn’t even know him, he couldn’t have included him when he spoke of callers.
The tribesman tries to break his glare with a forced smile. “I need some provisions, can you tell me where the general store is?”
-
Emery grunts in return to Jin's request to join everyone at The Armpit. His brow is set with determination as he hurriedly waves away Jin's kindness. He limps off through an alleyway before anyone can protest his absence.
Rand watches with amusement as Bjorn and Daccio hurry off to the remains of The Clover. He noticed Dete's glare when he addressed everyone as Callers. Clearly the tribesman is sensitive to the word, but if he is or isn't a Caller, Rand won't be announcing anything to the public any time soon.
He returns Dete's forced smile with a genuine one of his own. "I haven't visited them myself yet, but I'm told the butcher, general store, and blacksmith have all set up shop next to each other. You can find them further down the main street here."
Rand points behind him. You can see the three signs hanging from the buildings. The general store is advertised with a sign depicting an open chest filled with odds and ends. "I hope you're able to find what you need there."
Dete finds the general store easily. A little bell above the door jingles as he enters the shop. More than a few pieces of merchandise look out of place, as if they came from quite far away. The markings and depictions on the garments and pottery are not familiar to Dete.
An annoyed voice with a strange dialect barks from the back of the shop. "What do you want?!"
A short man wearing thick spectacles swipes aside the curtain hanging between the front and back of the shop. He is balding, with thick tufts of hair sticking out of the side of his head. His torso is just a little too long for his legs, giving them a short and stubby look. His feet, curiously, are wearing sandals made from a sort of reed. Very out of place in Treymara.
"Well?" His big eyes stare at Dete through his spectacles, seeming bothered by having a customer.
----
Bjorn and Daccio find the remains of The Clover a short walk away. The smell of charred wood sits heavy in the air. A stone chimney has fallen across the ruined frame. Warped and melted pots and pans sit in a pile in the corner.
It has been a few days since the fire by now, and any foot or paw prints from that night have long since been trampled over. No question Emery or nosy townspeople have already picked through the remains for anything worth saving.
Bjorn's prayer has an immediate effect. As the las word leaves his lips the circle of flames around him roars higher, reaching over his head. Through the wall of flame he sees The Clover intact. It is a world painted by fire. The thick beams crackle and snap as the flames hungrily engulf the building.
Atop the roof a mix of man and wolf howls loudly. As he does so a pack of wolves rear their heads out of the blaze and join in his call. The fire surges, causing the building to crumble beneath him. The beams finally having succumbed to the fire's wrath. The Caller leaps from the falling roof, clearing the wall and landing on the ground outside. A pack of fiery wolves similar to the ones that attacked before swarm behind him. He runs through a trail that leads away from Keep Yond and up into the hills. Bjorn can see the Caller's escape until it blinks out far above town.
The flames subside, and the charred remains of The Clover meet Bjorn's eyes once again.
In the meantime, Daccio's metal sense is tingling. The pile of pots and pans is obvious, and there are metal nails littering the ground. But there is something underneath a pile of beams that isn't like the rest. It is shaped like a short sword or a dagger. It might have belonged to whoever, did this to The Clover.
---
"Written inventory? I've got one stashed in the wagon somewhere." Mitoli leans in close to Jin's ear. "Mostly just for nosy guardsman and toll collectors, lad. The real list is up here." He points to his head and winks. Returning upright, He continues. "No, Jin, there isn't much out of the usual in those wagons." He glances around, making sure any guards nearby hear him. His voice is a tad too loud for normal conversation. "Bolts of cloth, spices, odds and ends. Picked up some nice rugs a few weeks ago."
Rand turns his head and looks back at Mitoli. "Not too many guards patrol this area with the sewers and all." He says, as if answering a question that no one had asked. "You'll see what I mean."
Rand unties his bandana and covers his nose and mouth with it. As they round a corner the smell of diluted refuse his everyone's nose. There is a building on the side of the hill with a short section of wall on the other side of the road. If you'd look over the wall you would see that an output pipe from the sewers empties out over the cliffs below. Rand quickens his pace and hurries to the door. It would be wise to filter in just as quickly.
Mitoli lets out a held in breath upon entering. "Light save me, why would anyone build something here?"
"Lands cheap!" A large man chuckles behind the bar. "Smells worse by the stables anyway. Here, snuff some of this."
The innkeep pushes a bowl of smoldering incense toward the caravan leader. Mitoli sniffs at the smoke lazily rising out of the bowl. His mustache swishes side to side as works it around his nose.
"Almost covers it all up." Mitoli says appreciatively.
"Almost..." Rand adds as he shakes out his bandanna.
"Aye, Rand. Who'er these folk ya brought with ya?" The innkeep asks.
"Trading caravan passing through town. We found them under attack by the beast in the hills. Made quick work of it thanks to the caravan guards and a few lucky travelers." He nods toward Mitoli and company. "Alec and his guards helped too, of course. He'll be stopping by later to settle up their tabs, Boris."
Boris had stopped wiping down the bar at mention of the beast. His brow is furrowed as he looks from face to face.
"And Alec sent you here for the night, eh?" His thick fingers drum on the bar.
"Light help me, I hope that thing doesn't do here what it did to The Clover. That damn Alec, can't put you all up at the keep with all them guards around. Oh no, Boris'll take care of 'em."
He pounds his meaty fist on the bar. "Hells, and that I will. I'll show ya some rooms in a minute. Y'all look thirsty. First round's coming up. Make yourselves comfortable."
"Much obliged!" Mitoli exclaims. For all the danger faced today the caravan leader is in exceptional spirits. He grabs a seat by the fireplace and awaits his ale. The inn is empty save for Mitoli and company.
"Now then, you two," he says addressing Afanen and Ragnar, "What do you think about this beast business? I'd much rather stay out of it, but we may have no choice on the matter."
Rand waves Jin over to the bar. He is leaning against it with a bowl of incense nearby. "You have a fighting style I haven't seen before. Where do you hail from?" He asks the young monk.
-
At the flare up of Bjorn's flame, she leapt back a good several feet, falling into a fighting stance. Once she realized it was bjorn and not an enemy she let out a breath she hadn't realize she had been holding in. She glares at the man and grumbles under her breath before resuming her search.
She glances about at the ruins here, eyes scanning the bits of metal popping up in her vision. One thing in particular catches her eye, so she moves in that direction . She realizes that the item of interest, a dagger or shortsword, is intermingled with a pile of beams. She frowns at it before squatting down and attempting to wriggle her arms into the beam piled to get at it.
"Bjorn, I found something. Give me a hand would you?" She called out without looking back, trying to get at the blade.
-
"þakka þú." Bjorn muttered, thanking the flames for their knowledge as the ring die down and left him once more among the ashes. He heard Daccio's call for aid and sprung to his feet, sheathing the weapons he had placed on the ground and striding over.
"Do you need something? Ah, I see your keen eyes have found a clue. One moment." Bjorn says, kneeling down and reaching under one of the fallen beam's to lift.
"Oðinn loðinn grunnr!" What sounded distinctly like a Nordic Swear left Bjorn's mouth as he heaved. "These Suðrlanders make heavy supports. What do these houses have to stand up to that they need such heavy oak?!"
With a lift of his shoulders, he sent the first beam on its way, tumbling off to the side. "Rampaging fire-dogs, apparently." He said, making a joke out of it. With a short laugh and a smirk, he bent down and worked on the second beam, heaving this one aside somewhat easier. The third and final large beam went aside just as easily, and Bjorn, having just done the work of three normal men on his own, cracked his neck and stretched his shoulders like it had only been a mild exercise.
"There. What is it you've found?" Bjorn asked, crouching down to observe what Daccio had discovered.
-
She blinked as the heaved the beams out of the way, one by one. As he tossed the third one away, she was staring. He was incredibly strong, not someone she wanted to be on the bad side of. She blinked again, and shook her head.
"Yes, what I've found."
She knelt down next to the beams and reached in to grab whatever it was in there.
"I think it might be some sort of dagger or short sword of some sort."
-
Ragnar and Afanen exchange glances when Mitoli becomes evasive about the cargo. Despite his vocal protests to the contrary, both seem to think there may be a few rare goods on the caravan. However, Mitoli has never given them reason to mistrust him, so Ragnar shrugs dismissively.
As they pass the sewer, Afanen wrinkles her nose. "Seems like a decent place to hide. No one would ever look there." She whispers just loud enough for Ragnar to hear.
"I pray our nosing about doesn't lead us there," returns Ragnar.
Upon entering the tavern, Ragnar and Afanen immediately allow their bear souls to affect their hearing, despite the fact the tavern seems relatively empty. Both Ragnar and Afanen are relieved to be away from the sewer.
"Won't be using my sense of smell anytime soon," mumbles Ragnar.
They seat themselves near Mitoli while awaiting their much anticipated first round.
"I'd rather stay out of it, but like you said, I don't think we have a choice," responds Afanen. "We will do what we can."
Ragnar scratches his head. "How long do you plan on being here, Mitoli? What comes after Keep Yond?"
Afanen appears lost in thought. "Mitoli, has anything like that happened to you before?"
-
"Hmm...." Bjorn says, inspecting the blade.
"Certainly not something one expects to be in a tavern...But I don't think this is our prey's weapon. We'd best speak to the Captain about this. I have news of my own."
-
Mitoli's answer to Jin's felt amiss, but the Child of Spring had secrets of his own that Mitoli was kind enough not to harangue him about. If it was truly relevant to the wolves of flame they had encountered earlier, he would no doubt have shared. Besides, he had already admitted to plenty. Jin smiles and nods. "Ah, the rugs! I believe I've solved this mystery." He chuckles lightly at his own joke.
As the group continues, even Jin's formal training and ability to still his mind helps little when the stench of both fresh and stale sewage meets his nostrils. Though he tries to maintain his composure, he soon surrenders and uses his spare sleeve to cover his nose. The familiar scent of incense is a welcome one indeed, and he nearly lets out a sigh... but he stifles it, knowing he will have to breathe in afterward.
Just as Mitoli, Ragnar, and Afanen engage in conversation, Rand invites Jin toward the bar. As he asks his questions though, the monk seems somewhat pale-faced. "Oh, you... saw me fight? Well, I, um..." He seems to be gathering himself. Exactly what did Rand see? Jin had used far too many of his abilities in that encounter under the assumption that nobody was watching. Did this man see anything out of the ordinary?
With a light breath of the incense, Jin seemed to relax. "I am from a monastery in Liangwei. In the monasteries, they teach us many things to train our minds and bodies to further our meditations." He lifted his bo, and looked at it as if in a blissful state. "You likely saw me using bojutsu; perhaps with a hint of quanfa. I suppose it was the most fitting thing for me to learn... I never did like edged weapons, though I do find them fascinating." Jin's eyes raised to his taller acquaintance. "Where did you learn martial arts?"
-
"I haven't visited them myself yet,… down the main street here."
“Thank you very much. Later I will join you at the pub, until then goodbye.” With this Dete departs towards the store’s location. He takes a quick look at the other shops before finally entering in the general store.
In his travels he has visited many stores of this kind, most don’t differ much from one another, but this one had a different feel to it. A lot of merchandise looked foreign and exotic, none of them even vaguely familiar to the hunter.
"What do you want?!"
Dete raises an eyebrow when he sees the odd looking man. Though he doesn’t show it, this store continues to surprise him. The short man, who he thinks is the owner, looked both, interesting and weird. His body seemed off and the less said about his hair the better. His spectacles, sandals and a torso that looked like it didn’t fit him, made the hunter think that this man was some sort of both, physical and cultural, amalgamation.
"Well?"
Repeating his question, the shop keep snaps the hunter out of his thoughts and returns him back into the shop.
“Good... evening,” a little bit startled he fails to instantly recall the time of day and simply goes with what comes to mind. “I have come to barter for your goods.” While going closer to the little man, he opens up one of his sacs and shows a few skins of local animals he has collected in the region. “If you have any, I would like to trade for garments that will help me...” he stares a few seconds at the owner, as if judging his attire. “Fit in, with the locals.”
-
@Daccio & Bjorn
Daccio's fingers wrap around the hilt of the dagger. The handle is covered in black leather with a thatch work of silver running across it. The pommel ends in a pointed spike, and the guard is in the shape of an outstretched scaly claw.
The weapon is unmarred from the fire and days of exposure. Such a fine weapon as this seems unlikely to be owned by a simple merchant.
"What's all that racket?" A woman shouts from the house beside The Clover. The door opens and she pokes her head out of the threshold. Even in the fading light of dusk you can see her eyes widen as she gasps at the sight of the two of you. "You're..." She considers you for a time, never fully stepping out of her door. "You're those travelers that just showed up today, aren't you?"
-
Her fingers curl around the hilt of a strange looking dagger. She looked up to Bjorn.
"I... can't say i've ever seen something quite like this"
"What's all that racket?" a woman's voice calls out from behind the clover. Daccio spun, cloak swirling around herself. As it settled, she had the dagger hidden underneath the cloak, slipped through her belt.
"Good day Ma'am" she called with a smile. She activated the attraction aspect of her mink soul. "We are indeed. Just arrived today!" she said cheerfully.
With one hand she motioned to the ruins around them
"My companion and I thought we could help the folk of the town out, so we stopped by to see if we could find anything for you all. No worries, I promise we will be out of your hair soon" She smiled again, hoping that the aspect of her mink soul might win this lady over quick. "Is there anything we can do for you?"
-
Bjorn remains silent, standing behind Daccio's shoulder as she speaks, his towering figure resting behind her smaller form. He crosses his arms and observes the woman, his fixed on her, reading her intent. Even in a friendly village, something did the damage around him inside the walls. He could not fully trust anyone, save those he had battled with. Perhaps not even some of them. But Daccio, yes, he could trust her. And he chose to trust her to do the talking. He pulled his wolf pelt down to where it hooded his eyes and allowed his gaze to wander to the horizon, contemplating back to another woman that he could trust, a wistful smile playing across his face.
-
@Jin
Rand sounds out the monasteries name, pronouncing each syllable slowly. "Li-ang-wei." He seems to be turning the word around in his mind. For a moment it seems like he might recognize the monastery, but a casual shrug dashes any concern. "Must be pretty far from here. I... travel a lot, but I haven't heard of it before now."
Rand looks appreciatively at Jin's bo as the young monk describes his techniques. "They sound impressive. Formal training must be very useful when fighting. My 'martial arts' were learned out of necessity. When you travel as much as I do, you are either very lucky, or you learn to take care of yourself."
Boris slides two mugs over to the pair with a grunt before walking off toward the others.
"I have terrible luck," he says, before he grabs one of the mugs and takes a sip, "so I learned how to fight the hard way." His eyes seem distant, as if he was stuck in a memory. You get the feeling that he has been alone for quite a while. He hides it well, but with your sense of empathy you can that it has been wearing on him.
@Afanen & Ragnar
"Oh, we'll stay for a few days. See what coin the locals have in their pockets, and if we can relieve them of some of it." He rubs his chin, adding, "Can't say I want to venture outside of the walls just yet, anyways."
He shrugs off his overcoat and lets it drape over the back of his chair. "After Keep Yond there are a few little specks of towns. We're on the way to a split. To the north heads up in the mountains, the east will take ya to the coast. Can't say I'm set on one more than the other. We'll see where we end up after this mess. Sea air might do us some good."
Afanen, seemingly lost in thought asks her question. Mitoli leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. His seemingly permanent grin fades before answering.
"No, lass." He shakes his head. "Can't say it has. I've run into bandits before. Wolves, real ones, sometimes get curious up north in them mountains... But nothing like today."
He glances around the room, then uncrosses his arms and leans forward. "I've heard the stories though. Some of the other caravan leaders told tales about queer things happening, like water that crawls out of the river onto shore, or rocks that shuffle out of the way as wagons roll through."
"Also, don't you think its odd that-" He straightens as he catches Boris coming up behind them, his grin returning.
"Pay no mind there," Boris's gruff voice comes from behind the couple. The inn keeper places three mugs of frothy ale on the table in front of you.
"Some sturdy weapons ya got there!" Boris says, quite happily. "I don't mind ya keepin them on ya. Just don't go swingin them around after a few mugs, eh?"
-
@Dete
The odd shopkeeper leans over the counter. He is propped up on his hands and his feet dangle off of the ground below him. His spectacles slide down his nose, causing him to have to tilt his head back to see inside Dete's bag properly. He talks to himself in a sort of droning hum as he inspects the animal skins.
"Thats something." He says as he balances on one hand and plucks one of the skins out of the bag. He inspects the edges closely and with interest.
"Yes, you are very efficient with your craft. The locals here are too rough, too careless. They waste too much of the skin with their dull knives." The shopkeeper leans back, his feet touching back to the ground.
He pushes his spectacles back on his nose and looks at Dete, studying the Hunter. "You are not from this place. I am not either. Kiko is my name." His shortness a few moments ago has dissipated. Perhaps meeting another outsider has softened the man.
"I know you are not from here, from the cuts you do here. No one does this, it is not the custom. This is better, I think." Kiko finally gives a smile.
"I have some clothes in the trunk there." He points to a large dusty trunk in the corner. "Some clothing given to me from Lord Yond a while ago. See if anything suits you."
-
@Bjorn & Daccio
The woman steps out of her door, revealing the surprisingly large mace held in her other hand. It seems almost too large for her to handle, but she carries it with ease and familiarity.
"'Spose Alec already gave ya the once over. Course he's been wrong before, but you seem right enough."
She scans the rubble around you, noting the shifted beams with a raise of her eyebrow. With a sigh she allows herself to relax a bit.
"Well, if you're able to find out what did this the whole town will be in your debt." She swings her door back open and steps inside. Before closing it she adds. "Just don't get us all killed in the process!"
The door shuts behind her, and you can hear her footsteps pacing further into her house. Daccio's attraction aspect seems to have settled her down.
The guards are making their way through the streets with torches, lighting oil lamps on some of the street corners. It is fully dark now, the sun having fallen behind the hills in the west.
-
Ragnar and Afanen listen intently at Mitoli explains what comes after Keep Yond. They both know that eventually they will have to find a more permanent solution to their departure from Oakvale. However, both of them have always yearned for travel, and working as caravan guards seems to give them the promise of both travel and a steady income. At the mention of the possibility of sea air, Afanen brightens. The coast is something she has only read about, and the prospect of seeing it in person seems an exciting option.
Mitoli’s discussion of what he’s seen during his travels is cut short, and they both nod knowingly as Boris appears nearby. The subtle gesture indicates both Ragnar and Afanen wish to hear anything else Mitoli might have to say on the matter.
Ragnar grins from ear to ear at Boris’s observation of their weapons. “Sturdy is an understatement! These are weapons forged by Blodwen of Oakvale, one of the greatest smiths alive today! You’d be hard-pressed to find finer quality than these.”
It is a name that even the tavern keeper will likely recognize. The name of the smith Blodwen is known far and wide, yet the fact that master smith is a woman is a closely-guarded Oakvale secret. There are those who would turn up their noses at the work of a female smith. Nevertheless, Afanen reddens considerably at Ragnar’s accolades
“You’ve nothing to worry of our weapons after a few mugs. If anything, you should fear Ragnar’s singing. He’s a lovely voice when he’s sober, but after a few drinks, he starts to sound like a sick horse in heat,” says Afanen with a wink.
Ragnar’s gaze drifts to the window and he nudges Afanen. It is beginning to grow dark and several townsfolk light the oil lamps on the street corners.
Ragnar downs his ale in two gulps, sliding his forearm across his lips as he pushes himself back from the table. “We have some business to tend to before bedding down for the night.”
Afanen downs hers in one, before winking at Ragnar. “You’re losing your touch, friend.”
“Show-off,” mutters Ragnar with a smirk. He puts a few coins on the table and a little extra coin for Boris for serving them.
“But perhaps when we get back we can speak more of oddities,” speaks Afanen. “And we must again give you our sincere thanks, Mitoli. Thank you for allowing us to travel with you.”
On their way out, Ragnar claps Jin on the back. “Have fun, lad. We’re out for a romantic evening stroll.” Ragnar grins, waggling his eyebrows at Afanen suggestively.
Afanen snorts. “Romantic! You really are full of it.” She laughs off his comment, and the keen observer will see a slight twinge affect the corners of Ragnar’s grin.
Afanen touches Jin’s shoulder. “Not too much fun, Jin.” The affection she has for the boy is apparent in her voice, and she narrows her eyes, warily, but not threateningly at Rand. It is clear she is quite protective of Jin. “If you need us, we won’t be far.”
Ragnar and Afanen make their way towards the door, stepping outside into the growing darkness. Both activate their heightened senses: Ragnar, his sight, and Afanen, her sense of smell.
“Ugh,” groans Afanen. “This better be worth it.”
Ragnar nods. “I’ve a notion it will be. There are still some people over by the Clover. Let’s wait until they leave and continue our little investigation shall we?”
Afanen nods. “I’ll repeat the experiment with the ash. With luck, maybe we can get a sense of where he or she went after torching the place.”
“And what do we do if we run into the arsonist? Anyone crazy enough to burn down buildings and attack caravans…”
Afanen shakes her head. “You forget, Ragnar.” She repeats her words from earlier. “There are two sides to every story. Let’s not be so quick to judge and condemn.”
The two intend to wait until Bjorn and Daccio are clear of the area before approaching the remnants of The Clover.
-
Jin sits in wonder as Rand tells his story. Though the boy was envious of Rand's travels, the wanderer seemed... tired. Such sentiments were relatable to say the least. Before Mitoli, Ragnar, and Afanen, Jin was little more than a hungry street performer.
A mug of ale slides in front of him, and Rand partakes. Jin looks into the basin, inspecting the liquid foaming within. Sniffing it would do little with the strong scent of incense and leavings. He tilts it carefully into his mouth... foam. With a small grunt, he wipes the foam from his nose, and tries again, this time getting a suitable amount of liquid. He recoils briefly, and raises a quizzical brow at the container, but soon after comes a warm sensation with a mellow fizz that seems to settle him. He smiles, and takes another swig.
After a moment of thought, Jin turns to the man treating him. "You must be strong! I have spent the vast majority of my life cooped up in a monastery. After I left to seek my path in this world... I must admit, I didn't last long before Mitoli found me."
Suddenly, Ragnar claps Jin on the back. As always, Ragnar manages to get a laugh out of Jin, and Afanen warns the young monk not to overindulge. A fair warning, as his upper lip is covered in foam. With an embarrassed chuckle, he wipes his face clean and nods. "Stay out of trouble!" he shouts jovially as they leave, clearly unconcerned that any harm could come to the pair.
Jin turns back to Rand. "Those two are travelers as well, though I'm not sure why. Though, usually when men travel... it is because they seek change, in whatever form it may come. In essence, it is a great way to seek enlightenment, as change is the only constant in the world, and travel... it is the very essence of change. With each step in our journey, the mountains, trees, cities... the whole world changes before our eyes."
Jin sighs, "My apologies, I seem to be regurgitating those philosophy scrolls again. But, I am curious..." Jin takes another sip of his western brew. "...Why is it that you travel?"
-
"Spose Alec already gave ya the once over. Course he's been wrong before, but you seem right enough. Well, if you're able to find out what did this the whole town will be in your debt. Just don't get us all killed in the process!"
She sighed lightly as the lady retreated back to her house, taking that large mace with her. She had not wanted a confrontation. Fortunately, her attraction aspect had done its job.
"Bjorn, I think we should take our leave before anyone else shows up. I think we have what we came for."
She idly patted the dagger under her cloak and started to move, hopefully with Bjorn following.
"Did you find anything?" She asked curiously, looking up at him.
-
"Yes, actually." Bjorn said, glancing back to where he had sat and prayed, before following after Daccio. "It was a caller who did this. I saw through the flames the final moments of the Inn's destruction, and the direction in which the man fled. He is startlingly similar to me, with affinity for both fire and wolves. He is no Nordhallr however. He does not seem to have a taste for battle himself, and lets his wolves fight for him."
His eyes traced the path of the wolfman's retreat from the town. "He fled into the hills, his pack at his heels."
-
She listened as she walked, lost in thought. After a few moments, she spoke up.
"We should take this news to the crew we met today. They all seemed caught up in the same mess that we were, perhaps they would be willing to work on this again. Also, I'd like to find out if anyone knows about this dagger"
She moved around town, looking for the larger building that would indicate a tavern or inn and headed in that direction.
"I feel like there is more to this than we are seeing..."
-
Dete nods at the shopkeeper's acknowledgment. Wastefulness was not something his tribe looked fondly on and diminishing the properties of an animal's skin was also considered wasteful.
"You are not from this place. I am not either. Kiko is my name."
“Yes I have traveled a long way and it has taken me a lot of time to reach these lands. I am Dete na Plemeto, people call me Dete for short.” The hunter carefully takes out the skins from the sack and place's them on the counter, before approaching the trunk. He then moves to the trunk, opens it and start rummaging through the garments within.
“I have been in many cities, but I have not seen...” Dete struggles for a second to come up with the right word. Immediately the word outsider comes to his mind, but in his language it sounds very insulting and he prefers not to use it. “ … people like us to put down roots. Is it common for foreigners to settle down with the locals?” Finally he remembered the word he was looking for, foreigners. Generally the tribesman is not fond of small talk, but it is not every day you see an outsider living amongst locals. As his usual demeanor dictates, he shows no tact and jumps straight to the point.
While talking he has already found some articles of clothing he deemed suitable and has set them aside. After a quick look over the choices he picks a few and gives them an approving nod. A white shirt and a brown sleeves vest for his torso. Simple black linen trousers and a dark brown sash, for his bottom half. Putting his chosen clothes aside he returns the chest in the condition it was before his rummaging.
Unstrapping his leather armor, the tribesman revealed his rough body. A part from some scars and a few scabs from fresh wounds here and there, his body was entirely covered by muscles. Not a rough and big type of muscle, but small well defined, hard and at the same time flexible muscle. One could suggest the man held power simply by look at his visage, but this image shows the tempered body of Dete. Years of hunting piled on top of each other has given him this body. Not bulky, but still strong in its own way.
After putting on his new clothes he neatly puts his armor into one sack. His knifes are now tucked into his sash, bow and spear on his back. He has kept his own leather boots, after all with a lair of mud no shoes will look any different. Feeling like a last touch was need, he undoes his braid and lets his hair spread freely. With this done, he only needed to finish his conversation with the shopkeeper and he would be on his way to the tavern.