Adventures of Caelereth

Machtel stood staring out moodily at the rising sun, her arms folded tightly in front of her chest. Everything was going wrong, and she did not know how to deal with it. Even just this place where she found herself was strals out of the normal way, even if 'normal' was a relative term when it came to herself. Still, she longed to be back in her own little hut, where at least the world made sense. It was all a big mess, and she wanted to make an end to it - and even that was failing to work.

Jutting out her lip, she returned to the encampment. She would not stay here much longer - what little hope she'd had for this course of action, was dying out quickly. Just one or two more, apart from the ones she had now, and if she did not find what she was looking for she would leave these men to their own devices. They were beginning to grumble about her anyway, she knew. They only tolerated her because their leader Barrabas told them to, but it would not last much longer, and she intended to be far away by that time.

She debated whether to go into the cave or not, but decided to wait a little longer. They should get the time to wake up at least. Instead, she went to get some breakfast. Time enough later - she hoped.

Tak awoke in darkness with a screaming headache.  Well, it wasn’t total darkness, he was blindfolded and there was a torch nearby that cast a strange glow through the fabric.  He lay on his stomach, bound, his hands and feet tied together extremely tight, he couldn’t feel his fingers.  His head felt like it had been split in two.  Tak thought back to how he got in this particular mess…

Tak was making his way toward the city of Nyermersys.  He had heard rumors of a strange rock formation in the area and he had to see it for himself, though once he got into the north he found it harder to get information on this particular formation.  So Tak found himself wandering the country side with Buttons, the city folk didn’t know anything about this rock formation, but he figured the farmers might.  Unfortunately, Tak had gotten himself lost.  While he stopped to re-examine a map he had traded for earlier (which he suspected was wildly inaccurate), he was approached by an elderly man looking for a ride back into down.  Tak had obliged, helped the man into the back of his wagon and the next thing he knew he was tied up. 

Tak felt something caked onto his face, either mud or blood.  He wasn’t sure why the man hadn’t just killed him.  Maybe they needed to know what all of this stuff in his cart was.  Or they would try and force him to make some explosives.  Though he doubted that, Tak didn’t assume humans were very quick to put two and two together, and when they did it was usually three.  No, they hadn’t a clue what was in his cart, but he was still alive to help with that. 

Tak realized that some men were talking, maybe half a dozen.  He couldn’t make out any of it, but that’s when someone next to him let out a groan.  Tak froze, afraid to be seen moving (or alive for that matter) while the men came over to inspect what was going on.

Flashing lights danced in front of Alrick's eyes as he began to blink them open. His feet and hands were tied, and he had a piece of cloth that was blindfolding him over his head. The slight glow of torchlight barely penetrated the cloth.

The callous skin of his hands could feel the cold stone of a cave floor. Alrick could determine that he was not far underground, which with all things considered was good. He leaned his head against the wall that he was up against, and instantly pain shot through him like a bolt of lighting.

Alrick had been making a journey to Nymersys, and one night while he was talking to a kind fellow down at a tavern, he heard talk of a strange formation of rock. So he asked the man he was sitting next to if he could elaborate and give him more detail about the rock. Alrick had a bit too much to drink that night but still decided to make the journey to the rock in the morning. When on his way he was not fully aware of his surroundings because he was dealing with some hangover symptoms. Alrick heard a stick break in the distance off the path he was taking, then all fell silent. Right when he thought the coast was clear he saw a glint of metal in the sun, then. . .

But after that, Alrick couldn't recall anything, his head began to hurt more as he tried to remember. The pain overcame him and he decided it didn't matter, but what did matter was getting out of here.     

Gurrant shivered.  Though the sun was out, and the sky was blue and clear, the wind that blew from the north was cold and biting.  Staring into it, he could see the Tandalas, their peaks covered in the white snows that would soon cover the lowlands as well.

The road they were on led them from Nyermersys eastward toward Astran.  Mostly simply bare ground hardened to the point where a permanent trail could be seen, in some areas it was covered in stones.  They were on such a section of road, and Gurrant listened to the rhythmic clip clop of horses hooves as the group traveled.  Horses, and one donkey.  And one deer.

Gurrant leaned forward and patted the neck of the great white stag beneath him.  "Be winter soon 'nuff, ol' friend."  

As if in answer, the Sarvonian White Deer snorted and shook its great head, its full rack of antlers swaying with the intricate and complicated reins that were keeping the Antislar rider in control.  It's coat was getting thick now, in preparation for the winter cold that was coming.

Straightening himself in the saddle, Gurrant reached up to scratch his head.  The wound he had suffered back in Nyermersys was healing well, thanks to the stitching by Ridgen.  It would leave a scar, another to add to his collection, and it would be ugly, as Ridgen wasn't that good at stitching.  But, worse than the look of it, what really bothered Gurrant, was that the damned thing itched terribly.  It itched under his hat, it itched when he went hatless.  It itched during the day, it itched at night.  It itched when he left it alone, and it bloody well itched when he scratched it.

"We be comin' up on the Lysserroad soon.  From there, it be not very far ta Astran, and we can get an inn, rather than spendin' 'nother night under the sky."  Four days of travelling and sleeping outdoors this close to winter was making them all a bit irritable.

The journey was tough on Roy. Four days of traveling did not come without a price to a man like him. But there were actually quite a few reasons for Roy to make this perilous journey. The main most important reason was that he might actually be able to kill a couple more demons. The next being the fact that he might be able to gain more arcane knowledge. The third yet the only reason he needed. Was that he was in debt.

The mute boy and noble knight saved his life. So he owed them. However while he was happy to pay his debts. He was less happy to be indebted. So he intended to repay them both on this adventure.

There was one thing that this journey had already given him though. An idea. A very good idea. He knew that Ridgen an elf that he knew from a previous adventure. Was a tailor.

He walked over to him and addressed him in Styrash. He found most people liked being spoken to in their original languages even if the accents were very strange.

"Ridgen. I have a favor to ask of you."

Roy pulled out a glove from one of his pouches as well as a small piece of steel and one of flint.

"Could you sow this piece of steel into the side of the thumb of this glove? And this piece of flint into the side of the pointing finger? So that if I were to snap my fingers they would strike each other?"

Roy asked. He specifically bought these two pieces for their shapes. He figured that if they could be sown into his glove they would rap perfectly around his fingers.

Then Roy pulled out a folded piece of cloth one ford by one ford that was the exact same as his glove as well as a small bag full of sans.

"I can pay you as well a provide you with any clothe you need."

Roy waited for his response. He saw no immediate reason for him to refuse. But if he did he was sure he could find another person who could do this. 

It seemed like the road was neverending. The past four days were uneventful; it seemed that whatever arcane magic that the group encountered in Nyermysys stayed within her walls. The ties between the party was still new, and conversation between the memebers were scarce. Seh'nara herself still felt slightly awkward, though she had learnt all their names over the course of many campfire meals.

Drawing her cloak tightly around her, she gave Oblivion a small pet of encouragement. The large Muologh horse had served her in an earlier adventure, and she had opted to keep him instead of selling him. And looking at the terrain they were ploughing through right now, it was an excellent call. Silver padded lightly in front of the horses, preferring to keep far ahead of their metal-bound hooves.

Presently, a gruff voice broke the silence. "We be comin' up on the Lysserroad soon.  From there, it be not very far ta Astran, and we can get an inn, rather than spendin' 'nother night under the sky." Seh'nara turned her head to look at the little man, a smirk playing over her elven features. "Ground too hard for your behind, Gurrant?"

"We be comin' up on the Lysserroad soon.  From there, it be not very far ta Astran, and we can get an inn, rather than spendin' 'nother night under the sky."

Thorgas looked up at the figure riding atop a magnificent white stag. Such a graceful beast should not be made to carry the weight of a person like Gurrant, whom he guessed still smelled of alcohol. He shuffled behind most of the group, drawing his moleskin cloak closer whenever a biting wind blew past him. Buri trotted beside the dwarf, stopping every now and then to sniff at a roadside plant and eating those that are edible. Most of the people in the group are quiet, except for a woman and Gurrant. It would be interesting to see the burly man's reaction to the woman's jeer, if he is affected by them. Insults seem to have no effect on him, as proven by the tavernkeeper's wife last night.

Buri suddenly stopped at the side of the road and sniffed the air. Thorgas halted likewise, but urged his pet to continue walking. It would be bad to be left behind, especially in an unknown area. Buri wouldn't move and sniffed around some more. The dwarf sighed. Better get his curiosity satiated. Soon enough the pig stopped trotting and deposited a large pile of dung.

"By the Forge god, that's nasty!" Thorgas managed to say as he stepped back, but gestured for his pet to follow. "Right then Buri, come on. Dun wanna clean up yer droppings."

Mouse sat forlornly on Pepik's back. He felt somewhat out of place with this group, and though he was determined to see this adventure through to the end, he did not feel like his usual self. He wanted to break the silence that seemed to envelop their group half the time, but he knew that he was not equipped for the task. He could hardly start showing his acrobatics while they were on the road - and anyway, he was wearing his drab brown travelling clothes, often mended, which detracted from his show. But his conversation was not all that charming, he was certain.

When Gurrant, whom Mouse still thought of as 'the bully', spoke and the elfess made him a scathing reply, the small man looked back at those two companions. It was obvious that Seh did not like the man, and Mouse could not but agree with her. Even if he was trying to stop a terrible menace, he was not a very pleasant travelling companion. Too ready to make fun of those who were trying to help him in his quest, even if he'd been somewhat more civilised these past days on the road then when they'd met him in the inn.

He spurred Pepik on to a distance where he could be out of their hearing - which was admittedly not that far, considering his hearing impairment. He was still wondering what exactly he was here for. It's not like he was all that brave, as the episode back in Nyermersys had shown rather clearly. He just hoped that before the quest was over, he would have found something with which to help.

This seemed to be like going on a picnic, the weather was good, winter soon or not. Gurrants remark about the winter coming soon brought memories about the good old days as a certain dwarf he knew used to call them. This coming winter would indeed be easy to travel in. This was southern Sarvonia travelling with a bunch of humans, including a nobleman and some mages. Most of them had proven that they were reliable and competent fighters if need should arise.

The big human brute had proven to be good at intimidating the peasants, so there should be little or no problems from the locals in the towns they passed trough, although if they should find themselves in need of assistance then he would be equally good at alienating people.

He had sent Elliane back south with the merchandise they had bought for the inn, so the greatest problem in his life for the past few years, travelling with a dark elf, was absent at the moment.  The girl was nothing but trouble and she was such a nag, but the strange thing was the he already missed her and found himself worrying about her and the long trip back south that she had to make alone.

Four days on the road, and many more to come, well this was the perfect opportunity to make new friends and potential financial connections for the future. This really wasn't his strong side, idle chit chat never had been. Part of him wished for a harsh trip and trouble, which would make things so much easier for a warrior to shine. That thought made him remember his old master, what a scolding he would have coming down on him if his old master knew what he was wishing for.

He had left the group earlier in the morning to gather some food; his provisions had run out sooner than expected. Luck had been with him and after a few hours had spotted a pair of hares and birds that he had managed to shoot, it would have been much easier if they travelled in a jungle and dimmer light, but oh well, that was the least of his problems.

He was singing an old Kayrhem love song as he rode alone trough the landscape, he wasn't really paying attention, might as well enjoy his freedom from all his usual problems while it lasted, then he came back upon the group. He was well within archery range when he noticed. "Damn! Good thing I ain't a scout and good thing I didn't run into bandits" he thought and stopped singing. He waved to them and continued singing.

Gurrant's eyes twinkled hearing Seh'nara's voice.  That little one was a firebrand, she was.  He couldn't help but like her, though he would rather have his fingernails plucked from him with blacksmith tongs than admit to her or anyone else.

"The fact that ye be thinkin' 'bout my behind says more 'bout ye than it do 'bout me, girl.  Now, ye jus' be forgettin' 'bout my behind, it'll be jus' fine, thank ye muchly."  He grunted loudly for effect.  Meanwhile, under his thick beard, a smile cracked his lips.

It was then that Gurrant noticed the dwarf and his pig dawdling at the roadside and falling behind.  He pulled the Tarandus deer to a halt and turned about to fully show his displeasure before yelling out in his big booming voice.  " 'ey, I told ye, short legs, that if'n ye damn pig couldn't keep up, we be eatin' bacon for breakfast."  Then under his breath, "And dwarf for lunch."

Turning the stag back around again he became annoyed at the elf riding blissfully unaware too far ahead.  This time, however, Gurrant did not call out.  He didn't particularly care for this one.  He was arrogant, the Antislar thought to himself.  And Gurrant could not abide arrogant people.

Thorgas walked faster to catch up with Gurrant and his overburdened steed, his pig trotting behind him. "There Buri, ya 'eard what the other pig said, I trust ye understand 'im. Ye be bacon if ye dun hurry up." A slight smirk played underneath his beard, which he brushed every now and then as they continued their journey towards the keep. Buri followed closely, doing the same thing; sniff at plants, eat what's edible. The dwarf sighed and took a bag of dried fruit from his bag. He tore a small piece out of the larger one and dropped it on the ground. The pig left his foraging and picked it up, chewing as he walked on.

"Works all the time," Thorgas said quietly as he dropped more of the food for Buri to follow. He took care not to use up all his supplies, as being stuck in the wilderness with little food often spells doom for travelers.

Steel. Steel was the answer, and the more Kaelan focused on that one beautiful, poetic and simple thought, the less he noticed the cold, the discomfort of a rented horse who was never meant to be a trail animal at all, the grating voice of the still-nameless, in his mind, drunkard who he'd followed aimlessly out of Nyermersys with only the intent of escaping the death of his employer. Most importantly, though, it drowned out the speculation on what would happen when the local guard inevitably discovered that Kaelan had been the only one who even knew the fat, bothersome old man was in town, by virtue of having dragged him there, and ultimately made the most logical connection: He'd killed him. The only shame was being accused of killing someone and not having the privilege of it.

He didn't realize his hand was numb, almost as numb as his mind, until he flexed it,  and tucked it back under his arm. The old horse didn't move fast enough to require two hands to control anyway, and from where he was, the chatter of the group sounded like sharp echoes, rattled off hillsides until it was grunted and muffled. The big warrior didn't worry that he had fallen behind, almost out of the group entirely; that wasn't relevant. Even being a member didn't matter. The more he thought about it, the more he was using them. The thought of riches didn't hurt, either; it had been some time since he'd had a good meal and a bed on more than employer's expenses. But really, the ultimate purpose for being this close to these people was the obvious fact that, when the law opted to catch up with him, the group would respond with hostility against the intrusion.

A quick glance at their backs was more than reassuring. Led by a drunkard, he thought he counted ousted nobility, monied blades, assassins, perhaps a wandering wizard, if his memory of the dwarf with the pig was accurate, and perhaps an orphan; most likely more than one, but some still early on enough in new professions to consider themselves that. It was comfortable; misfits. Strong-willed folk, independent, for the most part. An outside force would of necessity be an enemy. His face wanted a relaxed grin, but instead, he managed a half-content grunt as he fought to work his mount around a boulder that it was insisting had to make the road impassable, regardless of the obvious trail around it.