Knights of Anathaeum A Stone in the Road

[Ophelia Tirion]

The Elf was releaved that they would be resting soon, her stomach had started to grumble ever since Squire Hector had mentioned food. Fortunately for her the horse was rather pleasant and they looked to be done quickly.
Her thought pooled around the questions she had brewing for Hector when they would eventually get the chance to relax and chat. How did one exaclty become a Squire ? Or a part of the order ? An Alley even.

Ophelia moved to the pitchfork from Hector but as she was about to enquire more about him being sworn in, the cry hit their ears.
Her large, blue eyes darted around trying to find the source but Hector spotted them first and made a move.

She shared a quick glance with Toverick. "Shit," and she too followed suite.

Hector

 

[Pim]

A section of the road ahead had recently been washed out in a rainstorm. Shallow puddles and rivulets of sluggish water still gnawed at the soil. A wagon loaded with goods had become stuck right in the middle of it. A couple of brawny men in chainmail - guards, presumably - were trying in vain to get the wagon to budge from a deep rut.

The source of the agonized scream was a thin young man. He was frantically swiping at some grey jays that had swooped down on a spilled sack of grain.

"Pests! Scavengers!" he shouted at the birds, who appeared less afraid of him than he was of them. Or the mud, which he was trying very hard to avoid getting on his fine boots.

"Do I have to fend off these vermin by myself?!" he screamed at a human and a kivren who were taking turns helping the guards and watching the man's antics. They both grumbled at him and made every effort to appear busy with the stuck cart.

It was a halfling on the far side of the wagon who first spotted the approaching knights.

"Pim! Pim!" he cried, waving his arms frantically at the female halfling who was standing closest to the approaching party, her nose in a small leather-bound book. Busy mumbling to herself, she belatedly looked up at the armed group.

Taking up a strangely elaborate wooden spoon that was tied to her belt like it was a sword, she smiled awkwardly.

"Hello, friends! Are you bandits?" She narrowed her eyes at them, her smile melting into a deadly serious frown as she held the spoon as threateningly as any halfling could manage. "You'd better not be considering pilfering our wagon!"

About this time, the man looked over from his struggle with the birds. His face went pale when he observed the armaments coming towards them.

"Bandits?!" he squeaked.

Ophelia Tirion Hector​

 

[Hector]

Hector blinked at the sight that met them, his hand, ready at his sword's hilt, loosened round the weapon's handle, and the tension he carried in his shoulders eased some.

"No, not bandits," he assured the blonde halfling. "We simply heard a scream..." he said as he cast his gaze toward the thin man dressed in finery, fighting the small flock gang of jays that nipped and hopped at the grains spilled along the road.

Hector walked over, and grabbed up the spilled sack, rough enough to have a few more of the seeds spill out onto the muddy road, and he smiled as the jay's rushed fearlessly to snag up more of the spilled goods. Without missing a beat, the young squire walked over to the cart, and set the sack of grain into the wagon bed.

He looked to Ophelia, and Tovarik. "We best help," he let them know, and nudged his head over to guards and others who were struggling to push the stuck thing out of the mud. "I'll stand back, and try and see if I can't do anything about the mud situation," he added with a nod. "Well," he rememebred Master Hilling's lessons on diplomacy, and the delicate balance of egos and pride. He looked to the wagon party. "Less you prefer to solve this yourselves, of course,"

Low marks, Squire, he could hear the half-dwarf Master of Life saying.

Ophelia Tirion Pim

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

When Ophelia arrived at the scene, only a few steps behind Hector, Toverick at her side - a look of obvious irritation now took over her facial features.
"Well scream like that again and we would be tempeted to turn into a couple." Her words followed Hectors statement of reassurance.
She whispered now to Toverick, a teasing smirk on her face , "But I guess we are already a third of the way there."

Watching the man in a 'deadly' struggle with a flock of cute birds was something she found rather comedic but only for a few short moments at best. Ophelia let out a low, unorthodox whistle and the birds departed - a now helpful trick she had learned growing up in Fal'Addas.

"Besides," She looked at the akward trio up and down, "even if we were bandits, do you really think we would simply announce it?"
An eyebrow raised as rose the rhetorical question.

I'll stand back, and try and see if I can't do anything about the mud situation,"

Ophelia took to steps forward in the motion to assist the unfortunate group but stopped dead in her tracks after the other half of the squires sentance. Her arms folded and displeasure still on her face she waited for their response. Ophelia was quite a fan of this Hector, the version unaccompanied by his seniors.

Hector Pim

 

[Pim]

The scrawny man sighed in relief as the birds departed, then turned to Hector with a reluctant smile as he wiped some dirt from his overcoat.

"We would be most appreciative of your aid, strangers," he declared and made a formal bow. "I am Levoy de Gaufres. This is my catering company." He gestured around until he came around to the two guards, whom he waved dismissively at. "Except these two. Some hired muscle they've turned out to be..." he continued to grumble under his breath for a moment before asking,

"May I enquire as to the name of our rescuers?"

Pim, now tapping the spoon to her chin in thought, considered the elven lady's question. The idea of the term 'rhetorical' had never really taken root in her brain.

"That really would depend on what sort of resources and tactical advantage you have at your disposal, wouldn't it? Darudi the Sandstorm and his mercenaries were said to blow horns and shout his name to intimidate and confuse their enemies before every attack-"

Pim paused momentarily when a muffled creaking noise sounded from somewhere within the cart. The whole vehicle rattled, as if there was something alive beneath the stacks of sacks and boxes. The two guards who had been pushing on it jumped back, startled.

"-Oh, yes. Quite right. That was Halfdan the Bleak," she continued as if someone else was in the conversation. "Anyway, it is a tactic used most commonly in an ambush, and probably would only work if you were already well-known. On the other hand, you could make us drop our guards by pretending to help us and attempt a delayed ambush... but given that you are more numerous and better-armed than we are, that would be a highly inefficient use of time-"

The other halfling had rushed over at this point and was giving Pim a noticeable nudge. "That's probably enough, Pim. I think they get it," he said, laughing nervously.

Ophelia Tirion Hector​

 

[Hector]

Hector gave a nod as the head of the catering troupe announced himself. "Well met, Mister de Gaufres," he placed a hand over his chest and gave a quick bow. "I am Hector Rookheart, Squire of the Knights of Anatheaum, and these are my two comrades, Ophelia and Tovarik,"

Tovarik looked as if he was about to cry, his lips mouthed a tiny thank you as he got behind the wagon.

When the nameless something rattled in the bed of the wagon, Tovarik shout in surprise and fell back. "There is something in there!" he cried out, his eyes large as they looked to the strange halfling going on about banditry tactics. "What if, what if they are bandits, Hector!" he scrambled back and bumped into one of the hired muscle, the Kivrin stood tall and broad over him, and rest his hands on his hips.

"What if we are?" the fish-scaled man said with a sharp-toothed grin.

Tovarik squeeled. "No! I don't have any money!" he cried.

Hector blinked, and looked more seriously at the catering company. "Are you... smuggling something?" he inquired.

Ophelia Eärtári Pim

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Ophelia continued to watch around her as the scene unfolded further, the halfing trailing off about well known bandits and Tovarik, who she was not yet certain whether it was pure emotion of being called a comrade that brought him close to tears or simply the idea of physical labour.
Whilst she kept her thought to herself, her arms folded loosly over her chest - the elfs facial expression however told the tale.

"Oh shit!" Ophelias eyes grew wide and she drew her dagger instinctively as the wagon seemingly came to life.
At the guards possible idea of a threat Ophelia now pointed the tip of her seemingly small weapon towards him. Though a simply dagger might not be intemidation from a distance, if you threw it well enough it could work just as well as a sword - and throw she could.

"Open it!" O' spoke now to the halflings, her weapon still pointed steadily at the unwelcoming guard.

Pim Hector

 

[Pim]

Levoy huffed indignantly at Hector's mild accusation. "Smuggling? Of course not! We are caterers, sir: creators of hors d'oeuvre most divine, orchestrators of royal banquets, bakers of extraordinary breads, cakes." - well, he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't mention his baker's quaint obsession - "Pies."

The wagon bucked again. Before anyone had the chance to consider whether they would, in fact, unpack their wagon at the behest of the Knights, something had wiggled free from the bundles of goods. Something on four, almost-spindly legs leaped out from the cart and right into a puddle, splashing mud all over Levoy's boots and coat. His responding shout might have been enough to shake all the trees in the forest.

"PIM!"

Pim was already running back to the wagon, vehemently protesting against whatever was happening there and wagging her spoon in the air as if that could stop it.

Gleaming in dark metallic hues in the sunlight, the thing that had escaped the wagon turned towards Hector, the metal grate on its front creaking open like a maw. It looked almost - if one had the chance to really look at it - sort of like an abstracted dog: If said dog had a grate for a mouth and a small chimney rising from its body.

Hector didn't have much of a chance to get a good look at the weird thing, however; a pie-shaped projectile had launched from the opening behind the grate and was now in transit, its course set for his face.

Hector Ophelia Tirion

 

[Hector]

"Woah now," Hector said as Ophelia drew steel, his hands up as he motioned for peace with small fanning gestures. "Ophelia, that's not how we..."

"Oh gods, they are smuggling bodies, there is something in there moving!"

Hector's brow pinched. "Look, calm yourselves," he said sternly. "Assess the situation, stay grounded and level headed," he tried to induce the lessons he had been taught, but felt little more than his own heart quickening with frustration as his party gave into misplaced suspicion and the caterer corrected his initial assumption.

Something emerged from the wagon. something squat and four legged. Apprentice blacksmith, and artificer that he was, Hector saw it for what it was in a blink. An oven, given the shape of a dog. "Woah," he said, awestruck before the thing belched out a pie from its grated maw. His hands already up, he shielded his face and felt hot gooey sticky mess erupt from the cracked crisp crust and sprayed through his gloves and splattered onto the plate of his cuirass.

"Gods above," Hector said, slowly lowering his hands and looking down at the mess that stuck and dripped and slugged its way down his armor and hands. "It makes pies on its own?" He asked excitedly and whipped off some of the gunk before he looked down at the metal-work creature. "My, does it have a magic heart?" he asked, and took a cautious step closer to it.

Tovarik whimpered, and slowly got up. "Is... is that a demon?"

Pim Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Hectors attempted lesson had fallen on deaf ears. Ophelia refused to be handed to death by a wooden spoon and flock of birds.
But when the mysterious beast erupted from its hiding spot, she found her dagger limp in her hand, brushing her side.

"What in the realm..."
The elf was mesmerized, whilst this thing was completely unnatural...as were many things in this world - she was beyond intruged. "If it was a demon you would be dead already." Ophelia rolled her eyes and knelt down.
"Is this an enchantment?" Her original air of hostility now faded away. Never in her 200 years had she seen such a thing, her mind bubbled over with questions. What type of magic was this ? Was it similar to that of which she practiced?
So many questions...

 

[Pim]

Pim stopped suddenly before Hector and Levoy, staring first at her livid boss and then at the mess of fruit, filling and crust all over the squire's armor. She grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, Smokey gets a little over-excited sometimes..." Using the spoon, she wiped away a chunk of pie that had landed on Hector, sneaking a taste in the process. Peach.

"Oh, Smokey - that's about raw!" she muttered with a sour face and turned to the animated oven. "Haven't I told you not to get so excited when you meet people?" It was a gentle reprimand; she could never really get mad at her companion's antics. Actually she found it quite humorous, but she'd learned that the recipients of the surprise pie didn't usually find laughter the appropriate response - unless they were other halflings. Then they demanded that the oven do it again.

Strangely, Smokey was met with curiosity instead of the usual clamor of confusion and fear it created outside of the kitchen. The stove was quite amiable to this response, snapping its grate and bouncing around Ophelia and Hector. Strands of white smoke puffed from its chimney.

"Sometimes," Pim answered Hector's first question, pleased as a goblin in muck to finally have people to discuss her artificing with. "He does that occasionally when he's very happy, though I haven't been able to figure out exactly how he does it."

"You could certainly call it an enchantment, from the standpoint of the basics," she continued, turning to include Ophelia in the conversation. "But artificing is arguably a different art altogether at its finest scale. To enchant a thing is to attach the essence of a spell to it, so that particular spell can be called forth at the user's whim-" Pim casually flicked the spoon out like an orchestra's conductor towards an unoccupied patch of road, sending a bit of pie crust flying off. After a moment of concentration, a glob of buttery goo coalesced on the end of the utensil, flew off and splattered into a slick puddle a few yards in the direction she was pointing.

"-Whereas to artifice something, you have to build it with the appropriate parts and energy - in the right pattern and order - for it to work at all. Then it is more like... a network of spells. Kind of like we are."

"So, yes, he does have a magic heart! Our heart, really..." she was about to continue on the subject of the ritualistic building techniques that included the very careful introduction of part of the maker's soul into a creation, but was interrupted by a very pointed clearing of Levoy's throat.

"As enlightening as this little soiree is, I must point out to those in my employ that Lady Bradenbury's gala is in a day and a half... and if her appetizers are not ready for the event, she shall be very put out." He glared around at his staff and hired guards before adding - probably to the most effect - how that translated to them not being paid.

The kivren and human guard, who had been engaged in their own debate as to whether this was the weirdest thing they'd seen in their line of work, turned their focus once more to getting the cart unstuck.

Hector Ophelia Tirion

 

[Hector]

Hector smiled ear to ear as the halfling artificer spoke of the craft they shared. He nod, as he went on observing the oven-creature. How it moved so seamlessly upon its metal legs. He eyed the halfling as she spoke, simple and matter of fact, but wasn't that the way of the skilled and talented? Complex ideas and practices, distilled to simple understandings that could be wielded with subtle elegance. Or crafty absurdity. Hector found that the latter oft required the former.

"I'll have to ask you for some notations, Mistress Artificer," Hector said with a smile. "If you would be so generous," he said and bowed. Squire that he was, a little muck did little to bother him. Even if it was tart smelling and sticky.

At the sound of Levoy's reminder, Hector nodded, and looked to Tovarik who seemed, wide eyed still, a little shaky, but the potential knight stood taller and nod to signal his readiness. He gave the oven a wide bearth, but put himself to the side of the wagon, hands ready to heft its weight.

"Alright," Hector sounded, and stood to the side of the road, bowed his head and closed his eyes.

It was but a moment before he felt the earth beneath the souls of his boots. Toes spread and planted. He remembered the words of scripture and lessons, and gently recited them beneath his breath.

Oh earth, steady and firm,
Ye titan that doth uphold,
All upon your breadth,

And he could feel the span of his support spread around him, the flow of magick, reverberate through the soil and dirt, ping against stones and swim through mud. His island of magick widened across the ground. Invisible to the eye, but perhaps felt to those sensitive to such powers.

Head my humble plea,
and lend thy ground to me.

His eyes came open, with but a tint of the forests green, and his hands, fingers splayed and palms upturned, rose up with his breath, turned as fingers flexed forward and mud turned back to solid dirt, pushing wagon's wheels out of the mantle that had so greedily held onto it moments before.

Pim Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

As the halfing spoke Ophelia listened closely. She was quite versatile in her field of enchantment, inanimate objects were her play things and majority of the time she was able to do with what ever she imagned. Artificing was entirely knew to her, yes she had heard of those in the Falwood who possesed such gifts but never herself had she encountered it.
Before Ophelia was able to loose herself in Pims words her attention was shifted, first by Levoys reminder and then out the corner of her eye she saw Hector taking a stance. Instinctively her hand moved to her dagger and she stood, ready for a fight. Instead, the mud shifted to solid ground infront of her.
Ophelia looked to Hector and let out a surprising 'Hhm' followed by, "And here I was thinking all you did befriend bandits and water horses."
Her dagger hand relaxed. "Now that thats sorted, can we finally go get a drink?"

 

[Pim]

Between Squire Hector's impressive magic and the elbow grease of the helpers, it took very little effort to get the cart back onto the passable sections of road. A small cheer arose from the caterers and their guards, and even Levoy gave a short salute to the Knights and their allies.

Pim would have liked to have stayed and talked with her new friends. They seemed to have some knowledge on a subject in which she herself found immense interest, but Levoy's basilisk stare continually menaced her every time she went to say something. Smokey, too, knew enough not to rouse the boss's anger any further and stayed obediently by Pim's side until Levoy announced they were ready to go again.

After the hefty job of lifting the oven back into the cart, Levoy and the halflings climbed in. The guards and the taller members of the company went back to pulling the vehicle with disgruntled groans. Levoy grinned and waved to the Knights as they slowly passed the company and went on.

"Why can't we just buy a horse?" one of the pullers muttered before the caterers' cart rattled out of sight; leaving Hector with a page of neatly-scribbled notes from Pim's notebook, and a business card 'courtesy' of Levoy.

Hector Ophelia Tirion

 

[Hector]

Hector smiled sheepishly at Ophelia's remark and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, I mean, might surprise you what else I can do," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. Then he nod in agreement with her. "Drink sounds good!" he added, and nod back toward the tavern, and made to go.

A cold wind blew across road as they turned to go, and Hector stopped in his tracks, his eyes following the trail of the zephyr, as illustrated by bits and pieces of leaf litter and debris swirling up in its wake.

An ill portent.

"Hector!" Chadwick called out hoarsley. "Miss Ophelia!" Chadwick called out sweetly. "Drinks are served and food is ready," he said as he sauntered on over, his armor still clanking and rattling as metal was want to do. "You two," he said with narrowed eyes. "Up to some foolery?" he grinned.




Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

"I would like to see sometime." Ophelia would reply as the two in direction of the tavern, her tone earnest but her face as stoic as always.
All to happy to finally sit down and grab a drink it took her a second to realize Hector had stopped and her in term to do the same. "Hector?"
There had not been enough time for her to grew worried for she heard Chadwick and a mischievous grin crossed her lips.
She mocked fastening the ties of her tunic, "Well wouldn't you like to know." Winking at Chadwick, Ophelia blew Hector a kiss and strode into the nearest tavern.

Hector

 

[Hector]

Hector?

The half elf's eyes looked to find Ophelia's, a wide look there, but Chadwick's call grabbed both of their attentions.

Chadwick grinned that easy grin of his. "I would indeed!" He said without a hint of shame, and motioned them over with a tilt of invitation. "Over some food and drink!" he laughed, and went into the tavern.

Hector hurried up, his cheeks blushed with rouge. "Best not keep them waiting much longer,"

Tovarik whimpered. "They... they forgot about me,"

Hector slapped the potential prospective across the back. "Come on Tov, no one has forgot about you," he was only half lying really.

Inside the Copper Belly, the mood was light. The caravanners were milling about, letting their things down and prepping for their next journey.

Xhokuk sat at a table, wooden plates and old wooden mugs littered about.

Chadwick sat down, and grabbed up a warm roll of bread from a basket at the center. "Well, far as caravan jobs go, this one has been far from the worst,"

Xhokuk grunt, and spooned some stew into his mouth.

Chadwick dunked his bread into the near-gravy, and took a happy bite out of it. Chewed. Swallowed. "Shame about that carriage, and its retinue," he added and looked around. Saw Ophelia approaching, smiled bright and wide and slapped the spot upon the bench beside him. "But ah, what prospects we have found, Syr Xhokuk,"

The scrape of spoon against bowl.

Hector sat down beside Chadwick. Grabbed up a bowl, and took a moment to reflect on all they had done to get to the table. His eyes closed, his breathing steady.

Tovarik sat across from him, at the end of table, and counted the plates and the pints. A tear ran down his eye. "There are five plates," he said through tight squeak of a voice.

Xhokuk grunt.

Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Ophelia was glad the day had finally come to some sort of end. She followed Hector and Chadwick to the tavern with Toverick either at her side or closely behind.

The smell of food and drink hit her like and iron rod and she could not help the large grumble erupt from her stomach. Ophelia had eaten anything besides squirrel in weeks so even the some stale bread would make her mouth water at this point.

As they sat down everyone had a bowl infront of them except Tovrick, maybe they did not have enough? But when she looked at him and then the others her heart sank.. that was not the problem.

Taking off her knapsak Ophelia reached in until she was shoulder deep and fiddled around for a bit. She knew she had some in there somewhere.

Eventually she pulled out her entire arm and in her hand was an old wooden bowl, one she normally used for less honourable contents and placed it infront of Tovarik.
"Just wait." Her voice was firm as the man reached for it.

Had in bag once again she quickly withdrew a small vile full of thick purple contents and placed a drop of it into the bowl.
The minute it hit the base a small amount of purple smoke erupted and then dissapeared leaving the item looking as good as new.

"There, now get yourself something to eat."
She dropped the vile loosely into her bag and second later wrapped her hands around her own bowl, lifting it to her lips she downed her soup in one go before moving onto some bread.

"So what's next?" Ophelia looked around at the three knight before her expectantly.

Hector

 

[Hector]

Tovarik whimpered, and wept, and bowed his head in reverance for the gift he had recieved. "Thank you! Thanky you! Miss Ophelia, thaaank you!" he cried out.

Hector and Chadwick stared at him, wide eyed and confused, and Xhokuk just went on eating.

Ophelia moved the wreckage of a former bandit off, and Tovarik bowed, and bowed, and then hurried off to get himself some food.

Xhokuk took up the bowl he had set out for Tovarik and just ate into it. Hector laughed, and Chadwick looked big eyed and excited as Ophelia asked what came next.

"Why, we finish the job, my lady!" the half-ork-elf said with proud grin. "It will be some days yet before we make it to our destination, the town of Einlo!" he said cheerily, took a spoonful of mash, and ripped off a chunk of the stewed chicken from the bone it succulently clung to. He wiped the grease from his lips, but missed a splotch. "Plenty of time for us to get to know each other better, Miss Ophelia," his brows danced along the tune of suggestion.

"And for you to learn of the order," Hector added, and scooped some stew and meat into his potatato mash.

Xhokuk grunt his agreement.

Tovarik returned, and sat down across from Ophelia. His eyes wide as he watched the others talk, and carefully pecked at his food.

"Ah, yes, and learn of the Order of course," Chadwick added with nervous laugh, and then shoved more food in his mouth.

"We can test your skills, and train when time allows," Xhokuk added.

Tovarik looked worried at the notion. "Test?"

Xhokuk nod, and gave a grunt of confirmation.

"Can't just have any useless blackguard take up the pursuits!" Chadwick said proudly and dramatically stern.

Hector tore off a piece of bread, and sopped up more gravy. "We do take just about anyone actually," he smiled. "So long as they can bring something of worth to our efforts," he took a bite, and chewed it carefully.

Chadwick cleared his throat. "Well, yes, but, that is part of the tests!"

Xhokuk shook his head no. "Only small part," he dabbed two fingers against his chest. "Your heart, is what matters most,"

Hector blushed and looked away.

Chadwick laughed loudly. "Come man!" he said with some nerves creeping in. "Who the hell would join us with such a sachrinne pitch?" he whispered to the bigger knight.

The stone faced ork shrugged. "It is the truth," he said simply, and kept eating. "Plus, they have already joined,"

Chadwick grumbled.

Tovarik stared wide eyed, and ate. "Your heart..." he said, heavy with thought.

Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

"What a baby," Ophelia grumbled to herself after Tovricks dramatics as he was just out of earshot.

Ophelia dug her teeth into a piece of chicken before the others spoke up again. So they had not even finished what they had set out to do before adopting to strays alongside the rode? It was just the elves luck.

As Chadwick spoke of what came next, the same suggestive tone graced his voice as it had when he came to fetch herself, hector and mister drama from their roadside assistance.

"Please Chadwick dear, you could not handle me even if I came with a manual," she played back. So far she enjoyed the mens company and the banter.

Learning of the order - as hector stated , was something she had become rather interested in and Ophelia had not been interested in anything in quite a long time.

As Toverick sat down next to Ophelia she bumped his shoulder lightly with her own, "Happy now?" The question retorical, O' moved onto her soup now, placing a spoonful into her mouth her attention was back on the other knights.

They each seemed to value different aspects when it came to those joining the organisation, or even those they deemed worthy.

"Well," She focused on Xhokuk now. "I am good with throwing daggers and I can hold my own in hand to hand but I would like to learn how to wield a sword, or even an ax if the oppertunity presents itself."

Another spoonfull of soup or two in then Ophelia looked to Chadwick, "I am talented in enchantments of inanimate objects as well as potions..." It was actually more posions really but this did not seem like quite the right time for that tid bit.

Finally she focused on Hector and took a large gulp of her drink, and her eyes lowered to her almost empty bowl as if she were trying to decifer a hidden message.

"We might have to work on the heart part."

 

[Hector]

Xhokuk gave a solemn nod to spry young elf. "Good, I can teach you, and the three of you can practice," he nod to each in turn.

Hector smiled sheepishly.

Tovarik looked scared.

Chadwick grinned. "Hmm, yes, Squire Hector certainly needs a bit more time behind the longsword," but there was something in the way that the half-orc said it that well...

Hector blushed, drew in breath. "Well, I'm better with magick than you've ever been, Chadwick," he grumbled.

Chadwick's grin looked all the greasier. "Yes, yes, there is no doubt about that, young Hector,"

"I'm only younger by two years!" Hector barbed back.

Xhokuk grunt, clearly annoyed.

"I... I don't know, Miss Ophelia," Tovarik said, eyes on the bowl she had offered him. "Your heart seems pretty fine to me,"

Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

"Ill be taking you up on that offer," Ophelia spoke now to Xhokuk. She had a feeling he would be a good teacher, show no mercy - a good, fast way to learn.

"How old are you blokes anyways?" Ophelia looked between the four men, age in those outside of elves was something she battled to decifer. "I just turned 200 the begining of the year."
Over their heads she signalled a bar maid for anothe round of drinks.

 

[Hector]

"Thirty and five," Xhokuk said simply.

"Twenty and two," Hector admitted.

"Twnty and three," Chadwick said with proud waggle of his eyebrow.

Tovarik rubbed the bristles of his scruff. "Just turned 18 myself,"

The other three men all seemed to settle down some. Xhokuk ate, and Chadwick drank. Hector shoveled food down his throat, and took a deep drink.

Tovarik laughed nervously. "Never really knew an elf before," he admitted. "Or an ork,"

Chadwick puffed up his chest and smiled big. "Then count yourself all the luckier friend, for you are before a man who is not just half elf, or half ork, but half of each," he nod.

Ophelia Tirion

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

"Well Toverick," Ophelia leaned close to him, her expression darking. "You might not know  us, but  we know  you." Just as the last word left her lips, her tone eerie - almost threatening; the barmaid would arrive with there next round, the try making a slight bang as it hit the table.

The elf leaned back as the mugs were placed infont of each of them and cracked a teasing smirk her demnior relxed once more, satisfied with her tease.

Her focus now shifted to the knights, "If chadwick only advances you by a year Hector, then how is it that he is your superior?"
Ophelia asked simply as she swirrled the drink in her mug.

Hector

 

[Hector]

Tovarik shrunk back. His eyes wide and his face meek. She had been so kind but a moment ago and now. The look in her eye sent shivers down his spine.

Hector hadn't really noticed, nor did Chadwyck or Xhokuk. Till Ophelia asked a new question.

Chadwyck grinned, wide and smug and catlike. "Because my, dear lady, Ophelia, I, unlack some, have been proven worthy of the Oath," he bowed his head, most nobly.

Hector huffed. "That's not it at all and you-"

Xhokuk grunt. "Not the time, Squire,"

Hector grumbled, grabbed up his cup and drank deep from it.

Chadwyck's grin was all the brighter, and his eyebrows wiggled with joy at Ophelia. "Taken before the twice lit flame, in the grove of the ancients, hidden away in the Valen Woods, with the Eldyr Tree, tall above, to bare witness," he said dreamily.

Tovarik was eating again. "An how you do that?"

Hector grumbled. "You have to be deemed worthy" he growled.

"Chadwyck is about the average age of swearing, twenty and three, twenty and four, some older, some younger," Xhokuk shrugged, and waved the thought away with his hand before he picked up his drink. "A squire must recieve three commedations from a knight Sworn," he pointed to himself, and Chadwick. "Then, upon review of the Masters and the Captains, sometimes a Pursuant or two," he took a long draught, drained the cup, and placed the empty tankard on the table. Wiped his lips away. "The squires deemed worthy are put forward to swear the Oaths come the eve of the Twice Lit flame,"

"It's... not always so straight forward," Hector said, solemnly.

Chadwick slapped him on the back. "No! But sometimes its more than clear!" he laughed. "Worry not, young Hector, you will take the oaths soon enough, I feel it."

Xhokuk grunt.

Hector smiled wistful.

Ophelia Tirion