Quest The Bard of Talionis

[Viktor]

Cold indifference supped the warmth from mist laden air. Moisture wrought vibrant greens to life. Their mossy tentacles dove into the warm tones of rolling soil. Turmoil, almost too subtle, splayed time across the rocky texture that rose into foreboding mountains.

“Insatiability refused the newly weds somewhere new to find a home.”

Talionis was the name of the land that sat beneath the horse who sat beneath the man armed with a mandolin. Cornered sound broke beneath the waves of space between his words. Edges, left rent, caused dull pangs of familiarity in the the four men who escorted him by horseback.

“Viktor - lord Viktor.”

The soldier’s near abundance of familiarity had earned him as passive-aggressive glance from the mounted bard.

“Are you certain it’s a vampire we’re dealing with?”

Eyes, the morbid-pale of amber, courted philosophy and humanity as they glared from beneath baggy lids composed of lavender:

“No.”

The simple answer was a punctuation mark delivered at the end of the ellipses that was the humble row of cottages. The end of town grew near.

“If I were certain,” the prerequisite sounded as Viktor’s instrument fell silent, “then I doubt we'd need to subject ourselves to the Templars.”

His gloved hands returned his instrument to its case before slinging it across his back. A heavy coat bore ideal notes by way of finely embroidered seems and decorative things across its being in a way that stated the bard was where he was because he ought to be.

“With any luck,” his disregard was enforced by the way dreary ambiance filled the lord’s near unremarkable land, “our Templars will be here to save us all before we’ve starved or died of compunction.”

Anastasia

 

[Anastasia]

Anastasia rode in with two others in her side. The trip was well needed and had brought the company up in spirits. A small part of Ana felt guilty over being relieved from leaving the compound, but there was something about the stench of horses and creaking of armor that just made the world around her feel right.

Far better than the tension of changing political ties, that was for sure.

They rounded the bend, caught up in a round of genuine laughter over one remark or another. It hardly mattered, for the laughter cut short as all three well-armored Templar caught sight of the party ahead of them. The other two sobered in an instant. Ana watched curiously as they hastened their approach, all three in well-marked Templar gear that called them out for who they were.

"Hoy," said the woman to her right as they slowed before the strangers. "We're looking for the estate of Vikor *insert last name here*. "

 

[Viktor]

Death wrought the tones of all one hundred-and-seventy-six beats per minute as whoever it was said something as pretentiously errant as:

Viktor Talionis

"I'm wholly honored you know my name - Templar - or, at least the name my mother swore when sweets went missing." The bard stood on his stirrups in an effort to superfluously adjust the tail of his long coat. Despite the warmth born from the way his mouth shaped the words: his escort shared none of his mirth.

"However, while my lord is wholly well: I'll thank you not to address me by his title - Talionis."

The pale skinned man motioned to two of the saddle back men in his company. Their horses strode east until they flanked the Templars.

"On behalf of the Lord of this land, Sir Carmichael Laurent Jah Talionis III, I beg you follow us to meet his most noble successor."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana casted a slow looked to Leane.

What.

Fancy talk. It always threw her for a loop. Regardless, the meaning was clear enough. Follow them, they'd lead them to the one that wrote the missive. Very well. The three kicked their horses back into action, falling the group cautiously. It was not lost to the three that they were here to respond to a plague and here, at the front of the horses, was a man that looked rather... pale.

Silence followed at his heels, the Templar ready for anything as they rode.