Quest The Blighting of Wetzlar

[Osuin]

The cart behind the table began to move and shift, and Osuin turned his gaze towards it as an elderly woman stepped out from it. The Knight could only assume that she happened to be ‘Lula’, the fortune teller so advertised on the sign that had gotten his attention. Awaiting her approach, he had his coin pouch already in his hand as she made her arrival.

“Hah, I ought have the courage to. And yes I would! I hope this should be sufficient.” Spoke Osuin, pulling a couple of silver coins from his pouch and placing them into Lula’s hand. It was more than enough for bread, and would be sufficient to purchase two good, cooked meals. The amount was more than had been requested of him, which he was happy to pay. It was not out of perceived value, Osuin was more curious than superstitious and wasn’t one to place great weight on fortune readings. But the old woman looked like she needed the money, and he was content to leave her enough for a good, hot meal.

Or several cheap meals. It wasn’t up to him how she spent it.

On delivering payment, Lula returned to her cart to rummage around for her cards. A clamor could be heard, with banging and clanging barely muffled by the wooden exterior.

“Everything alright?” Osuin asked, out of some concern for the old woman. Whatever she was moving sounded heavy, and it wasn’t until he heard her grumbling that his fret subsided. He soon reminded himself that she’d likely been doing this for a lifetime, and likely hadn't strained herself in doing what was doubtlessly routine.

Lula re-emerged from the cart soon after, with a black shawl covering her head. Taking her seat, she began her spiel, shuffling the cards in her hands as she did. Osuin couldn't help but appreciate her dedication to presentation.

"Tell Lula true. What fortune is it you seek, princely one? Fortune? Fame? Love? To know your true enemy?" she asked. The first two, Osuin didn't much care for. The third one he didn't care to discuss as his fortune. But the last offer was the one that stuck out. It was a strange one to offer as well, and Osuin could only assume it was metaphorical. Either that, or the old woman was oddly accurate...

“To know my true enemy? Sounds like wisdom I shouldn't do without.” He replied with a curious tilt of his head. Cynical yet attentive, Osuin awaited what she might have to speak.

 

[Ranvena]

Lula smiled brightly at the offered silver, offering him a thankful bow of her head. It was indeed far more than she ever thought of charging for her services. Enough to stock up her little wagon for a few lean days. Considering this was the first customer she'd had in this gods-forsaken village, she could see a few of them in her future.

"May your fate be as generous as you are, kind sir!" She quickly pocketed the coin before leaving on her errand to find her cards.

“To know my true enemy? Sounds like wisdom I shouldn't do without.” He replied with a curious tilt of his head.

"Wisdom no one should do without," she replied tacitly with a nod of her head, her cheekbones drawn towards her eyes by the smile hidden beneath her shawl. "Our greatest enemies, more often than not, lie within."

She paused her shuffling and set the deck on the table in front of Osuin.

"Focus on this desire. See the question before you, plain as day. Imagine the past, where your enemy - your difficulty - arose from. Imagine the present. What challenges are you facing? Imagine the future... your moment of victory. Cut the deck, and set aside one face-down card that calls to you."

She drew her hands over the cards in a flourish that set her bangles and charms dancing again, then back towards herself, inviting him to cut the cards. Whether he followed his intuition, or simply picked a card at random to appease the fortune teller, she would return to shuffling when he was finished. Her hands, expert though they seemed, slipped, sending one of her cards flying off onto the ground.

"Oop! Lula thinks that one does not wish to be read today," she said with a slightly abashed chuckle. She picked it up and placed it face-down at the edge of the table before proceeding to pick three more cards from the deck a lay them in a circle between them.

"This card represents what happened in the past - what has led to this point," she said, turning the first card face-up. An ink drawing, styled like an etching, depicted a mouse on a tree with leaves falling to the ground below. Eight stars were drawn in the sky above.

"The eight of pentacles. Orderliness and preparation. As mice prepare for winter, so too you have been busy, paying attention to details and preparing for whatever challenge you know you will face - in spirit, if not in mind.

"Now, for the present." The next card showed an image of a halo of sun rays around a griffon.

"The Sun! A good card, yes. Happiness, celebration," she declared. "But perhaps a warning not to forget bad times during the good ones. Sunshine now, perhaps rain later," she added ominously.

"The future," she continued, turning over a card showing a nest of ducklings, their nest on a half-buried old sword.

"Ah! A new cycle, creative expansion. Creating something new will be your path to overcoming your challenge."

Lastly she turned over the card Osuin had picked from the deck in the circle's center, revealing an old, sage-looking man wielding a wand.

"The King of Wands. The leader, the risk taker, the explorer. Your greatest enemy, your greatest challenge, is to master these traits, to hone them to rise to greater heights."

She grew quiet again to allow Osuin to process the weight - or lack thereof - of her words. Out of curiosity, she quickly glanced at the errant card she'd set down, frowned, and left it face down there.

Osuin

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Soon after Asher and Basil the horse finished their warmups, the two hunters from before showed up at the stables. He listened intently as they spoke of their hunting dogs. His pale eyes were a bit empty when the question was proposed.

"Hold on, let me ask." Asher stepped towards his borrowed cart horse, and drew its snout down close to his own face. He looked a moment at the creature's wide brown eyes, and then nodded to himself, content with what he saw there. He turned back round to the hunters. "Basil doesn't mind the way you two smell. Should be alright."

Asher did not understand the hint that the older man was trying to drop, nor did he seem to mind that his new travelling companions smelled of dog. No matter the response, he would get his things ready and mount up with a contented cantor that was impossible to disrupt. Only once he was atop his horse did he think of something else to say. "Oh, um. My name's Asher, by the way. Sorry if I forgot to mention that before."

---

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. There was just enough water to keep the horses happy, but not enough to get their gear wet. He slept well in the meadow, and Basil got bloated grazing on clover. Soon enough, the dew burned off, the afternoon sun began to sink, and Weztlar came into view. The rolling hills were idylic, but unfamiliar to Asher. The place he came from was more settled than this. More human.

"Have I ever been this far East, before?" he mused quietly to himself, as Basil swayed lazily down the road. The answer didn't come to him.

Up ahead, a traveler's camp was set out upon the side of the road. And there at a table, the familiar gleam of knightly armor. Asher dismounted and led his horse over to the outpost at a respectful walk, stopping nearby.

"Hullo again, Syr..." He started to greet the knight, but realized he couldn't put a name to the face. "Uhm," he trailed off, defeated.

 

[Gannis]

Gannis had intended to press on ahead. As the main group went to the town, he intended to take Larka into the woods to deal with their private mission. He fully expected to sweep the woods and find nothing that would bother a human town, but he would rather do that quietly on his own.

"Come on," he said to Larka.

But she did not come.

The wind carried the words of the streetsode fortune teller. Larka was watching intently from a distance.

If he dragged her away now she wouldn't pay attention for hours.

"Go on," he said, searching his purse for a few coinds. "See what she has to say and meet me back here. Tell the others we're scouting ahead."

 

[Larka]

Larka liked Basil if the horse really didn’t mind how she smelled— which she shouldn’t because she had bathed recently. Larka actually liked these companions, although she couldn’t tell Gannis this or show too much interest into the Knights. (If Gannis were to ask, she was quick to wrinkle up her nose and look away as disgusted, trying to hide the curious gleam in her eyes.)

She found their armor to be interesting, so different from her leathers and cotton layers, and their weapons seemed loved by how neat and shiny they were. When Larka compared the Knights, minus Asher who Larka was still calling Younger Gannis in her head, they looked more like the serious problem solvers than Gannis and her did. Soon enough they would smell like their dogs— Larka never minded this, Kitty smelled like burnt corn bread— and look scruffier than when they had entered the inn.

Sometimes one needed monsters to defeat monsters.

Kitty’s wet tongue swiped over her face and Larka gave a huff of protest, turning towards him and ready to tell him to stop. Kitty licked her again, just as she were about to speak, his tongue getting in her mouth.

“Ew, Kitty, you got my mouth. Stop licking me!” The massive dog was panting in her face, his hot breath washing over her in heady waves. That was how she saw the fortune teller and one of the knights across from the mysterious woman. Kitty licked her again, although he stopped midway, his brown eyes roving over to the fortune teller as well. His tongue slowly went back into his mouth and he continued panting into Larka’s face.

Getting one’s fortune told was a sin according to Sister Aysel. To know of the future meant that one ventured into the abyss. “You do it once then you’ll always do it. Before you know it you won’t be able to make a decision without having to consult the future. Or you’ll be too scared to take a step forward. Time is not a toy for mortals, no matter how long they live.” Wise words, Larka should listen to Sister Aysel. She was still alive, a valuable member in the Conclave, and most likely a better mentor than Gannis.

Larka turned to look at Gannis, gold eyes glimmering with the naughty thrill of getting her fortune told. She practically pranced over to him, holding up a palm to take the coins. She spun around with a gleeful grin while Kitty whined. He didn’t like the fortune teller, or maybe he didn’t like the knights, but who cared? Larka was getting her fortune!

“Okay, I’ll bring back any change.” She wouldn’t. Without another look at Gannis or their dogs, she was dashing over to the table were the knights seemed to be congregating at. Shi— gosh darn it, was there a line? The foster stood up on the tips of her toes then thought it better to poke her head around Osuin and Asher. Larka could behave, she’d wait her turn.

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

As the armored man sat in simplicity, serenity, alone if not lonely, he observed others begin to arrive in the village. Whether in armor shinier than his, in unremarkable garb, furred cloak or something else altogether, they looked as much of a visitor to Wetzlar as the mercenary himself was.

Naturally, more than one began to approach the caravan in the near distance where the fortune teller awaited customers. Vandor kept back, unashamed in his practice of watching persons as if this was a market and every face was fair game.

Though, he did wonder what kind of business or mission this lot was on. There was some familiarity between them, though one looked just as different as the other, and that difference wasn’t limited to outfits.

A pilgrimage, perhaps. Vandor grinned. Life was meaningless if you were not able to amuse yourself, especially as a solitary sellsword for a large part of his existence. A quest to slay a dragon. He played his guessing game. They need a fortune read as to whether said dragon will eat them like kittens.

He could get up. Could go say hello. Yet he wasn’t curious enough to greet random strangers and none had approached his little picnic table. He also didn’t want to get his fortune read.

Maybe he would see what happened next. Mayhap they have a goal and it pays gold. The idea wasn’t crazy, yet for the moment he was too lazy. Who could blame him? It was a good day to sit.

Ranvena Osuin Asher Vanak-Duth Gannis Larka

 

[Osuin]

Osuin gave a nod at her opening words, vague and yet bearing truth in the sentiment expressed. Fitting for a fortune teller to say, though he considered this to be part of the presentation. Talented and experienced at the craft, the Knight Pursuant settled in place to enjoy the show.

Another shuffling of the cards, and she set the deck on the table before him. She posed her question, and the only answer Osuin could consider was of the enemy he’d likely have to combat on this task. After a brief silent moment and a nod, he took the deck on table and split it into two stacks. Once he had, he took the top card of the left-most stack and slipped it face down onto the table.

“This is the card that I’ve chosen – or the card that’s chosen me.” He quipped. Lula shuffled the cards together again, but she was not as deft as she had been prior. One slipped out and flew to the ground, and Osuin gave a smile as Lula referenced the mishap.

"This card represents what happened in the past - what has led to this point," Lula said.

“The past, huh?” He replied, leaning forward to gaze at the card as if to read the meaning from it. Though, he hadn’t the faintest idea of what it meant, nor what the card was supposed to even be. Lula explained all however, drawing a comparison between Osuin and the mouse in terms of prior activity.

"The eight of pentacles. Orderliness and preparation. As mice prepare for winter, so too you have been busy, paying attention to details and preparing for whatever challenge you know you will face - in spirit, if not in mind." She spoke. A history of preparation was not something the knight could deny. He had prepared for this journey, and had many other preparations underway back in Astenvale. Accurate as it was, the telling was still vague as they all tends to be. Meaning must be inferred.

The second card was the sun, the present. He was happy that such a card had been chosen, and considered it a good omen until Lula’s explanation. "The Sun! A good card, yes. Happiness, celebration," she declared. "But perhaps a warning not to forget bad times during the good ones. Sunshine now, perhaps rain later,"

“Likely good, but the weather often changes, no?” An interesting take, but true to the symbolism. Not all can be unflinchingly positive. Two down with one more to go, and Lula next laid the ‘future’ card in front of him. It was a bunch of ducklings laid on a broken sword, and this card caught Osuin’s attention more than the others had. They were not herons, but the imagery reminded him of the nest of hatchlings back at Astenvale. Raising them had been part of his ongoing preparations there.

"Ah! A new cycle, creative expansion. Creating something new will be your path to overcoming your challenge." Lula spoke, and Osuin was pleased at both the card and explanation she’d given.

Next was the card he had chosen.

"The King of Wands. The leader, the risk taker, the explorer. Your greatest enemy, your greatest challenge, is to master these traits, to hone them to rise to greater heights." Lula announced, and Osuin took a moment to look at it. It was accurate, as this was the general solution he took to solve his problems. To improve himself that he might greater defend the Vale had been his life’s duty, and would forever be so.

The knight paused another moment. Skeptical as he was over such readings, he could not deny that it had rung true for his situation, though he did remind himself that all interpretations were necessarily vague, this one carried a ting of accuracy that was impossible to ignore. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps divination, but the Knight couldn’t know

“A fine reading. I have to say quite a bit seems to strike true.” Osuin admitted. “Thank you for a wonderful reading. Silver well spent!” He replied. Which, really it hadn’t been. If anything it was a frivolous expenditure of money, but the money went into the hands of an old village woman to buy her meals. He was quite sure none in the Order would consider it wasteful, given the conditions.

Osuin began to depart, but paused again with one final question.

“Also, I’m just curious, but what card was that?” He asked, pointing to the one that had fallen.

 

[Ranvena]

Lula was looking quite pleased with herself at the compliment. It had been awhile since she'd had a satisfied customer - or a customer at all, for that matter. The sellsword that drunk merchant had hired to guard them on the road - Vandor, was that his name? He'd certainly shown no interest in paying for a reading. Like all of his lot, he probably counted on his future being grim and bloody.

“Also, I’m just curious, but what card was that?”

"Ah, yes. The one that escaped," she turned over the fallen card to reveal a cloaked figure a hollow-eyed skeletal face and crooked scythe; a common figure known in some myths as the Grim Reaper. Snarling wolves and barren branches were depicted all around it.

"Our old 'friend' Death. Not in the cards for you, it would seem. How very lucky!" She chuckled and reshuffled the card back into her deck.

"Please come visit Lula anytime!" She waved farewell and turned to the others who had approached her table.

"Who is next? How about you, young man? Do you seek to glimpse the threads of fate and chance?" she asked with a nod to Asher.

"Or you, bright-eyed lass?" she asked Larka with a smile.

---

The east-to-west running road they'd arrived on looks to push farther east into the village's heart, though there is no other traffic and no town structures are visible beyond the trees. The old forest presses in close, dark clumps on either side of the road, with the exception of a single clearing to the north.

Beside the fortune-teller's camp, a narrower path leads away in this direction, a barely double-track stretch of mulched wood and dirt cut between a wide meadow and a copse of young spruce. Perched on the top of a moderate hill, the tiled roof of a building catches the afternoon sunlight.

A cluster of tents occupies the bulk of the meadow, though not a soul stirs in the camp. A centralized cooking area set up beneath a larger, open-sided tent still holds firewood, clean dishes and a bucket of water. A quick survey would hint that whoever occupied this camp must have abandoned it recently: the tents are still in good shape, save for one that probably collapsed from a gust of wind. Bags of root vegetables and dried foodstuffs sits in one of the tents with only a light mold on them. Clothing, tools and simple home items can be found as well, as if some of the people had been meaning to stay for some time.

Anyone with military knowledge might notice that they are the style of simple, easy-to-make tent commonly used by the regional military. This would be the kind of camp that could accommodate about twenty to twenty-five soldiers, though aside from a few extra buckles and blacksmithing tools, there is no sign of weaponry or armor left behind.

Osuin Larka Vandor Colton Gannis Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Who is next? How about you, young man? Do you seek to glimpse the threads of fate and chance?

Asher blinked at the fortune teller when she addressed him. He was not weighing what she said, but rather flicking his fingers across the remaining coins in his pocket. Having to rent Basil had left his purse lighter than he would have liked.

But, he was on this trip to get bits of his mind back. Past, present, future. Couldn't a fortune teller help with that? He pulled out one silver coin, and held it up between two knuckles. "I've had my fill of chance, lately," Asher said. He handed the coin to the dark-haired woman with a polite bow of his head. "Can you tell me who I am?"

It wasn't a flippant question. Nothing but earnest curiosity tugged at the corner of Asher's eyes. And perhaps the sun glinting through the trees above.

Ranvena

 

[Larka]

Larka moved back and forth from her heel to the tips of her toes, limp hair swaying back and forth. She’d braid her hair lately, for now, it was loose and smelled very much of her hunting partner. She did glance at Osuin who had pointed out the card that had fallen. She, too, was glad that the death card was not part of his fortune. She also hoped it wouldn’t be in hers, even as she looked at Asher ask a question that was rather peculiar.

He didn’t know who he was? Larka felt she could tell him herself! Her was younger Gannis! He probably loved ale and women of the night. He must wipe his fingers on his pants and when he ate bread let the crusty crumbles tumble all over his tunic and lap.

But she would not tell him these things. She would tell him later. Or maybe after the fortune teller told him these things herself.

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Himself a visitor in this village, a wanderer, bystander, Vandor did not yet fail to glimpse and tally the other strangers as they dallied with little difference to his simple position where he rested. His table was not so lit, he had no candle to beckon a visitor to him, and it was just as well.

There was a woman who told fortunes—a fortune teller, just so—of which everyone else seemed so invested in. Vandor shook his head, not in judgment, but as an observer with an opinion that made little difference.

Fate. Destiny. He licked his teeth behind his lips. He had no desire for someone else to read his. Is she a liar? He wondered after that fortune teller. Despite the magic so rife in life, so deep in existence, there were still thieves and miscreants.

Whatever the case, Vandor Colton was a person who would live and die by the blade, not fate. A swordsman, a sellsword, and he had no need for someone to read his palm.

Honestly, if he would gain anything from that seer, prophet, or whozahaveit, it would be a deck of cards in the form of poker. That was a game where the sellsword could read words of another sort.

Yet, he was content with his position as much as his disposition. He sought silence at his little picnic table and he had found it. Not fed up, but having had enough of relaxation, he got up. Time for a stretch and a breath of fresh air.

The former was correct. The latter was meant no less in jest. The forested village offered plenty of air and, perhaps, opportunity for a job or quest. Yet these other villagers seemed just as content to idle and amble, so Vandor felt no rush to approach them for work in that moment.

Instead, he walked, he wandered, offering a nod and a two-fingered salute to any resident or guest who might catch his eye. Either way, he approached the road. A narrow path led away from it, to a meadow.

The village at his back, yet not so distant, Vandor stepped further into the scene, intent on exploring, content with simply wandering, as aimless as grass. A camp was dead ahead. Cooking pots atop cookfires; dead, not alive, and further inspection indicated no lingering life.

Military. It was obvious for someone like him especially. Cookware looked recently cleaned; firewood was dry; water was fresh; tents did not need to be mended from insects or bears at best. Yet the food, roots amid fruit and vegetables, were the best indication that this military installation was no older than the mold that had grown.

“So where did you go?” The lack of arms and armor meant that whoever had left had done so with purpose, if without enough time to bring down the entire camp and pack it up for their destination. It beckoned another question. “And what is your mission?”

Ranvena Larka Gannis Asher Vanak-Duth Osuin

 

[Gannis]

Gannis watched Vandor head on without the group. It irked him a little that the group was taking its time.

Not because they were up against a deadline, but because Gannis wouldn't be the first to start exploring the woods.

"Dog, look for trouble."

His large hound immediately trotted on into the woods, nose in the air. At least if there was anything out there with a strong scent Dog would come back and warn him.

 

[Osuin]

“Glad that it isn’t so, and I just might. Have a wonderful day, Lula.” Osuin mirthfully replied. He was certainly glad that card wasn’t one of his. Osuin had no idea what the card meant, nor how it was to be interpreted, but he didn’t believe anything good would have come from a card called ‘death’.

With his fortune read, the burly knight took his leave from the fortune teller. Lula called out to others that had arrived at the meeting point. no doubt Lula might like to ply them to have their fortune read, too. Osuin looked to the others, Asher and Larka, whom had gathered around. With a nod to each, he took his departure and began to make his way further towards the actual village that was his destination.

The actual village lay ahead of him, and the settlement was a meagre one. There was a small scattering of assorted wooden buildings a short distance away, and with his time at the fortune teller’s at an end, he made his way towards the village. Looking around, he searched for whomever the village elders were. The report he’d perused back at the monastery implied that they might be of substantial help, thought this was much expected given their role in his community. Though he had some awareness of the prior calamity that had befallen Wetzlar, the information was scant, and much more remained uncertain than otherwise.

Of all the buildings he saw, there were two large structures that appeared the likely one in which he might find the elders. Osuin took a careful look at both, and surmised that the building in the village’s centre was the better candidate of the two – the other appeared more like an inn or establishment than anything.

While approaching the building, the knight kept an eye out for anyone who appeared able to give him further direction. He’d a mission to undertake, and he was determined to reach the bottom of it.

Such was his duty.

 

[Ranvena]

At the fortune teller's table:

Lula regarded Asher with a solemn expression hidden behind her veil. "Such a heavy question. One that many ask themselves from time to time... but I sense there is an urgency in yours. Only you have the power to fully answer such a question, but let us see what the cards have to say to you."

She took his offered coin and, as before, shuffled the deck of cards, instructing him to focus on his question as he cut the deck and picked one from the stack. She placed that one in the center and drew two others that she placed before and after it.

"A representation of your past." She turned over the first card to show a depiction of a sitting dog with a star on its collar. "The Page of Pentacles. Loyalty, dedication, the productiveness of hard work." She glanced up at the scar on Asher's head. He did look the part of someone who worked hard, though he also looked like it had mostly earned him more bruises and scars than wealth.

The second card was upside-down from Lula's perspective. It showed a strange design of six wands, each with a corresponding worm-like shape or pair of wings around them. "The present: Six of Wands. A victory reversed. A fall from grace. Honor lost."

She paused again for dramatic effect - and to take a moment to read her customer's expression - before she turned over the third card. "What does the future hold? What is the path?" she asked no one in particular.

The image was of a blindfolded woman holding a pair of swords, a bird perched on one shoulder.

"The Two of Swords. The burden of decision without full knowledge, the cost of stagnation. An important decision must be made; the consequences of indecision will be dire.

She looked over the chosen cards thoughtfully. "Maybe a misplaced loyalty is the reason you have lost yourself, or just bad luck has led you away from this place of a dedication to your work. The cards advise not to tarry here, but to prepare yourself for a very important decision that you will have to rely on your own intuition to make," she finally declared before going quiet to allow her guest to draw his own conclusions. The candles around them flickered in the afternoon breeze, casting their indigo hue across the ink-etched faces of the cards.

---

In the abandoned camp & the surrounding forest:

If the camp had any other answers to offer Vandor, it was keeping its mysteries secreted away in the lonely tents and trampled grass. The only clue he might see is the path made of many old boot-prints merging onto the road towards town. Neither was there anything apparently strange about the surrounding forest to wandering eyes; only the normal eruption of late-summer green vying for rare sunny patches between the deeper shade of the Vale's enormous trees.

But to Dog's sensitive nose,

the forest held many clues that it was not as calm and peaceful a place as it might outwardly seem. The sharp scent of disease hung in miasmic fogs in small cavities and drifted with the wind; enough to register in the animal's mind as illness, though not as distinct as the odors of infected flesh or the secretions of the ill. Rather, it was something unpleasant that marked this forest and claimed it as its own. Something remarkably more like the uninteresting smell of rotting compost.

A source of that same decaying plant smell had left a scent trail through the trees and underbrush. It was at least a few days old, but still trackable. And somewhere deeper in the woods, carried in the complex messenger of the wind, was the unmistakable odor of rotting meat.

---

On the road into the village proper:

The main road leading through the village's core speaks more to a ghost town than any prospering community. The only soul Osuin sees along his way is what appears at first glance to be a beggar - a scrawny, dirty, disheveled and unshaved man who is busy staring at a dead tree along the side of the road. More precisely, he is staring intently at some yet unformed carving in the tree's trunk. It vaguely resembles a horned animal of some sort, but no details have yet been rendered.

"YOU FOOL!" the would-be artist's voice rose, quavering with rage, though it seemed to be directed at himself and not at Osuin. With his focus firmly on the tree, he didn't seem to have noticed the knight at all. "It needs to be bigger! Grander!"

He scratched his filthy beard with the small hammer in one hand before reaching the other into a tunic pocket and producing a rusty chisel. He set his chisel and hammer against wood, pausing, then chipping into it with utmost caution, as if he imagined himself a surgeon and the tree a patient. A spurt of sap oozed forth from the wound, covering the carver's tools and hands in a fresh coat of red stain.

"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he screeched to the air after standing back to examine his work. It was only then that he turned to see the armored knight in the road. "Tell me, stranger!" He begged, his voice almost a wail. "Tell me it is the shoddiest work you've ever seen! That its creator deserves no less than to be drawn and quartered and his viscera exiled into the four winds!"

Asher Vanak-Duth Larka | Vandor Colton Gannis | Osuin

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Silence. That was the answer to Vandor’s question. Well, it was to be expected, given the circumstances. Evidence was rather lacking in any manner.

Perhaps, even, for that matter the militants of this camp had since abandoned it because they had heard the tune of some lewd witches in the distance, and there goes your military. Honestly, the mercenary had witnessed this on more than one occasion, if he’d admit it the spell.

Oh well. He was only out exploring anyhow. Taking a walk, looking to get lost, knowing his way back was found at the path to the village, so there was that. Hm. Scraping dirt from a fingernail, Vandor observed the boot-prints on the road towards town. Evidently not to raid it for forage or pillage. No sign of said excitement meant likely just passing through.

Ready to give up on this little expedition into more forest and foliage, the sellsword settled for taking a break because, hey, that was the name of the game. He found a table that this makeshift militant settlement’s inhabitants had used as much for breakfast as tumbling dice, and humbled himself to the skies.

He lights his tobacco pipe, stretches his legs on the bench, crosses one foot over the other, and observes the camp as much as wonders what might have happened. “Hm?” Vandor hears a hop, neither frog nor hedgehog. A dog?

Ranvena Larka Gannis Asher Vanak-Duth Osuin

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Asher nodded solemnly as the first card was laid down. From how kind the other villagers had been to him when he was still recovering, it seemed likely that he had been a good, hardworking lad. They were fully assured that he'd be able to pay them back for the healer's bill, even though his coinpurse was awfully thin.

He scratched the scarred side of his head - a bad habit he was quickly developing - when the upsidedown card appeared. His expression was blank, but his pale eyes traced the picture on the card with a cold intensity. The fortune teller cloaked the bad card with soft words, but he understood: it meant a failure.

And then, the final card, the future... nothing but more uncertainty laid out before him. Well, he supposed it wouldn't be so easy as leaving his fate to a little slip of paper. He sighed and closed his eyes. "All I've got is my intuition, these days." Asher opened his eyes and nodded politely to the woman. "But thank you, it's good to hear things out loud, sometimes. I think you do a very important job."

It seemed that their group had split again, and Asher was stuck in the middle. The Knight Anathaeum, gone down the path towards the village. The hunter and his dog, at the edge of that tent camp and the woods. Decisions, decisions, just as the fortune teller had said. Asher decided on the hunters. The knight scared him a little, with how shiny and clean he was.

Standing up from the fortune teller's table, Asher collected his horse and went to the young woman, Larka. "I suppose you'll want to catch up with your friend," he said to the girl. "Let's go."

 

[Gannis]

Vandor Colton



Dog - for Gannis was not an imaginative man - walked into the clearing. He barely glanced at Vandor.

Dog was a Custos Canem. A breed unique to the Venari hunters. He stood nearly four feet tall across the shoulders and was intelligent enough to understand most common trade tongue.

He sniffed the air, sniffed the ground, walked in circles around the table. Finally, Dog stood a few feet in front of Vandor and sat down. He looked back the way he had come from patiently.

Dog would return to Gannis, but he was curious about the man pausing to light his pipe in the midst of such a terrible scent of death.

Humans were almost blind, Dog reflected.

-

"Oi!" Gannis called out.

It wasn't polite, but Larka would know that his patience was wearing.

It was, by a significant margin, not the worst thing he had called out to her when there was something that needed to be done.

 

[Larka]

Finally! It was her turn! Sister Aysel was right: good things happened to those who waited patiently. The coins in her palm were now well warmed and perhaps a little sweaty, but coin was coin and Larka had decided that her sweaty coin would only help Lula not hinder her.

She stepped up, holding out her hand, still deciding on what she wanted to ask. She had narrowed it down to three: her chances on getting the meat pies, if she’d ever be able to taste again, and, strangely enough, if she was the sort of woman the knight, Osuin would like.

It seemed even hundreds of miles away, Sister Aysel managed to keep Larka from straying from the right path. Before she could even had Lula the coin, both Asher and Gannis were hounding her to behave and to get onto the mission. She frowned, disappointment clear in her gold eyes. She looked at Lula, feeling sheepish and rushed all at once.

“I’m sorry.” She said to her, a hint of guilt on etched into her doll like face. There was a glance at Asher, which she considered to be Younger Gannis more than ever as Older Gannis’ “oi!” ranged in her ears. Shoving the clammy coin back into her pocket, without another look at Younger Gannis, Larka swiftly made her way to Gannis’ side.

For a moment she didn’t speak, only huffing so Gannis would know without looking at her that she was disgruntled and pouting as any young woman was wont to do when not getting her way.

“I still want to see a fortune teller.” She huffed to her mentor, at the moment caring little for the task at hand. Like any good foster, she handed the coin back to Gannis, even if she hated seeing it leaving her hand.

 

[Osuin]

Osuin’s horse trotted forth through the mostly empty village, crushing dew-laden blades of grass beneath his hooves. He’d known Wetzlar to be a small settlement, the knight had expected a bit more commotion and life than what had met him. Among the empty buildings there was only one other who could be seen. The man was staring quite oddly and intently at the trunk of a tree, before making a sudden and unexpected exclamation.

“You fool!”

Osuin’s attention snapped to the man in an instant, curious at what could cause such a frustrated outburst. “It needs to be bigger! Grander!” The man continued, and though Osuin scanned the immediate surroundings for the presence of another whom the man might be speaking to, there were none were to be found, nor could any others be heard.

The man then took a chisel to the trunk of the tree, and with strikes of a hammer he began to continue working on what appeared to be a carving in progress at the base of the tree.

“Tell me, stranger! Tell me it is the shoddiest work you’ve ever seen!” He asked, quite clearly distraught over the state of the carving. “That its creator deserves no less than to be drawn and quartered and his viscera exiled to the four winds!”

“This carving of yours?” Osuin asked with incredulity. He’d suffered similar assessments of work…and threats as a peasant in his youth. But this man appeared to be no servant, and Osuin was surprised that he’d deliver such a scathing critique upon himself.

Still in a bit of shock, he looked at the carving as requested to prepare a response for the sudden question of such high importance. “Well, it’s not quite finished for one thing, but it appears to be coming along nicely.” Osuin replied, carefully choosing his words to best assuage the man’s anguish.

“…Working under pressure?” He asked next, though he wondered what sort of pressure that might be, when the village was far from hectic. “…You’re clearly quite invested in the piece. Not everything can be a masterpiece, but your skill is clearly evident.” He added. Even crude and half-finished, it was far better than anything Osuin could craft by a long shot.

“I'd not mistake it for anything less than professional.” The knight concluded his efforts to the man's distress.

 

[Vandor Colton]

Spoiler: Music OOC

A dog. He was right on the mark. Yet it wasn’t just a dog at all. Well light my pipe and call me a knight. That beast was more like a bear. A grizzly thing, and had it been running or leaping instead of walking then the sellsword might have withdrawn the sword from his belt and rose to the occasion.

Instead, he sat still, watching with less caution than curiosity as the dog tall enough to be gnome’s steed approached. Sniffing, just as curious, circling the man, but that man did not get the sense that it was a predator circling prey anyway.

“Hello.” Vandor offered simply as the two creatures faced each other, eyes into eyes, and the dog sat down. “You’re a big one, huh?” He wasn’t much of an animal man, his horse back in the stables more for transportation than companion, but maybe that’s because that man at the table was himself a bit of an animal. Wasn’t everyone?

A woodland breeze drifted in, tickling the mercenary’s skin, creeping between the hairs on the dog, until its fur began to dance and so did Vandor’s own as a gust of wind blew past. With it drifted some pungent scent, and for a moment the man wondered if the dog had dug up some carcass in the forest.

Ah, yes. If the man could smell something then the dog could smell it even better, but whether its curiosities would get the better of its senses was a question that Vandor could not answer. “Or, well, maybe it’s just you I smell.” He smiled, rejuvenating his nostrils with the finer odor of tobacco smoke with notes of spice like clove.

Gannis

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Asher followed dutifully behind Larka as she picked her way across camp, and Basil the carthorse followed dutifully behind him. It's head was hung low, and every now and then it would pause to nibble at a stray tent flap or tuft of grass, perhaps hopeful for more clover.

When they caught up with everyone else, Lanka voiced her disappointment. It was directed at the old hunter, but Asher couldn't help but feel a little responsible.

"I'm sorry Larka, I should have let you go first." He fiddled with one of the shoulder straps on his pack. "Uhm, I can try to tell your fortune when we camp next. Its not as colorful, but my friend Miss Heidi taught me how to read tea leaves..."

Asher blinked at his own comment. He hadn't known that until he said it out loud. The memory of a warm, fragrant brew filled his nose and head, flower stems and crushed leaves swirled at the bottom of a cup. The rough glaze of the earthenware scrubbing against his calloused hands, and the voice of the innkeeper pointing out the shape of an anchor, an axe, a heart.

Then a sudden gust of air swept though and rolled the memory away.

The wind brought something else with it, a cool bubble of scent. It felt like a wet autumn day, the soft mulch of leaves underfoot well on their way to becoming black dirt. Except that autumn was still far off. He shook his shoulders in a shudder, mostly for effect.

"You feel that? Damp like that shouldn't be hanging around. It's too early for the leaves to be falling," Asher mused out loud, to anyone listening. His gazed turned to the deeper forest that lay ahead. He stepped a short ways past his traveling companions, drawn to the edge of the wood. "Got to be some other kind of rot in these woods..."

 

[Gannis]

“I still want to see a fortune teller.”

"Uhm, I can try to tell your fortune when we camp next. Its not as colorful, but my friend Miss Heidi taught me how to read tea leaves..."

Gannis grinned. He was preparing to make a comment about how he could have thrown some bones to tell a fortunate too and it would be just as accurate as any other made up bollocks.

To his annoyance, he was developing a soft spot for his charge. He hadn't wanted to train a foster and Larka was hardly the easiest candidate to train he had ever crossed.

She seemed genuinely sad that she couldn't join in.

"Yeah," Gannis said softly. "See, someone else can have a try."

"Got to be some other kind of rot in these woods..."

"Dog would have come back by now if there was anything truly dangerous," Gannis said. Dog would have come back to them, or made a lot of noise putting up a fight. If there was a beast out there that could kill Dog in board daylight then they were all fucked anyway.


Meanwhile

“Or, well, maybe it’s just you I smell.”

Dog had been panting with his mouth wide open. At the comment, Dog snapped his jaws shut. Dog did not growl, but narrowed his eyes at the man for his rude comment.

 

[Larka]

Larka looked at Asher, still pouting as he apologized. She had crossed her skinny arms over her chest, giving him a look like any puppy gave to a owner that had said a word they enjoyed. There was a part of her that wanted to continue this petulance, to turn her head and lift up her chin and dismiss Asher’s offer. There was another part, stronger and larger and more genuine to her nature, that had her smile instead and giving Younger Gannis a look full of gratitude.

“I don’t like tea but okay.” She said. “I wanna try.” She’d ask Asher about the sort of woman Osuin liked. Could tea leave tell such a thing? Maybe if they were in the shape of a heart! Or would the shape of Osuin be better? Her eyes went to Gannis. “Where is Dog?” There was a slight edge in her question.

“If he’s not back, what if….” The small foster trailed off, her eyes going to Kitty. With a look alone, her own Canem came to her, panting and drooling. His ears were pricked up, however, his tail low and I wagging. “Maybe I could go look for Dog? Make sure he’s okay?” She offered. She wasn’t too sure about the leaves and rot, her anosmia masking much of the wind.

While her cheeks could feel the chill, the rest of Larka could not. Sometimes cold days happened out of nowhere, didn’t they? Was this really that unusual?

Asher Vanak-Duth Gannis

 

[Ranvena]

At the fortune teller's table:

Lula was at first confused by the girl's sudden change of heart, then mildly disappointed as the glint of another coin slipped away. She thought to beckon the lost customer back over until a glance at the stern-looking man she'd fled to changed Lula's mind. Whatever business he was here for, she was certain she did not want to know about it.

Still, she'd made out well enough to pay for her trip to the next town. She found herself anxious to put this bizarre, unfriendly place behind her. She blew out her candles, took her sign down and started to pack her things up for the day. Whatever commotion she was hearing up the road, she was sure she didn't want to know about that either.

At the carver's tree:

The carver paused, blinking as if surprised in turn by Osuin's assessment of his work. He made a double-take of the tree, his expression softening for a moment, even smiling with some sense of pride.

"Yes, yes, it is coming along quite nicely," he mused absently, leaving bits of the crimson sap in his beard as he stroked it with shaky hands. Hands that moved back to the piece to run along the nascent sculpture's curves and rough spots as his expression slumped.

"Skill!" he scoffed at the knight's words of comfort, spinning around from the tree. "By what skill could a man's hands recreate the likeness of a dream? Of a nightmare? Of a demon? Of a god?" he asked, his voice rising in pitch and frenzy with every syllable. He cast his tools down on the ground at his feet and spat on them, causing Osuin's horse to start in surprise.

He wiped a bit of spittle from the corner of his sneering mouth. "What witless fool would dare try?! Who is worthy to be the first sacrifice?!"

Just then the doors of a large, squat building a short ways down the road swung open. Two guards clad in leather armor, looking barely out of adolescence, marched out and turned towards Osuin and the wailing man. Osuin couldn't hear what was said between them, but one of them pointed at the beggar. Neither of them drew the shortswords sheathed on their belts, but they broke into a run up the road towards them.

The deranged artist turned back around to his tree, saw the guards closing in, and desparately scrambled to pick up his tools and flee.

Larka Gannis Asher Vanak-Duth Vandor Colton Osuin

 

[Osuin]

Glad that he’d managed to heighten the man’s spirits, Osuin beamed with satisfaction. Yet his genuine smile morphed into a forced grin when the woodcarver’s reaction took a rather strange turn. It wasn't uncommon for creativity and eccentricity to accompany each other – though as the woodcarver continued to rant, Osuin got the notion that the latter vastly outweighed the former. The mad carver then spat on the ground, prompting Osuin to step back before returning to his state of awkward pause.

The shouting and antics had gained the attention of two guardsmen, who burst out from a building down the road before looking right at the pair. An accusatory finger was pointed in the direction of the man, who was quick to retrieve his belongings. Osuin sheepish and confused glance was given to the guards, with the befuddlement at the situation he'd found himself in clear by his expression.

“What are- Why are- Why were you carving this?” Osuin queried, quickly approaching the tree that the mad carver had ducked behind. Osuin didn't expect a rational response would be returned to him, and the specifics of his rant was cause for concern. Of nightmares, demons, gods and sacrifice. Perhaps they were simply the baseless ramblings of a man gone mad, but there could be connection to some further corrupt forces at play. Osuin hadn't seen any sign of it, but he'd encountered such often enough to remain on his guard.

The burly knight moved quick behind the man, presenting himself as an obstacle until he received an answer from either the madman, or the guards. He didn't care to see the man incarcerated, but he did want to ensure that he was nothing more than just a madman.

It seemed more likely that the guards might give a sensible answer, and Osuin looked to them. Osuin wasn't sure whether the guards wanted to arrest or simply shoo the man off, but they were clearly concerned enough to run rather than walk. They hadn't drawn their blades, so the matter didn't seem dire enough for intervention. Merely investigation, for the moment.

“What's going on with this one?” Osuin finally asked once the pair had arrived.