The Prophecy

[AM Oneechan]

Thelos watched in slight confusion as Jaelnec dragged a cart to the middle of the marketplace. It seemed like a waste of time to drag it around like that, rather than rounding people over to it. Not knowing how to voice his thoughts, he just stayed silent and observed with a curious look on his face. Most things that the mortal races did made little or no sense to him. His gaze flicked over to the follower of Liya, who had been joined by another two followers of Liya. They, more so than the rest of the mortal world, made no sense at all to him. How could someone who claimed to be 'good guys' kill so many innocents?

As he had no idea what else to do or how else to react in any kinds of social situations, he simply followed Jaelnec's example and crawled onto the cart, now flanked by the followers of Liya. It made him feel like an animal surrounded by predators and the darkness in his mind screamed at him to do something! Without meaning to he drew his lips back into a sneer again, showing off his sharp teeth in a threatening manner, and let his gaze glide over each of the followers of Liya to let them know that he was watching them. “I, at least, cannot help my dark desire.” He said, though it was merely a mutter to himself, since no one else would understand him anyways.

[Ashgan]

Unheard and unseen, yet aware and listening like a ghost, Zacharias stood far enough from the group to not be easily noticed or spoken to, but close enough to still hear part of their conversations. The speakers were mostly the self-absorbed she-paladin, who appeared to have finally calmed down and become more agreeable, Jaelnec, and the outlander who identified himself as Aemoten. The two men had quickly cast down Annabelle’s attempts at lecturing them like school boys, and after that their conversation became much lighter. There were even little jokes to be heard at some point. Eventually the paladin walked off to share some words with another two people who appeared to wanting to join the group, one of which the assassin recognized as the inexperienced spearman whose jab he almost absentmindedly deflected. The party consisted of so many people that Zacharias’s presence almost felt redundant, but he did promise the rune mage that he’d see this through, and he would not break his word. Not this soon.

Last preparations were made, and Zacharias saw fit to call upon his horse again as he would undoubtedly need it. The moment that Jaelnec left to look for a cart, Zacharias quietly distanced himself from the others, nobody noticing his disappearance (or having acknowledged his presence in the first place). Like a shadow he waded through the people in the streets and past volunteers who helped to carry off the corpses from the marketplace. Eventually the buildings stopped and the stream of people lightened up, and in the stead of browns and grays of the city he beheld greens and rusted leaves. Knowing that he could not stay away for too long, he made for the border of the forest with a light jog. The wind blew his hood back, but as a loner amongst trees and stones, it did not matter. Once he arrived by the first trees that lead into the autumn touched forest, he sat on a nearby flat rock and whistled a strange melody audibly. His stallion was trained to follow this particular resonance. Zacharias still remembered where he became acquainted with the horse. It was in the beautiful glades of Anaxim forest. He had spent his fair share of years in the duchy of Anaxim, because he could find peace there. The forests were almost untouched and gave him everything he needed to survive. The humans that lived there were not a nuisance, and rather accepted him the way he was because he respected nature just like they did. Yes, he would even go so far as to call a handful of human rangers his friends.

After about ten minutes, Zacharias heard the approaching gallop of a horse as it riled up piles of dead leaves and stomped wet grass. The assassin stood up and stroked the dark brown fur of the horse; the color of wood.

“We’re going to spend time with people. You don’t have to be frightened of them, however. They are mostly harmless to us,” he spoke before dexterously mounting the animal. Then the two of them rode back down the slope towards Borstown.

When Zacharias came back to the market, he saw that a cart, pulled by two horses and loaded with the bulk of the party, was already departing, flanked by none other than the paladin and her minions. Without saying a word, but simply nodding when eyes fell on him, he joined the escort on the side which was one rider short.

[xbriannova]

As Annabelle and her followers surrounded Theodore and Jaelnec in a bid to show loyalty towards the leader and protect them from any threat that may take their lives, the chaotic Demonspawn that had helped somewhat in the Battle of Borstown Square decided to run towards the cart, giving her another reason to worry about Jaelnec's safety besides the Melenian. However, her hunch tells her that he was fine for the time being- He seemed too tame and not even near berserker fury, with no weapons in hand. There were many kinds of Demonspawn, and this one was more dependent on brute strength and determination- It was all that she could deduce from him, but everything she needs to know. Alas, all he did was to climb aboard the cart, having no transportation of his own, to join his fellow Demonspawn and Jaelnec.

“I, at least, cannot help my dark desire.” The Demonspawn hissed at Annabelle in Demonspawn tongue- An interesting language that seemed slippery and serpentine at best while being violent at its worse. A language that Annabelle knew well...

"Watch your manners when you’re speaking to a lady, Demonspawn!" Annabelle warned the creature in its own language, gravely and coldly, her message subdued to whispers as she leaned towards the Demonspawn, after glancing around to make sure her followers and the other members of the group were not listening. Her voice took a slightly different form from the differing intricacies of the language, taking on a more seductive, husky, but ominous tone, "You will do well not to sate your thirst, whatever it may be. I know all too... Intimately what happens when a Demonspawn listens to that dark voice within. The consequences will be great, and I will not be the only person striking you down once you lose every fabric of your mind.” Despite being harsh towards him, Annabelle sympathises the Demonspawn, as she knew very well what makes them tick- Had they not possess the seeds of sin sown by their mother, Himyth, they would have functioned just like any other men and women, and would even become a great asset to Rodoria. The Demons however, she knew, had their reasons for populating the land with their offspring- Agendas she knew, as far as a Paladin like her could.

As she was speaking to one of her unlikeliest ‘ally’, Zacharias, who was absent for some time into the trip, returned to the group with a horse of his own, a brown, natural-looking steed that appears untouched by human hands. Immediately, he went for the horse-driven improvised carriage like Annabelle did, and flanked it the same way. As he went for the same side Annabelle was taking, the Paladin was just done saying her part to the Demonspawn- She wouldn’t want someone like Zacharias to know what she was saying, or what language she was speaking in as a matter of fact. Her impression of Zacharias allows her to believe that he would only breed suspicion and conspiracy based on intentional misunderstanding against her. Though, she had a feeling in her stomach that he had somehow heard her. It may well be paranoia, but she had a feeling a few people did- She had a feeling she had not guarded her own conversation well enough, having spoken a bit too loud in the presence of so many within the group. Too many docile years as a mother and wife have reduced what little subtlety she had learnt from her active years serving Liya to dust.

As the assassin in black attire came up next to Annabelle, she took a quick glance at him, and could only wonder why he would want to be next to a lady he would definitely hate, after the fiery exchange between them- Unless he has darkness within his heart and mind, and was thinking at the moment to kill her and drag her off to a nearby forest to... Fearing the utterly worse, the Paladin’s left hand went instinctually for her longsword as she returned her eyes to the Demonspawn, expecting some sort of reply from the scantily-clad half-Deigan- Not to remove it from its sheath, but to prepare in case the assassin wants to claim another victim. It wouldn’t be far-fetched that he had agreed to some price that was placed on her head.

[AM Oneechan]

Upon hearing the follower of Liya speak in the tongue of his mother, Thelos was unable to hide the sudden surprise that swept over him. Never had he imagined that one that dedicated their lives to hunting his kind would speak in the tongue that they were born, or rather created, with. His surprise was short-lived, however, as sudden excitement came over him. Never before had he talked to anyone who would actually understand what he was saying. Her harsh words and threat meant nothing to him in his current state of glee.

“Fear not, follower of Liya, I seek not to sate my dark desire at this moment. If you speak the tongue of my mother, you should also know that my name is the same as my darkest desire. I go by Thelos. There was plenty of chaos in the little exchange with the men clad in red that my desire is sated for now.” He said politely, or as politely as one can when talking in the tongue of the demons. He even bowed his head a little in respects. “But I am afraid that I cannot do much about the poor state of my manners. You are the first I have met that is able to understand me and few others have ever bothered to try.” He added, trying his best to fight his instinct to let his lips draw back into a sneer at the mention of his unwanted existence. He even fought off the images in his head of the follower of Liya and her companions slaughtering him like an animal. Instead of the instinctive sneer, he managed to wring it into a grin instead, although it might have looked a little malicious to anyone not used to his carnivore teeth.

[xbriannova]

"Fear not, follower of Liya, I seek not to sate my dark desire at this moment. If you speak the tongue of my mother, you should also know that my name is the same as my darkest desire. I go by Thelos. There was plenty of chaos in the little exchange with the men clad in red that my desire is sated for now.” Contrary to Annabelle's initial beliefs, this seemingly barbaric and uncouth, uncontrollable Demonspawn has turned out to be quite civil afterall- He had even given her a bow where many humans would would either refuse to or forget, and a smile- A rather sharp-toothy one, but then again she was used to it from her active years. The Paladin, throughout her olden career which she was reviving, has met all kinds of Demonspawn- Many were good and gentlemanly, but few were overtly challenging Rodoria's preferred society and culture, such as wearing little clothing such that almost every single patch of skin on one's body was exposed, such as carrying a pair of daggers unconcealed, akin to wearing a large signboard advertising him to be cut-throat, and of course, such as him enjoying every bit of chaos with or without violence. Annabelle could only wonder and mentally shake her head in disbelief at how he had survived so long this way without getting hunted down by the garrison soldiers of every city or the Paladins of some of the good Gods and Spirits. These days, it is often the best policy for Demonspawn to blend into the local populace should they want to live past their adolescent years. Annabelle knew it all too well, “But I am afraid that I cannot do much about the poor state of my manners. You are the first I have met that is able to understand me and few others have ever bothered to try.”

Annabelle took another glance around her, and noticed that perhaps, her paranoia was unfounded after all. As the others were looking another way, she continued to speak to Thelos in a low, hushed tone, as much as the Devil's Tongue allowed, "Well spoken, 'Thelos', but I mean it. Cease prostrating before your demonic need for all eternity, and you will find a friend in me rather than death." Annabelle whispered, sounding somewhat urgent as she wanted this little conversation of hers to end quickly. Despite having proven himself to be more than just a savage in a civilised country, Thelos still irks her somewhat, for she knew that he still seemed unrepentent, from the way he talked about his seed of sin- 'There was plenty of chaos in the little exchange with the men clad in red that my desire is sated for now.' It clearly meant that he planned to feed this malicious hunger in the future, rather than stamping it out as much as possible. Giving him a rather forced smile, for she was conflicted inside, unsure of whether he was friend or foe, whether he deserved mercy or execution, Annabelle continued, "You will learn to better your manners, Thelos. As for the dark voice within you, I could... Help you with that. Should time permits."

***

Annabelle slammed open the door to her cottage, sweat pouring down her fair forehead, mixed in with some blood, some of which belonged to her, and some to the five Demonspawn she had slain in the heat of battle. Clutching her left cheek, from which blood was pouring out of, she was invoking the power of Liya to heal it as she walked back into the main room of her house, where her family was still at before the neighbourhood was assaulted by undesirables. Having taken of one problem, she could only jump to the next one- Her husband. However, he seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, and panick possessed her entire body straight away as she stared at Burlo in disbelief. Her parent-in-laws looked dreadful, as if ready to slay her as willingly as the Demonspawn she fought earlier.

"See what you have done, Annabelle!? Is my son worth nothing to you!?" The old woman cried shrilly, in an even worse state of panick than Annabelle could ever be. Annabelle could hear her loud and clearly, but was too shocked to even open her mouth, and her eyes were fixed as if with cables to her husband's body. The father was seated back in his wooden chair, as still as his son's body, as if he had lost all his energy and will to move. Annabelle, after overcoming the conflux of emotions in her, moved closer to examine her husband. She had but crossed half the room when her mother-in-law stopped her. Looking over the older woman's shoulder however, Annabelle could see, with the shortened distance, that, thankfully, Burlo Silversmith was still breathing, but his chest was rising and sinking shallowly, as if he had lost half the strength to even beat his heart. He was also entirely catatonic, having lost all response to the altercation around him- He wasn't even groaning in pain. The mother-in-law's hands were wrapped around Annabelle's upper arm unusually tightly, and the old mother pushed the Paladin back with a force even Annabelle could not foresee, "No! You have spent my kindness too far!"

"But mo-!" Annabelle cried as she crumbled to the floor, having lost her balance- Her legs weren't exactly fresh after the battle with the Demonspawn threat, and had lost their balance and strength. Her armour was wearing her down, having lost much of her training to so many years of a sheepish lifestyle.

"Don't you 'but' me!" The older woman screamed, out of control, her finger pointed wildly at Annabelle as she was on the floor, defeated- Somehow, it felt lethal with the fury concentrated on it, "The family should be above everything else! No, not to you, oh holy and mighty Paladin!" The mother-in-law's voice tapered down to an eerie, hateful and cold tone after she had calmed down somewhat, when she started criticizing Annabelle. Even the follower of Liya was intimidated- As the obscure saying goes, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn', "Leave! Leave now!!! Go back to your holy temple if that's more important than your loved ones!" The old man had nothing to add, but was about as catatonic as his son who was lying in bed. Annabelle could not help but to weep, having nearly gave her life only to return to get thrown out- As if her husband, her most beloved man, falling dangerously ill wasn't enough. What of her children? Will she never see them again? Tears poured down Annabelle's cheeks without restrain- the Paladin had lost the strength to control herself, having been overwhelmed entirely.

[Shienvien]

Still partially skimming though his own thoughts Aemoten had only barely noticed when Annabelle questioned over their destination- but he did catch on the Nightwalker absentmindedly confirming her, before the one excused himself out with some urgent last-minute preparations and headed towards a group of stalls remaining to stand a distance off on the marketplace which was now slowly starting to crawl with life again as the corpses and severely wounded were dragged or carried off and the various merchants slowly began to seep back onto the area, some perhaps to save what could be saved of their hastily-abandoned possessions... Some perhaps to take what could be taken, once seeing that the things had been left ownerless or simply without a single pair of eyes to watch over those. Nor did the corpse-looters escape Aemoten's attention. But what could he do?
He had no knowledge of- or the ability to determine- what belonged to who and, if he was to be completely honest with himself, no will to be the one to set the situation into order alone, either. Had a Karakon been present, then yes, then he would have fulfilled what should have been expected of him and, as a follower of the Weighter and a member of his people, stood up for what was right. Left to his own devices, however, he would never be able to ensure that whatever he did won't go against his own beliefs, further helping along the imbalance by tilting the scales towards the dishonest and the greedy. The words of the people he could see here would have counted awfully little without the confirmation of someone who knew the reality... It was a feeble excuse, he knew, albeit it was no doubt a truthful one. -Insensitivity and dismissal towards such things never worked to benefit the person; better to be naive and hope that one could alter something greater than to simply not care. Not caring and looking at all the wrongdoings through a dense veil of ignorance was always the easier way out and often the worst.
Curiously, though, Aemoten had no defined opinion over those who had decided to claim their rights over the valuables of those already dead. According to what he had once grown up with, taking something which rightfully belonged to another thinking being was amongst the direst of the crimes one could commit, peaking with forcibly taking another's life other than in retaliation. Someone no longer alive, however, could barely own anything, or so it was generally thought of. The dead didn't care of nor were affected by the things around; the mind was the only part of a person which could take notice of anything to begin with and death rendered the physical body devoid of the mind and through that the thoughts, wants, feelings, emotions, one's free will... But for such exceptional cases like Aemoten's own, a dead body would always remain motionless and hollowed out of the energy which had this far kept it functional, up to the point where it completely decayed and became the dust or the soil. Of course, there was the doubtable and often-abused art of necromancy, but this couldn't bring back the individual but for a brief period of time and never could the product of necromancy be considered fully alive.
For the time being he simply gathered that deriving the dead of the things their living selves had owned was something what could be done in peace as long as the possessions weren't to be inherited by someone else once the person had no use of those anymore. -It was a borderline philosophical matter, one which could probably be never agreed upon by the representatives of the mortal races as there barely was any defined answer besides the one which the person's own values dictated- but still it was something a Karakon would probably know how to answer, meaning it was not a thing left for everyone to decide for oneselves.
Life, however, went on; as ones fell, others came to stand in their places and the system as a whole could continue to work- and when it came to the beast-god then, in the general sense of it, the one didn't care for individuals or what they did before they turned towards the one themselves. This was how the balance on the larger scale worked... It was only recently when it was disturbed beyond self-repair, or so Aemoten thought. It was not often when the Karakon couldn't stay as Roamers.


Every now and then, however rarely, the Weighter became to be more known as the Bloody Balancer- and this was the time where the borders of right and wrong associated with more peaceful times became blurry and somehow uncomprehendable, if not unimportant to the people involved. It would be tremendously hard to follow what does no longer exist... And whilst the god oneself never changed, then those who formed the majority believing in the one did, creating perhaps a bit misperceived concept of the beast-god in the minds of those who were but spectating... Had not some bystander even written such down, once a time ago?
"And for when the god of traders stands alone
and for when this the same god opens his palms,
spreads his four arms, standing alone,
then he will rise again as the god of the mindless and the desperate,
spread his wings as the god of those craving for revenge
and the Weighter once more will become the Bloody Balancer
-He will lay down the scales and rise the sickles and the stakes,
because for when the god of traders might stand alone,
then the god of the desperate, the mindless and the vengeful-
He will never come to stand alone."
The clumsy-sounding and repetitive verses someone once had woven into a longer scripture depicting a large fraction of history and the standing order weren't entirely right, even less accurate... But the Six-Eyed God was indeed merciless and all-giving at the same time, turning to whoever happened to ask and rejecting no-one. The one (and not necessarily a 'he', since the beast-god was in fact neither he or she) cared for naught but keeping the balance intact. By blood and force, if needed- and mostly so because of what the side getting the shorter end bid for.
Did the god of neutrality want anything other- they'd never know. Was not even what they knew just fragments, set together according to their on understandings and pre-existing beliefs, inevitably forming a larger picture of interpretations that maybe only barely resembled what it should have been? Even a Karakon could only answer the questions that related to things that were already there... And if the something was there and an answer was given, it was a matter of having phrased the question right or wrong whether the reply was of any actual use.


The only ones remaining in Aemoten's closer vacancy were the two new-arrivals and the paladin; the ascended Deigan he knew as William and the savage-looking demonspawn who had referred to himself as Thelos were a short distance away, the rest were assumedly minding their own business and tending to the last open ends before they were ready to take off.
He looked up when the brothers introduced themselves- or rather when the notably older one of the two was introduced, since the younger was apparently already known to the paladin and neither one of the two nor the paladin herself thought of letting the rest of them know who exactly would they be accompanied with.
The next he witnessed something which was probably an unwanted attempt at showing one's affection from Brian's part- he had lifted the paladin's hand up and attempted to touch it with his lips, to which the woman had responded by sharply pulling her hand away. The man looked notably distressed, but didn't protest against it; the paladin scolded him for having tried it, as if her reaction hadn't carried clear enough implications.
Aemoten didn't bother to comment. After all, whereas the honor and reputation of the members of the group he had decided to- albeit loosely- bind himself with related to him, too, then the personal relations in between different people couldn't have been less of his concern as long as they weren't going for each-other's throats yet.
Aemoten lowered his head again and turned to stand his side towards them; he now heard the paladin to hand something over and introduce herself to the two. 'Your commander and teacher'... Would probably mean that the rest of them would be left at peace from that side, now when she had someone else to look after- even if he himself undeniably tended to say out things people would have preferred to not have been told every now and then, he'd at least take care to not to be as oblivious and outright derogatory as this woman appeared to be according to the first impressions. -Headache and an otherwise unfortunate moment to meet perhaps, but as of now he didn't like her as an individual much, even when she probably was a capable fighter, the core of her personality left aside. Not that he'd outwardly show it in any way- most likely irrational as the dislike was...

Noticing Jaelnec heading towards the platform throning on the marketplace- dragging along a cart, no less- Aemoten slowly began to wander in that direction himself, his horse still idly walking behind him rather than being ridden on.
About the same time he reached the spot another cart, one pulled by two horses, drew up to the place, led by the same old man the Deigan had earlier given coins to. The old man hopped down to the ground with relative ease considering his age, although he still seemed to use his staff for support once on the ground. His good mood was apparent from the expression on his face and the words he said... Getting a clear look at his eyes once he happened to turn his head in his vague direction took Aemoten by surprise, though. The same reflective surface he had already seen once today, the same mirrory glint... Another demonspawn, furthermore one who actually wasn't ill-tempered and monstrous for the time being.
The demonspawn introduced something what was a fairly friendly greeting, but before Aemoten's hurting head- now somehow empty and inert, although still clear- could summon a some kind of reasonable reply, perhaps one that'd have given him something to refer to the demonspawn by in return, the young Nightwalker had already heaved himself up and was now standing on top of the cart.
Finally, they were finally taking off... The few sentences of their self-nominated leader gave out to announce it- and the manner he did it- more reminded Aemoten of an encouragement-speech of a willfully forced-to-it commoner, than an official leader or 'commander'- a foreign riot spokesperson, even. But did it matter? Whatever way the one had been brought up, public speaking and communication probably hadn't been an important part of it. -Nor had been of his own, although his people considered at least some education from that side to be mandatory, the same as with sword-wielding... Even a warrior should be able to partake a two-sided discussion, furthermore know how to act amongst people- necessarily the one only needed to be capable of thinking and giving a out few unbendable and straightforward commands which people would actually listen to. -The latter the guy could do, in his own way, which sufficed.
The manners of the people here were on occasions nonsensical enough for him to actually prefer when people just did and said what they happened to naturally come up with.
I dare hope it's not us the Withering waits for, but rather its ending...

He gave a brief nod towards the Nightwalker, then turned to his horse, patting the hopeful-looking creature on its head.
"Hope you took what you could out of the nightly rest and the food set out for you, since we probably won't be stopping before we've reached Shrubnest;" he muttered quietly. The animal doubtlessly couldn't understand what exactly he was saying, but as it clearly anticipated something and comprehended that it was being communicated to, it probably didn't hurt to talk to it every now and then. "You've only got yourself to blame if you didn't, because I did my part- and you're not a Dekkun to eat me if I truly did treat you badly, after all. Not that I would..." The Dekkun also tended to be much more loyal if treated fairly, Aemoten noted himself in his mind, as well as they were more intelligent, not to mention faster and stronger. The average Rodorian probably wouldn't look too well on such a mount, however...
Giving the horse a final pat on its neck he stood by its side, placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself nimbly atop the horse. Once seated in the saddle he straightened his shoulders and twisted the reins around his one hand and arm, leaving his left hand completely free for the time being.

The Melenian had returned, asking over the carts; the paladin and her two followers closed in and surrounded the cart; Aemoten himself remained a short distance behind, which suited him fine.
A jolt ran through his body when the paladin not only reached for her sword, but also drew it, rising it as if for a swing... Aemoten instinctively lowered himself in the saddle, his free hand searching for the handle of his own blade and his fingers clenching around it as he was about to urge his horse forward to try to prevent something he was probably too far away from to intervene, from happening.
-The paladin didn't strike. The longsword remained held loosely, the blade still covered in dried blood- now reddish-brown and flaking off. Aemoten's hand left the hilt, but his eyes still remained on the woman even when his head was bowed down enough for him to seemingly be facing the ground. Far too eager to insult and threat the others where she herself would willingly draw a blade to sway it about. Two-faceted and unstable. Aemoten wasn't certain whether her sharp reply to the Melenian had been sarcastic or...
The black-clad character who had yet to identify himself to the rest of them appeared again, adding to the escort.
The paladin had moved slightly closer to the cart and was now- he thought, being too far away to hear or see her face clearly- talking to Thelos. The way she glanced about every few moments, however... It didn't seem too plausible to assume she would be fine with others overhearing her. Did she know the being, however unlikely it was, being also capable of understanding the nonsensical garble of sinister-sounding syllables the Demonspawn had earlier used for trying to introduce himself? Or did the being speak another language, after all? Why she didn't want to be seen conversing to him?
And from where had she known where they were going, when... No, that had been mentioned when she was addressed first, before she decided it was a proper moment to treat the other as something inferior in the light of her perceived superiority. His mind probably still wasn't catching on things properly.

Casting the thoughts aside- for now- he made the horse to move forward till the beast was positioned right by the rear end of the cart; looking for- and spotting- the older-looking Demonspawn he lifted his spare hand in a late greeting, "I trust I didn't have the opportunity to introduce myself in your presence, yet- I am called Aemoten," his words sounded a bit hollow to himself, since being enthusiastic and talkative was about as far as it could go from his current mood- not to mention it was at least the third time he was introducing himself to another arrival. -Hopefully the last. He also wasn't possibly sounding too authentic, but that couldn't be helped, "nor do I think I've heard a single word from you."- the latter was directed at the mysterious half-bystander, the black-clad True Deigan man manifesting as the fifth rider escorting the cart- "whereas I comprehend not every man is talkative and not every mood urges one to speak up, it would still be useful to have a name to identify those I travel with until I get to know who they are for better."

[Dark Jack]

For a time, Jaelnec merely stood in the old demonspawn's cart, watching and listening, hoping that all of the people he had seen and met on this fateful day would truly join him on this journey - and, somewhere in levels buried deeper within his consciousness, he hoped that this crusader-provided lead would yield something useful, like a clue, a trail to follow, or even just a single piece of information that could ultimately lead to the completion of this quest. He, like hundreds, if not thousands of others searching for a cure throughout Rodoria and its neighboring nations, was clueless otherwise as to how to end this unholy plague. Had he not been convinced that Laon had forsaken and betrayed him and his family those ten years ago, he might have offered the God of Night a prayer for good fortune. But since he did think that Laon had truly failed him - and, moreover, failed his mother, a Priestess of Laon sworn to the god's service and even granted Favored powers - all Jaelnec could do was to hope by the Spirits that the lead was genuine and swear on the Planes and all within him that he would not end his quest until the Withering had been purged from Reniam so that its inhabitants could focus their attention on graver issues... like the civil war, dangerous cults and organizations like the Crusader's Guild, and, ultimately... even worse things.
Mercifully it seemed that he had managed to rally most of the people, and little by little his own personal band of brazen adventurers came to the cart, though not all exactly peacefully, and some did not remark themselves very much but still made the statement simply by coming there. Annabelle and her subordinates came, as did Ez'rath the Melenian, Aemoten, William the rhyming deigan Rune Mage, Thelos the demonspawn and finally the oddly silent and distant assassin, though how the assassin had managed to conjure up a horse was beyond Jaelnec's knowledge. The scroll-merchant, Lethe, and Loquutus had oddly enough not shown themselves just yet. It was oddly disappointing, though Jaelnec had to admit that he had never imagined that he would be able to convince them all to join them. It was possible that it was better for Lethe not to join him on this long and likely perilous journey - safer both for herself and the rest of the group - but Loquutus... somehow, Jaelnec had been intrigued by the untold vault of experience he had momentarily spotted in the deigan's eyes. Aside from the experience Jaelnec had noticed, he had also somehow sensed that there was more to this man than met the eye... a hidden strength that had allowed him to handle his spear so well and defeat a crusader without injury.
Yes, leaving behind potential allies that seemed to could have been useful was regrettable, but, as Jaelnec reasoned with himself, inevitable. However much fate or luck or whatever had intervened today to bring all of them together, the choice was ultimately left for the individuals, and where individuals were, disagreements and fragmentations could not be avoided. Hopefully this band of extraordinary fighters and mages would be enough - or, if they were not, perhaps they would find new allies to bolster their own strength with time. Beaten down or not, Jaelnec's naïve hope and optimism lived on. However, as with all things, only time would tell if it was justified.

Checking the shadows to realize that several minutes had passed since he had announced the imminent departure from Borstown, Jaelnec decided that the journey could not wait any longer - if they hesitated now, they might never reach their objective. Banishing thoughts of the absent Lethe and Loquutus from his mind, Jaelnec beckoned the others once more, telling them that if people wanted to talk, they could do it while traveling. Then he signaled for everyone to start moving, and with a jolt, the cart started bumbling down the street, heading by the northern road out of Borstown and to the open countryside, where the roads started branching, cobblestone turning into gravel and then into dirt, leading everywhere and nowhere for the one who knew where one was going - and Jaelnec knew exactly where he was going. The village of Shrubnest was in a forest, as the crusader had said, but when the crusader had estimated the distance to be a day's travel away he had meant traveling on foot. With their current methods of transportation, odds were that they would arrive much sooner than that. The cart might be slowed down once they reached less traveled paths, or had to abandon the marked paths entirely, but glancing at the quickly lengthening shadows that pointed farther and farther to the east, Jaelnec guessed that they would arrive in Shrubnest before next dawn.

A strange calm settled on Jaelnec's mind, and though it had been upset and tired until now, the thought of once again being on the road - of once again having certainty in his goals and his way - rejuvenated him, refreshed his mind the same as the increasing darkness of the afternoon turning into evening relaxed his sensitive eyes. However pure his intentions were, Jaelnec was still a Nightwalker, a being born to prowl in the darkness, and being in the darkness suited him, empowered him. He would not make the same mistakes at night as he would at day, and he would be able to force himself, through pure invocation of will, to move his body faster and with greater strength. He was better now. If he had fought the Goldheart Templar at night, the fanatic would not even have been able to knick his hat or tear his coat, and Jaelnec's arm would not be aching right now.
The renewed courage, confidence and general improvement on his mental condition also bolstered his mood, making him strangely jolly, listening to the creaking of the cart, the rhythm of the horse hooves, the singing of birds... before he knew it he was humming to himself again, that old tune that Freagon had favored so, growing louder and merrier as he began tapping his fingers on the cart in the rhythm of the song. After a while he cast aside any restraints, determined to share his high morale with the others - and so he began to sing the Ballad of Felgon Dragonslayer:

“On horseback, riding down yet a road,
a thousand in front, a thousand behind,
what at the end of the road we will find?
The journey is long, but my conviction is firm:
I will not end my journey on any term!
So on horseback we ride down yet a road.

On horseback, through valleys is yet a road,
spires of rock on either side,
noises echo as we ride.
But even the cold us cannot stop!
We will journey until we drop,
because on horseback we ride down yet a road.

Through a battlefield goes yet a road,
dead littering at the mountain’s foot.
Fighting because they misunderstood,
penin stole, deigan took,
yet for blame, to another look.
To this, on horseback, we ride down yet a road.

Into their camps goes yet a road.
Felgon listen, and he know,
someone else has sunk so low.
He kill no penin, no deigan, no man,
But does what only Felgon can!
On horseback we ride down yet a road.

Into a cave goes yet a road,
climbing the mountain on the inside,
where Felgon think the evil hide.
We find a dragon of brilliant green,
the greatest sight I have ever seen.
Although on horseback we ride down yet a road.

To a dragon’s lair goes yet a road,
but the creature is not to be slain,
for another it is that cause the pain.
The true enemy proved not to be far,
a Red called Aliostar!
Will we on horseback ride down yet a road?

To the mountain’s peak now goes yet a road,
but the cliffs are sharp and steep.
The Green offer to help in the leap,
to fly us to where the evil dwell,
Felgon to the ground said farewell.
Now on dragonback we ride down yet a road.

To a dragon’s hoard goes yet a road,
a treasure like we’ve never seen!
But its owner is vicious, mean,
And Felgon must fight the mighty Red!
In the end, who will be dead?
Can he on horseback ride down yet a road?

Into battle goes yet a road,
and we cannot the Red harm!
At its bite, Felgon loses his arm,
but although things look ever so bleak,
none can end Felgon’s winning streak!
For on horseback he will ride down yet a road!

To the ground goes yet a road,
Aliostar is finally gone,
the settlers now fearing none..
Felgon is showered with gold,
and forever, his story shall be told.
As we on horseback ride down yet a road.

On horseback, riding down yet a road.
I’ve been to the horizon and back!
Never again shall the hero money lack.
Felgon Dragonslayer shall any enemy fend,
although we are at journey’s end.
But I on horseback ride down yet a road.”

[xbriannova]

As the little army marches on, Annabelle enacted to just follow the cart, flanking it as usual, guarding the many vulnerable beings seated within it. Throughout the day, it seemed to her as if she was the only one concerned with the safety of the group- Many things could happen on the road, especially during these troubled times. From the simple highwaymen to the goblins that lurk here and there, to even Demonspawn refugee encampments- The possibilities are frighteningly endless. As the day was still fresh, her time was mainly occupied by matters of security. From time to time, she would order her followers to ride ahead of the group as an advanced party, though not too far such that they could not be seen, so that they may act as scouts and forewarn the main band of any abnormalities.

As the morning sun travelled the sky to become the mid-day sun and then a sinking one, Annabelle could only cease such a practice, as she would not want to exhaust herself and her men too much, knowing that a battle was likely ahead of them. Besides, as evening approaches, it becomes a better policy that they stick closely together, what with the reduced visibility and likelihood that some of the more sneakier opponents, if there's any, would appear, and they could easily drag away an advance party without warning.

Admittedly, even after spending so much time riding in silence with two Demonspawn and an assassin, she was still unused to doing so- Throughout the journey, her eyes would always fall on them once in a while, whether it be in lengthy, challenging stares or just glances out of the extremes of her eyes. Others would call it prejudice or paranoia, to each his own, but to her, it was a reasonable and good policy- So many assassins and Demonspawn alike had been sent against her before. Her bouts of paranoia and vigilance however, had taken a toll on her mind, and after an entire day of wondering when she would be stabbed in the back, she became exhausted mentally- Again, after being in the house for so long, Annabelle had become unused to adopting such a spirit again. The Paladin would need to train hard before she regained what she learnt during her younger days.

As the day wore on, Jaelnec seemed to go in the opposite direction of Annabelle. Instead of becoming more tired, Jaelnec seemed revitalised. Instead of becoming limited from the darkening of the surroundings, Jaelnec became even more aware of it- It was obvious why, as her new, young leader was a Nightwalker. He even broke into a song to motivate his men:

“On horseback, riding down yet a road,
a thousand in front, a thousand behind,
what at the end of the road we will find?
The journey is long, but my conviction is firm:
I will not end my journey on any term!
So on horseback we ride down yet a road."

Annabelle, however, was getting too worn down to enjoy the song, not that she was a big appreciator of such manly hymns. Where music was concerned, Annabelle preferred songs that would preach messages of peace and peacefulness, messages of philosophy, and they don't necessarily have words in them. While the Paladin had little exposure to music, she did learn a bit through interacting with her fellow Liya followers, and even more so when she retired- Annabelle would want her children to be exposed to the peaceful arts, and as such, she herself would need the same exposure. It had developed into a small interest of hers, even before her children could walk- The lady would often sing her babies to sleep, as any mothers would.

"On horseback, through valleys is yet a road," Annabelle's eyes were shutting and opening as she was becoming increasingly tired. The Paladin was nodding off- The week had been most exhausting for her. Never had she ridden nor worn armour for very long, in a long time, "spires of- on either side, noises- as we ride. But even the- us cannot-! We- until we-, because- we ri-"

As Annabelle was riding her white steed, after Jaelnec had finished his song apparently, Annabelle spotted something in the distance, in a forest to the right of her- Was it fire? A shadowy figure that doesn't appear too human and friendly stood by the glow, or even with the glow of flames. Calling to her followers, she charged into the woods, only to realise halfway that no one had followed her. Nontheless, she took off, towards the figure. However, before the Paladin could reach it, the shadow had disappeared. Before she could stop to assess the situation, the same figure lunged at her from the side, knocking Annabelle off the safety of her steed and she tumbled on the leaves-filled floor of the forest. Drawing her longsword as she struggled to get up from the muddy floor, Annabelle slashed at where she thought her assailant was, only for her blade to only meet the air- No one was around her. Turning her head back to the band she was with, she realised that there was no one at all, on the horses and cart that belonged to them. The animals were moving on their own.

It was then she could feel pain on her arm. Ignoring it at first in favour of guarding herself, spinning in circles to check every corner of her surrounds, her sword held forward, the pain slowly became more prominent, unbearable. It started from being an itch to being a dull ache, then a sharp pain. Unable to bear with it any longer, Annabelle tore at her arm plates, and unbuckled the armour surrounding her left forearm clumsily, motivated by primal suffering. Tossing the steel away and peeling off the cloth underneath, the Paladin had realised that a slit has formed on the underside of her left forearm. Confused, she prodded it before moving on to folding aside her skin- It seemed less painful when she did that, despite the blood pouring down her arm. However, unearthly still was the pain as she tore off her pale skin, to reveal something else underneath- She couldn't see from all the blood and pieces of flesh. It was something black, and Annabelle was terrified by this.

Before the lady could do anything else, she could hear the shuffling of leaves ahead of her. Looking up to observe any movement of her enemies, none came out, and when Annabelle returns her attention to her wound, it had all but disappeared. It was then that something jumped out from the darkness, seemingly out of nowhere. She was pinned down, her arms restrained by the strong grip of her nemesis. Her sword was useless at her side. The thing seemed to be a Demonspawn from what she could see from the fire on her shoulder and forehead. She saw horns, skeletal wings, some black steel armour. She was then bitten in the neck, and a sharp, deep pain erupted from her neck, yet she was trapped, unable to move. Annabelle screamed. The Demonspawn's teeth and fangs were digging into the soft flesh and jugular veins of her neck. Blood was pouring out. Annabelle could only scream.

Jolting awake, Annabelle surveyed her surroundings in fear- She was still on horseback, and her companions were around her. She was safe. It was a nightmare, albeit one that happened within the space of a minute, for Jaelnec was still singing:

"To a dragon’s hoard goes yet a road,
a treasure like we’ve never seen!
But its owner is vicious, mean,
And Felgon must fight the mighty Red!
In the end, who will be dead?
Can he on horseback ride down yet a road?"

Somehow, after this, Annabelle was able to find the energy to ride on without nodding off again- Perhaps it was shock from the nightmare.

[Autumn Leaf]

William had hoisted himself onto the cart and seated himself gracefully in the corner, his large blade laying on the bottom of the cart, though beside him and out of the way of the others inhabiting the cart. Many of the members of their small band, however, seemed to have retrieved their own means of transportation. The Paladin and Jaelnec both rode along with the cart, as well as Zacharias, who seemed to have materialized his steed out of nowhere. The fellow called Aemoten also rode along the cart. William stopped counting after that. He was tired. The world aroud him was gray as the sun made it's daily journey across the blue sky that would soon bleed in his dreams if he where to fall asleep. As such, he would not allow himself to descened into the infinite state of unconsciousness. The endless thoughts that would dominate his mind may very well drive him insane in his dreams, as they always did. He would be sitting in the corner of a marketplace mumbling endlessly in his dreams, cursing out words he didn't know existed and causing men to flee from him as if he where Kreshtaat himself. It made William glad to cause this fear, this pain in his dreams.

When he was awake, he could feel the joy bleeding from each kind deed he performed. His magical essence was slowly recovering now, and he could cast some larger spells if he desired it. He was glad. He hated being unable to use his only true means of survival. William, however, had not fallen asleep this entire time. His thoughts only danced through his past dreams and his slaughter of innocents, scarring his dreamed up constitution. Here, though, in the land of the living, he held no such scars.

William could hear the soothing voice of Jaelnec as he sang his little ballad. William enjoyed music as much as he did poetry. He fancied himself somewhat of a musician as well, his naturally soothing voice making for a hypnotically gentle vocal display. Peace was upon the group now, many of them exhausted from the days events, but it took William just a few minutes of rest to manipulate his Magical Essence into a simple word spoken under his breath, and his exhaustion slowly dissipated. His essence would need to recover again, but he was awake mentally. Alert as ever. He raised his head up, pulling up his cloak's cowl and observing the surroundings. William smiled at the valiant effort as Annabelle seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, finding her proud attempt at remaining alert rather humorous. William then spoke aloud, his resurrected consciousness lending itself to his voice.

"When we are to arrive at Shrubnest, what then? There were templars who escaped our grasp back when. They may have gotten their word to this place, and they may be ready to meet our face. I suggest we observe first. Perhaps Zacharias can do no worse? This is simply my own thought, I'm sure it crossed your mind... Or not..."

William simply wished to be sure they were not rushing into anything they may not be prepared for. Heroes were no good to Rodaria dead. If they sent someone to scout out the situation first, that would be ideal, and Zacharias had just the skillset for such a thing.

[Ashgan]

Zacharias travelled soundless, safe for the hoofbeats of his horse against the cobblestone at first, and later the trodden dirt road of the countryside. His steed, though stern and unflinching, was visibly nervous in the company of so many strangers as well as domesticated horses. The creature was natural and wild, for Zacharias had never seen fit to subject the beast to any form of shackle or imprisonment like the horses of humans. He and the horse travelled together out of mutual respect and benefit, not subjugation of one by the other, but he understood that not everybody was as patient and attuned to nature as he was, especially humans with their incredibly short lifespan. When they got out of the city, his mount calmed down already, and Zacharias stroked over its mane to further reassure it of its safety. Then, when he least expected it, someone addressed him while speaking to someone else. Had Zacharias not been used to overhearing what others said, he would have probably missed it altogether.

“Nor do I think I've heard a single word from you,” Aemoten said, “whereas I comprehend not every man is talkative and not every mood urges one to speak up, it would still be useful to have a name to identify those I travel with until I get to know who they are for better.”

He merely wanted a name; that could be arranged. Zacharias cast a glance backwards, his face covered in darkness from his hood, before he turned his head forwards again, not saying anything. He urged his horse to slow down a little so that, eventually, his and Aemoten’s animals were riding at the same pace and next to each other. Now that they were closer, Zacharias replied to the outlandish warrior.

“My name is Zacharias. I am a true Deigan, as you may have noticed, and I hail from the house Rilyn’Ath. Alas, that name means little now, and I am far from home. Not that it mattered, for I am no longer welcome. For the rest, Aemoten, I expect to be left in peace, and I in turn will return the same. Don’t follow the zealous woman’s example.”

After their exchange, the party travelled on in relative silence. Zacharias, observed Annabelle the most in the group; partially because she was possibly one of his most vivid acquaintances, and part because she was the one with the most blatant suspicious behavior of all. As a master of subtlety, he could only smile at her futile efforts of trying to converse in secret with the Demonspawn who, in fact, was a mutant progeny of Zacharias’s own species. It wasn’t the poor creature’s fault, but he felt highly disappointed that such a twisted and abhorrent creature could hail from his own kind. His experience with Demonspawn was limited, but he knew that they propagated evil for the most part and shared a demon for a parent, two qualities that were nothing to be proud of. From what Zacharias gathered, this Thelos only spoke Devil’s Tongue, that was not too shocking considering his heritage, but apparently Annabelle was able to reply to him in lengthy discourses. This was interesting. The paladin looked around every now and then to assure herself that nobody was watching, and though she may suspect that someone had noticed, she could certainly not have discerned Zacharias’s eyes seeing and his ears hearing from the safety of his hood’s darkness. Could she be a Demonspawn herself? Zacharias had no idea if it was at all possible, but if it was indeed so, the irony that the gods had wrought here would be nothing short of awe inspiring. Strangely, she continued to take nervous glances around and at select members of the group – one of which, of course, was he – long after she had finished her chat with the demon son, and the true Deigan felt puzzled about why she did. She could not honestly still expect Zacharias to be her foe after so long. The thought was absurd. If Zacharias had wanted to kill her, she would never ever have seen him in the first place. Moreover, if he would have revealed himself and joined the group on purpose, he would certainly not strike her down when everybody was watching. Even a common cutthroat would have that much common sense. Her naivety and paranoia amused Zacharias to such a point that he almost felt tempted to tease her by making suspicious movements, but he refrained from doing so simply to avoid affecting their current relation. He did not want to improve it, and he even less wanted to sour it. But eventually even she had to give in to weariness, and instead of remaining alert, she dozed off for brief periods at regular intervals whilst Jaelnec became more and more lively as dusk approached. This struck the assassin as odd, because it was uncommon for humans to be this jovial during the late evening, especially after a tiresome day, and slaying a templar must have been tiresome indeed. Could it be that he was a nightwalker? Zacharias figuratively shrugged. If he was, that would be all the better for the group.

Later towards the evening, William suddenly woke from a long period of lethargy. Zacharias had acknowledged his presence earlier that day, when they left Borstown, but had almost forgotten about the rune mage as that one had almost been as unheard from as he himself had been.

“When we are to arrive at Shrubnest, what then? There were templars who escaped our grasp back when. They may have gotten their word to this place, and they may be ready to meet our face. I suggest we observe first. Perhaps Zacharias can do no worse? This is simply my own thought, I'm sure it crossed your mind... Or not...” he suggested.

It was a sensible suggestion. Zacharias, and probably most of the group, had not been actively planning their approach once they reached Shrubnest just yet. To send the true Deigan in as reconnaissance seemed like a good idea to him, he was confident that he could remain unseen and unheard at all times, even without having to resort to magic.

“T’would be easy. I think I would have suggested the same once we are closer, as it is only natural for me to assess a situation and thoroughly analyze it before barging in. So, yes, with the group’s leave, I shall cast an eye at the situation in Shrubnest in advance,” he commented, allowing a hint of pride to flow into his words. He was not one to excessively bask in self-indulgence, but he knew that he was good at what he was doing, and enjoyed flaunting with his skills every now and then, when appropriate.