Dreadlords The Vile Hunt

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With tensions high between the trio of enlisted Dreadlords, the following days of preparation were bound to come with their fair share of stress. At the end of the allotted time, Roy would come knocking for each participant in turn, a rugged looking cart drawn by burly oxen at the ready. T'was a relatively simple means of transit, to be sure, but it would get the lot of them where they needed to go without drawing attention, and it could be transported overseas with a fair bit of ease.

And so it went. The journey was long and dull, but there is oft an appreciation to be had for transit across Arethil without complications. Taking the portal stone to the Allir reach would have been risky, so instead days would roll in and out as the group trekked across the Aberresai Savannah, along the border of the Falwood. Eventually they would arrive in a bustling port town south of Alliria, and from there Roy requisitioned a ship that would take them the remainder of the way.

At last the group would arrive in Crossroad Mire, perhaps the only thing resembling a proper "settlement" in all of Bayou Garramarisma. For those that had already been, it would be just as they remembered. For those who hadn't, it would be just as dreary, dank, and dour as any rumor or textbook could describe--and then some. But, at the very least, the group had finally arrived.
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Roy grinned as he hopped down from the driver's seat of the heavy-duty cart, his boots impacting the mud with a wet squelching sound.
"Welcome to sunny Garramarisma, bruces and sheilas. Hope ya like the view, because it's all you'll be lookin' at for the foreseeable future. Best get used to it now."
Henk stepped forward as if to help Salak as he suddenly began to struggle, but the Proctor was able to seat himself before he reached him. The Dreadlord looked down somewhat somberly at the man, his eye so briefly scanning over him for any sign of injury.

He saw nothing fresh, but his limbs were stiff with unmistakable pain.

If there were some way that Henk could help, he would have done so in an instant. It was not his nature to allow a comrade to suffer so, but he'd an inkling these aches that wracked Salak were older than the scars upon his own face. Pulling up a seat from elsewhere in the office, Henk opted not to exacerbate Salak's misery with nagging, instead sitting with him in silence, for a time.

Salak in his physical pain, and Henk in his mental.

"Sepia is no fool. She must know you suspect her. Why seek you out for this mission, Salak?"
"Hmm? Oh, Why else?"
He had snapped back to himself quickly enough. His eyes heavy as the looked at Henk as he sat.
Adjusting himself in his seat he felt the tired throw a blanket over him. Tempting him to sleep.
"It's the primary flaw of the Houses. They think they are better than everyone else. It makes them vulnerable."
His hand went from his head to his desk where it fiddled idly among the papers.
"Do you know how the revolutions agents were able to capture so many nobles for hostage?"

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Perhaps Salak's words should have meant something to Henk. If he'd any inkling of the Nobles or their lives, perhaps it would have. Unfortunately, Henk only had one goal in being here, and the theater put on by the Houses and Nobles had little to do with it.

"Alas..." Henk felt his gaze drifting from the Proctor to the papers strewn across his desk. "You'll find I've not much sympathy for the Republic in and of itself. Their flaws run far deeper than arrogance and ego." Whether they had tried to rectify it or not, the Republic had allowed the events of his graduation to occur. "Perhaps someday, that can be rectified..." Their negligence and naivete had led to his family being shattered and blown to the wind. That he'd returned under their banner was simply a matter of necessity, in order to thwart he who held the most blame in the events.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

"You should rest Salak. You seem weary."
Henk rose from his seat, and began to move to the door of his office, pulling it open before turning to face him once more. There was a chance Salak was wrong, but the conviction in the man's eyes... Henk believed him. "Should Sepia's treachery become clear to me, we will stop her." Henk nodded, turning to exit. His final sentence carried into the office just before his door clicked shut.

"And when we return, I will end her."

Hope ya like the view, because it's all you'll be lookin' at for the foreseeable future.

Perrine made her distaste for the locality apparent on her face; brows knitted in a furrow, lips scowling, and her bright periwinkle eyes began to dull in this awful lighting.

"How horrid." She commented, carefully making her way out from the cart behind Roy. Her fascination with the older gentleman came and went, only to return again a few days ago. "Remind me, how far are we to venture to find these snallygasters?" Eager to get this mission completed.

Perrine had to buy new boots she would not mind getting dirty, as for her outfits of dark colouring... but it was seeing how unremarkable Crossroad Mire was that made her scowl deepen.

Henk Sepia Salak
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