Pandemonium Those Beyond

Mabess

Hath stayed low to the ground as the ravens flew overhead. The bells jangled as they headed into the mists. He was surprised they actually continued on. The animal side of his own self was snarling and rearing up, demanding to turn back from the mists.

The bells continued as the birds were engulfed in the blood red mists. Almost immediately they grew quiet. The noise continued, but suddenly it was impossible to discern which direction they came from. He turned his head from side to side, grunting in frustration.

"If they want us to go in, stay close enough that we can see one another," he hissed towards the nearest scout on foot. The message passed down the jagged line of orcs who slowly closed ranks.

Rice wandered through the mist. Pulling her fur-lined cloak tighter around her.

"Why do I need to be here? I don't like this," She said looking around at the red mist that hung heavy around her making stones and rock outcroppings look like creatures crouching in wait. I told you, sweet heart, this could be the answer. If this is what I think it is then you never have to fear other humans again. The woman's voice in her head crooned. She waited for the usual counter-argument that her other guest usually chimed in with but all she got was soft snoring. Maybe it was a good thing he was asleep, it was so confusing when the two of them argued. She never knew what to do in those cases.

The soft crunching of her footfalls stopped as she heard the sound of bells in the air. She looked up with furrowed brow, but could not tell what direction they were coming from, the mist and the stone seemed to make sounds reflect strangely. She shivered, the mist was cold and clammy with the smell of iron pervading it.

Valkery looked at the other woman and raised a brow as she proposed a bet. "I doubt it's undead. Though nothing is impossible. However, I have encountered enough undead to know that this mist does not feel like undead. It is definitely not your standard corps raising variant at least. There is definitely an element of decay to this mist. However, where a necromancer attempts to bring life from decay this does not seem to possess that quality. If it was a failed experiment I would imagine that one might get this death-ridden quality without the life element, but that's the thing, there is still an element of life of some variety, just not of the undead nature... there is also a strong sense of blood, though whether that is from the mist itself or from it's victims it is unclear. There also doesn't seem to be the disses infected quality of vampirism. So perhaps witchcraft or demonology?" She explained, not so much interested in the bet but more intent on hearing other peoples theories. If it took a bet to get people to speak their mind then she was not opposed to that.

Rosalia Kahl

"They are hiding." The Ranger said as she turned to Rebecca. "There is...trouble brewing in the Reaches."
Rebecca recoiled slightly..trouble...Rangers did not speak of trouble lightly..
" I see.."
She said softly maintaining her set viewpoint at her feet, however when she did look to meet the eyes of Lia her own held the hard edge of a seasoned fighter.
She may speak softly, but she was not afraid of what lay ahead of them. "I would like to volunteer. Ive worked with rangers before, helping track fugitive pirates through the bayou, and my father thought quite highly of you. "To help a ranger is to help the common folk of Alliria." he used to say.." She trailed off, slightly lost in memories for a moment before continuing.

"If your doing something about what happened here...I.."
Her eye contact had proven to be a bit much for her as she flattered with a stutter before resuming her interest in her feet and resuming.
"I w-would like to aid in anyway that I can. If you would have me."
She said again adjusting her sword strap like a nervous tick before sticking out her hand.
"My father called me Rebecca after his own daughter. I suppose it to be my name.."
Her hand was covered by ragged, blood stained, leather hand wraps.
The knuckles were inlaid with various teeth, closer inspection would identify them as human, though few looked so closely. Final remains of pirates or thieves that strayed to close to her side of the bayou. The bone collector was not called such for no reason.

Faurosk found himself lost in thought after he'd announced his presence, staring off at the churning mass of mist in the distance. He tried to call upon his arcane senses to get a read on it, but from such a distance and with so many unknowns, he could barely gather anything from it. All that opening his mind to it really did was give him a deep sense of dread.

He was pulled from introspection as a bird flew off overhead. The mage wasn't exactly an expert ornithologist, but it looked colorful, tropical, and entirely out of place. He turned to gauge who'd cast it out, eyes lingering on its apparent master. Another unknown.

His eyebrow cocked at the white-haired woman's proposition-- 'Mitsy', as she'd called herself. Faurosk went about cataloging her as she spoke, lingering on the pair of peculiar clubs she was equipped with. Something about them hummed with an energy anathemic to magic, and the mage regarded her with a touch more respect after his observation.

His jaw dropped in an attempted answer to the proposed gambit, but the mage quickly realized the fancy woman at the edge of the group was theorizing about the origins of the mist. When she finished listing her observations, the mage found that he had nothing more to add to that branch of conversation; he loathed to assume too much. Instead, he turned back to the white-haired woman, cracking a somewhat cocky smirk.

"I think I like my odds. You're on, Mitsy," He said, extending a gloved hand to her. "Name's Faurosk."

The House Armon. Vahki would have never had any idea that something like them existed had they not send a dragon that was like two of Arethil’s great beasts in one to prowl the forests in search of, well, danger, one could suppose. Vahki wasn’t entirely sure. He just knew that one day he received word of a dopey dragon plodding around the wilderness in the Reach, flattening trees. The dragon seemed harmless enough in their demeanor, aside from their obvious size and power. If the dragon had wanted to destroy something, the Reach would be on fire right now, Vahki assumed, and its forests flattened. Concern, though, was present anyway because Vahki’s family lived in the Reach. The result of bonding rites between a human and himself - something frowned upon by his family, but allowed due to certain discretions - Vahki had come to love each and every single one of his descendants immensely. He worked hard in the city to get them this nice home, and land to farm from. Then suddenly Joromodo showed up, threatening to knock everything down - literally if he didn’t notice the estate.

Vahki didn’t know he had something that might be more worrisome than the white-scaled titan drake, whose breath of fire would likely be an awe-inspiring hint of the sun - much unlike Vahki’s own, which is rarely exercised save for self-defense, and, because Vahki doesn’t often find himself in fights he is unable to just slip away from, rarely exercised period - was lurking on the horizon. He could feel it, though, just a vague glimpse of what was happening. It made him a little sick, just as it made the earth it touched sick - ill, dead. Looking in, one might assume that Vahki would be devastated if the crops all went to waste. What about the livestock? Would that be okay? Thankfully, though, there was a crop of seeds and with the aid of magic perhaps soil could be repaired. For now, though, Vahki approached the Armon before him - Felix. They were all so pretty, these Armons. Otherworldly, even. It reminded him of something that was often best left alone, though, frankly, he didn’t fear them as much as he did any of the fae courts.

The opportunity to see if hypnotism - a light suggestion to throw Felix off of wanting to know his name - affected the Armons was let go. Generally people didn’t notice hypnotism, anyway, and there was plenty of time to use it at a later date to sate Vahki’s curiosity. Right now, he couldn’t risk the mistrust giving a hint of what he was doing. They just met.

“You may call me Vahkian Ambrose.” Vahki said, smiling softly, and quirking his head.

“So, you Armons seem to be searching for things. Different things, though, in different places. What exactly are you searching for, Felix?” Vahki didn’t know Felix’s name because of his telepathy, though it would have helped to learn it. Vahki knew it because he had been watching. The shadows had eyes. They say that if you feel as though your shade is watching you, or your reflection has eyes that aren’t your own, it is because a magician is watching you - or something worse. There were things out there that were scarier than Vahki, the snake would be the first to admit, but he tended to avoid those. Felix kept to the wilderness, Vahki had noticed, so he was happy to see him here in person as the wilderness was easily accessible from the estate. The Reach was full of life that people didn’t know all of the uses of, yet. Sometimes what progress needed was a second opinion - outside eyes. Was Felix seeking out poisons? Cures? Just scouting threats? The Armons had a lot of perceived problems, Vahki had found. Perhaps more than they actually had.

Even the rangers did not want to waste the resources that had come to play their part in whatever was going on. Several of them took the order of their leader and began going around, recruiting whoever seemed like they might be interested or perhaps useful for investigating beyond the town.

"Yeah, alright." The big orc nodded, picking himself away from the building he had been leaning against and moving to join the rest of the volunteers and recruits before they set off. Mercenaries, soldiers, and the odd wanderer could all either be invaluable in their own way, or at least decent fodder, but time would tell who was which.

The giant, however, definitely seemed closer to the former.

"Oh good, a giant! Normally when people get lost, they look for me, but if I get lost I can just look for you!" Xok said loudly up at the large man, with a grin around his protruding tusks. Xoknath usually stood over most people, even other orcs, but it was a rare sensation when he was so readily dwarfed, especially by a being that must have been twice his own height at the very least!

Everybody else by comparison seemed almost average for your common races, but if they were here, they were probably useful or special.

The air was still. Valthar hadn't been in this gorge once without an icy wind whipping through it, stealing the feelings from his hands and toes as it passed. It was as if the wind was being swallowed by the dark fog that sank into the pass.

The snow crunched as he sank the rim of his shield into it. Valthar let it rest against his leg. There was a line of twenty shields here now.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting. We watch that, defend the road and don't let anyone stray into it. More are coming," his uncle Haandel replied. "Best get a fire going soon."

That made some sense. They didn't call on him when they needed the best fighters, but when they were short handed. That didn't go any way towards explaining what he saw further up the pass. Valthar let his gaze settle in a dark stone jutting up from the pristine white now. Soon it was enveloped in the blood red mists.

"It is coming this way," Valthar remarked.

"It is going every way," Haandel replied. "Steel yourself. When the light fades the noises..." his uncle trailed off and shook his head. That look gave Valthar a very ill feeling.

Felix wasn't ready to let his guard down just yet, this was still an extremely suspicious situation, he maintained the air of cordiality but sidestepped the questions posed to him with some of his own, "You seem to know an awful lot about us, Sir Ambrose. While other factions prying into the personal affairs of House Armon is not unexpected, it is not wholly welcome either."

Through his extensive experiences over his life he knew a magic user when he saw one, and this one seemed to be wealthy and quite powerful. If things went sour he would have to be especially careful.
He went on, "I do not say this out of disrespect. But House Armon has not yet revealed itself to this land, so any who know of us already are seen in a... apprehensible light, I'm sure you understand our position."
His true meaning was that anybody who knew of them were either old or new enemies that have found them even in Arethil, so he was not very forthcoming about revealing the activities of his family to this man, Vahkian Ambrose.

"If it's not rude to ask, would you mind telling me how you found out so much about myself and my House?"

“Did you expect to send a gigantic dragon to a place that isn’t often graced by such powerful, majestic, and devastating creatures, especially in cases when they have good will and not have it investigated?” Vahki asked, an amused smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward, and quirked his head - he was waiting for a genuine answer. “If you want people not to notice, you might want to choose something a bit more inconspicuous because I’ve found that the people of this land are very often thorough - even some of the college magi. I myself happen to be one of the thorough folk.” Vahki said, not thinking he was generous with the sly-not-compliment about college magi, but rather just hoping to have a fun conversation. Getting in a hit against those arrogant bastards made everything more fun, after all.

“Finding your dragon was, unsurprisingly, very easy. We didn’t even look for him. While he was flattening bird houses, and making memories, he had left a trail that could be followed.” Vahki said.

“Did you know that everything in this world has memories, Felix? Even the air, though it is quick to disperse, and so often forgets things.” Vahki said, approaching the table, and reaching to the center to grab a bundle of grapes. He twisted one off and popped it into his mouth, gauging Felix’s reaction.

“Your great drake seems to have retained many, and knew exactly where to report to for his latest check-in.” Vahki said.

“It took only a bit of patience for him to, indeed, turn in a report. I realized then that this wasn’t his first. He was too far familiar with the process, too comfortable lowering himself in servitude to you. Even before that, though, I noticed that the dragon wasn’t aimless, or simply seeking a new home. He was searching for something. So, of course I tried to figure out what. Then I tried to find out what each of you was interested in. I deal primarily in information, knowledge… maybe a wish or two here or there.” Vahki said, taking at least a bit of offense to what Joromodo was doing - unaware that it was not true servitude, but gratitude - “and I thought that we could help each other.” Vahki said.

“I will impart to you some advice that took me longer to learn than I like to admit. Amongst this land - one either continent that Arillia straddles - your shadows may very well have eyes, sometimes even literally. Though, in this case we just tracked the drake. What you leave behind means something. To evade detection you must be nothing, you must leave no trace, and, most importantly, you must not be a giant dragon making a lot of noise in places frequented by more mortal creatures.” Vahki said.

“Discretion is the savior of all. If you don’t find some, I will only have been the first to find you, and only the first to get a glimpse into what you are doing. There are things a lot more dangerous than I am here. Some of them are very, very old, too - almost unimaginably so.” Vahki continued.

“Magicians, Felix, you must find a defense against to survive - and discretion is one such thing. The curious will not become so if they see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, and know nothing.” Vahki finished. He looked to Felix’s hair and then back down to his handsome features.

”Well, perhaps not only discretion will help.” He mused. There was a reason that an alienist was able to make a living in Alliria, after all. Scaleless ones were… problematic.

The mare's soft nose prodded at the woman's palm, dexterous equine lips eagerly plucking the apples as they were offered. Her head craned upward as her jaw was rubbed, slate-blue eyes half closed. At least she's calming down, Rohiron thought, ever sparing consideration for the mist. Foolish as Skytha could be, she was still a fine warhorse. If the Lady Scribe proved herself dangerous, Rohiron had seen those mighty hooves crush a man's head like an eggshell. Still, a steed of her caliber should behave as such...

Rohiron gave his head a soft shake, the pale horns on his helm catching the fading light.

Once again, the lady spoke in her peculiar staccato, as if even her rapid tongue languished to keep pace with her brain. Still, he felt like a specimen for study under those emerald lenses, and stifled the urge to smooth out an unseemly rumple in his surcoat. Then again, this young woman didn't seem to be the type to care, if the spreading blotches of ink were any indication. Still, she provided information that helped fill the murky picture in his mind.

Rohiron breathed deep, mulling her words over like a bitter wine, ready to respond when she spoke up once more. Stars and Stones, is she ingenious or invalid? Rohiron inwardly mused, dipping his chin to his breast to hide the smirk. Her display was like that of a mummer, though Rohiron couldn't decide if the laugh was forced, or simply nervous.

"Well met, Vee-vee Fishsprout," Rohiron replied. There would be time to call her out if they survived this infernal mist. He knew better than most the importance of ones True Name.

"I am Rohiron, and you seem well acquainted with my companion," he nodded to Skytha, and sighed a vexed breath. "The mist poisons land and beast, but not us... Hearne's Horns..." he sword in a low growl. Grasping the horn of his saddle, Rohiron dismounted with the shuffle of mail and a dull thump as his weight settled into the rotted mud. Grasping Skytha by the bridle, he looked into the mare's eyes,

"Skytha, keep back, come only when I whistle. If I do not by sundown, return to our Lady," he said in the elven tongue. The horse seemed to nod her head in affirmation, which came to no surprise to the Knight.

"Madame Fishsprout," Rohiron's head turned with a tigerish languidness to Vee, "You may take this chance to ride with Skytha towards Fal'Addas, unless you intend to pen a dissertation on necrotic vapors?" Rohiron had a feeling on which Vee would choose, though he hoped she would subvert his expectations. If there was some lurking evil within the growing blight of the mist, combating it would be far simpler without having to play the shield to a scribe. However, Vee had said she spent some time within those banks. If she could collect her thoughts for long enough, any knowledge she might possess could be useful...

Verys Synsere

Rainie swung around at the sound of a familiar, masculine voice. A huge smile lit up her face despite the imminent peril. She caught his rueful look and blew him a kiss, before whistling for Nota to give him pets.

Another lady with a grand feathered hat and noble garb hovered about the fringes of the loose gathering, and Rainie noticed a bit of white hair peeking from the hat and that she was also very beautiful.

Did… did she have a type? Rainie furrowed her brow.

One of the mercenary types spoke then, introducing himself to the group and commending them for running towards the danger rather than from it. At that, Rainie smiled a self deprecating smile and sent another look at Faurosk, who had actually come of his own free will this time. She couldn’t take the blame for this one.

Trajan, as the mercenary was called, spoke to a beautiful rainbow-feathered bird before sending it into the sky. She raised her eyebrows, wondering privately if this Trajan was like Faurosk. But a sort of pirate version.

The rougher white haired lady introduced herself charmingly as Mitsy, and started calling out bets. She was thinking necromancer.

Wasn’t Rainie technically dating a necromancer? She bit the inside of her cheek sheepishly.

“Well,” she sighed. “I’m Rainie. Be nice to the wizard with the cute bum, he’s very useful.” She sent a wink Faurosk’s way just in case her meaning was unclear.

“Also,” she ejected, finger raised dramatically. “Two gold on evil mage.”

Himitsu Faurosk Madame Valkery Trajan Meng

Felix nodded. So it seems Jormodo got careless and strayed too close to a populated area, was detected.
Felix relaxed visibly upon learning that this person had more local connections and probably had not heard of them outside of spotting Jormodo and observing them from that point.

He knew very well about the methods of observation that Vahkian spoke of, his sister had used the same methods herself in the past. He didn't doubt that if she met this creature she would be curious more than anything and ply him with 150 questions about magic and lore to pick his brain and determine his power.

His face visibly darkened when Vahki described the aid Jormodo provided to House Armon as servitude, Felix couldn't let that one pass.
"Jormodo is not a servant. Every service or aid he provides for Armon is done out of friendship and kindness, not servitude. He is a friend to House Armon... He is MY friend."
Felix then gave him a look declaring that subject was no longer to be discussed in his presence. All through this he never took a tone of arrogance or false superiority. He spoke on level with Vahkian.

He then recovered a bit and took a less dark tone once more.
"We will take your advice under consideration. You do seem better suited for such games of subterfuge so we will concede your superiority in that regard. But so far as magic goes, My sister is currently unlocking the secrets to that problem as we speak."

By now he was convinced this man was simply too curious for his own good, but not an enemy. So he felt more comfortable with sharing details now.
"As for what we are looking for. We are simply exploring this land as settlers would. Things are not the same here as our homeland, and we want to know what those differences exactly are, from the laws of magic to the variety of insect and plant life to the ins and outs of the various factions that inhabit every corner of the map. So you can see how your faction would also draw our attention had we heard of you before now."

A slow, rhythmic tapping of feet on the cobblestone road were all that filled Kalliana's senses as she paced the outside of the College grounds. Her mind raced, thoughts participating in a repetitive debate in which neither side could come to a conclusion, where even the affirmative was doubtful and the negative was hesitant in solidifying its stance. She had done enough on her own without the College's assistance, but could their tutelage manage to hone her illusionary magic further? She could very easily get in; she was sure her grandfather had most generously donated to the school once Uncle Tarquin revealed his propensity for magic. Perhaps sh-

Her musings were cut off by a sudden jolt into reality, a push by a rushed woman with concern written over her expression. "Oh, so-" Kali started, but the apology was barely fully uttered before the woman was off once again. Kalianna turned to try to spot why she was in such a hurry, spotting a large crowd forming around a young lad armed with a paper. Confused, she followed, merging with the crowd in the hopes of being able to parse some information.

"Attention, attention! To all those unaware, a large stretch of farmland outside of the city has had all of who were working there dissappear! They say a strange red mist has overtaken the area..."

"A red what? You tellin' me the reason why I haven't seen my son is because of bad weather?" A shrill, old voice rang out among the crowd, causing a murmer to spread throughout, as the newsboy blushed with embarrassment.

However, Kalliana chose not to participate in the conversation that had now broke out amongst the worried citizens of Elbion. Instead, her mind hung on the news. A red mist? This she simply must see. Her curiosity was a dangerous one, she was sure, but also one that was difficult to resist. She ran to the stables she had left her horse in, gripping onto its saddle and pulling herself up in a graceful move. Her hand fell to the ornate rapier that sat on her belt, her fingers delicately tracing the carved imagery at its hilt. Her violin remained on her back as well, although her mask was hidden within a satchel that hung at her side. With her belongings prepared and her curiosity peaked, she looked up to the skies to spot Pan, the winged rabbit-like creature better known as the Allirian Korvin, flying gently about. A smile being perked from the sight of her beloved pet, she set off for the farmland.

-

"Easy there, pal, easy..." Kali said, slowing her mount's pace to a halt as she began to see the near wall-like presence of the crimson mist that had overtaken the farmland. The air seemed... Stale, with an unordinary stench of decay hanging about it like flies to a corpse. The grass followed suite in its morbid display of decay, grayed and darkened.

What was even more intriguing was the crowd of people gathered outside of it. It seems, then, that there are other similarly morbidly curious idiots out trying to investigate the mist. She hopped off her house, guiding his reigns closer to the motley group. Looking them over, it seems they were all of various levels of strength, although perhaps judging a book by its cover wasn't the best course of action when magic exists. One face was familiar amongst the crowd, the mage, Faurosk. She had come across him once before, in the square of Alliria after a performance. Her eyes locked onto him for a moment to confirm her recognition before moving to the rest of the group.

"Is that betting I hear? I assume on the whole red mist thing going on." A smile creeped onto her face, before she continued, "If so, I'm behind evil mage. This reeks of mad magic experiment. Not sure if it went wrong, or right." She glanced over to the mist, either in thought or to check to ensure it hasn't gained on them, or perhaps both. "I'm Kalianna, although Kali works just fine."

A sound tugged at his ears; he was comfortable in this large bed. His body still ached as a reminder of the torture he had endured at the hands of Borvenir. He blinked his eyes a few times, they didn't want to be open and the light ache he got from them was a testament to their lack of desire. He looked around the room, eyes adjusting to the light before feeling a warmth pull away from him.

'Maude' The words moved through his head as he remembered where exactly he was, next to the new queen. He wasn't sure whether to chuckle or roll his eyes at the things he did to get here. He should have felt like a better person, having achieved something of note, but the fact was, he was still an angry drunk that preferred a backroom brawl than a war.

He heard her speak his name and responded in an annoyed groan, he had a light hangover from the night before. "They don't need me." He said, before adding somewhat sardonically "My queen." It's not that he didn't consider her his queen, but he had never been good with any form of authority as she had no doubt learned throughout their travels.

He turned over in protest, wrapping himself in the blankets that remained on the bed. "You're the queen anyway, just tell them to wait." He obviously had no concept of responsibility versus power, he only cared for the power part.

His body held quite a few scars of his endeavor with Borvenir, from lashes on his back to puncture wounds near non vital areas, made to inflict as much pain as possible without mortally wounding him. He groaned again, lying on his side was not comfortable, now that the pang of pain had moved through his body, he was awake. "Fine." He said, more so to himself as he pushed himself up.

"I'll go with you and look pretty." He said, looking at her after rubbing his eyes, his tone was one of jest but it was obviously just a light jab at her authority, at the same time he knew she was a hard ass when she needed to be, better get those jabs in while he could. There would be no room for jokes like that in public.

Maude Hugi

Jair looked down from his observations of the mist, and smiled and laughed the single rune one his face growing brightly, and the next one up from it seemed to start to dimly glow as well, about as bright as moonlight on a bright day...for now. He looked down as the orc which reached to just passed his knee. "Hi!" The giant said almost excitedly at the orc "how ya doing?"

If any one wanted a stealth mission than don't be around a giant, and probably don't be any where near an orc, and a giant. He smirked at Xoknath. "So, what's your name?" He asked reigning in the temptation of calling him little guy. Orcs could from time to time be kind of neurotic, and the red mist was enough of a thing and didn't want to add to it. Either way it was all in good fun, he didn't squat down, but did stoop lower just to help make eye contact. "I'm Jair."

The Giant smiled, and.... hand shakes were awkward between him, and the smaller creatures of the world, he didn't have much of an idea of how to handle it. So to that end he offered the next best thing, a bro fist.

((Tag Xoknath))

Jair | Xoknath | Rebecca Fourtuna

Lia shook the girls hand, smiling slightly. "This will be dangerous."

The words were not at all discouraging, but everyone deserved a warning. She would not try to stop the girl if she wished to come along, nor would she stop anyone else. This...thing was big, a mystery that wouldn't be solved easily, even by the Ranger's who were supposed to do this sort of thing professionally.

She had already called for one of the Ranger's mages, though it would take him days yet to actually reach the village of Himmerich. Until then it was up to them.

"Gather ever-" Lia suddenly found herself cut off as a loud scream echoed through the village.g

A woman's screech rang out throughout Himmerich, Lia's head immediately swiveling towards a nearby building where a Ranger twisted around just in time to catch a knife to the throat.

The man that had been found in the mists stood within the doorway of the house he'd been resting in. Blood covered his face, a madness stuck in his eyes, and a kitchen knife sat in his hand. He breathed heavily, his eyes darting back and forth between those in the village.

He hesitated for a moment, and then suddenly charged forward towards the nearest person. A wild scream echoed from his lips as he leaped forward.

Beneath the weight of fatigue and the bandages on her face the Queen cracked a weary smirk. Rough hands went through the methodical movements of dressing - adding layers of linen and wool, pausing only at the sting of still-healing wounds. Duty didn't wait. A good leader didn't, either, when their people needed them. Words left unspoken - wasted as they would have been.

"Would that it were so easy," Maude replied quietly to the man as he fussed beneath the blankets, "you are a member of the Council now - or have you forgotten?"

No, of course he hadn't, but the years of living selfishly were hard-worn into his routine. His days of coin and mercenary work were as numbered as the sun and warmth he left behind in the Summerlands. The weight of his sacrifice sat upon her shoulders along with that of all the others. Heavy and stiff like new armor not yet worn in. It would probably take her years to become comfortable with it.

The metal clasp of a fur cloak settled into place at her chest, eyes straining with muted pain as she adjusted the leather straps at her shoulders. The Queen turned and slowly rounded the bed to Gunnar's bedside, hands idly tightening the last of the belts and straps at her waist. Just her Ranger gear today, the full armor could wait for a real threat.

It could wait forever, far as she was concerned.

Somehow her boots ended up over here. She sat down beside the man and reclaimed them with a tired swipe, "Yes, pretty," Maude shook her head with a look of amusement, "one of us has to be." She chuckled and pulled her boots on, "Thank goodness he didn't go for your face."

But he'd done plenty of damage to her own.

Angel Girl had faced many things in her life. Slavery, torture, and freedom. Orcs, werewolves, vampires, and undead. She had been scarred, blinded, and battered by all these variables. Nothing came to her without struggle, without pain. Angel Girl knew of few good things in her life.

However, one of those good things was Dog, her ever faithful companion. The snow white shepherd dog was resting his massive head upon her knees as she knelt in prayer.

Perhaps it was the incense that burned, filling her lean-to with hazy smoke. Or maybe the pile of wheat and herbs that she’d burned before her prayer as an offering to her goddess. But today, Angela, as Angel Girl was sometimes called, heard a soft, all-encompassing voice in her head.

”O, Child of Mine,” said the sweet voice. You are in great danger.”

For a long time Angela found herself unable to respond. It was the ever elusive voice of Angela’s saviour, the goddess who had saved her life when she was upon death’s door. The young elven girl savoured the voice echoing along her skull, filling her body with warmth and love.

“My Goddess,” she gasped, voice hoarse with emotion. “I know danger well. What could… what endangers me now?”

There was a pause. Angela silently prayed the Goddess hadn’t left her.

The voice came again:

”Sweet champion, my domain is in danger. The very livelihood of the earth which you rely upon for survival is threatened. Something comes to destroy that which I protect.”

“What is it?” Angela implored desperately. “What comes?”

“Something wicked,” said the voice. “Something deadly.”

Between one breath and the next, Angela was clamouring out of her lean-to. The soft voice of Maskat echoed in her ears once more:

”Beware the Red Mist, My Child.”

The young avariel girl shoved the snow white hair out of the way of her one functioning eye, not bothering to move it from her blinded one.

“Hunter!” She called. Dog was hot on her heels and her black mare nickered at her in greeting. But her eyes were on the shadows, in the trees, looking for another white dog or a shadow in the branches above.

Weylin Kyrel Mabess Hath Charosh Rice

He stretched himself as best he could, everything was sore. He got up from the bed with a groan befitting an old man, something he was not but he certainly felt like it. “Council, right… Why did I agree to that again?” He said as he grabbed his clothes off the floor, right where he had left them the night before. He frisked through his pockets and found a small flask, putting it to his lips to take a swig.

He gave a sigh of relief, that hit the spot alright. He clothed himself as best he could, his Solstel armor had not yet been made and would likely take some time, so he still had the leather straps and simple armor he had before, it served him well enough. The only addition was a rather noble looking cloak, it was cold after all and his normal attire in the Summerlands had him half naked.

He finally turned around to get a looking at her. “I don’t know, I think it gives you character.” He said with a mischievous smirk, looking her over, eyes scanning down and up. “At least now I can compete.” A small compliment but big coming from him, regardless of what her position was, in Gunnar’s mind, a woman still wanted to feel attractive, and to him she undoubtedly was, even if he didn’t often express it.

The final thing he reached for was his axe, but he hesitated for a moment. This weapon had not left his side throughout their travels, but this was a council meeting, surely he would not need it. He waved his hand as if to wave a thought away. “Alright, ready when you are.” He said right before smelling his armpit. “The smell of a man.” He said, he obviously needed to wash up at some point, but he certainly had a strong Nordenfiir smell.

Maude Hugi

She paused amidst the half-hearted effort of lacing up her boots, green gaze faintly lifting in curiosity at what could have been construed as a compliment from the man. A curious look shifted into something of mild appreciation ... and then to self deprecating humor. Her eyes followed his hand to the axe and watched as he hesitated, then dismissed the weapon entirely - a gesture that spoke volumes.

"It certainly gives me something." Her boots were as laced as they were ever going to be for the day. Maude tied them off and pushed herself to a stand, noting that Gunnar still was without proper attire for the capital's winter. He also needed a bath. Two things she would need to rectify before the week's end - and she said as much.

"You need proper clothes, Gunnar Bergstrom," a hand lifted to pull his cloak snuggly around his front. It didn't work well - the man was big through the chest, "and a bath."

Maude turned and made her way to the exit of her bedchamber, gait marred by a visible limp, "Something we can see to later, perhaps." But first: duty.

~~~

"A Herrevan from Faarin, Great One," the hand that held out the scroll shook with age and chronic pain. Aether the Priest was as old as the late King Iordahn would have been, had he not been late. He wore his age like the Eretejvan mountains wore snow: proudly and handsomely. A thick mane of white doffed his head and jaw, the scars of his life's trials veritable rivers carved into his hide. He wore the robes of his Priesthood now, having retired his weapons and armor decades ago when his strength had begun to fail and old war injuries began to haunt him.

They sat at the high long table of the great hall, the sounds of their voices echoing within the vast and empty stone chamber. Maude thought it felt empty for more than just the void of warm bodies at the rows of tables below.

"Something is amiss in the Valley of the Hearth," Aether continued, "Three hunting parties have disappeared without a trace. Jorn Larsson reports that the Hearth Stone seems to be ... awake."

"What do you mean, awake?" Maude furrowed her brow in confusion, "the Hearth Stone is a waypoint marker, nothing more or less. It doesn't do anything but purpose as a landmark."

"And how does three hunting parties from Faarin vanish without a trace?" another Councilmember, one that Maude recognized from her younger days training to become a Ranger. What was his name? Hagen? "They of all people know the realm of the Hearth better than any."

"Winter is come," another to her left, a woman of short starture known as Denma, "even the best hunters can be lost to a squall."

"Larsson reports no such weather," replied Aether, "excepting that of a ... " the elder peered at the scroll, "red fog originating from the Hearth Stone."

"Curious," Maude remarked.

"The Jorn has set up a defensive perimeter and issued Herrevans to Hjerim and here to ask for counsel," Aether's eyes, grey as his hair, shifted from the Queen to Gunnar, "and aid to send out search parties."

Kilo flew toward the red mist. Growing smaller with distance…

Breaking the threshold into the mist would be painless. The mist limited visibility to the point that flying too high would make one lose sight of the ground. The ambient sounds changed upon entering the mist. Outside, a relatively calm breeze blew around. Birds and crickets sang in the background. Water lapped the river shore.

Within the crimson mist, all those noises disappeared. Only a low, low pulse interrupted the ensuing silence every half minute or so.

If Kilo flew closer to the ground, the bird would find blighted crops. The trees no longer bared any leaves or fruit. And there would be no signs of the farmers or their livestock.

Yet it would not have taken much exploration to find a group of four beings traveling in the mist. They seemed to be journeying deeper into the fog. Still, the group was close enough to edge that those outside could catch up to them.

A closer look of the party within the mist would reveal that most carried staves and wore robes with hoods. Their attire donned the symbols of the College of Elbion. They walked along a dirt road. Their feet sunk slightly into the ground as if they walked upon mud.

And were Kilo to remain in the mist long enough to notice that, the bird would have heard a beautiful song deeper within the mist. It would have been as if another bird of Kilo’s kind called out for a mate…

Trajan Meng Himitsu Rainie Faurosk Madame Valkery Kalliana Romane

"This will be dangerous."
The ranger had said taking her hand quickly before blowing her off and turning to address the crowd at large with out even giving her name in return.
Rebecca barely had time to dwell on this before she heard a scream. She turned to the Windhelm's house. They had been nice people..owners of the herb shop she had been planning to visit. She wondered what happened to them as the sight of a man with his face covered in blood drove her from memories of the past to the present time. Her cross bow was out in an instant as she aimed at the man.
"Mr. Carmine?"
She said puzzled as her crossbow almost began to lower until he drove the kitchen knife he was holding into the ranger guarding the houses neck and launched himself at the square in general brandishing the blade. The bolt was fired and flew true striking him through the head as he fell in a heap.
"I understand."
She said to the ranger after a moment. A hard edge in her voice that had not existed before.

Her eyes were twin chips of icy steel as she reloaded the crossbow and gave it a twirl as she smoothly slid it back into its sheathe. Her eyes softened again and her stutter returned as she wiped at tears slowly beginning to stream from her face.
"I..I knew t-that man.."
She said with a small sob.
"He w-would never act t-this way.."
She finally wiped her tears as she looked at the ranger.
"N-now I gave y-you may name whats y-yours.."
She said with a sniff as her eyes began to dry.
She knew this woman was in charge and in the shadow of a giant and orcs she must seem insignificant as just a shy stuttering girl, but she was worth her salt and willing to prove it. The bone collector would not be pushed to the side.

Rosalia Kahl

Even better, the giant seemed to be of a rather pleasant disposition, even despite the current situation! Good moods could be infectious to morale in even the most grim of times, saving fellows-in-arms from the grim grasp of despair, and with large figures at the helm of ease perhaps they could act as beacons to begin a good effect.

"Xoknath, though most away from the fort call me 'Bloodeye'." The big green orc with the blood red eyes replied to Jair, his fist meeting the giant's to an almost comical size difference between them. Really, Xok was just enjoying the novelty of the situation, the nice experience of not being the biggest guy around, though second place was still fairly big, "Pleasure to. . ."

The introduction was cut just a little short with a sudden blood-curdling scream. The orc's hand moved to the leather frog holding his battle axe as he turned away from his new acquaintance to see the source of the commotion, the man brought in earlier going on a maddened rampage and then apparently shot down with a ready bolt from a crossbow.

"Red mist's definitely hiding something that's doing this stuff." Xoknath said, narrowing his eyes at the scene with a huff, "No idea what, but I'm hoping we find it. None of this is as fun as I'd hoped it'd be, and I hate when things make me get serious."

“No it’s --” Verys began, but as quickly as she went to correct him for calling her Vee-vee she decided it didn’t really matter since it was just a stupid fake name anyway. Plus, he was dismounting, and she found herself studying his armor as he moved, intrigued by the hinges and the design of it that allowed him to still have such mobility, not to mention the layers underneath for quality of life and -- Oh. She was doing that thing again that Papa always hated, where she stared at people.

Right.

She watched as he addressed the horse and she seemed to respond in kind, blinking in impressed surprise. Truly a wonderful steed, indeed, since none of the horses she’d been raised with, steady and even beasts for pulling carts and ships up into drydock, would have the faculties to have followed such a discussion… and then he was looking at her with that golden-eyed gaze once more and she sort of blinked up at him.

“Oh goodness, I’m not going anywhere. I’d be too worried about you!”

She shifted the journal she was holding underneath one arm, digging in the satchel with the other, this sort of awkward half-juggling act where she used her knee on the other side to keep the satchel from bouncing too far. With an “ah, here!” she produced a rolled scroll, flicking it open with one hand. It was a map of the Falwood, and she smoothed it over the top of the book that she was holding until she’d located the area that they were currently at. Gesturing with one hand for him to come closer to her so he could see, she traced a line along the map.

“The mist is expanding outwards at a steady rate, predictable, mathematical, but not natural. If it was coming from a natural source, it would be rising from the lower parts of the forest, like… this.” She motioned along the map with her finger to indicate a “natural” path she would have expected. “But it’s not. It’s radiating outwards from a central fixed point, so it’s being produced. And the closer you get to that epicenter, the thicker it’s getting. But -- but -- here’s the kicker, here’s the thing, it’s also moving in a vaguely northeasterly rotation, meaning you can’t just walk straight in towards the middle or you’re going to just end up walking in parabolic loops which -- as you can imagine is not very efficient.” She shot him a knowing look, as if he’d share in her dismay at that prospect.

“So, if you insist on going further in, you should at least get a compass and a map. And probably a torch, too, it’s dark in there.”

Rohiron